I strongly suspected, though I refused to admit, I was quickly becoming a heroin addict.

I no longer pulled away when Guest approached me with his wooden box and the wonders contained within it. At first, I had looked away when Guest injected me. As my pleasurable initiation into the world of drugs continued and expanded, I openly watched him. There was something morbidly fascinating in the way that the needle slid smoothly under my skin, disappearing, and then withdrawing, leaving just the barest pinprick of blood behind.

And, just as Guest had promised me, I was beginning not to care about my reality or what I had to endure to receive the drugs. I was becoming willing to endure it all, looking forward to my only avenue of escape from my situation.

Usually, Guest performed the injection soon after Tristan ceased torturing me. Today, he simply placed the filled syringe on the table, plainly in my sight.

"You no longer protest receiving heroin from me, Captain. It took less time than I anticipated for you to become addicted to it. Though, I'm not surprised. You are one of those impeccable perfectionists who would not allow himself to make even one minor mistake."

"Yes, yes," I thought, wanting less of his talking and more of the drug. I had already heard Guest's speech, and previously, I had railed against it. Now, what had once so offended me, I could hardly care about. All I could find about which to care was lying on the table.

So close, but yet, so very far away from me.

It was all I could do not to lick my lips. I did not think I had ever wanted anything more.

"God forbid you should be anything less than perfect, Captain," Guest continued. "What would your family, especially your father, say regarding your blossoming love affair with heroin?"

I knew exactly what my father would say. He would pronounce me as weak. My mother would believe that she had failed as a parent. My sister would have been mystified and mortified. I found that none of it mattered.

"If I could hazard a guess, you've probably needed something like drugs to help you cope with life since you were a young child. Something to make you feel human, something you could control when you felt you could control nothing else, something allowing you relief from the constant requirements of proving your worth as a man. Something to make your life your own."

I swallowed my pride, knowing I was about to admit my own defeat. "Perhaps you are right, Guest."

"I am." Guest gave an exaggerated sigh. "Unfortunately, I can no longer supply you with such high-quality drugs unless you provide me something in return. Even Cheri earns her keep, one way or another. After all, if I was this generous to all my customers I would soon be out of business. Despite what you might think of me, Captain, I am a businessman. I need to turn a profit. Tell me what I want to know," he said seductively as a lover, "and then I will give you all the pleasures you are seeking."

I remained silent, my attention only on the syringe. Guest noticed my fixation.

"Such a narrow focus, Captain, when there are so many other pleasures to be had."

What other pleasures could there be? I was uninterested in them.

"Perhaps you need some additional encouragement, Captain."

I slumped down against my bindings. I would not survive the continued torture much longer.

Guest placed his hand on my knee. The gesture, while gentle, was anything but innocent.

Unaccustomed fear seized me as his fingers deliberately crawled upwards. Barely breathing, I waited for him to stop. Surely, this was no more than another one of Guest's sick and twisted games.

But even as I said it to myself, I knew that wasn't it at all.

The agonizingly slow creep continued until it could go no further, stopped by the juncture of my legs. Breath, I reminded myself, breath. Now in my crotch, Guest lightly rubbed at me through the thin fabric of my trousers, as if assessing what he might find underneath.

Guest reached for my trousers to undo them. I found an inner strength and began frantically struggling, fighting against this new, anticipated cruelty. I brought my knee up sharply, catching Guest under the chin, sending him sprawling. He picked himself up, cursing under his breath. He backhanded me hard twice, knocking the remaining strength from me. I ceased fighting.

Guest stood over me, breathing heavily, wiping the blood from his mouth. He quickly regained his decorum.

"Why do you always associate me with pain instead of pleasure, Captain? Have you forgotten that I was the one to personally administer heroin to you every evening after Tristan tortured you?" The fake compassion left his face to be replaced by a hard determination.

"Now, let's resume."

As if to calm and reassure me, he returned to caressing me. A few, very long minutes later, he quickly undid my trousers, eagerly parting them, impatiently pulling them open.

The lasciviousness on his face as he exposed me was something which will haunt my nightmares forever.

"So luscious!" he murmured.

I closed my eyes, trying to distance myself.

At first his touch was unthreatening, nothing more than the simple sketching of fingers along flesh. Nothing unfamiliar, nothing I hadn't felt at my own hands, and certainly nothing I hadn't felt at those of a woman.

Nothing more, nothing less.

I was nearly successful at convincing myself of it. However, encouraged by my lack of response, Guest decided to increase his efforts. Against my better judgement, masochistically, I opened my eyes.

