The Good Soldier

by L. T. Ryan

  "Look, Bear-" A rap at the door interrupted me.

  Bear straightened up and braced himself against the wall. His face looked tired and pale and void of any emotion. He stared down at his boots. They'd taken our laces, but left us with our shoes.

  I thought about staying seated at the table, but if they decided to come in and rush us, it would be better for me to be standing. I got up and went to the far end of the room, away from the door, and leaned against the wall adjoining Bear's wall.

  We heard another knock and muffled voices, and then the distinct sound of a key entering the chamber of a lock followed by the latch turning. The handle bent down and the door cracked open a few inches. The barrel of a gun pushed though. I felt my stomach sink into that all too familiar personal pit of despair.

  "Turn and face the wall!" a man shouted.

  Bear looked at me, his expression spoke volumes. His cheeks turned red, his nostrils flared, his wide eyes were covered by his heavy brow, furrowed down. I knew that look. Hell, I'd been on the wrong end of that look a couple times in recruit training, before we were forced on this journey together.

  "Take it easy," I said.

  He started toward the door.

  "Bear," I said, arms out, palms facing him. "Don't do it."

  He stopped, face went slack, head lowered toward the floor. He turned slowly, placed his hands against the wall.

  I did the same. Part of me wanted to turn and fight, just like Bear, but I knew the best option for us was to get out of that room, off base, and back to the U.S. That wouldn't happen if we attacked the men who had the power to let us go.

  The door creaked open on rusted hinges. The concrete walls absorbed the echoes of dull footsteps as several men entered the room. I turned my head to get a count.

  "Face the wall, Noble."

  I felt a something in the middle of my back and quickly realized it wasn't a hand. It was the barrel of a gun. I turned my head toward the wall, focusing on an imaginary spot. The scuffs and cracks in the wall created an illusion of a woman with one arm over her head and the other across her belly. Maybe she was on an island somewhere. Then it hit me. I knew what I'd do instead of re-enlisting. I'd get out and head to an island where I'd open a bar and live the dream.

  "Sorry to do this to you, Noble." Hot stale breath hit my neck and wrapped around my face, entering my nose despite my attempts to exhale heavily and send it away.

  Men appeared on either side of me, grabbing my wrists and jerking my arms behind my back. They wrapped steel cuffs around my wrists, and I heard them click as the cuffs locked and tightened. I glanced over and saw three men attending to Bear, two on either side of him working his arms, while another man stood directly behind him, holding a gun to the back of his head with one hand, handcuffs dangling from the other.

  "Let's move, Noble."

  I didn't budge.

  "Don't make us move you."

  I said nothing and didn't move.

  "We warned you."

  I'm not sure what was worse. Knowing I was about to get hit over the head with a blackjack, or the blackjack actually hitting me over the head. It didn't matter. The world went black right after impact.

  * * *

  I'm not sure how long I was unconscious. I couldn't be sure I had actually regained consciousness. My head hurt like hell. The dark room offered no signs as to whether the sun had come up yet or not. I blinked the sleep away, opened my eyes and squinted as they adapted to the dark surroundings. Tainted air burned my lungs during a deep breath. They stretched and filled to capacity. The slow exhale eased some of the pressure and pain in my head.

  My hands and arms tingled. I shook them until full sensation returned. Then I sat up and stretched my arms behind my back and felt a twinge of pain in my shoulder followed by a shot of pain radiating across my back and down my arm. I must have injured it when they cuffed me, although I didn't remember resisting hard enough for my shoulder to sprain. It didn't matter. I took another deep breath and pushed away the pain, closed my eyes, tried to relax. I managed three exhales and then there was a knock on the door.

  "Come in," I said, not bothering to get to my feet.

  The key clanked against the lock. The latch clicked. The handle turned down and a crash filled the room as the door opened the first few inches.

