by Arno Joubert
Sitting on the floor, her arms around her knees, hugging them tightly, was a dirty girl with matted black hair. It was Alida.
“Alida, wait, I’m going to get you out of here,” he called, looking around frantically for something to open the door with.
The girl stood up and cautiously moved closer to the door. She said something that sounded like, “So was thee?”
She started babbling, but he couldn’t understand a word that she was saying. He backed up to the wall but was grabbed on the shoulder by someone. He spun around, feeling dizzy. There she was again, staring wild-eyed out of the window of cell number two. He ran down the hall, breathing hard, peering into every cell. Alida was everywhere. “Oh my God, am I going crazy?” he thought. He ran at full speed down the passage and pulled open a door at the other end. It slammed closed behind him.
He bent over, sucking in deep breaths, thankful that he couldn’t smell the horrid stench anymore.
He looked up. A long tunnel stretched out in front of him. To the side were two electric golf carts parked back to back.
“Get a hold of yourself, Jake.” He sucked in deep lungfuls of air, waiting for the beating of his heart to slow down.
“Here goes nothing,” he muttered, then he climbed into a cart and sped off.
Bruce held on to the handle on the dash as the Humvee rattled and bounced over the uneven landscape. Latorre was driving, pushing the vehicle to its limits. He checked the map. “It’s about a kilometer ahead,” he told Latorre.
In the distance he saw an aberration in the flat landscape. It wasn’t an anthill; it was square and seemed out of place. The square became larger, and Bruce figured that it had to be a small building of some kind.
They skidded to a halt next to the building, dust and pebbles spraying. The men jumped out then gathered around the concrete structure. It was surrounded by a fence that had recently been repaired. “Winch it,” he ordered Latorre.
Latorre nodded then pulled the winch cord out and tied it to a support pole on the corner of the fence. They stood back as he climbed into the vehicle, rammed it into gear, and sped backward. The pole and its concrete base ripped clean out of the ground. He backed up some more, the Hummer straining and shuddering as he dragged the entire fence back and over the small building. He drove another twenty meters to make sure that the barbs were well out of the way, then he unhooked the winch from the fence.
The building had a solid blue door. “Blow it,” Bruce told Rizak.
The man pulled a wad of plastic explosives from his backpack. He formed it into a ball then stuck it below the door handle. Finally, he attached two small terminals to the lump of putty and clipped them onto a wire, which he wound off a reel. “Get behind the Hummer,” he ordered the other men.
They all moved behind the vehicle, and he knelt next to them. “Ready?” he asked.
“Blow it,” Bruce ordered again.
Rizak nodded then pushed a button on a detonation switch. Nothing happened. Rizak looked at the button in confusion then pushed it a couple of times. Nothing happened. “Hang on a sec,” he said and started pulling the wires from the detonation device. He swapped the wires around, pushed them back in the device, his tongue moving along his lower lip in concentration as he worked. “There we go. Ready?” he asked Bruce.
“Just blow it, man!” Bruce shouted.
Rizak pressed the button and a massive explosion shook the Hummer. They ducked their heads as pieces of concrete rained from the sky and landed on the roof of the vehicle. “What the fuck?” Bruce shouted, trying to wave away the dust. He ducked as the metal door slammed onto the hood of the Hummer. It took another thirty seconds before the dust settled and they were able to appreciate the destruction the explosion had caused.
Bruce tapped the side of his ear with a finger, the zinging noise fading away. At least he hadn’t gone deaf. He moved to the damaged side of the Hummer. The doors had been torn off by the impact of the blast, and all the windows were gone. He glanced sideways at Rizak. “Well, that sure as fuck did the trick.”
The man shrugged. “I guess I’m a bit rusty.”
Bruce shook his head incredulously. “You guess?” He turned around and walked to where the building used to be. All that was left of the wall was a knee-high piece of concrete and a tangle of wire at the rear of the building. “It looks like there used to be a stairwell before you blew it to smithereens. Clear it.”
