by L.T. Ryan
* * *
The light in the cell cut off at ten p.m. The lights outside the cell dimmed and didn’t provide much illumination through the square hole in the door. I climbed into my bunk and tried to get some sleep. It didn’t happen. My face hurt. I tossed and turned most of the night, replaying the events of the past forty-eight hours, trying to figure out how I got from Baghdad to Camp Lejeune, from a free man on a mission, to an imprisoned soldier.
Every fifteen minutes a patrol passed the door. I’d hear them approach with deliberate steps on the walkway. They’d reach the door, stop and look in. The room would darken for five seconds, and then the patrol would back up and move to the next cell. I thought about getting up, standing at the back of the room, to see what they’d do. In the end I stayed in bed.
I dozed off a couple times, each time the sleep lasted longer than the last. By six a.m. I was fast asleep when banging erupted against the door, waking me up.
I sat up, shaking the sleep away.
The door swung open and two MPs entered the cell while a third remained firmly planted in the doorway, his taser aimed in my direction.
“What’s going on, guys?” I said.
“You should’ve been up an hour ago, Noble. Get the hell out of bed.”
They pulled me down and dragged me out the cell and down hall.
“Where are you taking me?”
They pushed and pulled me along and said nothing.
Prisoners hanging out on the walk parted to the side and ducked into open cells to make way for us.
We stopped outside the head. One MP opened the door, and the other two pushed me inside. All the showers were running, and the room was steamy. A group of four men stepped through the cloud of warm mist and walked toward me. They wore the same uniform as every person who wasn’t an MP, and had to have been the four biggest guys in the place.
I looked back over my shoulder. Two of the MPs had followed me in and now blocked the only way out. I assumed the third was positioned on the other side of the door, blocking the only way in.
The largest of the men walked up to me. He had to be six-five, maybe six-six, and had forty to fifty pounds on me. He licked his lips and grabbed my shirt and leaned in close. I mentally flinched at the smell of his hot, foul breath as it washed over my face and invaded my nasal passage.
“You like attacking my friends?” he said.
I shrugged. “Depends.”
His lips curled as he grinned, revealing two missing front teeth, one up top, one on the bottom. As fast as his smile faded, he brought his forehead down into mine.
Tears flooded my eyes, and I felt a rush of blood flow through my nose and trickle down across my lips. I spun around and reached out for the wall so I could brace myself and get my bearings. I found the wall, steadied myself and blinked away the tears. My eyes refocused, and I saw the four inmates forming a semicircle around me.
“Guys, look,” I said. “We don’t have to do this.”
The big man laughed.
I swung my foot as hard and fast as I could in the direction of his crotch. It connected with a thud. He dropped to the floor, a huddled mass gasping in pain. I twisted sideways and drove my elbow into the nearest man’s face. Blood sprayed from his nose upon impact, a crunching sound preceded his scream. I blocked a punch by the third man and countered with a shot to his neck, just above the sternum and just below his Adam’s apple in the soft fleshy spot that offers little to no protection. His eyes bugged out and his face went pale, then turned a light shade of blue while he gasped for air.
The fourth man landed a blow on the side of my face. I wasn’t expecting it and the force of it spun me. I regained my footing and charged him as he lunged at me. We met somewhere in the middle where a grappling match ensued. We rolled on the floor, fighting for position. I ended up on my back where he managed to get his arms wrapped around my neck in a choke hold. I arched my back and squeezed an arm between his, loosening his grip.
I caught sight of the MPs. They were leaning back against the wall, laughing at the action.
I scanned the room and spotted the big man on his knees, trying to get to his feet. The other two prisoners posed no immediate threat.
My legs climbed their way up the man I was wrestling with until I managed to get my shin across the front of his neck. A quick shift of momentum and I spun around, coming out on top with his neck in a death grip between my legs. I arched and twisted. His mouth opened and his face turned pale and his neck was close to snapping. He slapped and clawed at my legs. I felt like a savage, yelling as I neared the moment when I planned to lurch and end his life.
The MPs intervened, one hitting me over the head with a blackjack. They pulled at my legs and freed the man from the death grip. His loud gasps for air filled the room as he crawled across the slick floor on his belly to the row of sinks.
I felt my body pulled from the floor and flung through the air and pinned against the wall. The MPs held me there while three of the four men stood.
The door opened and the third MP stuck his head in. “What the hell is taking so long?”
No one said anything.
He entered the room.
“Jesus Christ,” he said. “What the hell happened in here?”
I caught his eye and smiled. “You guys got no idea who you’re messing with, do you?”
“Shut up.”
The MP with the blackjack slammed it across my stomach.
I grimaced against the pain, forcing a smile even though I couldn’t breathe.
“Just end him, and let’s get out of here,” the third MP said.
The big man stepped forward. “Let me do it.” He bared his teeth at me.
“No,” the MP said. He grabbed the big man by his shoulder. “You guys need to get the hell out of here.”
The big man spun. “Like hell, man. He’s ours.” His large arm stretched out toward me. He took two steps forward, looked back at the MP. “Just try and stop me.”
I knew the MP wouldn’t, so I did. I lifted my leg toward my chest and drove my heel down and into the side of his knee. Popping sounds filled the room as his ACL and MCL tore upon impact. He went down hard, his head slamming into the tile floor, a pool of blood forming under him.
All hell broke loose after that.
The MPs quickly took care of the two standing prisoners, restraining them and piling them near the door. Easy work, considering I’d already beaten them. With the prisoners out of the way, the MPs turned their attention to me. I stepped forward and was met with a quick strike to the side of my head by the blackjack. Searing pain traveled from the spot of impact, and then around my head. The impact knocked me off my feet. I landed hard on my side. The MPs pulled me off the floor. Two of them pinned me against the wall. They leaned in with all their weight to hold me still. The third took the blackjack and placed it across my throat. He leaned on it in an effort to force my windpipe to close shut. My oxygen starved lungs screamed out in pain. The edge of my vision darkened while flashes of light filled the center. The last thing I remembered before passing out was the sound of the door opening and a deep voice yelling my name.
