Basra, Iraq
Day 5
Jo's stomach growled. She groaned, rolling over, finding herself staring at the laughing pocked ceiling. She squeezed her eyes shut then opened them again. The ceiling was still there.
She growled to herself, pushing her body up to sit against the cool wall. Her wrists were still bound behind her, the restraints cutting into her skin. She could feel dried blood crusting on her fingers.
She looked around her prison, trying to come up with some sort of situation breakdown, something that she could act upon. The bare bulb burned too brightly, lashing out into each of the four corners of the room. Besides her, the only other thing in the room was the RMP. Jo tried not to look at her. The utter disregard of her fellow soldier pushed her harder to find some way to do something, anything but sit there and wait.
She twisted her wrists in frustration, ignoring the pain. Curling her fingertips, she felt the sharp points of the wire binding her. She struggled, falling over sideways, to unwind the ends of the wire, trying to free herself. Sweat broke out over her brow as she worked her fingers. The ends of the wire slashed through her fingertips, becoming slippery with her own blood. She gritted her teeth as she felt one turn give way. She took a breath and started on the next twist of wire.
Each twist of the wire that she freed up made the next one even harder. She blocked out the sharp rips of pain through her wrists and finger pads determined, desperate, to get loose. Each twist slackened the tightness of the restraint. One last effort resulted in her yanking her hands free. Jo rubbed her wrists, smearing blood all over her skin.
As she pressed on her skin to stop the blood sliding out from the slices in her skin, she looked around to see what to do next. The light irritated her. With her hands free, she unlaced her boot. She pitched the boot at the bulb, rewarded by the shattering of glass. The cell dropped into darkness. Jo sat for a moment, waiting for some reaction from outside the door in the opposite wall. None came. She could not even hear any activity beyond the door. She got up, skirting the wall of the room to avoid the broken glass and felt around to find her boot. Irrational satisfaction filled her when she finally came across it. She crossed back to where she started, sitting down to pull it back on. Some kind of control back in her grasp gave her something to work with. She used touch to pull her hair back to the back of her neck, rearranging the pins to hold the short ends back. In the darkness, she straightened her uniform as best she could.
The darkness did not dispel the presence of the RMP lying lifeless so close to her. The random cruelty of life, that this woman should be dead while Jo still lived angered her beyond anything she had ever felt. The fact that this was not a random act grated her even more. She could do nothing to bring this young woman back to life. The only thing Jo could do for her was to make sure that those that had murdered her were not allowed to continue their crimes.
Her captors had questioned her about who had informed them about the presence of the stolen artefacts in the warehouse. Jo did not know about any informant. As far as she knew, the routine checks in the warehouse had resulted in the findings. Her captors' questions and knowledge seemed to disprove one theory of the case. The Americans were probably not smuggling the pieces out of Baghdad. Iraqi citizens themselves were responsible. In a war zone, the fact that crime continued seemed a horrible blow to the people who were struggling to rebuild their lives. Jo wanted to believe against all of her experience that money was not what made the world turn.
The door slammed open, startling her. Jo tensed, watching in the blackness as a face peered into the darkness, uttering harsh words at finding the light extinguished. He shouted something back down the corridor. The door slammed closed. Jo moved into the corner, pressing herself back. She might have some chance if they only came at her from one direction.
The door slammed back open. Torchlight seared through the darkness. Jo bowed her head as a flare of light hit her face. She got to her feet, ready to fight, as they advanced on her. She curled her fists, waiting. She never got the chance. A shock came out of the darkness. She felt the cold touch of metal on her side. The electricity shot through her body. The shock made her cry out against her will. She could not fight. Her entire body shook. The only thing she could do was press further back into the corner. She tried against her body's shuddering to strike out. Another shock hit her, making her bite her tongue.
Someone grabbed her hair, throwing her to the floor. Jo struggled as someone grabbed her flailing arms, binding them back behind her back again. She threw her head around as a scarf was wrapped around her, blinding her. They heaved her to her feet, propelling her forward.