The men started hauling away the larger pieces of rubble then kicked away the smaller chunks. After ten minutes they had it cleared. “Right, let’s go,” Bruce ordered.
They followed Bruce down the stairwell then halted at the entrance to the tunnel. “Which way?” Latorre asked.
“Let’s split up. Latorre, you go left. Take Bellard and Roux with you. Rizak, follow me.”
The group split up and jogged away, their footsteps echoing down the tunnel.
Twenty minutes later Bruce stood in front of a large wire-mesh door locked from the inside electromagnetically. He turned to Rizak. “Blow it.”
Rizak went through the same ritual of placing putty on the door’s hinges then attaching the wires to it. He looked up at Bruce and nodded. “OK, I used less explosives this time. Stand back.”
Bruce stopped him. “How much wire do you have on that spool?”
“A hundred meters.”
“OK, wind it down fifty, I’m not taking any chances.”
The guy shrugged and reeled the wire off fifty paces backward. He looked at Bruce, who nodded.
An enormous explosion reverberated through the tunnel, and chunks of concrete and steel landed at their feet. They heard a rumble, and a section of the roof of the tunnel caved in. Water exploded from a burst water main. All that remained of the door was the frame.
Rizak removed a ball of explosives from his pocket, kneading it in his palm. “This stuff is pretty potent. It must get stronger with age.”
Bruce rolled his eyes. “Come on, let’s go.”
Bruce heard men shouting, and then gunfire reverberated through the tunnel, a bullet ricocheting off the wall next to them. Contact. He slipped the .308 sniper rifle off his shoulder and took aim. It was an old weapon, but it was the one he trusted. He peered through the scope.
Half a dozen men wearing black fatigues were cautiously approaching the blown-up door, probably a hundred meters away. Easy. He breathed in and squeezed the trigger three times. Three soldiers slumped to the ground with holes in their chests. The other men fell down flat on the ground, seeking cover behind chunks of concrete.
Bruce unclipped a grenade from his belt then lobbed it toward them. He heard the explosion and then a scream. He trotted forward, his 9mm pistol held at shoulder height, ready to fire. He saw the torn up remains of two bodies behind a large chunk of concrete and a thick trail of blood smearing the tunnel floor farther back. He followed it for ten paces then found a man trying to crawl away without any legs. Bruce finished him off with a shot to the head.
They clambered over a pile of rubble and came to a hall containing what looked like hundreds of jail cells. A section of one of the cell walls had fallen down, damaged by the blast, and a young Asian girl was scrambling out of the cell. The place stank, and the wails of hundreds of female voices filled Bruce’s ears. “Get these kids out of here,” he ordered Rizak.
“With this?” Rizak asked expectantly, holding the ball of plastic explosives in his hand.
“Not on your life, Captain. Find a crowbar or something and pry the doors open.”
Bruce looked up as a young girl sped toward him, babbling urgently. She grabbed his hand and pulled him forward. “Come, come!” she shouted.
“What’s wrong, kid?”
She pulled him more urgently. “Come, Alexa, come, please.”
“Alexa?” He grabbed the girl and started to sprint. “Which way?” The girl pointed ahead.
Alexa crouched in the corner, hugging Yumi to her chest. They were both naked—their punishment, the doctor had said with a pat
ronizing tone, for being naughty. Initially the stench of pee and sweat and excrement overwhelmed her senses, but now she had gotten used to it.
Small creatures scratched and scraped and scuttled around the cell walls. She swatted away a rat that decided to take a shortcut across her neck.
The child shivered and moaned softly. “Shh, hush, baby. Everything is OK,” Alexa tried to comfort her. It was cold, and she scraped together as much of the straw as she could to form a more comfortable pile.
She felt Yumi shake her head vigorously. “Not OK,” she said. Alexa sighed. She felt the same. They were stuck in the depths of a vast concrete structure with no way of escaping. If the critters didn’t get to them in their sleep, surely starvation or dehydration would. She closed her eyes. Or worse.
