Chapter 2:


It snowed the next day.

Frost and I sat in our base – a small cabin in the middle of the woods – drinking tea. Winter was coming early this year and I'm enjoying it.

"I can't wait to go home," Frost breaks the silence. She sat across from me at the small table, holding her mug of tea with her pink-gloved hands, trying to warm them. We could see each other's breath.

"You don't gotta tell me. I don't want to be here, either." I scroll through my phone, looking through the latest national news. It's great that we've got internet out here, but no fucking heat.

"What would you rather be doing, Sebastien?" She asks, trying to provoke conversation.

"Anything."

I hear her sip her tea before continuing, "I mean, what would you be doing if you weren't here? What's waiting for you at home?"

I don't have to think about it, "I'd be hunting."

She laughs, "You're doing that here, Seb."

"I like to hunt things that don't shoot back," I look up at her, "So what would you be doing?"

"Easy. I'd be playing with my daughter. She loves the snow," Her face glows whenever she talks about her daughter.

"How old is she now?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"5 years now. I feel really old. But she reminds me of being a kid. I can do kid things with her like watch cartoons, fingerpaint…" She laughs.

"You can do those without kids, T." I chuckle.

"Yeah, okay… When are you gonna have kids, Seb?" She watches me with honest joy in her amber eyes.

I shrug, "Gotta find a girl first, I guess." I don't really even think of this stuff. I like my quiet, personal life.

"You gotta open up for that to happen." She says. And she's right.

"I'll open up when I feel like it." That was the end of our conversation before I got my gear together to head outside.


The snowflakes were large and falling slowly. It was sprinkled over the dead leaves that littered the ground. I enjoyed the scenery. I made it a goal to find that Russian sniper today, or tonight, and finally finish off his squad with his death. Then we'll be one step closer to going home, if we're lucky.

As I explore, further and further out, I start noticing fading footprints. Oddly, there are more than one set. Different treads. I don't know if any of them belong to my guy, but if he's found some friends, then I hope not. Civilians aren't supposed to be up here, but I guess they could have snuck in if they have a death wish.

I had followed the prints quite a ways, through thick, dead brush. Within the thorny brush walls I notice a cave opening. As I walk up to it I realize it's a door… it's an actual door, a small door, out in the middle of the woods. A bunker? I report it to Frost immediately.

Curiosity gets the best of me. I open the door, pistol drawn. I see a set of stairs going straight down, but I can't see much beyond that, even with my flashlight.

Suddenly, I'm grabbed from behind, hearing a male voice say, "You think it's okay to fucking snoop around?" He has a knife to my throat, but I try to fight him. Once I threw him off of me, a 2nd guy had a magnum pointed at my face. They weren't military or police. Vagrants?

The knife-wielding guy stood up and brushed himself off. He put his knife in a wooden sheath on his belt and pulled out his own pistol, making it two guns pointed at my head. I couldn't figure out who they were.

"I'm part of the Joint Task Force 2. I'm not here to hurt you," I calmly state, my own pistol still in hand, but at my side.

The guy with the magnum spoke up, "Yeah? I don't give a fuck who you are. Get rid of your weapons, and I'm not gonna tell you twice." I may have made a fatal mistake. I don't know who they are, but I know that they're insane. I oblige, setting all my visible weapons on the ground.

"Take your coat off," The other man demands, "Don't hide anything from us, we'll check you." I toss my heavy winter coat to the side. Then they demanded the next layer. I'm down to my black long-sleeved under-armor. Next to go were my radio and my cellphone.

"Get in there, motherfucker," they gesture to the door, "Go down the stairs, we'll be right behind you." Looking at two potentially loaded barrels pointed at me, I don't argue. I have to squeeze a little bit through the door, and the steep stairs are awkward to go down, but I make it, guns pointed at my back the entire time. Once inside, it's large enough to stand and move around in comfortably. I hear the door shut at the top of the stairs.