Guest's hand was to his mouth. The obscenity of his pink tongue snaked out over and over again, coating his fingers with the slime of his saliva. When they were well prepared, he applied them to me.

Slowly and expertly, the fondling began in earnest.

I struggled, attempting to pull back from his touch, but I was still bound tightly to the chair and the effort was useless. As I demonstrated my helplessness the light touch slowly started to escalate, increasing its intensity, rhythm and focus.

"Shush, Hans!" Guest said, as if calming a distraught maiden who was facing her first seduction. "Why ever would you want to fight against me? Or, against something so beautiful?"

I struggled again, with no results, but to aggravate the wounds on my back. Soon, I stopped. Instead, I willed myself still with the hopes he'd soon grow bored with his latest perversion, while still rewarding my complicity.

After all, it was the heroin I truly desired, not this. If it didn't go too far, I could endure it. Playing along might mean I'd get what I wanted in the end.

Even if the present was nearly making me vomit with revulsion.

If anything, my resistance seemed to be intensifying Guest's desire.

"Why, it's only sex! It's just the delivery that's different, that's all." Guest's voice was soft and perfectly reasonable, even as he said entirely unreasonable things. "You know, if you give it a chance, you may even find you enjoy it more. I'm not ashamed to tell you, I do."

As Guest made more of his darkest desires known, I knew I was completely at his mercy. It was a difficult realization to face, but one firmly underscored by my total inability to stop what he was doing.

Ironically, the idea of being tied and helpless during sex had been appealing to me in the past. Indeed, I had paid for the privilege while in Paris, and more than once. If my opponent in this game had instead been a woman, I imagined I would be enjoying myself.

Perhaps, even another man. . .

"I'll even do all the work, Guest promised. "All you need to do is sit back and enjoy the ride."

Inevitably, after enough stimulation, I began responding to Guest. Instinctually, he seemed to know exactly what I liked. Knowing exactly how to manipulate me, he was quickly showing he was better at pleasuring me than any woman I had ever known.

But then, why shouldn't he be? Guest had an advantage no woman, no matter how practiced or skilled, would truly ever have. He was fully versed in the carnal desires and the response of men to them. Because, of course, he himself was a man. The idea of it was enough to turn even the headiest of pleasure into something unwelcome.

Keeping one hand still engaged, the other reached up to caress a nipple. He proceeded to tweak it and gently pinch it before moving unto the other one. Leaning over, he gently took it into his mouth, his tongue dancing across it, the edge of his teeth teasing the nub until it hardened. Lifting his lips, he blew a stream of air across the erect tissue. Sensations, hot and cold, shot down like arrows to where his other hand still moved.

I gasped and twitched.

"Stop," I pleaded, my voice hoarse. "I want you to stop."

Guest paused for a moment, breaking all contact with me as he considered my plea. Unbidden, my hips lifted themselves from the chair, my base instincts seeking out the continued connection.

"I don't believe you want me to stop in the least, Captain," Guest said. "Tristan, do you think the good captain wants me to stop?"

Tristan was leaning against the wall, examining his nails, bored with the proceedings. He glanced over as Guest began stroking me once again.

As if wishing to make his point irrefutable, Guest wrapped his fingers around me, gently pushing, slightly twisting, exposing the red smooth skin of the glans to shine moistly in the light. His hand then moved upwards in one smooth stroke, hooding me once again. Deliberately, Guest repeated the action, once, and then again and again, until I moaned. His other hand worked the shaft below in the same leisurely rhythm.

"Yes, Mr. Guest, I would agree with you. That 'No, No, some more!' routine is the same one you hear from a woman when she wants nothing more than a good rogering but is too proper to admit it." My eyes slipped open at his comments. Tristan's eyes came to rest on the true evidence of his words. "After all, it's very obvious the captain is enjoying your attention. It certainly looks like he wants you to continue. No matter what he might be saying."

I closed my eyes to shut out them out, but the unwanted pleasure I was receiving remained. I supposed it could be worse. As mortified as I was at the idea of another man witnessing my degradation, at least I could be thankful there was a wall separating me from Troy.

One final time, my disgust attempted to war with my desire, But, just as Tristan had observed, the winner was clear. With a sigh, I gradually relaxed against my bonds.

The stroking continued tirelessly: Pleasurable, constant, and insistent. With skill and even care, Guest had been pushing me, pulling me, guiding me to exactly where he wanted me.

Unpredictably, Guest stopped. I squirmed, restless, wondering if he had lost interest.

