Tao – the way to be followed, the right conduct, doctrine or method. (Oxford English Dictionary).
My thanks as always to Jan, Angie, Nelekke, who never fail to review, and drive me ever on.
Dear reader. Please note this chapter contains torture of a sexual nature. If you are upset by this subject matter please read no further. Unfortunately the account is based in fact – no I don't have such a sick imagination!
Hutch was dead. I saw him lying on his back in the mud, the dirt staining his hair and his ice blue eyes stared sightlessly at the sky. His body was broken and battered with bruises, cuts an' burns all over it. He was bleedin' so bad an' I couldn't get to him. I was tryin' so hard, but I was tied down. Someone or something was holding me down an' I couldn't get to my best friend's body to hold it an' comfort it. Comfort for me as well as for Blondie. I struggled like crazy to get up, but I could feel hands holdin' me an' I tried to swat 'em away but my arms wouldn't move. I felt so helpless seein' him there. My worst nightmare - Hutch dead. I hadn't been there for him an' he'd died alone, probably scared out of his wits an' in so much pain. I could feel the tears prickin' in my eyes an' falling down my face an' I didn't care who saw 'em. I could hardly breathe, sobs chokin' me an' makin' me feel sick. It'd never be Me 'n' Thee again. I'd never have him beside me in the Torino calling me "dummy" and laughing at me when I did somethin' stupid.
I remember screamin' at the top of my voice. 'Hutch, don't leave me. Tell me which bastard did this an' I'll kill 'em'. I'll kill 'em all, I swear'. He couldn't answer coz he was dead.
But someone was answerin' me. I could hear someone talkin' a long way off, but they seemed to be getting' closer. I started listenin' an' I recognised the voice. It was familiar an' comfortin'. Not Hutch's voice, that was impossible. I'd never hear his voice again, but still a voice I could trust.
'Hey buddy calm down. You're gonna be OK. Just calm down. Don't try to get up. Lie down an' concentrate on breathin'. Curly, quit it will ya?'
It was Traff's voice. I felt his hand on my chest. It was Traff that was holdin' me down an' I tried again to swat his hand away. Didn't he understand I had to get to Hutch? I felt his thumb wipe a tear from my cheek and rubbed the rest away myself, angry now more 'n' upset. I'd kill every damn one of 'em.
I tried to talk an' was surprised my voice sounded thin an' kinda raspy. 'Utch? Oh God, Hutch. What did they do to him?'
Traff was sat beside me, wipin' my face with Hutch's handkerchief from yesterday. He shushed me.
'S'OK Curly, they took him a while ago. He'll be back. Just rest'.
'What ya mean they'll bring him back? Where's he gone?' I was shocked. I looked around frantically for the body. It wasn't there. Had it been a dream? It seemed so real, but there was no blond body on the floor, no sightless eyes. It must have been a dream so I concentrated on myself a minute.
I remembered strugglin' to breathe earlier on. I was fightin' the straps that held me down, frantic to get some air into my lungs, but they just refused to work. I was scared witless at that point. I'd expected a beating, or the electric treatment. I'd braced myself for those. Got my head around it an' started putting up mental barriers, like you're meant to. But this? I never expected to suffocate! Then I remember a look a sheer panic on the Doc's face an' an oxygen mask getting clamped over my nose 'n' mouth. Didn't help much. an' next thing I know there's a freakin' long needle bein' rammed into my chest, a blindin' white pain an' the Doc mutterin' somethin' about adrenaline. After that, there was blackness, an' now this.
My chest felt sore, like I'd run into the Torino chest first, an' I still had difficulty breathin' properly. My left arm was completely useless. I couldn't make it move at all, an' when I looked sideways, there was a pretty impressive black bruise all round the shoulder joint an across my chest. The rest of me was just plain achin'. I pulled myself up an' Traff helped prop me up against the wall.
'How long was I out?' I asked, tryin' to get some deep breaths an' clear my head.
'Couple of hours' he said. 'When they brought you back you looked bloody awful. Grey skin, blue lips. What did they do to ya buddy?'
'Drugs. Scopolamine, but I think he gave me a double dose. I fought it for a while, ya know, usual thing. Let 'em think its workin'. He nodded – been there himself. 'Then I couldn't breathe an' he rammed a needle in my chest'.
