Far From Home- Chapter Two
We had been walking for days now and we were only allowed to rest when the Vietcong got water for themselves at streams we encountered. The vine was wrapped around the waist of the first P.O.W, his hands were placed behind his back, and then the vine was used to bind his hands together. The vine was then taken and wrapped around the waist of the second P.O.W and so on.
The vines were wrapped tightly around my hands, so tight they cut deep gashes into them and not soon after were they administered did I feel blood begin to trickle down them. The bush was thick with tall plants and trees, but neither was able to provide adequate protection from the sun. My skin was burned and my mouth was dry, lips cracked. Occasionally one of my men or myself would fall and the Vietcong would not stop to help him up. Instead he would be dragged and by some good fortune would manage to get up and retain the upright position. They surrounded us with their machine guns. They had no uniform except for the round of bullets that was slung over each of their necks.
When we passed villages, people would come to their doors, cheer for the Vietcong and spit on us. Some of my troops cursed and I yelled for them to shut up but before they could realize their mistake the Vietcong would lunge at them, striking them in the back with their guns. I wondered why they didn't just shoot and kill us, instead of keeping us alive. Maybe, they just wanted to see us suffer first.
We began to slow down as we entered a clearing in the woods. Spread around the clearing was an array of huts in every size, each with a stream of smoke rising from the chimney. When they entered the clearing women and children began to run to them. The man to my left picked up a chubby little boy and gave him a kiss on the cheek. A tiny woman on my right ran to the member of the Vietcong army in front of me and jumped into his arms. It was obvious that these were their families and this their home.
We were led into the largest of the huts and pushed to the ground. What I assumed was their leader, an older man with long dark hair that was crudely cut and a ragged beard, before exiting, had two men stand guard. An hour later he came back with a woman carrying food and water. He motioned to the contents she had set on the ground and asked, "Who boss?"
"Me." I said. One of his guards came up and using a knife cut the vine that connected me to my squadron. The guard pulled me up by my arm, lead me outside, and into a smaller hut. I sat down at a table. The leader set down a glass of water and a plate in front of me. I wasn't able to go for the food with my hands because they were tied behind my back so I tried to with my teeth but before I could eat anything he pulled it all away.
"First, secrets!" He demanded. My brows furrowed, confused.
"What?" I asked.
"TELL SECRETS!" He yelled, banging his fist on the table, spilling the glass of water. It ran off the table and onto my boots.
"What secrets?!?!?" I was so confused.
"Why you here?!? What your mission?!?" He asked, calming down but only a little. I knew what he wanted to know now but I was bound by Marine law and most of all to my men, I couldn't- I wouldn't tell him. I wouldn't tell him that my squadron was meant to join another and then burn down the villages known to aide his army. I would refuse for as long as I could and when he threatened to kill my men I would start to feed him false information. That should buy us some time.
"TELL ME!" He screamed, taking his gun and hitting me on the head with it. I yelled in pain and then blacked out. Their leader took a bucket of water placed it on the table, grabbed me by the neck and plunged my head into it. The drowning effect worked because a moment later I drew back and gasped for air. Their leader waited patiently for a moment, allowing me to recover. I hung my head, no longer able to hold it up. My ears were ringing and I was now seeing double vision.
"Tell me secrets."
"No." I answered defiantly, trying to raise my head to his eye level. He threw a punch and I narrowly missed it. He did it again and this time his fist connected with my nose. I heard a crack and I knew it was broken. Blood streamed down my face and onto my shirt.
"TELL ME!"
Gasping for breath, now unable to breathe from my nose, I yelled again, "No!"
Their leader mumbled something in Vietnamese to the guards and he left the hut. They pulled me from the chair; cut the vines that binded my hands together, and then threw me against the wall. Each guard grabbed one of my arms and a shackle hanging from the ceiling that I hadn't noticed when I first came in and put it around my wrist. I was now hanging from the ceiling.
*Philadelphia-The Pryor Household.
"Patty, please set the table for dinner. We'll be eating in a few minutes." Helen Pryor said sticking her head out of the kitchen into the living room where her youngest daughter sat on the couch doing her homework. Will was sitting in front of the television completely engrossed.