Instead, his hands moved to gently part my thighs. In a moment, he was between them. I felt the unmistakable touch of an exploring tongue. The whisper soft licking progressed to suckling. Soon, from root to tip, I was fully held in the unimaginable embrace of Guest's mouth. A soft, warm delicately textured thing, Guest's mouth had become an instrument of gratification, its only purpose to deliver pleasure to me. His lips held me while his tongue lavished me with swirling caresses.

The moans which were escaping me were now unavoidable.

Unbidden, I spread my thighs farther, allowing his roving hands better access.

He worked me for a few minutes, slowly and deliciously, before he pulled away with a soft moist sound.

I whimpered at the desertion.

"You really are enjoying your little 'French' lesson, aren't you? But then, what man wouldn't?" Guest chuckled. "Tell me the truth, Captain, and shame the devil: Do you really want me to stop?"

If Guest had stayed quiet, or if I had managed to keep my eyes closed, or if my imagination had been better . . . I could have easily convinced myself it had been a woman who was pleasuring me. As it was, I couldn't. I couldn't deny any of it.

And, I found I no longer cared.

"God, no!" I had not hesitated before answering. My voice was husky, my arousal beyond denial. Moments before, if my hands had been free, I would have pushed Guest away. Now I would have intertwined them in his hair, guiding his actions, pushing him down, burying his face firmly and irrevocably between my thighs.

"Captain, I want you to always remember that I was the one who introduced you to being pleasured by a man. This is your first time, isn't it?"

I swallowed and nodded, admitting my inexperience.

"Ah! I thought so. I am honored. You will always remember me as your first, no matter what or who may come afterwards."

To my great relief, Guest stopped talking and again put his mouth to better use. Renewing his clever manipulations, he threatened to swallow me whole. My head thrown back, my labored breathing was punctuated by sharp gasps. I was helpless against the sensation the likes of which I had never quite felt before.

Surprising as I considered myself a connoisseur of sex. My erotic appetite voracious, I had tried nearly everything which I thought could bring me pleasure. But, for all my experiences, a man had never been one of them. Though, it wasn't an entirely unfamiliar idea.

I had found the shows in the pre-war Berlin cabarets titillating and I had listened with great interest to the stories of two friends who sometimes generously shared a woman, and then, sometimes, even more between them. During the war, I had heard tales of men, when there had been no other option, giving in to each other and receiving mind blowing pleasure as a result.

Admittedly, I had been curious. However, I had never seriously entertained the idea of it.

Until now.

In a perverse way, Guest's complete domination over me during the most intimate of sex acts was exciting and fulfilling, different than what I had been forced to pay for in Paris. I looked down. Guest looked up, his eyes locked with mine.

There was no denying it. I desperately wanted what Guest was doing to me as much as I had ever wanted it from any woman.

Perhaps, even more.

Every inch of me achingly sensitive, it was nearly becoming too much. I knew without a doubt I was almost there. Eyes closed with concentration, I attempted to prolong the pleasurable pain. Guest obligingly slowed his tempo and decreased his suction, doing what he could to help draw out the upcoming orgasm. One hand gently tugged my tightening balls while the fingers of the other pressed insistently right behind them.

"You're ready, aren't you?"

I licked dry lips. "Yes. . ."

"This is what you want then from me, is it?"

"God yes. . ."

"Yes, what? Tell me! I want to hear you say it. What do you want?"

"Yes," I said again, deeply moaning as I sold my body and soul to Guest. "Finish me! God in heaven, make me cum!" As if through admission I was giving myself permission, just saying the words was increasing my pleasure.

"That's exactly what I wanted to hear. Now, I want to hear how much you're enjoying me!"

As Guest skillfully took me past the point of no return, there would be no denying it. The intensity, the focus, the varying pressure, one sensation layered onto another until I could not tell where one stroke ended and the other began, everything melding into the delicious tension which tightened my abdomen, the muscles of my thighs, and centralized in my pelvis. I could no longer prevent my body from reacting exactly as Guest wanted.

I arched off the chair, the tension ending in release as I strained against my bonds. The contractions hit and primal guttural noises echoed off the stone walls. I came hard, the culmination of my pleasure bursting forth like a deluge into Guest's eagerly awaiting mouth.

On and on, it seemed to continue. Through it all, Guest obligingly kept up the connection. His lips glued to me, he greedily swallowed all I had to offer. When the contact was finally broken, it was with a light lick of the head and a kiss, as he captured the last remaining drops of my desire, savoring them.

