True Heroes (82 page)

              “It’s the right thing to do.”

              “So I’ve heard, but are you even worthy of the right? Who made you the judge?” A group of roaming guards began firing at them from the base of the tan mountain under the beating sun. “What if you’re wrong?”

              Caleb’s foot suddenly descended farther than usual and a searing pain ripped through him. He rolled and fell, but the intense speeds at which they were travelling bounced his body with small groupings of fresh friction scalding his nerves further. The momentum stopped after his back had cracked hard against a camouflaged rock, and Caleb’s teeth stayed on lockdown as his mind gripped for a cloth that wasn’t there. ‘What the hell was that?’

              ‘I don’t know, Caleb, I didn’t do that.’

              The guards were suddenly above him with their metal threats snarling against the blinding orange backdrop. ‘Seriously get over our problems and help me out.’

              Power suddenly speared in his mind, but not near him. It was a distant star as his mind was fogging greatly. Over the great distance, Caleb could barely catch the echo of its voice. ‘I’m trying I swear I can’t get free! It feels as though you’re holding me back.’

              Caleb was flung from his psyche as his leg screamed in agony. The guards picked him up roughly and carried into the antithesis of light. ‘Trust me, I’m not holding any help back right now.’

              ‘I would beg to differ.’

              ‘I wouldn’t! We need to get out of here, now.’

              As he was thrown into a wooden chair and tied with frayed rope, he could feel his power pushing against the underside of his skin, but the barrier seemed unbreakable. ‘What the hell is happening?’

              The butt of a gun suddenly hit his left cheek. Caleb’s mind was nearly blacked out from the pain until one of the angry sounding guards stomped on his protruding shin, causing the flesh to rip a little more as the sand-infested wound was stomped repeatedly. ‘His boots are filthy! It hurts so much more! What is he thinking?’

              ‘That’s the last thing you should be worrying about right now.’

              The tied man kept his screams to himself while Power searched desperately for a way to break through the unknown resistor. One of the guards discarded his weapon and leered down to Caleb as the others raced around the small enclave. “What nationality sent you here? American? British? What pig country sent you?”

              Caleb let his head roll while staring at the man’s shoes. ‘Those were just snapping my leg.’

              ‘Snap up boy! We have to get out of here.’

              ‘How?’

              ‘Think damn it! I need your brain to work not be off on some tangent.’

              There was a massive jolt from his back suddenly and he couldn’t hold back an unexpected yelp. “Talk!” A few seconds of silence from Caleb brought about another, longer zap from some tortuous source. “You will tell us everything! Who sent you here?”

              ‘I can’t think of anything.’

              ‘That’s a very large problem for us.’

              “Get over here,” the English speaking man said sharply to the two other guards. Caleb rolled his head up, and felt his eyes widen. ‘Carol? Why do you have a cattle prod?’

              ‘Something is loose in your head. You’re…anxious? Why?’

              ‘Carol has a cattle prod,’ he was zapped again in his upper arm, ‘and she’s using it on me.’

              ‘How are you seeing her? You’re hallucinating. It must be your injuries. Has to be. Pain is taking you over finally.’

              The smaller guard walked behind the leader and was a splitting image of Caleb’s mother upon reappearance on the opposite side. Within her peach hands was a dirty towel, and a quick boot to his chest sent him falling, but he didn’t feel the sharp rock of the ground. ‘My mother is going to try and strangle me.’

              ‘Now you feel better. Tell me what’s going on in your head.’

              ‘I don’t know at all. This hurts so bad. Please make it stop.’

              ‘I can’t.’

              ‘I don’t think I was talking to you.’

              ‘What?’

              Caleb bit his lip to keep from wailing as Carol began beating him with the rod while his mother soaked the towel in a near-by bucket. The pain of the prod went away but the wet towel was pulled tight across his face before the signals could rally to his brain across his body. His mother held tight while one of the other two slowly poured water onto his mouth. The towel momentarily moved aside, and he could see that it was his father—‘Grey eyes and square chin,’—pouring sparingly with a malicious look in his eyes. The towel was replaced and his mouth was coughing and gurgling breaths with his heart beginning to beat rapidly. The reflexivity of his movement was into the water; the pool created by his wide mouth not being spit out, but kept there despite the appearance of submersion to his mind.

              Some man yelled in a foreign language, and Caleb was suddenly upright again with the towel falling into his lap. “No…no…. Keep going.”

              The only man without a silhouetted costume from Caleb’s mind stepped forward and knelt down to his level. “Do you want to die?”

              “You…you guys deserve to torture me. Please. Take it out on me,” he said weakly.

              ‘Keep your mouth shut.’

              “Well, you may have a point there. My brother was in that village you attacked. His gun was wrapped around his throat like a caught fish. We can’t get it off. How did you do it?” Caleb gathered none of his wits as the piercing, accusing stares of his past family glared through him. “Perhaps you are not talkative now? Perhaps…it will take you a long while to tell us anything?” Caleb’s head fell down and his eyes closed. ‘They’re not here. Can’t be. Stop playing tricks on me, Brain.’ “Do you know who I am?” He didn’t answer externally. “You are a soldier from America if I had to guess, so you do know who I am. If you know who I am, you know what my reputation is best known for.” Caleb shook his head quickly and took note of the blood pooling in his shoe. “What my men did is…how you say, um, the beginning. It is nothing to do this. We do this to our own children for stealing bread. What is it to do it to some American pig? You come here to die, yes? We deserve to kill you, is that what you just say?”