"Sure, mom." She replied setting down her things and then going to the cabinet. Helen returned to the stove and added a little more butter to the mashed potatoes. Meg walked in at that moment.
"Mom, can I go to Roxanne's?" The doorbell rang.
"Yes, but after dinner. Could you get the door, please?" Meg nodded and left the kitchen. A minute later, her husband walked through the back door.
"Hi honey, I'm home." She went to her husband and kissed him on the mouth.
"How was your day?" She asked, helping him off with his jacket.
"Busy, we sold a lot of televisions today." Meg walked back into the kitchen, looking scared.
"Meg, what's wrong?" Her mother asked.
"Ther-there's a m-man at the door, he's asking for Mr. and Mrs. Pryor. He has a telegram for you." Helen and Jack looked at each other terrified, and hurried to the front door.
It was open and there stood an older gentleman on the front stoop, wearing a blue uniform holding a telegram.
"I have been instructed to give this to a Mr. or Mrs. Pryor. Are one or both of you them?"
"Yes, we are." Helen said. The man offered the telegram to her, she took it, said thank you and closed the door. She trembled, staring at the telegram in her hand. Meg, Patty, and Will stood in the living room, eyes wide.
"We don't know... That it has anything to do with him until we open it." Jack gently said to his wife. She nodded turned it over, peeled back the flap and read. Jack looked over her shoulder.
"Oh, Jack." She whispered collapsing into his arms; the telegram fell to the floor. Meg grabbed the telegram and read it aloud:
"We regret to inform you that your son, Jack Pryor Jr. is missing in action, whereabouts unknown."
Authors Note: I would like to apologize for the typos in chapter one and I tried to be better with looking for errors in chapter two. If you, the reader, have any ideas for Far From Home please feel free to e-mail me with them. I ask to be e-mailed because if it's left on a review and I choose to use it everyone will know what is going to happen before it does, which is no fun. Of course, if I choose to use someone's idea then I will give them credit in the chapter that it was used in. I know that in this chapter JJ got the crap beaten out of him and just to warn everyone this wont be the last time. Please review!
Disclaimer: I do not own American Dreams or any of the characters. This is a work of fiction based on the NBC television series.
We had been walking for days now and we were only allowed to rest when the Vietcong got water for themselves at streams we encountered. The vine was wrapped around the waist of the first P.O.W, his hands were placed behind his back, and then the vine was used to bind his hands together. The vine was then taken and wrapped around the waist of the second P.O.W and so on.
The vines were wrapped tightly around my hands, so tight they cut deep gashes into them and not soon after were they administered did I feel blood begin to trickle down them. The bush was thick with tall plants and trees, but neither was able to provide adequate protection from the sun. My skin was burned and my mouth was dry, lips cracked. Occasionally one of my men or myself would fall and the Vietcong would not stop to help him up. Instead he would be dragged and by some good fortune would manage to get up and retain the upright position. They surrounded us with their machine guns. They had no uniform except for the round of bullets that was slung over each of their necks.
When we passed villages, people would come to their doors, cheer for the Vietcong and spit on us. Some of my troops cursed and I yelled for them to shut up but before they could realize their mistake the Vietcong would lunge at them, striking them in the back with their guns. I wondered why they didn't just shoot and kill us, instead of keeping us alive. Maybe, they just wanted to see us suffer first.
We began to slow down as we entered a clearing in the woods. Spread around the clearing was an array of huts in every size, each with a stream of smoke rising from the chimney. When they entered the clearing women and children began to run to them. The man to my left picked up a chubby little boy and gave him a kiss on the cheek. A tiny woman on my right ran to the member of the Vietcong army in front of me and jumped into his arms. It was obvious that these were their families and this their home.
We were led into the largest of the huts and pushed to the ground. What I assumed was their leader, an older man with long dark hair that was crudely cut and a ragged beard, before exiting, had two men stand guard. An hour later he came back with a woman carrying food and water. He motioned to the contents she had set on the ground and asked, "Who boss?"
"Me." I said. One of his guards came up and using a knife cut the vine that connected me to my squadron. The guard pulled me up by my arm, lead me outside, and into a smaller hut. I sat down at a table. The leader set down a glass of water and a plate in front of me. I wasn't able to go for the food with my hands because they were tied behind my back so I tried to with my teeth but before I could eat anything he pulled it all away.