The air sucked the heat from my wet skin and I felt alone, strangely bereft. I could not remember such an intensity of pleasure with any woman, not even Irene. Perhaps, the gut-wrenching power had been caused by the sinfulness of the act, the pleasure as forbidden as the apple which had tempted Adam. Though, I suspected it may have also been increased by the knowledge someone, especially another man, had witnessed my debasement.

Having given in to my desire, just like the heroin, I feared I would want it again and again. Next time, I knew Guest would expect reciprocity. Even that was not enough to spoil the afterglow.

I relaxed against my bindings, my heart slowing, my breathing regulating, and my body softening. Still, I savored the ebb and flow of the pleasure as it retreated.

For the several minutes it took for me to come back to myself, Guest allowed me to enjoy my fading bliss without interruption. And blessedly, without reminder that it was he who had bestowed it. A lassitude which I normally did not feel after the act with a woman had overcome me.

He then took his handkerchief and sensually dried me before wiping his mouth. Folding it neatly, Guest tucked the handkerchief it into my trouser pocket. "A souvenir from me, as a reminder of your first time," he said with a wink.

He refastened my trousers. Smoothing the fabric, his fingers lightly bestowed one final caress, a reminder of the power they had demonstrated against me.

As would be expected from one so victorious, there was a look of triumph was on his face.

"Remember it was I who freed you from your bindings, Hans. And, I alone. Now, you have crossed your last boundary. You're a free man, truly. Free of your father, free of society's constraints. It's like you've been reborn, salvation is yours."

I felt salvation was unlikely. Instead, I suspected I had just secured my place in Hell.

"Tomorrow, after we retrieve the gold," Guest continued, "I'll make love to you properly, upstairs in my bed. I'll spend the day introducing you to pleasures even more delectable than the one you just experienced. I will become your lover, you father. Your life."

Guest picked up the syringe. He gently stroked the needle against my skin my arm. I felt my craving for the drug rising, the beginning of a new seduction.

"Hans, there's nothing like heroin after good sex to help one float away into sleep."

Guest winked at me and picked up the syringe. There was the delightful prick as he inserted the needle into a vein. I relaxed, closing my eyes, expecting the euphoria of the drug to enhance the one I was currently experiencing. I waited for him to push the plunger.

Nothing happened.

I slowly opened my eyes, puzzled. He removed the syringe and replaced it on the table. A small bead of blood appeared on my skin.

"Tell me what I want to know, and you may have it. You've come this far. There is no reason for you to stop. I want to continue pleasuring you now and forever." Guest had given me one pleasure. Now he was promising me the second. His hand knotted in my hair and he pulled back my head. He kissed me deeply.

I could taste myself in his mouth.

Horror seized me and the shame of it all threatened to drown me. I would maintain to my dying day, I had not wanted it from him. I had not invited it, I had not encouraged it, and in the end, I had been a victim. But all of that aside, how could I have enjoyed it? What had I allowed to be done to me? What had I desired for another man to do to me? It was abnormal, wrong and immoral. I was not that type of man.

Or, was I?

Suddenly, I was fearful Troy had heard, my final cries of animalistic and illicit pleasure. Did he know what I had allowed? Did he know in the final minutes of my degradation, I would have given anything to live it again? I already knew what Troy would think. I could not fault him for his opinion. That of any other decent man would have been the same.

I made an immediate vow to never tell anyone about what had happened. This was a one-time event. Beyond my control, beyond all reason, it had merely been yet another form of torture at the hands of a man mad with greed. Never would I ever again indulge in such deviant behavior.

Especially not in exchange for heroin.

I could already feel my body rapidly becoming edgy, seeking the second release Guest was promising me.

I deeply desired, and was beginning to desperately need, the opiate.

My mind began to turn. What did it matter if I fabricated a story regarding Troy and the Rat Patrol hiding the gold? I could easily lie to Guest that I had provided the gold to Troy and that he had betrayed me by changing its hiding place without my knowledge.

The story would provide me time to determine a means to escape, I reasoned. If Troy was collateral damage, so be it. My orders for the last fourteen months had been to cease his operations and the resulting harassment of the Afrika Korps. Well, wouldn't betraying Troy and allowing Guest to deal with him be the equivalent of finally carrying out my orders?

I owed Troy nothing. If anything, he owed me for the lives of all the men under my command whose deaths that he had caused. He owed me for each time I had narrowly escaped intense questioning by the Gestapo due to the belief I must be in collusion with him.