Traff understood. He had field medic trainin' so seemed to know what had gone on. 'Doc should' a known better. With all those' he waved at my chest scars 'he should have known you were on pain meds. Mostly strong meds, like the ones ya gave me yesterday, suppress breathin' a bit. Scopolamine's a sedative, which suppresses it even further. Basically he was cuttin' off your airway, Curly. The needle must have been adrenaline to get ya goin' again. You're gonna have to be careful'.
'Why?' I asked.
'Coz with all that shit goin' on, you're wide open to pneumonia, dummy' he told me like I should have known. I changed the subject.
'When did they take the Blintz? He's only just recovered from the last session' I said, rememberin' how bad he looked after the first round.
'Like I said, two or three hours ago' Traff sounded worried. 'The sessions only usually last an hour or so. Can't do more than that without risking permanent injury or death. It was real soon after the last one. He's strong. He'll cope'. Somehow though, he didn't sound like he believed it.
We were silent a while. I tried to get my left arm to work, doin' the exercises Jean had taught me, but gave it up when it didn't play fair. It didn't want to move, just plain hurt. Traff was lookin' a bit better, although he still moved stiffly. His wrists an' ankles were scabbin' over an' he had more colour, but he still looked sick, his ribs stickin' out like he'd lost a lot of weight. The bruises were standin' out black an' blue all over his body, and his breathin' still wasn't good. I leaned my head back against the wall again wondering how the hell we were gonna get out of this one. We kept each other busy with mind games – song titles, film quotes. Anything to keep mentally active.
About an hour later, I heard the doors down the corridor open and keys in the door of our cell. I forced myself to stand up an' Traff did the same. We knew they'd just throw Hutch's body in an' we were ready to catch him, but he walked in, just like that. There were no more burns, no evidence of drugs, no extra bruises. The door closed an' I was at his side in a second.
'How ya doin buddy?' I asked him. 'We were getting' a bit jumpy there. You've been gone a long time'.
He just stared at me, walkin' mechanically like he didn't know what he was doin', then kinda slid his back down the wall, drew his knees up an' hid his head in his hands. What the hell had they done to him? I eased myself down to the ground next to him an' Traff limped over to the sink in the corner and wet the handkerchief for him. He handed it to me an' I offered it to Hutch. He didn't look up, didn't seem to know I was there. I put a hand on his arm an' he pulled it away defensively.
'Hutch, what did they do at ya buddy?' I asked softly. Anyone could see he was hurtin'. His tee shirt was missin' which meant at least I could check his chest for new wounds, but there weren't any. I pulled him forward to check his back. Other than the burns on his temples an' his chest from his last session I couldn't see anything else. I lifted his head up to check his eyes, wonderin' if they'd drugged him like they had me. I tried to get him to open his eyes, but he had them tightly shut, like he wanted to close the world out. He still didn't answer me.
'Hutch, did they hurt you?' I persisted. Needed to get to the bottom of this.
There was a pause, then a faint shake of his head. 'No' he whispered. It was so low I had to bend in to hear it.
'Did they drug ya?' Again the shake.
'Where'd they take ya Blintz?'
He looked up with an expression so weary I thought my heart would burst. 'Just leave it Starsk. Don't wanna talk about it' he said slowly.
I still needed to know how to help, an' not wantin' to talk didn't cut it, so I tried again, feelin' worry growin' by the minute.
'No can do Pal. Just tell me what happened'.
'Just leave me alone' he shouted, surprisin' me so much I sat back from him.
I looked at Traff and he just shook his head, silently tellin' me not to push it any more. He handed me a piece of the meat we'd saved earlier an' I gave it to Hutch, but he batted my hand away an' put his head back in his hands, closin' me out.
I struggled to stand up an' give Hutch as much space as possible – difficult in a room that's seven by seven. My look to Traff said 'what the hell have they done at him?' He shrugged his shoulders. Hutch has been through some bad stuff in his time, but he's never been held POW. As bad as that was, it kinda prepared ya for any rough treatment. You build mental barriers to keep ya sane. Or at least I did. Now I was really worried for Blondie. It was bad enough seeing him hurt physically. I'd never forgive myself for getting' him into this if he cracked completely. I had to try again.
Easin' myself down again, I put my hands on his head an' pulled it round till I was lookin' at his face. His eyes were still closed, but at least I could see him.
'Hey Blintz. It'll be better if ya talk about it ya know. Traff 'n' me have been through some stuff before. We understand. Just try 'n' talk huh?'
Slowly the eyes opened, but the look in 'em was like a slap in the face. They held so much hurt an' something else. Almost like disgust. What was that all about?
