Enemy Combatant--Chapter 2

Jul 25, 2008 11:55



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Chapter 2

Can’t,breathe! Can’t breathe! Don’t breathe!

Gary tried to hold his breath as long as he could. He tried to resist the instinct to take that next breath as he lay stretched out on his back, his mouth stuffed with a cloth.  A now soaking wet cloth that was becoming wetter by the second as the guard slowly poured a pitcher of water over Gary's face.

His need for oxygen overpowered his will and instinct kicked in. He gasped, his lungs filling with air and water. Lots of water. If only he could filter it out. His airways spasmed and closed down in defense as they rebelled at the repeated intrusion of liquid into a space meant only for air.

Desperate to breathe, he inhaled again, unable to stop himself. The air-water mix sent him into a mindless panic. Writhing beneath the guards’ hands holding him down, Gary’s stomach finally heaved in a last ditch effort to rid its lungs of the water. His gut contracted and he gagged and then finally vomited.

The guard holding his head down released him just enough to allow him to turn his face to the side, not that it mattered much since so little came up anyway. Gary coughed and spat, and despite inhaling what felt like a gallon of water, he felt like his mouth was lined with cotton. His breath wheezed in and out and he trembled as his sweat- drenched body began to dry in the cool air.

No matter how often he underwent this form of interrogation, he could never control his panic. He had spent whole afternoons repeating this cycle and he wondered how long it would last this time.

“You know what you need to do to stop this.” The voice was so calm. So reasonable. Gary found himself wanting to tell this man whatever it was he wanted to hear. “Talk to us, Gary.”

Gary blinked in surprise. They never called him by name. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had used it. It felt foreign to his ears and it took him several seconds to respond.

“I…I can’t tell you what I don’t know.” His voice was rough and speaking hurt his throat still raw from vomiting. Gary almost wished he knew something--something that would sound plausible. If he had any details of what they wanted, he would have made up a story at this point.

He had been forced to remain awake the last several days. They were masters at keeping a person awake, knowing just when to change the music to some other loud beat or to flash the bright lights. He was exhausted and would have told them anything to be allowed to sleep. Anything at all.

“Stand!”

The guards holding Gary stepped back and allowed him to stumble to his feet. The task was made even more difficult because his arms were bound in front. He stood, head hanging, his chest heaving with the effort. Dimly, he heard the door open and footsteps cross the floor. A whispered conversation followed.

Gary’s interrogator swore a blue streak then said, “You mean right now?”

“Yes, sir.”

Gary didn’t recognize the voice but didn’t look up to see who it was. Nobody had asked him to.

“Fine. Get him ready for transport.”

Gary heard the order but was too tired to summon up anything but the mildest curiosity about where he was being transported. Wherever it was, he was sure he wouldn’t like it, but since he didn’t like where he was now either, it didn’t much matter to him. He barely flinched when one guard put large blackout goggles on Gary’s face and the other put ear phones on him, effectively shutting out all sights and sounds.

A hand gripped each arm and he staggered between them.

He had no idea how far he was led; it felt like quite a distance and the sensation of walking in complete silence and blackness was something he never got used to. It was a total disconnection and if weren’t for the hands on his arms, he would have felt like he was the only person in the universe. Then, even the hands dropped away.

Panic flooded him. He turned and took a few hesitant steps but stopped when he found only empty space. His mind wandered in the black silence. He used to think of his parents, home, Marissa and even the cat. Now he thought only in the moment. He had no past and no future. Only the present.

Gary lost all track of time and it could have been minutes or an hour that he waited. He wasn’t even sure what it was he was waiting for. He tried to call out but wondered if he actually made any sound. Where was everyone? Were they going to leave him here? For how long? Would anyone ever come back for him?

Suddenly, the floor beneath him lurched and he fell to his side. The surface began vibrating and he realized he was in a vehicle. That knowledge calmed him somewhat. Someone had to be driving so he wasn’t completely alone.

The vehicle must have turned a corner because Gary found himself sliding fast and his shoulder collided hard with the side of the truck. He lay against the wall, his shoulder throbbing and he began to sweat in the stifling heat. Now that he was lying down, his need for sleep pushed his other discomforts aside and he slipped into oblivion.

Hands pulled him to a standing position, and disoriented, Gary stumbled in an attempt to get his balance. The sleep had helped a little but made him more aware of his thirst and hunger. He tried to forget about those needs. He would eat when they decided he should eat.

Gary shuffled along between the hands, almost welcoming their presence. The one on his right had a tighter grip, the fingers nearly circling his bicep. It must belong to a big man. Gary became attuned to the subtle shifts in pressure and stopped when he sensed that was what was wanted.

The earphones were removed and the first thing Gary heard was the hollow drip of water on tile. Then the goggles came off and he blinked in pain at the sudden brightness. After a few seconds, his eyes adjusted and he glanced around at what appeared to be the shower area of a locker room.

His arms were released, his orange jumpsuit pulled down and his arms re-secured. The movement caused both relief and pain. He had learned long ago to stifle any groans and now was no different.

“Jeez, he stinks.” The smaller of the two guards grimaced and kicked the discarded clothing out of the way.

Gary showed no reaction but could feel his face heat up.