Each time that I had escaped their inquisition without penalty, I had darkly suspected that my father had had a hand in saving me during these occurrences. It had increased my resentment of my father. It had made me despise Troy even more.

When would it end, if I did not end it now?

I was tired of being the perfect son and of being the perfect soldier. And I was more than tired of being constantly bested by Troy. Didn't I deserve something for myself? Why should I begin to feel the pain of withdrawal symptoms when the obvious solution was being held in the next room?

I wavered, looking at Guest and the syringe, my eyes darting between the two. My eyes lingered on the syringe and I made my fateful decision.

"Troy . . ." I began to confess, unable to stop the words from forming. "Sergeant Troy knows . . ." I knew once I had crossed this threshold, I would be unable to stop and never able to return.

"Yes!" Guest exclaimed leaning close to me. I could clearly see the excitement and greed burning in his eyes.

"Tell me what I want to know, Hans," Guest insisted, as "Just tell me, and I promise you that you will have nothing but the pleasure that you so rightly deserve. Oh! What fun that we will have together with everything the gold will buy!"

My lips began to form the words of the confession that would implicate Troy.

I looked at Guest. There was a sly smile on those lips, those same lips which had given me such pleasure only a few minutes before and promised to do so again in the future.

In sudden horror, I realized what I had been about to do. I stopped myself, the words dying on my lips. My lies would surely cause the death of a good man, a man that had fought honorably and bravely against me and the entire Afrika Korps.

A man who was a better man than me. Most certainly, not a man who would have allowed Guest to manipulate him into exposing every base weakness.

I was about to betray Troy as I had already betrayed my self-respect and my honor as a German officer. I could not do it. With a sudden clarity, I looked at Guest. The triumph I felt was far greater than any pleasure Guest could have given me.

"Sergeant Troy knows nothing more than I do. There is no hidden gold."

Guest was very still and he said nothing. I could tell, at that moment, he had realized he had lost any hold that he had had on me forever.

Then, in a sudden rage, Guest screamed and charged at me, sending my flying backwards. He landed on top of me and began pummeling me in the face. Unlike all of that had come before it, this abuse of me by Guest had nothing to do with trying to gain information. This beating was one of rage and frustration.

I tried to shrink away from him, curling up in agony as much as my bindings would allow.

I could hear Tristan quickly approach Guest's side, but he did nothing to stop the beating.

"Mr. Guest, we've tortured him for three days. After what I've done, we're not going to receive any information from him. There's nothing left of his back. It's down to the raw muscle and bone. We've tried withholding the heroin and you've tried seducing him. Either he will never talk, or he never had the information."

"He will talk," Guest screamed, still beating me.

"Trust me, if he knew anything, he would have given it up by now. We can continue, but I believe that we're wasting our time."

Despite the continued blows to my face, I began to laugh. I couldn't help it. The entire situation was so ludicrous. How did I, Hans Erich Dietrich, from one of the most prominent and influential families in Germany end up in such a situation? Heroin addict, catamite, and soon to be dead in some North African village not even listed on a map.

I wouldn't even have the honor of dying in combat and finally making my father proud of me.

"Stop laughing, you idiot!" Guest yelled at me, hitting me hard in the mouth.

Despite all of it, I was unable to stop.

Finally, Guest ceased his attack on me. He stood up, straightening his clothing, apparently beginning to calm down.

I continued to laugh. I would die laughing, and not in the face of death, but instead in the face of the insanity which had quickly become my life.

Guest and Tristan looked at each other.

Tears were running from my eyes as I continued my hysterics.

"Shut up, you Goddamn fucking Kraut!" Guest screamed.

"I think that he's finally gone mad." Tristan shook his head. "I suppose that he could be faking to end the torture."

"No, I don't think so. I agree, he's probably gone insane. What a shame for such an intelligent soldier." Guest sighed and began to wipe my blood from his hands. "I won't get any information from him now about the gold, if it even existed. I'm starting to believe Willy pulled the wool over my eyes, just as he did to the Captain and to Sergeant Troy."

"A lot of work for nothing, then," Tristan pronounced.

Hands clean, Guest adjusted his cuffs and collar and smoothed back his hair. "Well, I suppose that's it, isn't it?" Obviously, it was time for Guest to cut his losses. One of which, I knew, would be me.

"What do you want done with him?" asked Tristan.

"Kill the captain along with the sergeant. We've had no better luck with Troy. They're both useless and I want to be rid of them. The longer they're here, the more risk I'm assuming against my main operation."

"Shoot them?"