I look around, confident now that this is an old WWII bunker. But now it has working electricity. There are thin, dirty mattresses off to the side of the room, with a radio nearby playing metal music. It smells like cigarettes, beer, piss, and body odor. There's debris and garbage scattered around.

They lead me through concrete hallways, most are dimly lit at best. We entered a room filled with large, heavy-duty cages. They look like they are just big enough for large-breed dogs, but with thick, heavy bars. They're a little bit rusty. The room smells awful. There are dark stains inside the cages. Blood. I feel my stomach turn as my imagination wanders. I'm going into one of these cages.

One of them walked ahead of me and opened one of the cages. He looked at me, seriously, "Get in." I'm frozen in my tracks.

"I'm not fucking asking you. Get in. You want to die?" He shouts at me.

I thought of arguing, defending myself. I tell myself to stay calm. Keep my mind clear. Just bear it until I can find a solution. They haven't patted me down like they had threatened, so my hidden hunter's knife makes me feel slightly better. At least, that's what I try to convince myself of as I get on my hands and knees to crawl into the cramped cage. There were multiple locks on the cage, and they were all locked once I was in.

They had left me in the room alone. I've been fiddling with the locks since they left, to no avail. It must have been several hours now. I was already feeling the soreness of being stuffed in this cage. I couldn't stand up, or even get on my knees. My legs couldn't stretch out. It wasn't made for a human.

Looking around, I see two other cages the same size as mine. There's a sink in one corner, near the doorway. There's a drain in the middle of the room. What the fuck do these guys do here? As I've sat here contemplating my escape, I've heard several voices of men echo through the hallways. There must be at least 5 guys staying down here. I can hear them laughing and shouting. Are they all in on this?

Thank God I gave Frost the location. Not much longer and she and the rest of our team will be here. I just gotta hold out.


I don't know how long I had slept, but I was awoken by men shouting and cursing… next to me, but not at me. I looked over at the cage next to mine, completely stunned. It was the Spetsnaz sniper I had been searching for. The four men in the room were sticking knives in through his cage bars from all sides, shouting insults at him and kicking his cage. When they managed to stab him through the bars he yelped and held his wounds as best he could. He was trying to curl up and avoid the blades, which just amused the men.

One of them stopped and pointed his knife at me, while shouting at him, "You better learn to behave like your friend over here, you piece of shit," He kicked the heavy cage the Russian was in, jarring it only slightly, "You put up a fight, you're gonna get fucking hurt." The man's expression was intense. They all reeked of alcohol.

The Russian didn't look at me until the men left the room, leaving a thick silence in the air and the stench of booze and cigarettes. He looked confused and frightened. The only shirt he had on was a tight black t-shirt. His mask and hat were also gone, and I could see he had a busted lip, a bloody nose, and some dried blood at his hairline, having come out from his messy brown hair from another time. His eyes were almost glowing a cold, pale blue, but one of them was damaged by a red scratch across the iris.

I watched him look over his stab wounds. They were bleeding, but not life-threatening. His arms and fingerless-gloved hands were covered in his blood, but he continued wiping blood from his nose every now and then until it stopped. Now parts of his face were smeared with drying blood. We hadn't said a word to each other until now.

"Hey. Do you know who these guys are?" I whispered to him. I tried, in vain, to adjust to a more comfortable position.

He looked at me briefly, licking blood from the split in his lower lip, and feeling around the locks of his cage.

"No." He looked at the locks then pulled his hands back and slumped back in defeat. He hugged himself and looked around the room.

We were quiet for a good while. It had been quiet in the halls as well. All I could hear was the sink dripping occasionally and the man breathing beside me. As the minutes passed, I hoped more and more for Frost and the others to get here and find me. I grew more frustrated as the time went by. It was ultimately my own mistake. But all I had wanted to do was go out and dispatch the man that's now caged up next to me. He's an arm's-length away from me now, but I can't do anything about it.

Thanks for reading. I realize this story may be a little more slow-moving than my others, but this is one I've had in my head for a while and just want to get it out there.