              “No,” Caleb finally said before raising his head and managing the remnants of his face into a smile. “They deserve to hurt me.”

              They all looked at one another and shared a short laugh. ‘You’re sounding insane!’

              “This man must need time. Let us gather our products and be back in time, eh?”

              As all the bodies emptied the room, the silhouettes stayed with crossed arms and subjecting eyes. Caleb kept his lids closed tightly and attempted to corral the pain with no avail.

              “What are you doing?”

              His one eye opened to Carol. “Sitting in a chair, bleeding to death.”

              “Why?”

              His other opened and both turned to his father. “People need me to.”

              “No,” said his mother. “That’s not why.”

              “It is why.”

              “There are some people who don’t need this,” said Carol, reviving the roulette.

              “Who?”

              “The people these men fight for.”

              “I’m saving them.”

              “You may not be.”

              “I want to.”

              “That means nothing,” all three shouted.

              “Then tell me!”

              His mother knelt down. “Not because they want you to. Do you want the glory? Do you want it?”

              “I could give the money to Alice.”

              Carol rushed forward and glowered. “You don’t think that. You don’t believe that at all.”

              “I don’t want the glory.”

              His kneeling mother smiled. “Not because they want you to or because it is there to be had.”

              His mother’s husband walked forward. “We have no answers. We are of many ideas and of many views. We have no truth. Are you doing this for us?”

              “I….”

              “You can’t.”

              “Shouldn’t, but can.”

              “You’re better than we were. You want to move past us. Alice.”

              “She deserves so much better than me.”

              His mother smiled wider. “Not because they want you to, or because it is there to be had, or because you thought we were all there ever was.”

              Carol placed her hand on his cheek as a loud clanking sound came from the cave walkway. “We have held you back.”

              “There wouldn’t be anything without you.”

              The three men and the leader reentered with a metal box swinging on chains between two of them. “We know there would be. We’ve always known what you could be if you let us go. We saw that the world needed you to be this.”

              “How can I,” he whispered as they unloaded the box.

              His mother leaned down and gently stroked his cheek with something sparkling in her eyes. “Not because they want you to, or because it is there to be had, or because you thought we were all there ever was, or because you could conceive of no one else doing it but you. What else is left?”

              The largest of the guards slugged him roughly across the cheek before holding his neck down. Caleb’s vertebra snapped under the heavy man’s weight as he shouted some foreign words with spittle raining on the back of Caleb’s torched skin. His head was roughly pulled back after a few seconds, revealing several hills under a black tarp atop the table in front of him. Arnold, putting on gloves and a bandana, asked, “Which number is your favorite between one and five?”

              “Three. Always three….”

              Caleb could feel his lids lowering without his command. The leader reached under the tarp at the third position and picked some colorful object from the table. A stool slamming to the top of the foot of the injured leg and the subsequent large man sitting on it roughly reawakened every nerve on the verge of shock in Caleb’s body.  “Listerine. That’s what you chose.”

              Arnold handed the sitting man the new bottle. He carefully unscrewed the cap and poured the liquid as a man that had wandered behind Caleb forced his mouth open. The small, full top was poured into his mouth. “Swallow,” Arnold ordered. They held his nose and mouth until he did, the sensation nearly numb against the terrible pain across his outer skin. The rest of the bottle was turned over onto the protruding bone at his leg. Caleb bit as hard as he could on his lips to keep from screaming.

              “This is a taste of the pain that America has caused me. That you have caused me by killing my brother. Feel the pain of America as it runs through your veins. They say that we all here—the oppressed, rightful members of the world—are all brothers and bonded. We are now brothers in pain.”

              ‘He thinks we care?’

              ‘I’m feeling it at this point. I can’t think. Pain.’

              The nerve impulses continued to pump pain through his brain and body as Arnold removed the large man from his foot and occupied the stool on more solid ground. “Who are they? You spoke of they before, so who are they?”

              “Nobody you know.”

              “I know everyone in this cave system, insane pig. Thousands of men that your country and your pig-pen have put into the hands of Holy God, I knew. Many, many men have I known, and women, and children, and none of them want me dead. They sing me as hero, as protector of bullied countrymen. Who do you know? Someone that wants you dead?”

              “I…,” Caleb felt another sharp jolt from his leg and noted the numbness in his toes, “I haven’t been called a hero in a long time.”

              The leader stood back up and spoke in his native tongue to the three members of Caleb’s family at his back. “Your mind is broken, my friend. We will return in the morning for our answers.”

              “Thanks, Arnold.” The leader looked sharply at him with his brown eyes ringed in red. He left with the three men in tow, but the images stayed of Caleb’s mother, Carol, and the man; the family distorting ever so slightly as again the men exited their unknown shells. They filled the tiny chamber in the few seconds of solitary; eyes piercing Caleb’s heart while their slight frowns tore his guts to shreds. He rocked back and forth lightly in his chair, his eyes closed and tightly sealed lips tried anything to silence himself. His entire brain was alive with the sensation of the rope against his skin with every fiber tickling him in the deepest way and hurting. Suddenly, all of his sustained injuries began to heal. ‘You have been holding out!’

              ‘I’m not controlling this Caleb! This is a control issue, and that’s you!’