The Rescue Pt. 02

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Huddled in the corner of her dark cell Michelle brushes away tears from her cheek, the one that still stings from the slap she’d received while Ballo put on his show for her buyers. The mere thought of being sold to some sexual deviant makes her retch but thankfully nothing comes up. Having to stay all night in a cell is one thing, having to spend all night in a cell with your vomit all over the floor is an entirely different and unpleasant thought. Michelle goes to her one barred window to breath in some fresher air so she doesn’t lose it. Somehow, someway she thought that she would get out of all of this right up until the whole webcam thing earlier. Hearing what he was telling all the sick people that were going to be bidding on her dashed any hope that she had that this would somehow turn out okay for her. The thought of never seeing her family or her friends again sinks into her mind to the point where she thinks death would be preferably to the hell that awaits her once she’s sold to some sick bastard. She goes to her cot and reaches underneath it extracting a shard of wood that she managed to strip off one of the trees near her latrine a day ago when the guard wasn’t paying attention. Its point is splintered but sharp and she intended to use it as a weapon in case any of the guards decided to go against Ballo’s orders of not raping her. Now in her despair she wonders if she could ram it into her own jugular vein and bleed out before they could administer first aid to her. Before she can take this last desperate act her cell door opens and Ballo strides inside. “This is it. He’s got the ahead to break me by raping me.” She thinks as her hand tightens over her only defense.

“Up,” He orders her. “And cease your crying I grow sick of the sound of it.”

“Then why not just kill me and be done with it?” She asks and receives another smack across her face that sends her crashing to the dirty floor of her cell. The impact jars the piece of wood from her hand and sends it skittering across the cold cement floor. Part of her wants to lie here and just give up but another part, a stronger part makes her rise to her knees and spit out the coppery taste of her own blood in defiance. Ballo considers another slap since she rose so quickly but he notices a certain look in her eyes, like that of a tiger poised to strike and in that brief moment he feels fear tickling at the back of his neck. “She looks as though she might rip my throat out with her teeth given the chance,” He thinks but pushes his fear aside as a preposterous notion that this woman could possibly hurt him.

“Keep defying me and I will kill you after my men have had their fill of you,” He tells her. “Now come, I have some new prisoners that I want you to have a look at. They were not so willing to leave their village and needed my brand of… persuasion.”

He grabs her by the arm and forcefully drags her out the door into the courtyard keeping her at arm’s length. A group of armed militia are standing guard over about twenty villagers all of whom are being forced to sit in a circle. Michelle notices that while it is mostly men there are a few women and some teenagers among the group as well. Some of which she recognizes as a tribe not too far from the compound because she’s treated a few of them at the aid station. She is dragged to the group and shoved to the ground in front of them splattering more grim on her already filthy clothes. The rocky ground bites into her knees and hands but she ignores it in favor the frightened man before her. She looks at him seeing a gash on his head that is seeping blood.

“May I please have a medical bag?” She asks knowing the consequences if she sounded like she was demanding something.

Ballo chuckles. “See, you can be taught,” He says and sends a man to get her a few medical kits. Upon his return, she patches up the man’s cut and moves on the next one. This man groans when she touches his arm.

“His arms broken,” she tells Ballo.

“Then he is of no use to me,” He says pulling his sidearm and pointing it at the man. Heedless of the danger Michelle moves herself in front of the barrel before he can pull the trigger.

“Wait! I can splint it and he’ll be all right in a few days. You don’t have to kill him,” She tells him hoping to save a life.

“He only has one arm, what use can he be to me in the mines?”

“He’s a village chieftain; the others will follow his orders,” She lies hoping that she’s not found out. “Kill him and then you’ll have to kill them all because they will fight you at every turn. I know these people, I’ve worked with them, so please believe me.” He studies her face for several moments trying to tell if she is lying then slowly holsters his gun.

“All right, fix him up but if I find that you are lying to me…”

“I wouldn’t,” She says. He nods but before walking away he smacks her again. Before she can sit up he grabs her by her hair and yanks her face close to his.

“Never talk güvenilir canlı bahis siteleri back to me in front of my people,” He whispers to her. “Otherwise I will lower your price and have my way with you, bitch. Do you understand?”

