Chapter 12

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"I want to talk to the man in charge!" Mike yelled as he supported Mason against his shoulder. The poor kid was barely conscious. The wound on his abdomen severe. Placing him on the floor of their cell, he glanced at the kid.

"Hang in there, Mason. Hang in there, buddy." Mike looked at the young kid and met his gaze as he added one more time "We're gonna get you some help."

"Green got away.." Mason said, his breathing labored.

"Maybe Burk did, too." Mason stuttered, struggling to breath.

"No doubt. Probably back on the James right now." Mike said with a fatherly voice, reassuring the kid.

"They had EMPs. That's how they cut off the comms." Mason managed to say, wanting to focus on something else than the throbbing pain on his abdomen.

"I know, son. I know." Mike said softly as he held his hand.

The blood coming out of his mouth was when he knew Mason was going to die. Sighing heavily as he felt the anger grow inside of him. Yet another life would be lost on their journey. And he didn't even understand why.

The next thing he knew he was being slammed against the wall of the cell they were kept at. They were taking Mason. To help him? To kill him? He didn't know, but he knew that it would be the last time he would get to see him.

His eyes firmly guarded the door where he saw Mason disappear. He heard Miller's optimistic voice saying something about a doctor. But he suspected that wasn't the case. Sighing as there was nothing he could do.

Few hours later, there was still no sign of Mason.

"Who are they?" Rios stilled the puzzling question.

"I don't think they are Vietnamese." Miller said, looking around.

"Seems like a hodgepodge." Mike stated.

"I heard some Thai or Chinese. Chinese writing on the side of the freighter." Jeter stretched his arms as he joined in on the conversation.

Suddenly the familiar sound of someone throwing up came in the mix as Diaz emptied his stomach on the floor of their small prison.

"Hey. Bend your knees, hold them to your chest, close your eyes. Every 60 seconds, open them again for a 5-count. Do it again." Miller knelt down in front of Diaz and instructed the young kid.

The inexperienced kid that Miller was way back before Gitmo, was only a faint memory of what he had become now, Mike thought as he watched the two crewmen.

Five and half hours in to their mystery cruise, it was hard to keep his mind clear. By now people back home must be worried, he wasn't sure of the exact time but he knew he had missed a planned call to his girls. Sighing as he knew Christine would be worried, the radio silence of their previous mission a cruel reminder of how being in the dark feels. He figured that she probably would try and contact Andrea, ask if she knew anything. Leaning his head on the wall of their prison, he closed his eyes.

Andrea..

She would be the first to notice his absence. Knowing all too well how she was waiting for his emails. Not that she would think any of the lack of them, understanding that he had other things to take care of. But he couldn't help but feel tormented by the fact that she was sad, more so when she would find out that he was missing. Not knowing where he was, if he was alive. He just hoped she and Christine would be able to talk together as civilized people. About Andrea he was sure, but Christine might be a concern.

The loud noise of the door opening as food was delivered to them, made him wake up from his trance.

"Filet Mignon and apricots?" Miller looked at his plate with a puzzled look.

The familiar smell of a well cooked steak lingered in the air, but if anything, Mike had lost his appetite for food. But their kidnappers meant business so he had to force the food down. According to Master Chief, the crew only had beans out of a can on their menu.

The sound of a boat motor whirring was buzzing at his ears like a bug. His hands were tied at the back, a black bag pulled over his head. He only saw small blinks of light coming through the porous fabric, but otherwise he had no idea where they were now.

Suddenly the bag was removed and the bright light stung in his eyes as he tried to get a read on their bearings. There was green wilderness around them, but nothing gave away their location.

His eyesight getting better, he glanced at the armed men ahead, waiting for them. A man at a far distance kept an eye on them, dressed in black. He had a suspicion that this was the man in charge.

"Who is that?" He asked, but received a slap on his cheek for his curiosity.

As he gave a second look towards the mystery man, he was gone. Had he imagined him?

After their journey through the thick jungle they arrived to what he assumed was their camp, but he didn't get to see much of it as the two men escorting them took him away from his crew members.

Suddenly standing in front of a hut, he saw the mystery man again.

"Who the hell you think you are?" Yelling at the man who stood silently in front of him. He wanted answers.

"You speak English?"

"You know what you did? You know who we are?"

"You can't do this!"

"You're wrong, Captain Slattery." The man spoke with a foreign accent. Oh the man finally speaks!

"I know exactly who you are." The words of recognition got to him. But still the pieces of the puzzle didn't give him any clear answers to why they had been kidnapped, and brought to this place? But he had a suspicion that he would soon find out as he was taken inside the hut.

Still being held tightly by the two men escorting him, he glanced at the room. A table in the middle with straps to hold a person down, what the hell was going on?

"No, no, no, no.." He tried to fight back.

He took another look at the room to get a bearing on what was going to happen. He saw the empty bag that was used when one was donating blood, in the corner of the room. His mind advancing to all sort of possibilities as he saw more.

"No, no, no."

The items in the room, needles and a fridge, gave him a suspicion about what was going to happen. But why?

As soon as he got his hand loosened, he hit a few punches to the two men restraining him and got the same in return. But there was no way out.

"What the hell are you doing to me? I'm gonna kill you, you son of a bitch!" Mike raged on even when he was lying strapped to the table in the middle of the room.

The next thing he felt was a pinch on his arm.

In his unconsciousness he wandered amongst memories of his loved ones. Remembering how his children used to draw him pictures when he was leaving for a deployment. Smiling at the memory, he almost could vividly feel the touch of his girls hugging him in unison. See his little boy waving for goodbye like it was yesterday. Suddenly feeling like he was a boat that had lost its way in a storm, he felt the agonizing pain of the loss of his boy once more.

He remembered how he had held Christine's hand on their wedding day. But this time around he couldn't see her face clearly. And as the priest had announced them as a husband and a wife, he had kissed her. The touch of her warm lips sent jolts through his body, but as he broke off from the embrace he looked at his bride. This time he could see her face, but it wasn't Christine he saw in front of him, it was Andrea. Whether it was a dream mixed with a memory, or a trick his mind played on him, he wasn't sure. Was there a meaning to it? Sighing in his dreamlike state he felt an ache in his heart.

Opening his eyes, he saw the light coming through the roof of the hut. He was still alive! A weight rolled off his chest as he realized he was still alive. But for how long?

He moved to look at his arm and saw the dried blood on it. The cannula still sticking out. Blood. They were taking his blood.. Puzzled by the discovery he had made, he noticed a person hang up the bag of blood, his blood, to be received by the same mystery man. Why?

"You're a goddamn vampire." Mike said only to hear the mocking laughter of the man as his eyelids weighed down and the lights went out again.