by Weston Ochse
“But they reported back, right?” Nathan asked.
“They’re dead. I’m the only one alive.”
“How can you be so sure?”
Ali gazed past Nathan’s shoulder. “Because I saw them fall.”
“Then no one knows you’re here,” Nathan said, as hope left him on fleet feet.
“Together, we share this fate,” Ali said. Then he closed his eyes and slept for a time.
– 20 –
THEY HAD PUT him in the chair again. But this time he wasn’t alone. Seated across from him was Ali. Terror moved beneath a face that was struggling to stay strong. His wrists were wrapped in metal and attached to the chair. His bare feet were in a metal bowl filled with water. Metal clamps were attached to it, just as clamps were attached to the one Nathan’s feet were in. Masun sat at a table with a controller. He smiled gleefully.
Cameras were on them from all angles. Whatever was about to happen would be broadcast to those viewers tuned in.
“This is how our game today works,” Masun said. “I am going to ask you both questions. Anyone can answer them. The first person to answer saves himself from the electricity. In exchange, I will electrocute the person who doesn’t answer.” He smiled as he added, “Or who answers too slowly. Do you understand?”
Ali nodded.
Nathan stared defiantly into a camera. “This is in violation of the Geneva convention. You can’t torture us. It’s a crime against humanity.”
“Two things,” Masun said, holding up two fingers. “One, do not tell us about crimes against humanity. It was your country who invented a reason to attack us. It was your country who ruined a thriving economy, culture, and infrastructure. It was your country who made it so women and children die every day. Do you understand this?”
Nathan frowned, but he nodded. He’d heard the same thing from many people. Whatever truth there was of it, he was just doing what he was told to do. He was the tool, not the mechanic.
“What is the second thing?” Ali asked, speaking English probably for Nathan’s benefit.
Masun smiled broadly. “The second thing is that we are not Swiss and I’ve never even been to Geneva.”
Nathan locked eyes with Ali. Life had left the other man’s eyes and had been replaced by something dull and malleable. He was more experienced in his role of the subjugated.
“First question,” Masun announced. “What’s the distance from the Earth to the moon?”
Nathan sat in stunned silence. Masun grinned. What kind of question was that? Who could possibly know the answer without the benefit of Google? Then he realized that was the reason Masun had asked the question. He didn’t really want an answer.
“Too late,” he said, then cranked two levers sitting before him.
Nathan’s body convulsed as electricity coursed through him, forcing his muscles to stretch and contract and stretch and contract, confusing them, causing them to snap and pop as they tried to do both things simultaneously. His mouth opened to scream, but nothing came forth as his throat snapped too tight to make a sound. His vision flashed back and forth in black and white leaps.
Then it was gone.
His body sizzled in place. He was aware he’d soiled himself. His jaw ached. His teeth felt too big for his face.
“This is what happens when you don’t answer quickly enough,” Masun said, as if he were a teacher scolding a classroom of lamentably misbehaving children. “Now let’s try for question number two. Let’s talk about Camp Victory.” Masun pulled out a poster-sized, hand-drawn map of the camp that included Freedom Village, Dodge City North, Dodge City South, Redleg LSA, Audie Murphy LSA, Omaha Beach, and Area 51. Masun pointed to the map. “Where is the commanding general’s quarters?”
Nathan knew the answer to the question. Hell, everyone knew the answer to the question. Even Masun should have known the information. Although it was common knowledge, Nathan couldn’t bring himself to answer. It just felt wrong.
“I’ve never been to Victory Base,” Ali said.
“No reason for you not to know.” Masun smiled as he cranked both levers again.
Light danced inside of Nathan for a while. When it was over, he got the next question.
“What is in building 51F?” Masun asked.
Nathan had no idea. Commonly referred to as Area 51, 51F rested behind cyclone fencing and a guarded gate. Nathan had never had any reason to go there so he never asked the question. There was an unwritten rule in the military. If you don’t need to know, then you didn’t ask the question. But as he watched Masun’s hands begin to tease the levers, he wished for once he’d asked the simple fucking question.
He screamed this time.
As did Ali.
Masun asked a dozen more questions, but received no answer, other than the screams of Nathan and Ali. He seemed neither surprised, nor concerned. In fact, he seemed rather happy.
Once back in their room, hands again secured behind them, bodies lancing with the pain of their torture, Ali said, “I knew the answer to the first question.”
“What? The first question? You mean the moon distance one?”
Ali nodded.
“I know, too,” Nathan said. “Isn’t it ninety-three million miles?”
“That’s the distance to the sun,” Ali said. “Actually, the accepted answer regarding the question of lunar distance is 384,400 kilometers. This is an average of course. Because of the elliptical orbit, lunar distance is different at apogee and perigee.”
“How the hell do you know that?” Nathan asked.
“I used to be a science teacher,” Ali said.
“But why didn’t you say something? Save yourself pain?”
“It wouldn’t have been fair to you.”
“So you decided to take the pain with me.”
“You knew the answers to the other questions and didn’t answer them.”
“But that’s different,” Nathan said, thinking about how he’d held the answers back to protect his fellow Americans.
