Feeling better
Chapter 18
So why was this new prisoner placed in the same locked room as Michael? Was he sent to spy on Michael?
The room with the two cots was already crowded with one person, let alone two. Nevertheless, Michael had no choice but to accept his 'roommate' although he didn't trust him. Especially since this mute man could actually hear.
The lunch trays were taken away as Michael slowly stood up. His body had gone through hell and back, but now it seemed to be slowly recovering. He had to will himself to exercise since he knew the best way to get back into shape was to work at it. There was no easy way to do it. It would take self motivation and sweat.
Michael got down on the ground and proceeded to try and do as many push- ups as possible.
His arms felt like rubber but he willed them to become sturdy as he went down on the count of one. Then two. Then three. He was straining by the time he finished three. But if he could do three, he could do four.
Breaking out in a sweat, he paused from the push ups so that he could removed his shirt. Then he immediately got back in a push-ups prone position. Down his straight body went and he unsteadily came up for a count of four. Michael knew his body was telling him to not do anymore, to stop. Luckily his mind was stronger than his body.
And he knew he needed to get stronger in order to escape.
A spy knows opportunity is often disguised as hard work.
After a count of four, more sweat had surfaced on his forehead and his arms were shaking. He was struggling to breathe naturally. Attempting to go down on five, Michael instead collapsed on the floor. With effort he sat up on the floor with his back against the cot.
He just needed a small break, he thought, surely he could get to ten.
Breathing hard, he decided instead that perhaps the rest of his exercise would consists of a good brisk sit.
Michael was puffing hard when he looked up and saw that the other guy, sitting at his cot, staring over at him. Taking a deep breath, Michael wiped the sweat from his brow.
"Hey," jesting Michael, pointing to all the sweat on his muscular torso, "Just so you know, I'm not sweating, I'm glistening."
The other guy's response was to look down but not before Michael spotted the beginning of a smile forming on his lips.
Then ignoring Michael, his roommate got up and was doing his own version of exercise. He twisted this way and that before reaching in back of himself to rub his back. As he struggled to reach his backside, a grimace was plastered on his face. Michael then realized the man wasn't stretching for the sake of exercising, he was obviously in pain.
"Your back hurts?" Michael asked him.
The man stared at him.
Michael pointed at his back and then made a hurt expression, "Hurt, no?"
The man gave no reaction, but instead twisted away.
"Have you tried Shiatsu?" Michael asked.
The man pretended not to hear as he now turned his body the other way.
Michael knew the man heard everything he was saying so he said, "If you want to feel better, you'll have to communicate with me. I know you can at least hear me, and I assume you can speak English, too."
The man froze mid-twist, seemingly indecisive about how to handle the situation. At last he turned his head sideways to look at Michael. When he spoke his voice was very deep and a little loud.
"You knew this of me, I figured," he spoke with a slight Middle Eastern accent, "that trick you played before with the rat supposedly in my cot…that is, very clever, I would say."
Michael acknowledged with a nod. He had already figured out that the man was sent here to insure that Michael did not escape.
"It must be difficult to play deaf when you want to hear so much," Michael remarked.
Surprisingly the man smiled. He, too, sat on the floor, resting his back against his cot so that he was directly facing Michael.
"Dah, that is so," he admitted, "but I make one point very clear to you...we may be friendly, but we may not be friends… I will not help you in any way."
"I did not ask that of you nor was I expecting that of you," countered Michael.
When the man looked at Michael, there was a look of mistrust in his eyes, "Westen, I have heard of you. You are a spy that no like to play by rules. I will watch you carefully."
"You talk as if you expect me to do something unusual in here," Michael stated, trying to get a feel for this guy.
The man paused before he bluntly responded, "If you have ideas of escape, you can not think of such nonsense. You do not understand how...how revenge these people are. They are how you call, very ruthless."
Michael nonchalantly looked about the room, "Perhaps."
"It is best for you," the man theorized, "to stay here and do as they want. Perhaps you may live. They make impossible for you to escape. Too many of them all around."
"But in a way, I have already escaped," Michael calmly stated, "thanks to them, I have escaped from the ordinary."
The man grunted, but it was in a pleasant way. When he looked up, his eyes looked brighter.
"You Americans make the funny joke all the time...but I tell you truthfully I like that!"