'Hutch just tell me' I pleaded, needin' him to let me in. I was getting' kinda freaked out now. 'Did they hurt ya?'
He shook his head, a bit more certain now, life coming back into his eyes. 'No, they didn't really hurt me. Not physically any way' he sighed.
'What d'ya mean, not physically?' that sounded ominous.
He paused a moment an' I could see he was tryin' to get things straight in his head before he told us. Traff was sat on his other side, giving him more support, like a Hutch sandwich.
'Juanita's here' he started.
'Juanita Cortez?' I asked. Stupid really. How many other Juanitas did we know?
Hutch carried on. 'They must have arrested her at the same time they arrested us. She's been here the same time we have'.
'Have they hurt her?' I asked, feeling the anger risin'. It's one thing to torture a grown man (bad enough, but ya get over it). To cause pain to a woman is inhuman. Wrong on so many levels.
'She wasn't hurt. Not till today. They took me upstairs an' left me in a room. Not the one from before. A different one. Just left me there and didn't say anythin'. There was a table in the room but nothing else. I must have waited about ten minutes before that Doctor came in. Behind him were two guards with Juanita between 'em. She looked pale, but she seemed OK'. He closed his eyes again, like he was tryin' to shut out the memory.
'They asked me where Gardel was again. Told 'em I didn't know. They told me if I didn't co-operate it'd be bad for Juanita, so he asked me again. Couldn't tell him, even if I'd wanted to, could I? No idea where he is. So I told 'em. He didn't believe me, just ordered the guards in Spanish.
Next thing I knew they'd forced her over the table on her stomach an' pulled up her dress. Then they held her down. They were askin' her where Gardel was an' she was sayin she didn't know. She was so calm! Then they put a gun to her head'. He swallowed down a sob. 'Oh God Starsk, what have I done? Shit, what have I done?'
'What happened?' I asked, feeling my gut clenching coz I had a pretty good idea what had gone on, but my mind didn't want to believe it.
Hutch licked his lips. 'They told me if I wouldn't tell 'em, then she would. They told me to……..Oh God, I had no choice. They said if I didn't, they'd shoot her. They had the gun at her head an' the guard's finger was on the trigger. I refused to begin with an' he fired the gun into the table by her head. There was a splinter of wood in her cheek. I knew they meant it. Then she turned her head an' looked at me, like givin' me permission'.
He put his head back in his hands, shuttin' us both out, alone with his memory. He kept talkin, but it was muffled.
'How could she do that? How could she be so calm?'
'She did what she had to do, an' so did you' Traff said gently.
Hutch looked up an' stared at him. 'How could she give me permission to rape her?' he asked in a strangled voice.
So there it was. That's what he'd had to go through. Not only did he have to do an act so against his nature as to be painful for him, but to a woman he admired and liked. And to do it at gunpoint, three strange men watchin' and with the knowledge that if he refused, she'd be shot.
He was still talkin'. 'She just smiled at me an' turned away. I couldn't let 'em shoot her. What's she done to die for? But maybe she wanted to die after what…….what I did'. He said it so softly an' sadly.
'It's not your fault ya know' I said, not knowing what else to say. 'You were forced. You saved her life an' probably Gardel's too'.
But he was almost manic now, he was laughing, a hard, brittle laugh. 'She still wouldn't tell 'em, even after…..after I'd done, so they said I had to go round the other side of the table an'……an' take her at that end' he could hardly say the words.
'They pushed me round, but she started yellin' at 'em, sayin she didn't know an' neither did I. She was tryin' to save me. She didn't care about herself, she was tryin' to save me from having to…..having to rape her again. She looked at up me an' told me everythin' was OK and not to tell 'em anything. They pushed me towards her an' I struggled back. I was fightin' 'em now. No way could I do what they wanted'.
'No-one could, Hutch. You did good' I said, tryin' to make him feel better any way I could.
He just stared at me like I was a monster an' tears started flowin' down his face. 'How could I have done good? I didn't do what they said. I couldn't do it. Couldn't bring myself to degrade her like that again. I refused, so they shot her in the head. They just put the gun up against her head and blew her away. She's dead an' its all my fuckin' fault'. He sagged forward and deep racking sobs shook his body.
Traff an' me just stared. What can you do or say when a man's been forced to do that, an' then when he finally refuses, watches as the woman is shot?'
No. We didn't know what to do either.