"First, secrets!" He demanded. My brows furrowed, confused.
"What?" I asked.
"TELL SECRETS!" He yelled, banging his fist on the table, spilling the glass of water. It ran off the table and onto my boots.
"What secrets?!?!?" I was so confused.
"Why you here?!? What your mission?!?" He asked, calming down but only a little. I knew what he wanted to know now but I was bound by Marine law and most of all to my men, I couldn't- I wouldn't tell him. I wouldn't tell him that my squadron was meant to join another and then burn down the villages known to aide his army. I would refuse for as long as I could and when he threatened to kill my men I would start to feed him false information. That should buy us some time.
"TELL ME!" He screamed, taking his gun and hitting me on the head with it. I yelled in pain and then blacked out. Their leader took a bucket of water placed it on the table, grabbed me by the neck and plunged my head into it. The drowning effect worked because a moment later I drew back and gasped for air. Their leader waited patiently for a moment, allowing me to recover. I hung my head, no longer able to hold it up. My ears were ringing and I was now seeing double vision.
"Tell me secrets."
"No." I answered defiantly, trying to raise my head to his eye level. He threw a punch and I narrowly missed it. He did it again and this time his fist connected with my nose. I heard a crack and I knew it was broken. Blood streamed down my face and onto my shirt.
"TELL ME!"
Gasping for breath, now unable to breathe from my nose, I yelled again, "No!"
Their leader mumbled something in Vietnamese to the guards and he left the hut. They pulled me from the chair; cut the vines that binded my hands together, and then threw me against the wall. Each guard grabbed one of my arms and a shackle hanging from the ceiling that I hadn't noticed when I first came in and put it around my wrist. I was now hanging from the ceiling.
*Philadelphia-The Pryor Household.
"Patty, please set the table for dinner. We'll be eating in a few minutes." Helen Pryor said sticking her head out of the kitchen into the living room where her youngest daughter sat on the couch doing her homework. Will was sitting in front of the television completely engrossed.
"Sure, mom." She replied setting down her things and then going to the cabinet. Helen returned to the stove and added a little more butter to the mashed potatoes. Meg walked in at that moment.
"Mom, can I go to Roxanne's?" The doorbell rang.
"Yes, but after dinner. Could you get the door, please?" Meg nodded and left the kitchen. A minute later, her husband walked through the back door.
"Hi honey, I'm home." She went to her husband and kissed him on the mouth.
"How was your day?" She asked, helping him off with his jacket.
"Busy, we sold a lot of televisions today." Meg walked back into the kitchen, looking scared.
"Meg, what's wrong?" Her mother asked.
"Ther-there's a m-man at the door, he's asking for Mr. and Mrs. Pryor. He has a telegram for you." Helen and Jack looked at each other terrified, and hurried to the front door.
It was open and there stood an older gentleman on the front stoop, wearing a blue uniform holding a telegram.
"I have been instructed to give this to a Mr. or Mrs. Pryor. Are one or both of you them?"
"Yes, we are." Helen said. The man offered the telegram to her, she took it, said thank you and closed the door. She trembled, staring at the telegram in her hand. Meg, Patty, and Will stood in the living room, eyes wide.
"We don't know... That it has anything to do with him until we open it." Jack gently said to his wife. She nodded turned it over, peeled back the flap and read. Jack looked over her shoulder.
"Oh, Jack." She whispered collapsing into his arms; the telegram fell to the floor. Meg grabbed the telegram and read it aloud:
"We regret to inform you that your son, Jack Pryor Jr. is missing in action, whereabouts unknown."
Authors Note: I would like to apologize for the typos in chapter one and I tried to be better with looking for errors in chapter two. If you, the reader, have any ideas for Far From Home please feel free to e-mail me with them. I ask to be e-mailed because if it's left on a review and I choose to use it everyone will know what is going to happen before it does, which is no fun. Of course, if I choose to use someone's idea then I will give them credit in the chapter that it was used in. I know that in this chapter JJ got the crap beaten out of him and just to warn everyone this wont be the last time. Please review!
Disclaimer: I do not own American Dreams or any of the characters. This is a work of fiction based on the NBC television series.