Core of Steel

by J. B. Havens

  “Fuck you. Stop it! That hurts!” he yelled, trying to jerk away, but someone held his jaw firmly. He couldn’t see a damn thing past the cruel light. Mercifully, the light disappeared and he blinked repeatedly, trying to clear the spots and see something further than the end of his nose.

  What he saw brought his heart to a thumping stop. Phillips was in front of him, holding a pen light. Pierce was to his left, holding the plastic bag. Jordon knew real rage in that moment. Every prior experience with the emotion vanished in the wake of his newfound rage. He looked around frantically, taking in their bruised knuckles and blood spattered clothes. HIS blood! The concrete floor was decorated with splatters and streaks of red. Cinder block walls and a thick steel door. There were no windows but there was a mirror. He knew the look of that mirror; it was a two-way mirror. A mirror for standing behind and observing and commanding. Only one person would be in command of the men.

  “BEA!!!!!” He roared it. He screamed it. He put every fiber of his fear and betrayal into the shout, hoping to bring her running in here so he could choke the life out of her. He didn’t care that the use of her first name caused raised eyebrows from the men, he didn’t care that he was losing his mind. All he cared about was getting free so he could satisfy the blood lust raging in his heart.

  “Untie me! Right fucking now! You spineless, mother fucking, bastards!” Jordon jerked and shifted violently, trying to rip the tape. He only succeeded in tearing his skin and causing himself more pain. Phillips and Pierce stood in front of him, stonily staring. He growled and screamed, to no effect.

  “That’s enough, Corporal.” Her voice cut through him. She was standing before him with her hands clasped behind her back. He stopped trying to tear his way out of the tape and tried to take a few breaths. His chest was still heaving and burning with the combination of lack of oxygen and pure unfettered rage. He glared at her, imagining his hands around her throat, wanting to see how she liked feeling death creep upon her.

  “You did very well, Jordon. You passed the test. If you are calm enough, we will release you.” Her words were clipped and short. The traitorous bitch.

  “Is this a game to you? Do you think this was fun? Your idea of entertainment?” He snapped at her. He didn’t pay any heed to the others. They were acting on orders, HER orders. He lunged forward like a snarling dog on a very tight leash, spitting saliva and blood from his still seeping mouth with every furious word.

  “No. This was not a game. This was the ultimate test. We’ve all done it and survived it. Be proud of yourself, Jordon. You’ve passed the test that many have failed. We all bear the same scars now. I know that you will take whatever is dished out, give your very fucking life to protect this unit.” She nodded at Phillips, who pulled out his knife and started to cut him free.

  “You are Steel now, Jordon. Blood to blood, bone to bone, we rise above the ashes; forged in hell we stand together against all enemies. We are the shadows in the night and a whisper in the dark. We do what others cannot. We ARE Steel.” The room filled with shouts of “Hooah!” and “Hell, yeah!” Jordon looked away from Mic and saw the rest of the men standing in the room in a circle around him. They must have snuck in when he was losing his mind a minute ago. His rage momentarily dissolved at the sight before him. His extreme anger sank away momentarily. These men, these brothers, standing shoulder-to-shoulder before him were welcoming him into their fold. Sure, it was a bunch of gun-toting psychos proficient in explosives and interrogation techniques, but they thought he had what it takes to be one of them. He KNEW he did, but now they did too.

  Mic extended her hand to him in a silent plea to put his rage and betrayal aside and join them. He took it.

  Chapter 8

  They finished releasing him, foul curses pouring from his mouth for ripping hair and skin off with the tape, and helped him limp out the door. He stopped, and slid back into shock when he saw where they were. The hangar. He was on base the whole fucking time. The interrogation room was tucked in a back corner of the hangar behind the lockers. He had walked by the heavy door without giving it much thought.

  “You’re fucking kidding me, right? The whole time I was still on base?” Shaking his head, he pulled away from Pierce and tried to walk on his own. He made it a few painful steps, before sitting on the bench in front of the lockers.