Jo felt the fresh air as they pulled her from the cell. Hands grabbed her from every direction. She was carried more than walked down the corridor. Jo struggled as much as she could, kicking at the legs of her captors. Their grasp on her arms tightened. It felt as if her bones would be crushed. She heard another door creak open, promising another prison. Using the strength of her captors' hold, Jo twisted her body, pulling her legs up, lashing out. She was thrown forward, landing heavily on another concrete floor. The landing jarred her. For a moment, just one, Jo gave into the pain that shot through her. She gathered her strength, refusing to give in. A shout stopped her quick.
She was thrown into a chair. The scarf around her face was pulled away. She stared face to face with Sowden. A shot of relief coursed through her. His face was beaten, bruised, bloodied but he was still alive. His bleach blonde hair was tinted red with blood. He looked weary, frightened, like a little boy. Jo gave him the only smile she could muster to give him some measure of comfort. He brightened, only a little.
Two men, their faces visible, stood to either side of Sowden. Jo's stomach twisted. If they were showing their faces, Jo knew that they did not intend to allow them to live. To each side of her, another two men also stood. Jo watched them, trying to discern what was going to come next. They grabbed Sowden first. Jo very nearly came out of her chair in protest. She was pushed back into the chair.
"Who told you to search the warehouse?" The man to her left rasped in her ear, as Sowden was pulled upright by his throat. Jo clenched her teeth. She could see the man nod out of the corner of her eye. Sowden's captors punched him viciously in the jaw. "Who told you to search the warehouse?" The question came again. It was everything that Jo could do not to shout out as Sowden yelped in pain. She could feel herself react to his pain, her lip quivering. Anger rescued her. She growled. Her neck cracked as her interrogator let her go with a shake of Jo's head. Sowden's attackers let him go. Jo's interrogator crossed over to Sowden. Jo's guard immediately went up. The man leaned close to Sowden's ear, grinning, watching Jo. He whispered something in Sowden's ear that she could not hear. Sowden reacted, struggling against his restraints.
Jo never saw the blow coming. She fell out of the chair, her vision jarred to blur.
"Who told you to search the warehouse?" Jo was lifted back into the chair. She could barely make out Sowden struggling as they held him down. She had not recovered from the first blow when the second one came. Jo cried out against her will. "Who told you where to look?" Jo gasped for breath as she was tossed back into the chair. She squeezed her eyes closed, trying to push away the pain spiking out from her jaw. She spit out blood, hearing one of her teeth clinking off the floor. She coughed, still trying to regain her breath. She lifted her head, shooting Sowden a look to let him know she was not too hurt.
She heard the man to her right move and steadied herself for the blow, twisting around in the chair, kicking him just as the blow fell. Jo fell, landing hard on her knees, hearing the two who had beaten Sowden rush to her attacker's aid. She was yanked from the ground, thrown into her chair. Pain blossomed in her back. She was given no time to recover. A hand grasped her neck, cutting off her air. She struggled desperately.
"What have you found in the warehouse?" Jo heard Sowden sob. She stopped struggling, blearily looking up at him through her loosed hair, letting him know she was still in the fight. She needed to do something, anything, to prop him up. The hand around her throat loosened. Jo gulped in deep breaths.
"Tell me what I want to know and you can spare her. What have you found in the warehouse so far?" Jo winked at him. Sowden clenched his teeth. Jo readied herself for the blow she knew was coming. It came, against the side of her head. She tumbled from the chair again face down on the floor. Again, she was thrown back into the chair.
"Where is our merchandise now? Where are you keeping it?" Sowden shook his head. Jo went flying through the air. She landed, hard, on her shoulder. She rolled over, struggling now not to cry. She kicked out as they advanced on her.
"Josey!" Sowden shouted out as they were on her again.
"Shut up!" she growled back, twisting under the onslaught of punches and kicks landing on her. Her attackers did not bother to put her back in the chair now. Nor did they give her a moment between beatings.