  Two men entered the room. Both were tall, skinny, dressed in camouflage cargo pants and dark t-shirts. No weapons visible. I didn't recognize either of them. I found that odd. I thought after six months I'd seen every person on this base. They took a seat at the wooden table in the middle of the room.

  "Sit," the dark haired one said.

  I got up slowly, using my hands to keep my balance in check. Took a couple steps and grabbed a hold of the wooden chair across the table from the men. I sat down and placed my hands on the table. They didn't appear to be armed, but that didn't mean they weren't. I didn't feel like finding out just yet.

  They had two manila folders spread out in front of them. Both were open. They rifled through papers. A quick glance confirmed the files were all about me.

  "You guys know what time it is?"

  They said nothing, just continued to look at the papers.

  "You know, most of that is fake," I said. "Fodder for the guys at the Pentagon."

  Neither of them looked up. Neither of them said anything.

  "What's for breakfast today?"

  "Noble," the bald one said without looking up at me. "Shut up."

  I smirked, sat back. Should I push my luck? Why not?

  "I'm an egg man, personally," I said. "Pancakes hang in my gut too long. And cereal, shoot, cereal never fills me up. But give me three or four eggs and I can go all-"

  The bald man looked up from his papers. "I said quiet. We'll be with you in a moment."

  "Ok," I said. "Just trying to pass the time."

  His partner pushed back in his chair and stood. He put his hands on his hips and stared down at me. His head bumped the single light in the room, which hung on a fixture suspended over the table, and sent it swinging. Shadows danced around the room and across his face. His look went from menacing to evil with each pass of the light.

  The bald man turned his head. "Jim, don't let him get under your skin."

  Jim sat down. He appeared to be done with the files in front of him, and he fixed his gaze on me. He worked thick muscles in his jaw while rubbing his cheeks and chin with one hand.

  "Jack," the bald man said. "I'm Bill, and this is Jim. We just want to ask you a few questions about last night."

  "I don't remember anything," I said.

  "This will be a lot easier if you cooperate, Jack," Jim said.

  I shrugged and looked at the wall beyond their heads.

  "Start with what happened between you and Martinez," Bill said.

  "He's a great guy," I said.

  "He's an asshole," Bill said. "We know that. But he says you attacked him. Do you agree with that?"

  "That's what Martinez says, huh?"

  They both watched me, arms in front of them, hands on the table. I'm sure they studied every subtle movement I made. I could answer one way, and these guys would know if I was lying or not based on how I shifted my eyes, twitched my nose or licked my lips. I did my best to mirror their posture and movements, which were meant to be as neutral as possible and draw no reaction.

  I sat up straight and placed my hands on the table, palms down. "Martinez reached the point of using unnecessary and borderline force with members of a family who likely had no reason to be in the room."

  "Likely?" Jim asked.

  "Yes," I said. "Likely."

  "Why do you say that?" he asked.

  "You just know, Jim. Just like you guys just know."

  He blinked a few times, quickly, but said nothing.

  "Then what happened?" Bill asked.

  "I told him to stop."

  "You contradicted your team leader?" Bill said.

  "He's not my leader," I said. "I'm a Mari
ne, deployed here in support of your teams. I answer to Colonel Abbot and General Keller."

  "You answer to your team-"

  "Jim," Bill said, cutting his partner off. He smiled at me. "Then what happened?"

  "He told one man to stay behind and then led me and my partner outside at gunpoint."

  Bill looked down, scribbled something on a pad of paper, and then resumed his neutral stance.

  "Go on."

  I shrugged. "Then-" I paused and turned my hands up. "Then we fought."

  "And the outcome?" Bill asked.

  I opened my mouth to answer, but a loud knock at the door interrupted. The balance that had been restored in the room was about to be offset.

  Jim pushed back in his chair, stood and walked to the door, then cracked it open an inch or two. He nodded a few times and then pulled the door open all the way. A third man entered the room. He was taller than the other two and looked like he weighed as much as both of them combined. Sweat beaded up on his waxed bald head. He stood at the end of the table, between them and me, looking down across his wide nose in my direction.