  “No man, no joke. The whole point was for you to be disoriented and confused. You weren’t supposed to know where you were. You can thank Phillips for the whole ‘not in Kansas anymore’ moment. He gave you the tranquilizer,” Flynn explained.

  “I wasn’t having a Wizard of Oz moment, dick. It was more like Dexter. Who do I thank for busting my face up?” Jordon wanted to know.

  “That would be me.” Pierce put his hand out, showing Jordon his bruised and cut knuckles. “There must be something up with your teeth, dude. First you cut Mic with them, then you bust open my knuckles. You’ve got one hard fucking head, Jordon.”

  Jordon gave him the finger and stood groaning. “It was my only defense. Seriously though, guys, get me back to the cabin so I can shower and sleep for a week. And Tylenol, I must have some Tylenol,” He shot over his shoulder, as he continued out of the hangar and across the yard.

  Jordon’s thoughts rioted in his head. Like a hamster on a wheel, he spun in endless circles. He was furious and felt betrayed, but he also understood the motivation behind this. Besides being a test, it was a rite of passage. He needed time to think, to process and scrutinize everything that happened. As he continued across the yard to his cabin, he went over all of his injuries. His entire body hurt; he was bloodied and freezing cold. His throat was raw from screaming and thirst. All in all, he had bruised ribs, a busted face, and wounded pride; not to mention the patches of hair missing from his arms and calves. Nothing that wouldn’t heal quickly. That being exactly what they intended. To cause pain, but not to permanently damage or disfigure. He hadn’t looked in the mirror yet, but he’d have a few new scars on his face. He was level-headed enough to know that his anger would cool with time, but for now he decided to just own it. Revel in the anger and get it out of his system; let the anger and hurt sweep though him and warm him like nothing else ever could.

  Decision made, he felt the anger sweep through his body, erasing the pain, and leaving warm righteousness behind. Clenching his fists, he spun on his heel and confronted her; Mic, the root cause behind his entire shitty evening.

  “You! Don’t think that this is just going to be okay. I understand what you did, but I don’t have to fucking like it.” He took a breath and poked her in the chest with each word, his voice rising as he continued. He towered over her small frame, shouting down at her. “I thought I was going to die; that I was going to suffocate, fucking DIE!” He growled in frustration, unable to express his volatile emotions.

  “Do you know what that’s like? To feel your life leaving you, one painful heartbeat at a time?! Do you?” He spat the words in her face.

  “Boys, go. I’ve got this.” Jordon saw that the men had surrounded him, ready to tear him apart. They looked at Mic, questioning her orders with their eyes. “I said go, dammit!” she barked at them. They slowly faded off into the darkness in the direction of the cabins.

  “By all means, Jordon. Tell me how you really feel,” she smirked at him, standing in her usual pose with her hands clasped behind her back.

  The night was warm around them and full of the sounds of summer. The moonless night was a dark embrace. A cool summer breeze was rustling the leaves around them and the beautiful star-filled sky was an obscene juxtaposition to the rampant agony inside him.

  “You’re un-fucking-believable, lady,” he paced in front of her, anxiously. He was trying to get the words out, trying not to hit a woman for the first time in his life; forget rank, forget the fucking superior bullshit.

  “You think it was ok to have me tied down and beaten? Did that do it for you? Got your rocks off huh? Well, let me tell you bitch, suck my cock! Go fuck yoursel
f! I took it; every hit, every mother fucking bucket of ice water. For you! For those men!” He seethed at her as he paced, gesturing wildly with his aching arms, not caring that he looked and sounded like a crazy person. Because in that moment, he was a crazy person. His words were echoing in the night around him, bouncing off the trees and mountains, only to be swallowed by the darkness.

  “No, Chris,” she said gently. “It wasn’t ok. No matter the reasons behind it, you were held captive and tortured. You feared for your life. You looked death in the face and embraced it for the sake of your team. I was in the room once too. I was tied down and beaten. Stripped and freezing cold from the ice. I’ve felt the plastic on my face and the life leaving my body with every desperate gasp.” She finally moved from her statue-like pose, stepping toward him. Reaching out but dropping her hand before touching him. Knowing he wouldn’t welcome contact of any kind at the moment. Remembering her own pain and revulsion, feeling exactly how Jordon was feeling.

