Chapter One: "On Pain of Torture"

' "You might be able to bear the pain for a short time; most can", explained Captain Vidal with a twisted smile. "But there again, like most, you will, on pain of further torture, eventually break..." As he said finished speaking, Vidal momentarily turned his back on his hapless captive to continue fidgeting at his tools with nervous anticipation.

The opportunity to conduct these little "interrogations" always filled him with an inexplicable thrill, which he would not have been able to explain had he tried. Outside, the sounds of imminent rioting filled the air, but the ruthless captain payed the distant noises little heed. With Carmen watching his every movement helplessly, Vidal stepped almost gracefully around the stainless steel table of surgical instruments, and slowly, languidly tipped up her chin to gaze meaningfully into her eyes.

As each warily observed the other, a lock of dark, curly hair fell loosely against her left cheek. Still watching Carmen for any warnings of sudden movement, Vidal carefully, delicately smoothed back the offending lock of hair from her face; as a lover might. A sudden tension abruptly filled the surrounding air, an unwelcome sensation that spoke whispered promises in Carmen's ear of pleasure, sex, and so much more. Reminding herself that Vidal was nothing more or less than one more enemy trying to do her harm, Carmen steeled herself, and glared bitterly into Vidal's questioning gaze.

"When he turns his back to me once more, then, then I will avenge my family and show this brutal, heartless pig the true meaning of intense suffering...", Carmen promised herself as Captain Vidal began to turn away from her once again. For, unbeknownst to the Captain, the bound serving woman had, concealed in her rear apron-pocket, a carving knife taken from the kitchens; small enough not to inflict any truly fatal damage, yet large enough to insure that Vidal's own torment would be most miserable and agonizing.

With an inner, steady resolve, Carmen fortified her will to hate, and, escaping the confines of the ropes which had held her, swung at Vidal's lower back with all her strength. Then, using the same knife, she blindly sought out the captain's face, leaving him with a vicious-looking, clumsily wrought, partial Glasgow smile. As blood, thick, hot, and heavy, sprayed Carmen's face and front, she became dimly aware of the Captain as he wrenched the weapon from his wound and reared up, whirling around to face his attacker. Carmen gave a frightened start and leaped back against the opposite wall, regarding Vidal with wide, terror-filled eyes as she waited for the blows of retaliation to fall.

Wondering cautiously at the room's reverberating silence, Carmen opened and flickered eyes she had not realized had been squeezed tightly shut. The painful blows never came; Captain Vidal simply stared at her open-mouthed in shock, and, was that, could it possibly be, a newfound glimmer of respect? But the unique, uninvited moment fled just as rapidly as it had come, and Vidal's own sense of self-preservation kicked in.

As Vidal got up from his knees on the floor and moved hurriedly to stanch the bleeding from his back and face, the previously-heard sounds of anarchy moved dangerously close to the small shed that concealed him and his would-be victim. Carmen moved to say something, but Vidal quickly hushed her and motioned to Carmen the crucial need for silence. As Carmen stared with avid curiosity at Vidal, and Vidal stared out the shed window in an attempt to ascertain what was going on, the surrounding tremors of hinted-at chaos came to a sudden head.

In that next moment, Vidal realized the morbid truth of what was taking place: The resistance-fighters from the outlying regions had revolted; Carmen's remaining family members likely among them. The compound was in the midst of bloody pillaging and chaos. Smoke filled the air in copious quantities, and Vidal's uncanny senses informed him that the manor-house was currently being burned to the ground. As he glanced back to know Carmen's reaction, he saw by the grim look on her face that she knew it too.

Both Captain Vidal and Carmen understood that if the mob managed to catch up with them, they would be tortured for vital information relating to the enemy and subsequently killed. It was this notion that prompted Vidal to grab Carmen's hand unceremoniously and take off running in the opposite direction, away from the frenzied crowd.

There was a small stockpile of arms, food, water, ammunition, and other basic necessities, and it lay only a short distance away; within the surrounding forest. Vidal knew that if he and the serving girl could get to that same stockpile then they would have reached safety, at least temporarily. It was toward this sole aim that the Captain directed the last remaining fraction of his rapidly-dwindling strength and endurance.

As the pair ran, hand in hand, away from all the death and destruction, Carmen paused, only once, to look back at the wreckage over her trembling shoulder. She had to look away; the sights of pain and devastation which met her eyes proved too much for her to bear. Carmen could feel the small crumpled piece of what remained of her heart breaking, but she had neither the energy nor the will-power left to summon any tears for what she and her companion had left behind.

She felt a small tug on her arm, and realized that the tug was Vidal trying to get her moving again. For one single, solitary second, Carmen exchanged fearful, uncertain glances with the Captain, then she nodded. Vidal took her nod to be a sign that she had now fully recovered from her shock and fear, and he silently returned the nod with a curt one of his own. Then, together, they fled with all due haste into the cover of the woods as night began to close in about them from all sides.'