Page 87 of Leave Me Behind
They lead me to the end of the hall and unlock the door with a key card and a fingerprint. I eye Handsy as he walks me into my cell. It’s a good sign that there’s no blood in here. But that does little to ease my nerves.
Handsy’s partner closes us in, waiting on the outside. I assess the room while he unbinds my wrists. It has a single twin-sized bed, a toilet, and a sink—nothing else. All white. It isn’t a tacky, hastily thrown-together design either; it seems purposeful and neat. Its design is to drive whoever is kept in these white walls mad.
Our weapons were taken and left in the forest. I feel naked without them. My hands twitch at my sides as I consider taking this guy on. But I think better of it. I’d rather not take my chance until I know I can escape with Bradshaw.
I wonder why he wouldn’t look at me. My eyes close.Maybe I’m no longer useful now that I’ve been captured. What use are weapons once dulled?
“The captain will have you two brought to his war room in an hour, so if I were you I’d get cleaned up. Maybe he won’t kill you if he fancies you.” Handsy smirks and his dead eyes send chills up my spine. I give him a subtle nod and he laughs before touching me again. This time he grabs my ass. “They said you were wild, but I like the submissive ones.”
I want to rip his brains out with my bare fingers.I act the part and smile sweetly at him and it charms him more. He kisses me on the cheek before leaving and once the door is shut and I’m alone, I let myself fall to the center of the floor.
The room is cold. The vent above constantly blows air down, intentionally I’m sure, to make this room miserable. I draw my knees up to my chest and rest my head on my forearms as I listen for them to bring Bradshaw down the hall to his cell. But as theminutes turn into the hour, I realize he wasn’t brought down to this floor like I was.
I go over torture tactics they might use and what my best options are.
The videos I watched in my very first trainings replay in my mind and I have to swallow the bile rising in my throat.Please, God, not my nails.Considering Handsy’s advice, I wash my hands and face. I’m better off playing the sweet, non-murderous girl if that’s what they’ll see. Blood and dirt cling to the bleached sink. I get my uniform as clean as I can before redoing my braid, hoping it looks decent. It’d be nice if there was just one mirror in here.
The door finally clicks as the locks shift and in come two soldiers—Handsy and his companion. I check their uniforms for names or numbers but am met with symbols instead—a snake on their top pocket flaps.
“I knew you’d clean up nice,” Handsy says smoothly, offering his hand rather than grabbing me. I’m not going to subject myself to aggressive treatment, not when I know I can make them vulnerable and confused with my body and sweet smiles. Not to mention, I’m in agony and am hoping they’ll offer me morphine soon.
“Thank you…” I leave it open, hoping he’ll at least tell me his name. I slide my hand on top of his and he pulls me toward him softly.
“Lee. This is Paul.” Lee smiles at me and guides me out of the room, keeping a firm but not painful hold on my uninjured hand. At least they don’t have me in bindings this time. That’s a good sign that my acting is working.
I study the hall again as I’m marched down the cell block—ten rows of rooms before the end where mine is. I can’t be certain that there’s no one else down here, but the quiet and cleanliness heavily allude to it.
“Am I going to be interrogated, Lee?” I ask innocently. His fingers squeeze a little tighter around mine.
“Maybe a little, but I don’t think he will hurt you, cutie. I mean, you’re just unlucky to be teamed with that monster. Did you see what he did to our men by the river?” Lee sounds pissed.
Oh, shit. Do they think it was Bradshaw who did that? I’m in deep water if they find out I’m the one who cut up their friends. I’m a little ticked that they assume it couldn’t have been me, but I’m the prisoner here, I’ll take whatever mercies I can get until the time is right.
I nod dramatically. “He’s ruthless. You should see the scars he’s given me.” Not exactly a lie.
Paul is quiet and he gives me a cold glance from my right side. It’s evident he doesn’t trust me, not like Lee already does. But I force big, fake tears and his expression softens as he notices the hand bruises on my neck before he looks away.
Fingers crossed the soldiers are all like these two.
We step into the elevator again and go up to the second floor. Lee and Paul seem nervous this time, so I don’t have to suffer any unwanted fondling. I’m beginning to get skeptical about the luck I’ve been getting. At some point I think the torture is going to ensue.
The doors open to a wide showroom. It’s enormous. The ceilings and walls are all made of glass, and the night sky is on display above. The auroras dance near the top of a distant mountain. The view is enough to stop your heart. The room is lit from below and metal panes that hold the glass double as lights. If I weren’t bleeding and being held hostage, I’d think this was the world’s most extravagant resort tucked in the remote mountains of Labrador.
Lee leads the way with me in tow. I let my eyes explore as much as I can, searching for any potential weak points in their defenses. I’m assuming all the glass is bulletproof because itwould be irrational if it wasn’t. There are armed soldiers every ten feet, focusing on us as I’m led in like a sacrificial lamb.
At the end of the grand showroom are large black double doors—modern and slick. Paul takes one, Lee the other. They open them at the same time and Lee whispers under his breath, “Have fun.”
I stare at him before looking ahead into the next room. At its center lies Bradshaw, blood pooling around his still body. My muscles seize and I can’t force my legs to move.
“In,” Paul snaps at me.
All I can do is stare at my broken, beautiful soldier. Is he dead? My stomach lurches and I can’t find the rhythm of my breath.
Please don’t be dead. I need you.
Paul grows tired of my paralyzed state and shoves my back, making me trip into the room. The doors close behind me and I press my back against them.
I’ve never felt this way before… so scattered and unable to compose myself. Even when Jenkins died I could at least partially respond. I didn’t look back as I left him behind. I wasn’t immobilized, but with Bradshaw, I feel everything and nothing at once. The things I want to say, the secrets I should’ve shared.