  "Jack," Bill said. "This is Nathan."

  I looked up and nodded. Nathan grumbled.

  "You just keep answering questions like you have been and Nathan here will stay nice and quiet."

  "And if I don't?"

  Nathan laughed. Jim joined him.

  Bill frowned. "Let's not go down that route."

  The set up was familiar. I recalled studying it, role playing it during my initial training. I knew they didn't have anything on me. They knew it, too. This was all a show. The only question I had was how far they would go with the charade.

  "I'm going to get right to it, Jack," Bill said. "When did you return and kill the family?"

  Kill the family?

  "I'm afraid," I said, "I don't know what hell you're talking about. We didn't kill anyone."

  My mind raced through the events of the night. Could he be talking about the guy we ran over? That dumbass put himself in our way while we were escaping an escalating situation.

  Bill looked up at Nathan and shook his head. "Not yet." He lowered his gaze and looked at me again. "Gallo says you told him to get out. He did. Says he watched the house and that you and your partner didn't leave."

  "How'd we get back here then?"

  "You know what I mean, Noble." Bill's lips thinned and he crossed his arms over his chest. "You didn't leave before he left."

  "Yeah, well, his team had an interest in hurting us and the family." I licked my lips and leaned forward. "If you are looking for the person or people who killed that family, you should investigate them."

  "We did," Jim said. "They said before they left they heard gunshots from inside the house."

  I sat back. This wasn't good. Not by a mile. Their word against ours and out here our word didn't mean squat. It didn't matter what I said in here, they wouldn't believe my story.

  "I want my CO on the phone. Get me Colonel Abbot."

  Bill shook his head. "It's not going to work like that, Jack." He looked up at Nathan and nodded. "We're ready for your confession."

  The big man slipped past my peripheral vision. The thuds of his feet hitting the ground continued until he was behind me. If there was any doubt as to where he stood, it voided the moment he put his large hands on my shoulders. His hands slid down around my biceps, then threaded between my arms and my body, forming a knot behind my back. In an instant he jerked me out of the chair to my feet.

  Jim moved to the spot where Nathan had been standing and pushed the table out of the way.

  Bill stood in front of me, eye to eye. "Why'd you do it, Jack? Why'd you kill that family?"

  I shook my head.

  "I didn't kill anyone. You got this backwards."

  "Then why is a family dead?" Jim said, pushing Bill to the side. "You go into a house, last known person inside. And now a man, woman, and two innocent children are dead."

  "They were all innocent," Bill added.

  My arms pulled further backward as Nathan's grip tightened. The strain against my shoulder shot pain down my arm. They'd obviously rehearsed this several times with other detainees. I had an idea what would come next.

  Jim leaned in close. His eyes darted side to side as he looked into my eyes. "You have any idea how much you disgust me?"

  "I got an idea."

  He laughed and looked down while rubbing his chin with his left hand. He jerked to the side and his right arm swung up, his fist clenched and aimed at my head. The blow landed on the side of my face. A flash of white light filled my eye and faded as pain pulsed through me.

  "Tell us what happened," Bill said.

  "Nothing happened," I said. "We-"

  He delivered another blow, this time to my stomach. I prepared for it by tightening my abdominal muscles. The blow didn't have the desired effect. Although, I did catch Jim shaking his hand afterward.

  "We told them to leave," I continued. "Made them promise to leave."

  "And now they're dead," Bill said.

  "Yeah," I said. "I'm guessing they didn't heed our advice."

  No one said anything.

  "Look," I said. "You need to get Martinez and his guys in here. Separate them. I'm sure their stories of what transpired after they left will change."

  "Thanks," Bill said. "But we don't need you to tell us how to do our jobs." He turned to Jim, nodded and stepped toward the door, his back to me.

  Jim smiled, then swung twice. Both blows connected, one with my stomach, this time a bit higher and more damaging, and the other one to my face. He smiled at his handiwork and then backed up.