"No, shooting would make too much of a racket and be too messy. It would be much more efficient to give them both an overdose. They might as well die having a pleasurable experience. I suppose I owe them something after what we've put them through. After all, I'm a decent fellow, if nothing else. I even gave the captain a blow job, didn't I?" Guest chortled. "Who says I don't make dreams come true?"

"But Mr. Guest, if we kill them here and now it won't be long in this heat before their bodies start to decompose. The customers will arrive soon. By the end of the evening they would probably notice the odor, even in their stupors. The authorities will ask questions, no matter how much you've bribed them."

"We'll sedate them tonight and one final time in the morning. Afterwards the job is done, you and Nasir will dump them in the desert. If their bodies are found, no one will think twice of another two dead soldiers out in the middle of nowhere. Honestly, I highly doubt either side will miss two soldiers at this point in the war."

"True enough."

"Shame about how everything ended, isn't it?" Guest shook his head sadly, as he contemplated me. "I could have used them both in my operation. The captain would have been great at helping me strategically expand my organization and Troy would have been able to get things done quickly at the street level."

That sent me off into another gale of laughter. The idea of either of us ever helping Guest was ludicrous.

"Sorry it had to end this way, Captain. From everything that I've heard you were a fine soldier and a good man. I really was sincere in my offers, you know." Guest paused a moment and licked his lips. "Nothing would have pleased me more, actually."

I could not laugh at that.

As for Sergeant Troy, he's been a pain in the arse. I will enjoy getting rid of him."

For once I could completely sympathize with Guest.

My return to reality, if not sanity, complete, I looked up at Guest, my eyes cold with fury. "I would rather die with Sergeant Troy than work for you, Guest."

"Then I will grant your wish with pleasure, Captain. My only wish is that I could kill you both more than once. Tristan, hand me the heroin so I can sedate him. I've had enough of him for this evening. And to last me a lifetime."

I did not even resist when Guest approached me with the syringe. I willingly offered him my arm. I wished Guest would just administer me the overdose now. I was ready to end this.

I was ready to die.

I was conscious of being carried back to my room where I was thrown roughly onto the cot. It collapsed when I hit it, throwing me to the floor. I felt no pain, though, and cared little about my situation. Instead, I was beginning to enjoy what was coursing through my body, blocking everything else from my reality. I wanted to focus on it, and only it, for the last time.

The haze of pleasure was beginning to deliciously envelope me when I heard footsteps approaching my cell. The sounds became louder and louder. Actually, it was two sets of steps. The pace was calm, not hurried in the least. I couldn't help but wonder who was now joining my Deadman's party.

I could hear light hearted bantering in English. The men paused briefly before entering my cell. Softly, they closed the door behind them. The steps stopped in front of me.

Though my eyes were bloody and swollen, I could see two pairs of boots, and I was surprised to see they were of British issue.

"Hello, Captain."

I could never forget the insanely cheerful voice. It wasn't necessary for me to look up to confirm its speaker.

"What do you want with me now, Perkins? Can't you see I'm busy?" I responded wearily. I closed my eyes, wanting to enjoy my final night of pleasure without intrusion. I had absolutely no desire to concentrate enough to bring the bedraggled figure into focus.

"Well, there I was, Captain, minding my own business. Lying on a beach, next to a cute blonde. I was just about ready to receive a heavenly experience from her when, wouldn't you know it? I was ordered to come visit you again." Perkins sighed in regret. "And here I am. It's been quite a few months, hasn't it? How time flies when you're having fun! Or have you already forgotten our tete-a-tete a while back?"

"Hardly. I can unfortunately say I will remember it, and you, to my dying day."

"Have a little sympathy for me, won't you, Captain? You've had your blow job, but I missed receiving mine." He shivered. "Would rather have it from the girl on the beach, though, than from Guest. He's most certainly not my type, even if he is a blonde as well."

Normally, I would already begin to feel the full pleasure of the heroin, but not only did the process seem to be sluggish today, it wasn't even as intense as had been just a few moments before. In fact, I realized, it was quickly receding. I was now unable to feel any pleasure whatsoever.

Frustrated, I groaned. "Are you really dead this time, Perkins, or are you a drug induced hallucination? If you are due to heroin of poor quality, then I will request a refund from Guest."

Perkins gave a short laugh before answering.

"Always the comedian, aren't you? Yes, I really am dead this time. I have been officially assigned as your guardian angel. And make no mistake, I am no longer a willing volunteer. God, no! I was ordered to take your case since no one else would touch it. When your name came up again, everyone made themselves scarce. So here I am."