Her heart thumped in her chest. Memories she had tried her best to banish to the recesses of her mind came flooding back. Anderson Fitch’s face and his foul breath, standing in front of her as she dangled helplessly, strung up by her arms to the ceiling. And the beating she took, him smacking her across the back and her bottom and her legs with his walking cane. The grunting noise he made with the effort of putting all his power into the blows.
She shook her head and steadied her breathing. Of one thing she was certain: that wasn’t going to happen again. Wattana was going to die before she did. She only needed one chance.
She hugged Yumi tighter. “Who taught you English?”
The girl looked at her with her large brown eyes. “Alida pretty.” She touched Alexa’s cheek. “You pretty.”
Alexa took her tiny hand and put it to her lips. She pulled the girl closer and wrapped her arms around the cold little body. Yumi soon stopped shivering and her breathing became rhythmical.
“Tell me more about Alida.”
“Alida feed me. Alida hide me.”
“Did Alida ever use any drugs?” Alexa put her thumb and forefinger to her lips. “Did Alida smoke?”
The girl shook her head. “Mitsu smoke. Doctor smoke.” She pronounced it smook.
The girl tensed in her arms as they heard distant footsteps growing louder, then the door inched open, allowing a sliver of light into the room.
“Comfy?”
Speak of the devil. “Very much, thank you. Your generosity exceeds your kindness.”
Wattana chuckled. “Pleasure to oblige.”
Silence.
“So, who’s next?” he asked. “We’re the only people here. All the personnel have left. We’re going to have so much fun.”
Yumi shivered against her chest. Alexa hushed her and stood up. “I guess that’ll be me.” She walked toward the door, holding Yumi’s hand.
He smiled. “Ah, it’s going to be different fucking someone who doesn’t stink.”
She chuckled. “Have you ever screwed a female captain before, Doctor?” Alexa asked, running her a fingertip down his lips and chin.
“I cannot say I have,” Wattana said. “Are you going to play it this way, then?”
Alexa shrugged. “If you can’t beat them, join them.” She placed his hand on her breast. “Besides, I don’t want to die.” She grabbed his sack and squeezed it softly. He was growing hard. “And I cannot say I’ve been with a world-famous doctor, Doctor. Always a first time, right?”
His breathing became shallow. She pulled him close to her then pushed Yumi out of the door. “Go, run along, Yumi.”
The girl looked up uncertainly.
“Out!” Wattana shouted, pointing to the door.
Yumi walked out obediently, and Wattana slammed the door behind her. It shut with a satisfying click. Alexa and the good doctor were now locked inside. She had him all to herself. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark and she could see him clearly. She gave him a hard squeeze.
“What the—” he protested.
“I guess it’s just you and me now?”
The doctor looked around uncertainly. “I guess so.”
“When I asked if you’ve ever been screwed by a female captain, I didn’t mean in bed. I meant beaten to a pulp and then killed because you were so stupid that you trusted your dick and not your head.”
He unsheathed a knife from his ankle and regained his composure somewhat. “I cannot see in the dark. Let’s make this a bit more fair.”
Alexa chuckled. “I’ll give you some time to adjust.”
“You will?” he asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice. He kept touching the tattoo on his pulse, as if he wanted to make sure that he was still alive.
“Yep,” she said and leaned back against the wall in the far corner.
Wattana turned around uncertainly, patting the wall, feeling his way around the room. “Why?”
“I don’t want you to say that it was an unfair fight when you blow out your last breath.”
“Aw, fuck. Please, Miss Guerra, save me the histrionics. There’s only one way that this is going to end, and you know that.” His voice had changed; it was an octave lower, and the refined British accent was gone.
Alexa chuckled. “I guess you don’t know me very well then.”
Wattana groped his way toward her. “Oh, but I think I do.” He pointed to a CCTV camera mounted on the ceiling. “I’ve been admiring that pretty, fine ass of yours.”
Alexa laughed. “Why thank you for the compliment, you sick bastard.”
“Mon plaisir, mademoiselle.”
“You speak French?”
“French, Spanish, Japanese, Thai, to name but a few.”
“So talented. I usually let my fists do the talking. You ready?”
