by Daniel Birch
In moments of rage a man can find out how far he can go and I was going all the way with these bastards. I knelt above my former captor and went for the neck break.
You know when you see people on the telly breaking someone’s neck and there’s this ease in how they do it and then a click? Well, it ain’t always that easy. See, this fucker who was laid out was a big lad, decent shoulder and neck muscles. So you have to really give that neck a good crank. I have two favourite methods - there are many more but, hey ho, I’ll just go through the two for now. So here we go, neck breaking 101 with moiré!
Right then, let’s say you’ve decided to kill a man - good for you.
Today we are using the neck break .Now you’ll need a few things: firstly your mitts, and secondly some determination. Got the goods? Good, now it’s time to get killing. For the simple traditional neck break, take the subject in a good old fashioned head lock and squeeze tight, (like the ju-jitsu guillotine lock). Please feel free to kick and punch the subject before doing so. Then simply bring the subject to the floor (whilst still maintaining the head lock) and, as his head is trapped and secured, move your grip up, then to one side, basically turning the bones in the neck and at the top of his vertebrae so that all connections are severed.
During the transition from head lock to neck break you will hear a clicking noise. Don’t be afraid, in fact be happy, as this means you have done a good job. Sometimes they may not be dead. Don’t panic. Think of it as like following shampooing instructions; if not satisfied, just rinse and repeat - in other words try again. Sorry for going all psycho there, it’s just I am in fact a self defence expert and shit like that fascinates me. It’s not like I’m raving mad. I guess I’m just good at killing.
Back to the point. I was going to do this guy by neck break number two. I rolled him onto his stomach. I sat on his back, put one leg either side of his head, grabbed under his chin interlocking my fingers, and pulled back, crack-bang-wallop, as quick as that. It is quite humane really. He was crying from pain beforehand, so I guess I released him.
One minute he was yelping, the next he was a no-pulse motherfucker.
Funny how shit goes.
One minute you’re comfortable in your own little world like this fuck - he was chilling with a smoke earlier as I pelted my grenade - the next minute you’re in the proverbial shit with someone like me ripping all connections from your spinal cord.
I didn’t count on this many survivors. After my neck break, I got the chance to test my skills on five other survivors. I did two neck breaks, a jumping head stomp (which took me two attempts ’cos this fuckhead had a head like a fucking bowling bowl, nearly broke me god-damn foot, the motherfucker. I did a ground and pound on the fourth which sounds sadistic, I know - to pound a man’s head in – but, shit, the fucker bit me! I thought he was dead, leant down to listen for signs of life, and the shithouse bit my fucking neck like a vampire. I was mad as hell.
Last but not least I was saving something special for Haircut. I administered the Death Grip, a technique I learned years back. It is a fantastic technique, sometimes hard to perfect, but when done right it will submit anyone, and then kill them. If you’re good you can do it with one hand, and it gives you a huge feeling of power over your enemy.
I chatted more to Haircut before I killed him, found out some interesting things, but then it was time.
I looked him dead in the eyes and leant over him, ‘Just so you know, I’m not just a corporal, I’m a highly trained sniper. I have killed captains and generals, even your precious Manu An Abayi.’ Manu An Abayi was like a local religious figure in these parts, but the powers that be wanted him smoked, saying he was a liability with his preachings, which was where I came in. Everybody was pissed as all the little factions respected him. He was like their version of Desmond Tutu.
‘You, you bastaaard! You kill man of god, you do this, you go to hell, you baaastard.’
The cries of Haircut made it all the better for me. It hurt him. He was a proud man, I could tell, had his beliefs. I respected that. Maybe on another day in another world, me and this guy could have shared a beer and a smoke and talked shit, but this wasn’t the day, and this wasn’t the world.
‘Yep, I killed that hollowing fucker with four hollow point bullets, three in the back of the fucking head, one in the front – closed casket motherfucker. That’s how we do it. Just wanted to share that shit with you before you croak. See, you never broke me, you never could – ever’.