"Who are you investigating? What did the Americans tell you? What are you searching for? Who told you where to search?" Jo could not see past the kicking strikes as Sowden was peppered with questions. She could hear him struggling. She twisted her body, trying to protect herself from the cracks coming quick and constant. She curled over to her side, protecting her belly. A kick landed on her exposed hands bound behind her. Jo cried out as she literally felt her fingers break under the force. She could not stop the sobs breaking from her chest under the pain but her own weakness only made her want to fight harder.
She kicked out as she was lifted once again off the floor. Several of her kicks found homes against the legs of her attackers but did not stop them from flinging her back into the chair. A clank of a pistol being chambered stopped her struggle. She lifted her head as she felt the muzzle of the weapon against her temple.
The threat has the opposite effect than the one that she knew was intended. She was not going to die like this. She jumped to her feet, barrelling into her executor shoulder first. She knocked him off his feet with the momentum of her thrust. She could hear the others coming to his rescue. That did not stop her. She kicked at him with all of her strength, satisfied with his guttural groans as she hit home. She was lifted clear off her feet, still kicking. She saw the man on the floor level the pistol at her. She used her captors' hold on her to jerk out of the way. The shot echoed the room, deafening. The bullet blew past her hip so close she could feel the heat.
Sowden screamed. Jo coiled around. Sowden lay writhing on the ground, blood pouring from where the bullet had hit him in the shoulder. She felt their hold on her loosen. She broke loose from them, hurrying to Sowden's side. No one grabbed her. She leaned down, murmuring soft words in Sowden's ear, trying to calm him. He sobbed like a little boy. She glared at their attackers. The men stood, staring at Jo and Sowden, startled.
"You're okay," she whispered to Sowden. "You've done well." She repeated the words over and over, trying to bring him back from his pain. Inwardly, she steadied herself for what she knew, instinctively knew was coming next. Sowden opened his eyes, peering up at her. She kept eye contact, unspoken strength flowing from her to him. He blinked, taking deep breaths, nodding to her. Jo glanced up as she felt the men rush over her. She curled her fists, waiting, her broken bones grating in her fingers.
What she expected did not come. The men walked over her. The door slammed shut. Jo looked around. She and Sowden were left alone.
"You're okay," she whispered to him again, slumping down against him. "We're okay. We made it." He nodded against her. "We made it." She spoke the words for her own benefit. Inexplicably they had escaped death. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she filed the fact that if their captors were experienced criminals, they would not have hesitated to kill both of them. This was not an act of terrorists trying to further their cause of ridding Iraq of the armies. This was about money. Their captors put on a good show but they were not experienced killers. Instead of doing the next step, killing Jo and Sowden, they had fled the room when the situation had escalated. That little detail gave Jo some comfort.
She curled up next to Sowden, cradling his head against her neck. His nearness, his life, gave her some forlorn hope. She closed her eyes, pressing her face into his dirty hair. She tried not to cry, tried not to give in to the pain coursing through every part of her body. She wanted to feel safe. She wanted to feel protected. She wanted someone to hold her.
"Josey," Sowden whispered.
"Yeah?" Her voice sounded strangled to her ears.
"Why is this happening?"
"Never mind that." She shushed him. "Are you all right?" He nodded. "It doesn't hurt too much?" He shook his head.
"I can stand it." He looked up at her. "You?"
"Never better." She lied.
Something woke her. Jo squeezed her eyes shut. If she did not open them maybe she could remain in the oblivion of sleep. Sleep would not take her back. She heard herself sob. Her whole body hurt. She could not escape it. She could not move without a sharp jolt. Her legs, her torso, her arms, her hands, her neck, her head, there was not a single bone that did not grate, a single muscle that was not bruised. For the first time, fear started to creep in. Jo struggled to push it away. She needed something to do, something else to concentrate on.
She opened her eyes. Sowden still curled against her side, his head resting on her shoulder. She checked his shoulder wound. The bleeding had stopped but the skin around the gaping hole looked angry. Infection was setting in, adding insult to injury. She pressed her hand against his forehead. His skin was hot to the touch. She had no way to help him, nothing to give him to cool him. He whimpered in his sleep, nudging closer, sending a spike of pain through her ribs.