  “There are necessary evils in this world. They are what we do; tonight was one of them. I had to be sure. Do you want to know why?” She raised an eyebrow at him like a mini version of ‘The Rock.’ It was so ridiculous he had to choke back a laugh.

  “Yes, damn you. Tell me why.” He ground his teeth and forced his pacing feet to stop. All he was doing was exhausting himself further. Looming over her, he stuffed his hands into his pockets, forcing himself not to grab her and shake loose the answers he desperately wanted.

  “Because next time, someone might have that bag over your head for real; or worse, a machete against your neck. I had to know; I had to know that you wouldn’t utter a word against us. I see now why Jackson brought you in. Your determination and strength of character have been hugely undervalued before now. You’re exactly what this unit needs. We have everything; but someone like you. You’re as quiet as the night and fierce as a bear. You’re a force to be reckoned with, Chris, and don’t think I will ever forget it. But needing to learn these things about you is not the only reason you were in that room tonight.” She stared at him a moment before continuing. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like what she was going to say next as much.

  “Next time, you might be holding the bag or the bucket of ice. We might have a real prisoner in there. That’s a sound proof concrete room, with a drain in the floor. What the hell do you think we have it for? An occasional hazing in of a new team member? We don’t get that many new people.” It was her turn to pace off nervous energy.

  He stared at her in disbelief. She was talking about torturing prisoners like it was a normal, everyday thing. Is this what he had gotten involved in? Now he knew what it felt like. Could he do that to another person?

  “Right now, I’m sure you’re asking yourself if you could ever possibly condone or participate in torture. It’s not something we do lightly, and never without regret. We’re supposed to be the good guys, right? But there is no black and white in this war. We exist within a shade of grey. We toe the line. If the choice is between torturing a terrorist or cartel leader and saving the lives of our fellow soldiers and innocent civilians I will choose sacrificing one, to save many, every damn time. If you can’t live with that, go now.”

  Her voice left no room for discussion or arguments but he was stubborn enough to do it anyway.

  “Can I have the night to think about it?”

  “No. Decide now. If you stay, I’ll patch you up in your cabin and you get three days off. If your answer is no, then you still get patched up, but you get a ride to the airport and a ticket to wherever. You have two minutes. Every one of us have been given this same choice and the same time table.” She walked away toward his cabin, which was the only one with a light on. Guess he had to decide if he was going to follow her or not.

  ****

  I walked toward his cabin, listening for his footsteps and knowing that I wouldn’t hear them even if they were there. Was it really only two days ago that he chased me on the track? He had been messing with me on the track, being so loud. He was as silent as the breeze earlier, when he stalked me through his cabin. He hadn’t asked yet which one of us broke in. Of course it was me. Breaking and entering was my specialty. If my moral compass was less true I’d be a cat burglar.

  I knocked on the cabin door and stepped in when Phillips opened it wide. The same exhaustion that I felt was written on his face and in the heavy circles under his eyes.

  “Where is he?” Phillips asked, leaning against the couch.

  “He’s making his decision. Get your first aid kit. I told him I’d patch him up,” I said as I walked into the kitchen.

  “He’s going to need to be checked every two hours or so. I’m sure he has a concussion,” Phillips said as he dug in the closet and retrieved the huge red medical bag he was never without. I think he had so much stuff in there that he could do open heart surgery if he had to. I moved into the kitchen and sat at the table, mentally sighing with relief that the night was almost over. Soon I would get to go to sleep. Well, try anyway.

  “Ok, you and Pierce can do that. Keep me posted on his condition.” I got a glare in response.

  Pierce joined us in the kitchen and we sat down at the table. Phillips sat the medical bag on the table in front of me with a thump.