"Lucky me."

"Just to be honest and upfront, I really don't think you're entitled to two intercessions in one lifetime, not to mention in one year. I'm rather tired of saving your sorry ass, Captain. Particularly when it prevents me from completing my business with a beautiful woman."

"My apologies for being a burden," I muttered.

"Burden is right! You're too much of an effort to support, not to mention too ungrateful."

"I still believe I deserve an angel with more status than what little you have to offer," I said, my voice still slightly slurred.

"I told Peter to get a Nazi guardian angel for you, but needless to say, those are few and far between." He pulled a face at me. "Hard to end up in Heaven when you do the Devil's work."

"I am not a Nazi and never have been," I reminded him.

"You're close enough to be considered one. You work for them."

I thought for a moment. "You can't blame me for your death this time, Perkins"

"As a matter of fact I can. Your unit planted the land mine I stepped on."

"That happens in warfare. Men die," I said shrugging. "It's the entire purpose of both landmines and wars. Besides, they were the orders I had been given. I am sure that you understand that I was under some obligation to follow them."

"Oh, not the old 'I was just following orders' line! Surely, you can do better than such a sorry excuse. That won't hold much water after the war, you know."

"The Allies have laid a good share on their own landmines." I was uncertain why I was bothering to debate the necessary cruelties of war with Perkins, but I continued. "It makes sense from a military point of view when there are limited resources and vast territory needs to be defended."

Perkins' voice was sharp without feeling, ignoring my rationale.

"I'm through quibbling with you, Captain, and the lame excuses you continue to offer. I'm only here for a few more minutes. So, I'll get right to the point. Given the tight time schedule, I've brought along a friend of yours to assist me."

"Tell me he's not a Tommy or an Ami. I don't have the strength." I closed my eyes to shut him out. I was becoming irritated with him. I wanted to enjoy the heroin in peace and I strongly suspected Perkins was delaying its onset.

"I'm sure that you'll be happy to see him."

"None of you are my friends. Go back where you came from. Be it heaven or from what I seriously suspect to be Hell. No merciful God would be so uncaring to send such an angel as yourself. I am starting to believe that you must be in actuality the Devil's henchman."

"You would be wrong then," Perkins said. "Wouldn't be the first time, would it?"

"Now if you would be so kind, please leave and take your 'friend' with you. I would like my final moments to be pleasurable and without the annoyance of your presence." It was only then the second man finally spoke.

"I must say, Perkins, your Captain doesn't look quite as well as the last time I saw him. Hardly a dress uniform on him, is there? He's not even wearing a blouse or boots, only his trousers. And what a state he is in: Blood everywhere, unshaven, inappropriate trouser stains and he . . . How may I put this delicately? Quite frankly, he smells. Don't care much for his cologne; rather feminine, I do say."

The idea that I smelled like Guest should have disgusted me, but I was beyond caring. I closed my eyes and willed both intruders away.

"Worst of all, I'm almost too much of a gentleman to mention this small but important fact, he has a rapidly increasing dependency. Bluntly put, he is a heroin addict."

I forced my eyes open and looked up at the second man, immediately recognizing his strong English features through my foggy vision. They were as relaxed as when I saw him for the final time. He was impossible to forget.

"Sergeant James Lyon," I whispered, transfixed by him. "I don't understand . . ."

"I am rather disappointed in you, Captain," Lyon said in a condescending voice. "I expected something more from a man who was willing to perform a mercy killing on an enemy combatant after sharing a fag with him. If I had known you were so weak, I never would have bequeathed you my lighter, especially given its value. Now you don't even have it! And to think it was destined to save your life one day."

"How do you think I feel, Lyon?" responded Perkins with a disgusted shake of his head. He kicked my foot with his boot for added emphasis. "After all I did for him, a full day traipsing around the desert to save his sorry soul from wandering the desert for eternity and look how he ends up? I still have blisters on my feet! Thank God I didn't take Adrian up on his bet a second time. I would have hated to have lost a pint to him twice. Once again, the captain does appear to have given up."

I said nothing. As much as it pained me to admit it, Perkins was irritatingly correct. I had given up.

"I would have thought that the good Captain would have escaped by my now. I mean, all he has to do is walk up the stairs and exit through the back door. How difficult could it possibly be? Do we have to show him everything? Draw him a map? Procure him transportation? Chauffeur him to his destination? What a disappointment! We should have worked with Troy instead. He normally is fairly adept at escaping, but he is in such bad shape right now. The poor thing. Troy is a good man. Why wasn't I assigned to be his angel? At least we were fighting on the same side," Perkins complained.