Jo looked around. She had no concept of time but it had been hours, maybe days, since their captors had fled the cell after Sowden had been shot. Her stomach growled in response. She had no idea when was the last time she had eaten. Killers or not, they did not have to shoot Jo to kill her. Leaving her here was tantamount to killing her. The only good thing about the aching pain in her head from the punches was that it masked the dehydration headache she knew was lurking somewhere.
Jo' ears perked up. She looked around. Somewhere, some place close, she heard the distinctive clack of an M-15. She pushed Sowden off her, standing up. She walked around the cell, trying to figure out where the gunshots were coming from. She pounded her hand against the wall. The gunfire moved closer. M-15s meant British army.
"Hey!" She yelled as loud as she could, pounding in the wall. "Hey!"
She started running around the cell, limping, hanging onto the wall to hold herself up. The gunfire echoed off the bricks. She could not tell which direction it came from. She made it to the door, pounding on it, yelling as loud as she could.
The door edged open. Jo jumped back then grabbed the edge of the door, yanking it open. She did not see the gun, intent as she was on getting out. The gunshot echoed in her ears. She grunted, falling backward. She landed hard on the floor, looking down where blood blossomed from her side. It should hurt. Silence rushed in her ears. She touched the wet blood draining down her side. She struggled to sit up. She looked up as the gun fired again, again, muffled, distant. She actually saw the bullets bounce around the room without feeling anything. A thud resounded in her head. She hit hard, lying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, seeing red. She could not feel anything, hear anything. Blackness edged in. She fought it off. She was not going to die like this.
She rolled over, heaving blood down her chin. She pushed herself up to her knees, falling back down as her leg gave out. The room spun around her. She pulled herself across the floor, reaching out to Sowden. She pulled herself along his leg. For the first time since this whole thing started she did not feel a thing. She collapsed, knocking her chin against his forehead. It should have hurt. She curled herself around Sowden, pressing her face into his hair. She could not even feel his hair against her skin.
She could close her eyes. This mess that was her life could be over.
No. The word resounded in her head. No. She was a soldier. She was not going to die like this. She was not going to let anyone kill her against her will.
The movement of the door caught her attention. She stared as a hulk of a man barrelled through. She watched, detached, as he panned the weapon around the cell. He stepped further into the room. Jo took in his uniform, British army, neat. He levelled the gun at her. She just looked at him. His face was painted, masking his identity. He reached out to her. Jo did not move, just watched him. She could not feel him press his fingers under her chin. Somewhere in her mind, she knew he was checking for her pulse. His mouth moved. He leaned over her, right over her and felt for Sowden's pulse. His mouth moved again. Somewhere she managed the strength to reach up. She rubbed at the paint on his face. She wanted to know who he was. He took her hand, squeezing it. She could feel her broken bones grating against each other but it did not hurt.
Jo saw three more soldiers barrel into the cell behind her rescuer. She saw them pull Sowden away from her. She saw them roll her over onto her back. Another soldier leaned over her. She could see his mouth moving but heard nothing. She stared up at him.
All at once, everything rushed at her. The noise was deafening. Pain ripped through her. She screamed as they rolled her onto a litter. She struggled against the mask pulled over her nose and mouth. Someone held her head down making her fight harder. She tried to turn her head, to see Sowden, to see what they were doing to him. She started sobbing, unable to control the tears.
"Sgt. McDonagh." A smooth voice called to her. Someone held her head still, wrapping something hard around her neck. "Sgt. McDonagh."
A flurry of activity lit off to her left. She saw out of the corner of her eye Sowden being lifted and carried out of the cell.
"Sgt. McDonagh." She looked up. The smear of face paint on his cheek, he was her rescuer. He held her face, his huge hands holding her cheeks. He brushed her hair away from her face. "You're safe now." She tried to say something, anything, to thank him. Thankfully, blackness finally washed in. Jo did not fight it now.