“Is it really so different?” Ali said. When Nathan didn’t answer, Ali added, “Ninety-three million miles is the distance to the sun.”
“So much farther and it seems so big.”
“It gives us life.”
“But the moon gives us ocean tides,” Nathan said.
“Yes, tides are part of the life cycle. And they’re not just in the water, but the Earth too.”
Nathan gave a disbelieving look. This conversation was becoming uncomfortably similar to ones he’d had with his brother.
“You can’t feel it. Not really,” Ali said, his voice barely audible, on the verge of sleep. “Terrestrial tides’ semi-diurnal amplitude can shift as much as fifty-five centimeters near the equator. This is caused by both the moon and the sun. There are galactic tides, too. The sheer weight of the universe pulls at us all the time.”
“If the Moon pulls against the Earth, does it work the other way too?”
“If you mean does the Moon have tides? I suppose if the seas had water they would.”
“And the crust? The amplitude thing that happens to the Earth, does it happen to the Moon, too?”
Ali sighed deeply. “Yes. It would happen to the moon as well.”
“Does everything have a tide?” Nathan asked, his voice barely above a whisper
“If you mean does everything pull against everything else, then the answer is yes.”
“So the moon really can move me.” Nathan watched as the other man slept. Nathan followed soon after and his dreams were filled with images of the Silver Surfer, wielding the power cosmic, as he surfed the light of a million dying suns.
– 21 –
DAYS PASSED. NIGHT became the harbinger of change. Each sunrise brought with it a new lesson in pain, and each sunset brought them closer to the return of the moon.
It had been more than two weeks since the full moon. The new moon must have come and gone. Was it Waning Crescent? Was it the Third Quarter Moon? How close was he to the full moon and where was his brother when he needed him?
Ali had managed to kill himself before Masun had a chance to take off his head. He’d done it while Nathan slept, digging into the wounds in his arm and head, until he bled too much or touched something never meant to be touched. Nathan would never know. He awoke with Ali’s eyes filled with blood and bloated.
When Masun found out, he was enraged.
“It is your turn now,” he’d screamed. “I was saving you for something special, but it’s your turn. Two days. That’s all you have.
And those two days went spectacularly quick. One moment Nathan had forty-eight hours with which to contemplate his existence, and the next he was being ushered onto the soundstage. But he wasn’t the same Nathan who’d first been captured. He’d changed. He’d been changed. Leading from the front, he’d never realized how interconnected everything was – the moon, the earth, the sun, the stars, and all the creatures around it were all tied together by tidal forces. One could influence the other without even knowing it. A person could be shifted if he allowed it. One thing Ali had said before he died struck the truest chord for Nathan.
“His name was Seleucus. He was a Babylonian astronomer. In second century before the Modern Era he believed the Earth was round and it circled the sun. He theorized that the moon rotated around the Earth in the same way and had a causal effect on the tides. What makes this so special is that he worked everything out in his mind. He had no evidence. He had no proof. He just knew. Like Philo knew there were molecules in the air that allowed you to breathe that no one could see, Seleucus believed there were forces that pushed and pulled at the universe that no one could see. To believe in something you can’t see but know is there is usually called faith. But in this case it was genius.”
Nathan had only asked a single question.
“So what is the difference between faith and genius, then?”
he last words he ever heard Ali speak was “a genius is right.”
“You will die gloriously for Allah,” Masun screamed into his face, bringing him back to the present.
“Have you ever surfed, Masun?” Nathan asked.
“What? Have I surfed?” Masun scoffed. “This is the desert. Where is there to surf?”
“But you’ve been to America. Haven’t you been to California or Florida?”
“Of course I’ve been there.”
“Did you ever want to surf?”
This stopped Masun. He looked self-consciously at the men arrayed behind him. “I cannot swim,” he said in a hushed whisper.
“Ahh,” Nathan said, as if the man couldn’t have spoken a more complete truth. “Then you’ve never given yourself up to the water. You don’t know what it means to let go.”
Masun’s eyes narrowed. “Is this your strategy? You’re going to give up?” He shook his head. “It won’t work. As soon as the blade begins to saw your skin, you’ll embrace the pain. I promise this is true.”
“How can you promise something that you have no frame of reference for?”
“What are you doing? What is this nonsense?”
Now it was Nathan’s turn to smile. “I’m just trying to figure out what you believe.”
“I believe in Allah the greatest being. The Almighty. To him I will return.”
“How can you believe in something you cannot see?” Nathan asked.
“Interesting.” Masun apprised him with a fresh gaze, in it was a newfound respect. “Part of me thinks you are trying to stall the inevitable, but another believes you truly want to know, that you want to go to your death with an understanding of the nature of Allah.” Masun nodded grudgingly. “Okay. I will explain this to you the way it was explained to me when I was very young. Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
“Do you like art?”
“Yes.”
“Name for me a most beautiful and famous painting.”
“Many people like the Mona Lisa. I don’t think it’s beautiful, but there is something captivating about her smile.”