  The second blow to my stomach had knocked the wind out of me. The burn in my lungs slowly gave way to the dull ache on my face where I'd been struck twice. I forced air through my nose and clenched my jaw while shaking my head violently.

  "I can go all day," he said. "So keep up the BS."

  "I got nothing to say," I said. "We didn't kill that family."

  I wondered if Bear was getting the same treatment. There had been five guys in the room when they separated us. Three stayed with him, two came with me. They deemed him the greater threat because of his size. Would that translate to harsher interrogation techniques?

  "Logan gave you up," Bill said.

  I said nothing. I knew the line was fabrication.

  "It's true. We worked him before we came in here." He turned and walked toward me and smiled. "He caved quickly. Of course, he pinned it all on you."

  "Bullshit," I said. "There's nothing to pin. Bear… Logan wouldn't give in that quick even if there was."

  "I'm tired of this," Bill said. He looked past my shoulder and nodded.

  My arms pulled back further and I felt my body lift and then crash to the floor. Nathan had me locked up on the floor. I sat upright. His legs wrapped around me and crossed over mine. I couldn't move them.

  Bill and Jim leaned over. Jim grabbed a handful of my hair, forced my head back. I felt Nathan's hot breath on my cheek. That wasn't as bad as the smell of it, though.

  "What do you want?" I said, struggling to break the big man's hold on me.

  "We want the truth." Bill reached behind himself and retrieved a handgun. "You either give it to us, or you die."

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I had their positions fixed in my head. I just needed to free one leg, so I pushed back and kicked out with my leg, only it wouldn't move. Nathan pushed down with increased force and Jim adjusted his grip on my head, gathering up even more hair in his grasp.

  Bill brought the gun up and placed the cold barrel against my forehead.

  The room went still with only the sounds of our breathing filling the air. I rolled my eyes back and looked up at the mold covered ceiling.

  What the hell is above this floor?

  "I've got a question," I said.

  Bill smiled. "Yeah? What is it?"

  "You guys spray in this mold for some tactical reason? Or is it just for
show?"

  His smile faded and his lips thinned. He brought the gun down to my mouth.

  I clenched my jaw shut tight as he tried to force the barrel past my teeth.

  Jim knelt down and used his free hand to squeeze my cheeks. Bill did the same. Eventually they succeeded.

  I sat there, restrained by a man bigger than Bear, with two skinny agents holding my mouth open like they were feeding some kind of wild animal. Only it wasn't a bottle of milk in my mouth.

  "I'm going to give you one more chance, Noble," Bill said, his voice escalated to a yell. "Why did you kill that family?"

  He removed the gun from my mouth.

  "We didn't," I spit the aftertaste out, "kill anyone."

  Bill nodded at Nathan and turned.

  The grip on my body loosened and Nathan and Jim pulled me from the floor. Pushed me back to the wall and spun me around. They leaned in so that my cheek pressed tight against the cold concrete.

  Soft thuds hit the floor behind me. Bill pressed the barrel of the gun against my head. "Sorry to do this to you, Jack."

  My eyes met Jim's. He smiled, turned away.

  I held my breath and waited for the shot, wondering whether my ears would register the sound of the gun firing before the bullet penetrated and shut down my brain.

  And then every muscle in my body tightened at the banging that cut through the air.

  Chapter 4

  "Christ," Bill exhaled loudly and grabbed the back of his head. "Let him go. Put the table back."

  Nathan and Jim let go of me. I turned, pressed my back to the wall and inched toward the far corner of the room. The two men slid the table to the middle of the room. Bill stood in front of the door, his head turned.

  The three men nodded at each other.

  Bill cracked the door.

  "Yeah?"

  The voice responded low and hushed. I couldn't make out the words. Bill covered most of the door with his body. Nathan hung back in the corner nearest me. Jim stood a few feet from Bill.

  Bill took a step back, looked over his shoulder at me and shook his head. "Nathan, watch him for a minute."