“Well, why do you think they told us to get him cleaned up first?” This was from the big guard as he reached into the shower stall and turned the water on, stepping back quickly to avoid getting wet.

They gave Gary a little push forward and so he stepped into the cold spray. He shivered, the only sign of his discomfort, but in a minute or so, the water began to warm up, much to Gary’s surprise. He let it wash over him and opened his mouth a little, catching some water and swallowing greedily. A bottle of shampoo rested on a shelf beneath the showerhead and Gary eyed it, longing to use it but trying not to look. If they knew, it would be used against him. He closed his eyes, taking in the sensation of the water cascading over his skin and running in rivulets down his legs.

A sharp prod in the back made him flinch and his eyes flew open as he looked over his shoulder at the guards. The smaller one nodded his head at the bottle on the shelf.

“Wash up! We haven’t got all day!”

Did he dare? Hesitantly, Gary reached for the shampoo, ready at any second to snatch his hands back. He fumbled with the bottle, unable to figure out how to get some in the palm of his hand because the shackles were too close to tip the bottle. The other guard took the shampoo from him and Gary immediately dropped his hands and looked down. Just as he expected, they hadn’t meant for him to use it after all.

“Hey! Hold your hands out.”

When Gary looked at him impassively, the guard sighed and motioned for Gary’s hands while he turned the bottle upside down. When Gary complied, he squeezed out a generous amount of the fragrant stuff.

This simple act of kindness was almost Gary’s undoing. His eyes began to sting and ducked his head into the stream of water. Then he soaped up his head, almost trembling as the scent filled the stall. He spread the shampoo over the rest of his body, or at least everything that he could reach. He didn’t care that it was shampoo. It smelled so wonderful and the lather was rich and smooth.

Reluctantly, he rinsed and the tall guard reached in and turned the water off, then handed Gary a towel. It was soft and thick and when he raised it to dry his face, it smelled of sunshine.

When he was no longer dripping, the taller one indicated that Gary should wrap it around his waist. This surprised him even more than the shower. To be allowed the dignity to cover himself was a privilege he hadn’t experienced since he had been arrested.

His hands were bound again then their hands once more gripped his arms, but this time, not so hard, more as guidance and he went with them to the outer part of the locker room.

The shorter one nodded to a pile of clothes on a bench. Gary looked at the khaki pants and white polo shirt, unsure what was expected of him. He glanced around for the orange jumpsuit.

The shorter one nudged him towards the street clothes. “Go on, get dressed.”

Wordlessly, Gary picked up a clean pair of boxers and pulled them on, followed by the khakis. When it came to the shirt, he didn’t know what to do and stood with it in his hands wondering how he would get it on with the shackles.

“Here.” The tall one unlocked them and stepped back.

Quickly, before anyone changed their minds, Gary pulled the shirt over his head and tugged it down. A pair of socks was the only thing remaining on the bench and he reached for them, hoping against hope that he would be allowed to wear them too. He hadn’t worn socks since his own had been taken away.

Briefly, he wondered if they were getting ready to execute him. The thought made him pause then he put the thought aside. There was nothing he could do about if they were. He was clean now. He was dressed in real clothes; it was enough to think about.  The last surprise was the pair of brown shoes under the bench, nice looking shoes and they even fit him.

The tall guard replaced the shackles but gave Gary an apologetic look as he did so. Gary was stumped. Something was up but he couldn’t figure out what it was.

After his shower, he was led into a small courtroom.  A group of military personnel sat at a table and across from that was another smaller table and chair where Gary was told to stand.

With no fanfare, and very little explanation except that there was insufficient evidence to hold him any longer, they told Gary that he was free to go. He stood stunned before his knees buckled and he sat down hard on the chair. The same two guards released his shackles and the tall one asked if he was okay.

“Yes, sir. I..I just…” Gary began shaking and put his head down on the table. He covered it with his arms. Tears spilled out of his closed lids and he couldn't stop them. Embarrassed, he kept his head buried. Someone cleared their throat and he knew they were waiting for him. Gary turned his face and swiped his eyes on his shoulder before straightening.

It was over. Finally.

Gary didn’t expect an apology and he wasn’t given one, but he was handed a thick manila envelope. Inside was his wallet with all his identification, five hundred dollars and a one-way ticket to Chicago. The plane was scheduled to leave in just a few hours. A court appointed attorney had him sign some papers and told him that his assets were still frozen but that as soon as possible, that red tape would be cleared up. Gary nodded.

Then the tall guard showed him to the door of the building and hailed a cab for him.

Everything that had happened in the last few hours was surreal and he was afraid that he was hallucinating. It wouldn’t be the first time. Any minute, he would come out of it and find himself on the metal shelf that served as his bed with the damn noise blaring and the incessant lights shining down on him.

As the cab wound through traffic, Gary gazed out the window, drinking in the sight of people going about their daily lives. It wasn't until he spotted a newspaper box that he realized that he was in Charleston. No one had ever told him were he was.  At a stoplight, a woman held the hand of a little girl and waited to cross. The child looked right at Gary and waved.

For the first time in eighteen months, Gary smiled. 
 

9/11, fanfiction, gary hobson, early edition, fanfic, september 11th, enemy combatant

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