He shoves her back down to the ground laughing as he starts walking away. The man with the broken arm catches her as best he can and helps her get situated. Fighting through tears she begins to splint the man’s arm.

“Thank you,” She tells him knowing that he can’t understand her. He looks at her and whispers something in his native tongue.

“Sorry, I don’t speak your language,” Michelle whispers back. He covers her hand with his and then gently runs the back of his hand along her cheek catching her tears.

“You are very kind. I’m so sorry,” She whispers splinting his arm. Dutifully she works with each of them tending their scrapes and cuts trying to sound reassuring even though none of them seems to understand her. She reaches a sobbing teenage girl that she recognizes. “Yacine?” She asks. The scared teenager looks up at her and then hugs her fiercely.

“Miss Michelle!” She cries out in English. “I was afraid they had killed you.”

“Not yet sweetie,” She tells her. “Are you all right, did they hurt you?” She pulls away and begins looking over the girl afraid that she’s been injured or worse.

She shakes her head. “No, I am fine. I was worried about my father; I thought that devil was going to shoot him. Thank you for saving him.”

“I uh… told them that he was a village leader,” Michelle explains. “And if they harmed him you all would fight them.”

“You saved him Miss Michelle, thank you.”

“All I did was splint his broken arm and get him sent to the diamond mines with the rest of you,” Michelle tells her sadly.

“Do not worry Miss Michelle, he is coming.”

“Who’s coming?” Michelle looks at her confused then asks. “Is this one of your dreams again Yacine?”

“Not dream, vision. He comes, the man with the right arm of death. He comes for you.”

“Death is coming for me, that’s not very reassuring Yacine,” Michelle tells her.

“Not Death himself Miss Michelle… You will see, he will arrive soon and he will free us all,” She tells her and hugs her. “You will be most happy to see him again.”

“Again?” Michelle asks confused. “What do you mean by again?”

Yacine shakes her head. “I am not sure. I have the feeling you know this man that is coming but all will be revealed soon.”

“I hope that you’re right Yacine. I really do,” She says. “I’m afraid though that the Death part will come first though. She thinks to herself as she hugs the girl.

The Gambia shimmers in the midday sun as the little boat that Mr. Voss managed to hire chugs slowly along. To say I was surprised to be met outside the airport in Dakar by a man in a suit holding a sign with my name on it would be a monumental understatement. The man explained that he worked for a company owned by Voss enterprises and I was to be given anything I needed. Instead of hugging the man as if he was some sort of long lost relative, I simply nodded and told him that I needed transport to Senegal, preferably by boat since the airport there was under militia control at this point. He nodded and said that he knew the man for the job and escorted me to his waiting car. I instantly liked the old man with the rickety fishing boat despite the fact that I thought the thing would sink once we get about a hundred yards from the docks. We didn’t sink however and we managed to evade a couple of gunboats before entering the mouth of the Gambia. I swat at yet another bug that was sucking blood out of me just below my Eddie tattoo and wish I had the sense enough to pack some sort of bug repellent with me. The old man steering the boat laughs at me and says in Arabic. “Must have been an awfully hungry bug to try and suck the blood of death.”

“I’m not Death,” I tell him.

“You wear his face,” He says pointing at my tat.

“It’s just Eddie, ya know from Iron Maiden. Up the Irons… nothing. No you wouldn’t, would you? Never mind,” I tell him and check my watch. We should be about halfway to my drop off point. Like Erin said, I could take a tributary right up to the encampment but then we’d probably end up shot all to pieces so that wouldn’t work. “How much further?” I ask him beginning to feel anxious.

He points to a small dock jutting out of the water about hundred yards off the starboard bow. “That’s as close as I can get. Militia control everything farther up river and I do not feel like getting shot at today.”

I nod. A few minutes later, I hop off onto the dock and turn back to the captain. “Remember our deal. Be here 3:00, each day for the next two days,” I remind him. “Look for me or the girl,” I show him the picture again. If it’s just the girl,”

“I know, I know. Contact your man from the docks and her will take care of everything from there.”

“I güvenilir illegal bahis siteleri have your word?” I ask and hand him $200 American.

He nods and shakes my hand. “I will treat her like she was my own daughter.”