‘You bastard, you English bastard. I spit on your queen and fuck your children, you go hell, you go hell.’
‘You first.’
Tommy grabbed Haircut’s hair with one hand. The other hand was clenched as tightly as possible on Haircut’s windpipe. He used his thumb on one side of the windpipe, two fingers on the other side (the infamous Death Grip). He stared into Haircut’s eyes ‘Sshhh, die, die, Motherfucker, die’ and die he did…slowly and in agony as Tommy’s grip got tighter as he crushed the windpipe in his hand. Tommy’s grip had been so tight that his own thumb had pierced the skin and gone into Haircut’s throat. He could feel the inside of Haircut’s throat collapsing as he drained haircut of air, and of life.
As Haircut struggled with his last breath, Tommy whispered in his ear…
‘Nothing personal.’
It should never feel good killing another human being, but there are always exceptions, and I’m afraid I did enjoy it. What had I become? I didn’t know, but I did know they had chipped away at my spirit; they had chipped away at my soul.
They, they were bastards, they were, and they were going to get what was coming to them.
Chapter Nineteen
‘Hey big man,’ I said to him as he opened his eyes. He looked thin, so thin and tired. I couldn’t imagine what physical pain he had endured to get the countless cuts and bruises on his body. As he sat up he smiled with a frailty I had never seen in him before.
‘How was your flight? Everything ok?’ were his first words to me.
Typical that he would ask me how I was doing.
Typical Tommy.
I told him I was ok considering what had gone on. I made polite small talk because I didn’t want to press him about any details, not yet, and I didn’t want to put any undue stress on the guy. After all, he had been through quite enough.
‘Hey they say I’m going to make partner this year.’
‘Always knew you would, bro. The wife treating you ok?’ He laughed slightly as he knew this was a sore subject with me. He knew my marriage was a disaster waiting to happen, and I was in still very much in Disasterville.
‘Fucking hell, Tommy, haven’t I been through enough?’ I joked.
Trying to pulling the sheet over himself, Tommy’s smiles turned into a face full of anguish and pain. He could hardly muster the strength to do it himself, so I helped.
I looked around the room, typical army medical room, no frills. His only companion up to this point had been the intravenous drip next to his bed which he was plugged into.
The captain I had been greeted by earlier had given strict instructions that no person was to see Tommy without the proper military clearance. I fortunately had that clearance. Tommy had asked for nobody else. I thought the secretive nature of Tommy’s whereabouts spoke volumes and, one way or another, I was going to get to the bottom of it.
‘The meds helping, Tommy?’ I asked
‘They are actually, Joey. I also got some protein shakes off Captain Redman. He’s a nice guy.’ Tommy started to close his eyes again. ‘I’m tired Joey, I’m so fucking tired. I am feeling less pain than I did, but I swear man, I’m tired.’
‘It’s ok, kiddo, you gotta rest. There isn’t any rush to do anything, Tommy. You’re here to get better buddy.’
‘But you have to know.’
‘Have to know what?’
‘It was fucking Trigg, Joey, it was all Trigg. They tried to kill me. I can’t believe they fucking tried to kill me.’
I knew it wouldn’t help him for me to go mad, and I was, I was livid. But I had to savour that anger. For now, I had to be here for him and get his head right.
‘All in good time, my friend, all in good time. Get your head down buddy, get some rest. I will be right outside, Tommy, and we will talk soon.’
‘Cheers, Joey, cheers for not forgetting about me.’ He seemed to drift off.
As if I would forget about him. I would never abandon a brother, ever.
I adjusted his pillow and pulled the sheets right over him. I also placed a bottle of water right next to his bed so he didn’t have to get up to the mini fridge. I made my way out of the room where the captain was waiting. I wanted answers…now.
‘What the fuck happened to him, Captain?’ I was furious. I couldn’t believe the state of Tommy. I had to keep it together for Tommy in his room but out here I could let go. ‘I fucking want answers now,’ I shouted as the captain tried to hush me, leading me into an office.