But before long his expression became solemn again. Michael figured the longer he kept the man talking, the more information he might retrieve to help him escape.
Spies always figured that if there were an official spy manual, the first words should be: trust no one.
"Even if I do plan to escape," Michael theorized, "I figure it's best I don't tell you, am I correct?"
The man nodded, "Dah. And that it is the way it should be."
There was silence, but Michael was not ready to end the talk. Perhaps just change the subject. It would be good to stay on good terms with the only friendly contact he has had since being held captive.
"You know my name, but I am afraid I don't know yours," Michael began.
The man sat up proudly, "I am Dhimitri Rugova!"
"From what country is your homeland?" Michael asked.
Rugova placed his hand patriotically over his heart, "I come from the country of Hajidistan!"
Michael nodded, "Harsh weather in that country, " he then pointed to Rugova's back, "I suppose that was where your back started acting up."
Rugova eyed Michael suspiciously, "You do not know of my country! It has much beauty all around!"
"I did not say the country lacked beauty," Michael clarified, " I'm saying the cold and dampness of the air is not good for one's body. Perhaps I can relieve some of the stress of your nerves."
Rugova peered distrustingly Michael's way, not knowing what to make of Michael's last statement. Obviously if Westen figured that he, Dhimitri, faked his deafness, Westen also probably figured out that Dhimitri was working for the other side. He had to be careful around Rugova.
"Take off your shirt," Michael uttered suddenly out of nowhere.
"What is this you say?"" Rugova; looked insulted as he held his arms protectively in front of him, " No, I not take off! I am not like that!"
Michael realized how he sounded,"No, no, I don't…no…it's not what you think! I want to massage you!"
"Is that what you Americans call it now!" Rugova sounded offended.
Michael sighed, "Fine by me…if you don't want to feel better, it's on you!"
Turning away from Rugova, Michael began stretching again.
Rugova could still feel the pain throbbing in his back, "Okay, Westen…do not dismiss me so quickly…tell me what you will do, this massage...but I keep shirt on!"
A spy wants to think he can handle a mission on his own, but the more allies he accumulates the better it will be for him.
"I will work on your back," Michael explained, "I plan to align the energy of your body using gentle pressure on specific points. For it to be more effective, you must remove your shirt. But that's fine if you are not interested. It's your choice."
Rugova looked anxious, "Just be sure you keep the gentle pressure on my back!"
Michael sighed, "I will. Just lie on your cot, stomach down, and shirt off."
"Again with the shirt!" complained Rugova.
"Do you want your back to feel better or not?" asked Michael impatiently.
Rugova eyed Michael speculatively as he slowly removed his shirt. Now shirtless, he looked down at his soft paunche in comparison to Michael's taut abdominal muscles.
"Amazing we are same species, right, Westen?" he joked.
Michael grinned, "Let's just say your muscles are very well protected and leave it at that."
He seemed more at ease now and did as Michael instructed by laying down on the cot.
Michael skillfully used localized finger pressure in a rhythmic sequence throughout Rugova's back. He held each point on the acupuncture meridians of Rugova's body for two to eight seconds in order for energy to flow throughout Rigova's body.
During the entire massage, Rugova's relaxed squeals and moans could be heard as his body regained balance.
"Just let me know if I had applied too much pressure," Michael stated as his hands were getting too tired, he was using his elbow, "I don't want to torture you. That method is reserved exclusively for the next room."
The only response Michael received was more delighted groans coming form Rugova.
Thank god Michael was somewhat knowledgeable with massages.
At one point in their relationship, Fi had insisted that the two of them visit a Japanese masseur for several sessions. Later they practiced it on each other—in addition to other maneuvers, Michael thought with a wistful smile.
"Hey!" Rugova interrupted Michael's thoughts, "I don't like that smile you have on face! Do not smile like that if you touch me…you understand?"
Michael continued applying the pressure, but his hands were growing weary.
With all the noises Rugova had been making throughout the massage, the door suddenly burst opened and the agent assigned to guard duty rushed in.
The agent saw a shirtless. sweaty Michael hovering over a barebacked Rogova, and his eyes bugged out.
"Uh, no!" insisted Michael, "It's not what you think…"
Michael looked pleadingly at Rugova, "You know this guard, right? Tell him it's not what he thinks!"