“Allah watch over you my friend. Thank you.”

“Allah be with you on your journey my friend,”

With that he steers the boat away from the dock and back up the river. I know that Trent promised to send a helicopter once I had done his job and got Michelle but I don’t trust the beady-eyed little bastard very much, hence my arrangement with the boat captain. I head into the tree line and take a compass reading then make sure that matches up with the GPS coordinates.

“The wonders of modern technology. I might not have fallen into that frozen lake if I had you back then,” I tell the device. I back that up with a check of the maps Erin printed for me so I know for sure where I’m heading.

“Need to head West Southwest and I’ll hit the gravel road that leads to the compound. Don’t get lost this time asshole,” I think to myself then begin heading in that direction. As soon as I enter the wooded area, I unpack the M4, attach the scope and suppressor then sling it over my shoulder. I cinch the sling up tight so the weapon rests against my chest with my hand on the handle ready for action. For probably the fourth time today I take a moment to check the ammo in it and my handgun because it never hurts to be sure. The rumble of an engine cutting through the jungle sounds causes me to duck down behind the offered foliage for cover. A truck goes bouncing down the gravel road loaded with a couple of militia in the back armed with AK’s. “Looks like they’re patrolling the road,” I note. “Let’s hope they’re not sending guys into the woods, or this could be over pretty quick.”

I take my time moving through the underbrush, stopping every occasionally to make sure any sound I hear is some sort of animal or natural sound and not a patrol. Finding a nice open area near a stream, about an hour later I pull out my compass and check my bearing.

“Still on course, more or less. Shouldn’t be much father now.”

As I’m putting everything away, I hear the snap of a twig nearby but before I go prone, a gunshot rings out. A bullet rips through my left shoulder toppling me to the ground. Pain flares all the way down my arm as I roll over to my stomach, my eyes searching the woods for my enemy. “Find him quick before he calls for backup,” I tell myself as I scan the brush. I hear the click of his radio as he tries to call in for reinforcements and fire several shots from my suppressed M4 in that direction hoping for a miracle.

When there’s no return fire I get to my feet cautiously and make my way in the direction, the throbbing in my arm will just have to wait. I find the guy lying just inside the tree line with his radio nearby shattered by one of my bullets. Reaching down I check for a pulse and find none. “Guess I got lucky with at least a couple of my shots,” I think. I breathe a quick sigh of relief when the pain in my shoulder flares reminding me that I need to get a move on. Quickly I find a place to stash the body and head towards the small embankment I was near before the shot rang out. I scoot backwards to the lip of the embankment where the stream is then slip over the edge. While waiting to see if he got a call out I tug off my shirt and examine my wound.

“Not good,” I think as blood pours from both the front and back of my shoulder. I grab the medical kit from my bag and slap a pressure bandage on both the entrance and the exit wounds. “You can still do this,” I tell myself as I put my shirt back on. I suppress a groan as I lift my wounded arm to get my shirt on. “Your damn arm still works so it must have missed the bone and anything else that’s vital. Who cares if it hurts, Michelle doesn’t have time for you to take a break because your arm hurts. Get up and get moving.”

I get to my feet and hurry off deeper into the jungle hoping that the dead man didn’t get off a message to his buddies otherwise this place will soon be swarming with militia. I shove the pain radiating down my left arm to a dark corner in the back of my mind and will it to stay there. It does its best to ignore me but I press on anyway unaware that the pressure bandages have already begun leaking.

A little while later my body is begging me to stop and quench my thirst. Staggering to a small patch of foliage I drop down to my knees and try to catch my breath. The only sounds I hear are the birds overhead and my own heavy breathing.

“You really let yourself go old man,” I hear Ricky Bridge’s voice saying calling me “old man” just like he used to when he was still alive. “I thought you of all people would have kept in shape.”

I look around and see Ricky, decked out in his Desert BDU’s just like the ones he was wearing when he got killed. He gives me a wink and then chuckles. “I used to joke about güvenilir bahis şirketleri you being an old man, guess now it’s finally true huh?”

“I’ve been shot asshole. Don’t be so loud either, there are people out here trying to kill me,” I whisper to the phantom.

“Huh, guess they’ve met you then.”