‘Please, sir. Please sit down.’ The Captain looked genuinely concerned. I could feel his empathy.
‘We found Tommy near an abandoned compound. Well, I suppose another way to describe it would be a destroyed compound, because there wasn’t much left. It had been in what we call a hot spot for Iraqi militants. We are not sure as yet who they were, why they had Tommy, or what their cause was. But one thing is for sure, they are quite a few men lighter.’
‘So you took the men into custody?’
‘Ha-ha.’
I wasn’t sure why the captain was laughing.
‘And that’s funny why?’ I asked because I certainly wasn’t getting the joke.
‘Look, Joey. May I call you Joey?’
‘Sure.’
‘Look, Joey, I’m not laughing at your boy or what they did to him. They deserve to burn in hell, and that’s the thing: they were all dead, Joey, the lot of them. Your boy Tommy here is a modern day GI JOE. He damn wasted all of the motherfuckers, all that were there anyhow, and by the looks of things, Joey, he took his time’.
‘What? How?’
I couldn’t believe it. I was under the impression he had been rescued, but it seemed Tommy had escaped without the aid of anyone.
The next question would be how Trigg was involved in this. Trigg, that fucking bastard, the man has, and always will be, pure fucking poison.
The captain described to me about the area where Tommy was found, an old abandoned warehouse-type building apparently. He said that there wasn’t much left when they got there. They had gone there just to investigate some ‘activity’, as he put it.
‘Yeah, we had some recon marines in the area. Now you gotta understand, Joey, that apart from Fallujah, Diyala was one dangerous place to be. I mean one minute the people wave at you, the next you got a god damn RPG (rocket propelled grenade) flying at you from the same god damn person. And what’s also crazy is these here neighbourhoods are supposed to be Christian neighbourhoods too. I tell you, one big cluster fuck. Seems your boy blew the place up somehow.
From the sulphur my men said they got a whiff off I’d guess your boy found an incendiary grenade or a C4 charge, but my guess isn’t the latter. We have a pool going between the guys to see who’s right.’
‘Yes, well, I hope that works out for you. I just hope he is going to be ok. Is he going to be ok, Captain?’
The captain’s blasé attitude concerned me at first but, thinking back, I guess the things he had seen, well not just him all guys in war, I suppose you have to have a sense of humour.
‘He will be fine, young Joey. We don’t just fight well y’know. It ain’t the Hilton here, but he is getting the best medical care there is, doesn’t matter he’s a Brit - a soldiers a soldier.’
True to the captain’s word, Tommy was well looked after. He had soldiers coming to see him to play cards as he got better and, being a British guy, he became the celebrity within the medical quarters.
I cannot speak highly enough of the medical staff’s commitment to help Tommy. They were amazing. The captain too was such a nice man. He set me up with a hammock and said I could hang around until Tommy was ok to go home, which was great because I got to hang around with some great characters from the US military, as well as being close to my friend.
Chapter Twenty
It is strange because that day I had called Joey’s office to talk to him. I needed to talk to Joey because he was the only other person that knew Tommy, I mean really knew him. Joey’s secretary couldn’t tell me where he was. She said he was having some time off, so I rang his mobile phone and still no answer. I figured I would catch him later on.
That day started like any other really, or any other since he’d been gone. I had a ton of things to do. My friend Sarah was due to take me out shopping, clothes shopping, I didn’t feel like it but I wouldn’t stay this small for long and people had begun to notice my bump, so I needed clothes, and seeing as though I couldn’t chat with Joey I thought I’d get out and try and switch off for a while.
I felt selfish sometimes if I didn’t think about Tommy, like I had no right to do anything myself because that would mean I was forgetting him. I, along with his friend Joey, refused to believe it at first. Joey was in some ways worse than me. He said he wouldn’t ever swallow it until they found a body. I didn’t know what to believe but at that time, especially after a few months of constantly crying, I decided I had to focus on the bump and maybe a little on myself too. Everyone said that is what Tommy would have wanted, and it hurt but I knew they were right.