Wattana flipped the knife between his two hands. “Come get me, ba—”
Before he could finish his sentence, Alexa slammed a foot into his groin. He went down, clutching his balls, the knife clattering against the wall. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
“Damn, that must have hurt. You need time to recover?”
He groaned and nodded vigorously.
“I’ll give you some time.” She circled him. “Do you know how long it takes to become a Legionnaire, Doctor?”
He shook his head.
“Five years. And do you know what we do for sixteen hours a day during those five years?”
Again the shake of the head.
“We fight and we train and we run and we fight and we train and we run some more. Do you know what that means, Doctor?”
“What?” he croaked.
“You’re hopelessly outclassed. And that means that you’re going to die today. You ready?”
Wattana put up a hand, asking her to wait. Alexa grabbed it and twisted it back then pushed his arm down, shoving his face into the ground. He thrashed around, trying to rip free, but she exerted more pressure, forcing him to stop.
“How many kids died in the dumpster when you dropped it in the ocean?”
He groaned. “I dunno, thirty?”
“Fifty,” Alexa hissed and snapped his fingers back.
Wattana shrieked. “Help me, somebody, please fucking help me!”
“Oh, but we’re all alone, dear Doctor. Remember, you made sure of it? You wanted me all to yourself.” She pulled his thumb back toward his wrist. It resisted at first. She grunted and heard the satisfying snap of bone as it broke.
Wattana shrieked and lifted himself off the ground, picking Alexa up on his back. She slammed a knee into his side. “Where are you going, baby?”
“I’m gonna kill you, you fuckin’ bitch,” he sobbed.
“Ooh la la, you don’t like my kinky side?” Alexa chuckled and slammed a knee down on Wattana’s extended arm, aiming for the center of his elbow. It cracked and snapped upward. Wattana howled.
“Oh come on, don’t be a crybaby now.” She stood up and leaned against the wall.
He snorted and sniveled, his shoulders jerking as he sucked in short, shuddering breaths.
“Aren’t you enjoying our little game?”
He shook his head. “Please just stop,” he sobbed.
“How many bones does a human ha
ve, Doctor?”
“I . . . I dunno. Two hundred and six, I guess. Why?” he sobbed as he rolled onto his back, gingerly supporting his broken arm.
“Well, I’ll stop when all of them are broken. And I’m going to do it slowly. And I’m going to make sure you don’t pass out or bleed to death. That’s when I’ll stop. How does that sound to you, dear Doctor?”
She saw Wattana push himself up with his healthy arm then struggle to his feet. He stood swaying in front of her, clutching his elbow. He roared then jumped toward Alexa, flailing his arm in front of him. She stepped to the side and connected a palm solidly on his nose, sending him crashing down to the ground again.
“Four down, two hundred and two to go, dear Doctor. Does a septum count as a bone?” she asked.
Wattana rolled around in the hay, howling in pain. He knocked over the bucket in the corner and was now rolling around in the shit and the piss. After a minute he calmed down, then he rolled against the wall and pushed himself up again, sobbing and sniffling.
“OK, this is where the fun begins. You get to choose which bone I break next.”
Wattana shook his head groggily. “Wha—? What do you mean?”
“Choose a bone, dear Doctor.”
Wattana rested his head back against the wall and sucked in raspy breaths. He extended his healthy arm in front of him and sobbed. “Please, please, Miss Guerra.” Snot and tears and blood dripped from his chin as he sniveled.
“Good choice,” Alexa said, twisting his arm behind his back, overextending it, and then ripping it forward, cracking his shoulder blade. She landed three blows to his ribs, her knuckles formed into a wedge. She felt them crack.
He dropped to his knees then fell forward on his face.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Alexa said, pulling him up by his ponytail.
“Please, please don’t hurt me,” he begged. “I’m so sorry for everything. I’ll be a good boy now,” he wailed, shaking his head from side to side, his face contorting into a pained grimace.
“Only another hundred and ninety-nine to go, then we’re done.”
Wattana swallowed loudly. “I . . . I can’t. Please leave me alone.”
