Day 2 – Foul Tasting Water
I groan as consciousness is forced back upon me. I can feel my face pressed against cool metal and my body aches terribly. The darkness is back. Even with my eyes wide open I can see nothing but complete darkness.
I move slightly and realize that my hands are no longer handcuffed behind my back. But as I move to sit up my head spins and I fall back down. Someone next to me catches me and at least prevents my face from colliding with the metal floor.
"Sark. Are you ok?"
Sydney's asks me guardedly as she helps me sit back up by leaning me against the metal wall.
I force myself to answer. "I'm fine."
"Did you find out who they are and what they want?"
The spinning in my head has only started to subside, but the hard edge to her voice threatens to bring a new headache forth. I can tell she's sitting next to me so I reach towards her. My clumsy fingers on my working arm find her face, and I place a finger across her lips to shush her.
Her lips feel soft under my callused finger, but I don't have the energy to really enjoy it. My hand drops off her face and to the floor before she has a chance to swat it away.
"Shhh" I whisper to her.
She gets up and moves away from me, but gives me peace from her questions for a while.
In the tense silence I recall the reason why my right shoulder is screaming bloody murder at me.
But I can't do this alone.
I wait a moment for an alternative to present itself, but I can come up with nothing else.
I force myself to take a deep breath. "Sydney—"
"What?" Comes the sharp rely. She must think that I'm a much stronger person than I actually am. I'm not eager to disillusion her.
"My shoulder is dislocated. Could I trouble you to help me with it?"
She doesn't respond. Oh how I wish for some light so that I might see her reaction.
Her hands find me in the dark and travel up my right arm. Her touch is sure and confident as she palpates around my shoulder joint trying to determine where the dislocation has occurred.
"Lie down on your side," she instructs me, her tone no longer harsh, but certainly not friendly. I comply and try to force myself to relax. This will be unpleasant enough as it is without my muscles seizing on me.
As I lie on the cold metal floor, I take several deep breaths to try and relax my muscles. Sydney waits a moment for me to ready myself before she takes my right arm and starts to apply some traction to it. I want to scream at her to be gentle as the pain shoots up my arm and down my back, but I force myself not to cry out.
There's an audible clunk as my bone slips back into its socket and the pain immediately begins to lessen. I cannot help the sigh of relief that escapes my mouth and I try to sit back up again.
There is silence for a little while and I can hear her pacing about.
Finally she speaks again. "When they brought you back they also brought us a bucket and lid so that we could go to the bathroom. I put it in the corner to the left and farthest from the door. They also undid my handcuffs. But I couldn't see anything about where we are or who has us captured because they put a light in my eyes before they came in."
The spinning in my head seems to have calmed down a little, and I am able to recall a bit from my excursion.
"We're in a sea container, on a ship, heading to Hong Kong I believe, but I'm not entirely sure. My Mandarin is a little rusty and I can only remember parts of the conversation. Did they by any chance, drop off anything to drink?" My throat feels like sandpaper.
I hear more shuffling around me. Finally I feel Sydney's arm flailing about trying to find me. She finds my arm and places a small bucket in my hands. I can feel liquid sloshing around at the bottom of it. "I hope this isn't the same pail they gave you for--"
"It's not, but don't think the idea wasn't tempting," she replies sharply but maybe with a small sense of humor.
Oh don't get me wrong, I'm sure that she still hates me, but I think she also realizes the extent of our situation. We were on a mission for SD-6. We failed and were captured. She and I both know that SD-6 isn't in the habit of going out its way to rescue operatives. In fact, they might even do what they can to eliminate us if they feel that we can expose them in any way. So unless the CIA comes to rescue her, then we are on our own. And to be honest, I'm not holding my breath for the CIA.
"What did they want from you?" she asks in a gentler tone than before.
I appreciate the gesture. "I don't know. They just mistreated me and asked me the usual questions of who I am and who I work for. When I didn't respond, they mistreated me a little bit more. The next thing I remember is waking up next to you."
I can hear her sharp intake of breath as the phrasing of my words sinks in, and then I feel her move away.
She stays away from me for the rest of the day.