Sarah had been so busy with all her work. She was finishing a teachers’ training course after which she would be going to teach young kids at primary school. It was her dream job and she was close to it. I could relate to her zest for her work as I worked helping underprivileged kids with a Council-funded project. My work was important to me but most of all it was really rewarding.
That day Sarah had taken me to the Meadowhall shopping centre and was pulling out outfits for me by the dozen. I don’t know how big she expected me to end up, but half the time I was declining and saying ‘I am not going to end up as big as that!’ I wanted nice clothes. I didn’t want to look like I was wearing a tent, but also didn’t want to look like them big fat pregnant girls who wear tight outfits with their bump sticking out…That is just wrong!
It had been a few hours and I needed food which wasn’t so good for my figure but good for the baby, I guess. During my pregnant state I could have given even Tommy a run for his money where it came to eating. Sarah and I had decided to ignore the current diets, plus I had an excuse…eating for two! Yes that old chestnut. After eating a chicken wrap-type thing, I got on to him again. I couldn’t help it, but Sarah was so cool she would just listen and if I needed it she would be there on standby with emergency tissues.
I couldn’t help but noticing this guy with camo-type shorts on. That was it, the smallest thing would remind me of him.
I started by going on about Tommy’s dress sense and how he only bought like one pair of jeans every year or something. Then came a question Sarah asked that I really loved to answer, she asked me how I met Tommy. I had known Sarah ever since I was twelve, we just seemed to bond straight away, and both Sarah and Joey were like my rocks over the first months of Tommy’s disappearance.
How I met Tommy could never be beaten, ever. I don’t care if it was in a film, a book or a whatever, that night we met, it was amazing.
He rocked my world.
You hear people talking of romance when you are single and you always think ‘I wish it would happen to me’, or sometimes, if you’re as negative as me, you may think ‘that will never happen to me’.
But that night it did. At last it was my turn.
We had hit L.A’s that night, which was the in club of the moment. I was out with the girls and we were having a really great night. I was dancing the night away on the dance floor. The worst most cheesiest songs in the world were being played and I loved it.
It was a
night the club called ‘Dirty Grease Night’, hence it was full of songs from Grease and Dirty Dancing, the songs were all pounding out of the speakers and I was well away. We all were. We didn’t care. If the beats were right, we’d dance all night.
Usually when a group of young good looking girls were dancing away, there would be the occasional horny pissed-up bastard thinking he was Romeo himself coming up and trying to grind up on you, in which case such men were ignored until they went away. We were no exception, because my friends were all good looking girls, and that night I was smoking hot if I don’t mind saying so myself! I had a figure-hugging black dress on which showed off my good legs, my hair was down in ringlets and I had my most recent best pair of shoes (though I could hardly walk in the mothers).
It seemed I had just finished getting down to ‘You’re The One That I Want’ when I noticed him. He was cool personified.
Now, any guys reading this take note, chat up lines don’t usually work. Well, normally they don’t, but Tommy’s chat up lines weren’t normal. If you are going to use a chat up line, then use some creativity. Tommy had the creativity, he had the looks, he had the confidence, yes – he had it going on.
Walking up to me with a swagger that was hard to ignore, he smiled those pearly whites at me. He also had a certain amount of cheek as he looked down my top and made no attempt whatsoever to hide the fact. He licked his lips and said ‘Mmm, yummy.’
I couldn’t help but laugh, like a giggling little wally.
Being a couple of feet away he spoke. ‘Hi, I’m Tommy.’
‘Hi, I’m Emma.’ I said back. I was a little embarrassed because he was really fit. Yes I think it is fair to say I fancied him immediately.
‘I noticed you from upstairs when I was looking down on the dance floor. I would have come speak to you sooner but I have a swollen ankle and it took me some time to get downstairs.’
‘Oh right,’ I said as I noticed he had his weight on one foot. ‘From what?’