"What do you want from me, Perkins?" I asked him. At this point, I was unsure if our conversation was real or a hallucination, but still I continued to talk. "Haven't you already said enough against me? Have you brought anything to offer me in the way of hope?"

"Actually, I have nothing else to offer you, Captain. You're on your own from this point, and going forward. I've done everything I can for you."

"That's odd," I muttered. "Feels like you've done nothing at all."

Perkins made an exaggerated gesture of looking at his watch.

"Dear me! Look at the time. We'd best be off, Lyon. It's almost time for tea. I already missed my fun with the blonde due to him. I certainly will not miss tea! There is a limit as to what even an angel must endure."

"Too right. Do you think there will be some of those lovely lavender tea cakes today?" asked Lyon. "They were rather delightful when served last week. The best I've had. It truly does pay off in the long run to have gone to heaven. The food has been first rate."

"I don't see why they wouldn't bet on the menu today. You know, Lyon, if we hurry, we should be able to visit the beach before tea. I'll ask the blonde if she has a friend. Do you like redheads? No, I've confused you with the Captain. He has a strong preference for American redheads."

"Jolly good, Perkins. Jolly, jolly, good!" Lyon responded enthusiastically. "A redhead would do quite nicely."

The two men walked to the door, focused on their conversation about tea and inconsequential cakes and phantom women, opting to easily forget about me.

"I'm rather new to this angel thing. Do you think we should leave his cell door open when we leave? Or, at the least, unlocked?" Lyon asked brightly.

"Why should we go through the effort? No, we'll close the door and re-bolt it behind us. The Captain should have to work at least a little to escape. We can't do everything for him!"

"You lousy bastard!" I screamed at Perkins. "Open the goddamn door! At least give me the opportunity to escape." I tried to move, but my body had become leaden and wouldn't cooperate. The heroin's impact was suddenly beginning to manifest itself again once they had announced their departure.

"My, my! I had forgotten what a temper you possess, Captain. The strong words certainly make their appearance when someone pushes you to the wall by speaking the truth. No, you've already been presented with all the tools you need to escape. You'll just need to put them to use to accomplish this small feat on your own. Have a little faith in your own journey."

"You are nothing more than a sorry shit of an angel!"

Perkins wagged his finger at me. "You are only demeaning yourself by your crude words. Obviously, you don't deserve a better angel or you wouldn't have been assigned to me."

I truly believed I deserved better. "You are as worthless in death as you were in life. You didn't have the balls to pull the trigger on Lyon. You left me the unbearable task of performing a mercy killing."

"Always bringing up the past of others to account for your own personal shortcomings," Perkins tsk'd. "You truly did not inherit your paternal family's warrior traits. When are you finally going to be your own man instead of riding on your father's record? I'm positive he would not have become addicted to heroin. He would not have allowed another man to Jack his beanstalk. And HE would have escaped by now. Finally, your FATHER wouldn't have any need for assistance from a couple of drug induced hallucinations."

I screamed and cursed at Perkins for the comparison to my father, losing all self-control. If I had been capable, I would have strangled him with my bare hands.

The two men walked out the door, both shaking their heads in disappointment. I heard the door bolt behind them, preventing my escape.

I continued to scream and curse at them after they had left. I could still hear them discussing their goddamn bloody tea menu as they faded away down the corridor. It took several minutes for me to finally begin calming down.

I gradually noticed that there was a sharp metal piece digging into my side. My body was incredibly broken, but I managed to roll aside to relieve the pressure. I reached for it and it easily came loose from what remained of the cot. It was about twenty centimeters long and it probably would do severe damage if handled properly.

The heroin was finally beginning to fully impact me again and I found myself relaxing for my final evening. Before I allowed the drug to engulf me completely, I closed my eyes to pray, confessing my many sins silently, especially the grave sin I had committed with Guest. I asked for forgiveness, and finally, imploring the Almighty for the well-being of my family.

I thanked God for the wonderful life he had given me. I thanked him for my military successes, and especially my success at Jufra. I also gave thanks for my failures which had molded me into a man and then, I prayed for the souls of the numerous men I had killed. I prayed for Ellery, hoping I could ask for his forgiveness in the hereafter for what I had caused him to experience on Earth. I also found myself praying for Perkins and Lyon, for them to have peace and no longer be forced to walk the Earth tormenting lost souls.

The praying relaxed me, and I allowed the heroin to engulf me, not caring what had happened or what would happen next. I now was ready to die.