Rugova looked out in front of him and remained silent, for he was supposedly deaf and mute.
The agent looked uncertain, "Uh…I guess, if there is no..resistance…I'll let you two be…"
Michael addressed the guard, "No, no, I'm done…Wait! Do you have an extra blanket? This man here must lie still for several minutes before getting up in order to appreciate the full effect."
The agent guard nodded understandably, "Yeah," he said, "That happens to me afterwards, too."
.
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It was getting dark.
Sam, Fi and Roberto followed the directions Gideon Hunter had given them as to where they were holding Michael.
The coastal wetlands in Tampa Bay consist of a forest of mangrove trees and tidal salt marsh. The marshlands help to buffer storm surges, and provide fish and wildlife habitats.
Deep in the heart of the 15,000 acres of the forest was a row of secluded one story office buildings. The sign said it was an "Environmental Educational Center," but the inside of the rectangular building was used for more nefarious reasons.
The entire area was surrounded by a wire fence A heavy duty long chain blocked the entranceway with a sign on it that said "Private building, no trespassing."
Fi turned the car back around and then pulled off road, making sure the car was hidden from view from the front of the place.
The three of them sat in the car. Fi had explained what everyone needed to do in order to extract Michael from the building. Naturally, Fi's plan consisted of storming the building.
"I don't know if your plan will work, Fi," stated a doubtful Sam, "We have no idea how many bad guys are in there and they might be fully equipped with bazookas and tanks for all we know! I say we do a little recon first before we take drastic steps."
"No time, Sam! Michael is in there so we are going in now!" announced Fi, "After all, Michael is your best friend and he is my boyfriend!"
Sam looked at Fi, "That would be the answer to And how do we know Michael, not a plan on how to get him out!"
Fi's punched Sam hard in the arm.
"Ow!" said Sam, "Fi, lay off the steroid cereal and muscle-building milk, will ya?"
"No time for this, Amigos," interrupted Roberto, as he peered out the car window, "In fact, never a time for this...So you tell me now the plan?"
"Sam and I can handle this," said Fi coolly, "You just stay in the car, out of sight."
"Que? What is this?" Roberto was completely confused, "Am I being punished, Senorita? Why it is like this?"
"Yeah, tell him why you are giving him the cold shoulder, Fi, "said Sam, "tell him so that he will know, then he can tell me."
Fi stared at Sam, "You know why, Sam."
"Uh, no Fi, I really don't know," admitted Sam, "I'm so confused... it's like I'm a chameleon in a bag of M & M's."
Fi turned to the backseat to address Roberto, "What am I to think, Roberto, when you are loading up a van in the middle of the night and then denying to me that it happened afterwards? What am I to think?"
Roberto looked surprised and then he solemnly shook his head, "Ah, mi Mujer Bonita! Is that is what this is about?"
"You were the one who decided to be so secretive," Fi pointed out.
"You think you are the only one running covert missions, eh?" Roberto asked, "You have come to my safehouse…a safehouse where I must hide key people from harm that may come to them…then you tell me that Gideon Hunter is free and after you, so I say ¡Mi dios! I must secretly transport two people away from here so he cannot find them…you see what I mean, no?"
Fi took in everything he said.
"And you couldn't tell me that earlier?" Fi asked.
"Senorita, I am sworn to secrecy," Roberto said, "I must protect the names and identities of people I harbor in the safehouse, you understand, okay? I am only doing my job."
Fi turned to Sam, "See? I told you there was nothing to worry about!"
Sam met her stare with one of his own, "What? What the hell, Fi? You were the one who thought-"
"-I just don't understand why the road to Sam City is always under construction," Fi interrupted, as she looked stealthily forward.
Sam shook his head, "Women! They're crazy!"
"That's because men are ridiculous!" countered Fi.
"The main reason why men are ridiculous is because women are crazy!" summed up Sam.
"Okay, you two," piped in Roberto, "I have heard all this before and we need to begin this rescue before it's bedtime!"
Fi reached down below and got her forever reliable Mossberg 590 sniper rifle, "I'm ready."
.
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(Please note, I made up the country of Hadijistan...I don't think a real middle Eastern country would want to be associated with this story! LOL)
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