Masun nodded again. “I’ve seen this picture in real life. It is truly a wonder. You’re right. There is something special about it. Now, what about a woman? Have you ever seen a beautiful woman?”
“Who hasn’t? There are so many.”
“When you look at a beautiful woman, do you believe she just popped into existence?”
“No.”
“When you look at the Mona Lisa, do you think it popped into existence?”
“No. Leonardo da Vinci painted it.”
“Oh? Is this true? How do you know,” Masun asked. “Did you see it?”
“No. Someone told me, I think. Maybe I learned it.”
“But you believe it, right?” Masun asked.
“I do.”
“So if you believe in an artist you cannot see, how can you not believe in a creator of beautiful women you cannot see?”
Nathan smiled. “Like Seleucus. Like Philo. I think I understand.” Ali was a man of science. He needed for there to be right and wrong. He needed for there to be genius that surpassed faith. But one need not prove something to know its truth. Nathan closed his eyes and thought about the Seas of the Moon, which he couldn’t see, but he knew were filled with something his brother could surf on.
Masun blindfolded him and made him kneel.
For several minutes he shouted into the camera filming the beheading. Nathan could feel the steel edge of the blade already cutting into the skin of the back of his neck. He thought of his brother diving into the perfect wave and walking down the front of the surfboard.
Then for a second there was nothing at all.
Then the sound of thunder.
Suddenly explosions began to detonate outside. Something hit the building hard enough to make it shake. Masun cried out as he lost his balance. Nathan fell to the ground and rolled. He felt men trip over him as they rushed towards a door on the other side of the room. The thak-thak-thak of AK-47s was answered eagerly by the thunka thunka of 50 Caliber machine guns, and the dat-dat-dat-dat of M4s. The firing was furious for a moment, then dribbled off, becoming intermittent.
– 22 –
NATHAN STOOD. HE felt the universe and asked it to guide him. It was hard at first. He banged into the camera. It stunned him for a moment, but he held on. He remembered the couches and swords. If one of them had been left behind, he could maybe manage to free his hands. It took two tries to find the couches, but he finally found them, falling onto them. The softness felt magical. He wanted to stay there. He pressed his face against the softness.
But the sound of a firefight brought him back. He had but one chance to leave and this was it. He began to search for a sword or something sharp. It took about a minute, but sure enough, one of the jihadis had left a sword behind in his haste to leave.
Nathan fell on it, maneuvering his hands towards the edge of the blade, careful not to cut himself. It took several minutes, but soon his hands were free. He rubbed his wrists, then snatched the sword.
Hugging the wall, he soon found the exit. He climbed stairs, following the noise from outside, and entered into a foyer. Where once glass windows had stood, now were empty frames from which he looked out on men exchanging gunfire.
As he exited, a man ran towards him from around a corner. Weaponless, panic held his face. Nathan held up the sword and watched as the man ran himself through. Nathan let go. The man staggered inside, and disappeared through a doorway. Nathan heard him fall, then nothing.
He turned towards freedom.
Ali had mentioned a minefield. Nathan had to assume the ground before him was what he’d meant.
“You have to do it with your eyes closed,” his brother h
ad said.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“You’re crazy, bro.”
“Am I? It’s not like you need your eyes anyway. It’s all feel, right? Your legs feel the energy of the swell, the push, the intensity. Then you pop on the board and walk to the tip, following the edge of the wave. Do you really need your eyes? Did you ever consider they might be holding you back?”
“They keep me from falling down.”
“It’s water, Natty. It’s not gonna hurt you.”
“I could drown.”
“Nobody’s going to drown.”
Nathan did as he remembered and closed his eyes. As insane as it felt, his eyes would do him no good anyway as he traversed the minefield. He couldn’t see through the ground. He couldn’t tell where the safe path was. He might as well trust his brother, trust the tides. He took his first tentative step, then another. He didn’t imagine a field, but rather an M.C. Escher puzzle, a twisted Jacob’s Ladder to salvation.
Like giving himself up to the water, he gave himself up to the tides. He felt himself leaning one way and allowed himself to be pulled. Then he’d stop, lean slightly another and move in that direction. Twice he found himself stepping back, retracing his steps, but he didn’t wonder why. He just did as he felt he should, moving as the universe guided him.
Until he moved no more.
He heard his name called. The voice was disembodied and echoed as if he’d climbed the ladder and come before God. Did he die and didn’t even know it? Had he stumbled into a mine and not even heard it explode?
He opened his eyes and found himself standing on an asphalt road at the other edge of the minefield.
– 23 –
A LOUDSPEAKER BLARED, “Staff Sergeant Nathan Johnson. This is the U.S. Army. Staff Sergeant Nathan Johnson. If you are here find a way to signal.”
He turned towards the sound, and as he did, he pulled away his blindfold. He’d made it through the minefield. There were several places where it had been blown, but there was more pristine earth, just hiding a package of explosive beneath that was ready to end his life. He tried to divine his path back to the building that was now under siege, but couldn’t see any straight way through. Yet, somehow, he’d managed. Glancing up at the almost full moon, he knew it was more than somehow. It was the tides. It was his brother’s tides.