  “I gave him two minutes. He should be coming in any second.” The door opened as I finished speaking. Jordon slowly walked into the kitchen, pain showing through with every step. He sat down with a barely audible groan. The bruises on his face were getting worse. Soon they would be all of the wonderful colors deep bruises are: dark purple and red, before going to sickly green. His left eye was swelling shut and the cut on his eyebrow was slowly seeping more blood. It might need a stitch or two if it was still bleeding. His hair was matted with sweat and dried blood. Underneath all of his bruises, Jordon’s jaw was set with resolve. I knew what his answer was going to be. He looked fucking awful.

  “You look like hell, man,” Pierce said unnecessarily.

  “Fuck off,” Jordon managed to get out around his busted up mouth, giving Pierce the finger. I got the feeling he’d be saying more if he could talk better. I went to the sink and mixed up some warm salt water with a few drops of iodine.

  “Here, rinse your mouth with this. It’s going to hurt like a bitch, but it will help.” I set it next to the sink and sat back down, pulling Phillips’ bag of tricks toward me. I didn’t look up when I heard him spitting and cursing at the sink, as I pulled out what I needed. Although Phillips is our medic, we all have some training. I piled up saline rinse, alcohol, bandages, and a suture kit. I’d try to close his cut with butterflies if I could, but I didn’t like the look of it.

  “You guys are a bunch of sadistic fuckers,” Jordon growled at us when he sat back down, this time beside me. Pierce choked on a laugh and Phillips raised his eyebrow at him.

  “Stop your bitching and hold still,” I scooted my chair closer to him, but immediately saw I had to stand. He was too tall; I couldn’t reach his face from a seated position in front of him. It was my turn to growl in frustration. Pierce gave me a knowing smirk that earned him a scowl. Wetting a towel with warm water, I started cleaning the layers of grime and blood off his face. He kept leaning back and wincing.

  “Hold still or I’ll have Phillips sit on you. I know it hurts, but you’re being a baby. You took this beating like a champ and you’re going to whine now?” I stood in front of him holding the towel in my gloved hands, waiting. He sat back and gave me a small nod, but the tension hanging in the room was palpable.

  “Did you reach a decision?” Pierce asked, betraying his usual patience.

  “Yes,” Jordon said with a wince, as I began to clean the cut with alcohol. “What the fuck are you doing?” He shouted, as I hit an apparently tender spot.

  “Trying to keep you from getting an infection that rots your pretty face off.” I gave him my sweetest smile, changed my gloves, and opened the suture kit. The cut was too wide for butterflies. He visibly paled even
more, I gestured for Phillips to hold him. He put those huge paws on Jordon’s shoulders, and I knew he wouldn’t be going anywhere.

  “Hold your head back and close your eyes; don’t fucking move, either. You only need two or three.” I threaded the curved needle and stepped between his legs. His hands gripped the chair arms so hard, I thought he was going to break them off. I started to put the first stitch in and he hissed and trembled a little. I started to feel a little bad as I tied it off and he broke out in a clammy sweat.

  “Hurry up, Mic, looks like lover boy is going to faint,” Pierce teased. Jordon turned an interesting shade of green when I started the second stitch, growling at us all the while.

  “Nice tight stitching, Mic. Couldn’t have done better myself. One more should do it, I think,” Phillips chimed in. It was like an episode of ER in here. Jordon was whispering under his breath, so low I could hardly make it out. I leaned closer as I started the final stitch; he was mumbling “fuck, fuck, fuck,” over and over. I snipped off the thread and looked down at Jordon. I realized at the same second as him that he was eye-level with my chest. His one visible eye darkened fractionally, and he licked his swollen lips. I think he forgot all about the stitches in that moment.

  My breath stuck in my chest at the look on his face. It was a look I hadn’t gotten from a man in a very long time. It was the look a man gives you when he is imagining you naked and doing wicked, sinfully delicious, things to you. It was a look I couldn’t allow or entertain thoughts of.

  I stepped back quickly, breaking his stare. I jerked my gloves off with a snap and threw them on the table with the other used supplies. Bringing over the trash can, I swept everything off the table into it.

  “Well? What’s your decision?” My sharp tone seemed to finally snap him out of it and his eyes found mine. He took a deep breath into his belly and tried to let it out through his nose, but his mouth popped open.