“Ha Ha, very funny,” I tell the illusion as I start to worry that if I’m already starting to have delusions that I’m losing blood quicker than I thought.

“Don’t worry they can’t hear me Ken. Can you, you bunch of morons!” He yells. I cringe and look around for a moment before I realize just how bad my hallucination is getting to be.

“Not now, goddamn it,” I mutter aloud. I drink more water than I need to trying to get Ricky to fade back into the recesses of my mind.

“Hey, you’re bleeding pretty bad there Ken. You might want to get that looked at,” he says not going away.

“Not until I find her.”

“Aw jeeze, you’re not out here getting your ass shot for that reporter Kris are you? I told you that she was more trouble than she was worth. Remember that time you and her were on that boat that blew up?” He asks.

“No, it’s not Kris. That was years ago,” I tell him. I pull out the picture that Trent printed and try to hand it to him.

“Delusion, remember?” He says with a chuckle as he waves his hand through the picture. I nod and hold it up for him to see realizing that I look pretty ridiculous out here in the jungle holding up a picture to nothing. “Wow, she’s a looker Ken. Whoever’s paying you to find her is a lucky man.”

“Her name’s Michelle and nobodies paying me to find her, she’s my… well friend I guess. She gave me this.” I fumble around and pull out the shark tooth that hangs around my neck with my dog tags. Ricky kneels down and looks.

“Great White huh? Hey, did you tell her about that time you played hide and seek with that one a few years ago?” He asks.

I nod and look at the picture getting lost in my memories for a moment. “I told her a lot of things.”

“And she still likes you? Sounds like a keeper to me Grayson. You need to get going though, she’s waiting for you, don’t forget that,” Ricky says.

“I won’t. Wait a second, how’d you know about the hide and seek thing with the Great White, that was years after you were gone? Ricky?” I ask but as I look up he’s already gone.

Slowly I get to my feet, shake the cobwebs loose from my head and strike off back down the trail. I tell myself that as long as you know that you’re talking to an hallucination you’re not crazy but I’m not sure a professional would agree with that. Soon I hear the sounds of people talking and a generator running. I edge up to the tree line as close as I dare and find the Aid Station encampment laid out before me. I toss a glance towards the heavens and thank God that I found the place before venturing back into the trees a bit. I find a decent tree that I think I can climb to get an overlay of the compound.

“Come on, you can do this. Just like that time little Heather Whittington’s dolly got thrown into that tree in the playground. You climbed that tree like you were born to it,” I tell myself and begin to work my way up the tree. I manage to shut out the fact that once I retrieved the doll and tossed it down to Heather; Jimmy Hatcher, who threw it there in the first place, started pelting me with rocks for ruining his joke sending me falling from the tree. I snapped my leg in two places and spent the next six months in a cast while Jimmy and Heather giggled at me as they kissed each other behind that same tree.

“There’s a lesson in there somewhere,” I think. I manage to get a good vantage point where I can see most of the compound and not have to worry about tumbling out of the tree. The pain in my shoulder, once forgotten, comes back with a vengeance. It hits me so hard and so sudden that I throw up the water I drank earlier. As soon as my stomach finishes empting itself onto the jungle floor I undo the rifle sling, toss it around the tree then reattach it basically lashing myself to the tree. Not a moment too soon as a wave of dizziness hits me but even as my grip slips a little the sling holds. With the wave passed I uncap my canteen and drink my remaining water knowing that if I don’t I could collapse from dehydration. I bring the M4 up and check to make sure the night vision part of the scope is off then lift it to my eye for a better look around. To my north I see the Aid Station building itself, well calling it a building isn’t exactly correct, it’s more like an enlarged shack replete with bullet holes and scorch marks from the recent takeover. Movement to the left of the scope catches my eye so I sight on it. There is one man that appears to be shouting out orders to a few of the militia.

“Hello you son of a bitch,” I say to myself before digging his picture from my pocket. A couple of glances back from one to the other and I confirm that he is my target. I feel the tension rising in my trigger finger and despite it being a while since I sniped someone I feel positive that just a pull on the trigger will turn his head into a fine red mist but I ease off. “I have to find Michelle first.”

My eyes follow him to an out building where he stays for as long as I watch.

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