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❝ That's not looking good... ❞
baghdad, iraq july 3 - july 4, 2008
( be wary! mentions of injury - it's a small portion )
EVERY PASSING day that Josiah woke up from his unconscious state to the same plain, grey walls staring back at him, the soldier struggled to see any hope in him and Samuel making it out. And once again, Josiah was thrown back in his cell after his daily beating to the rotting cell both soldiers had to share; the Taliban didn't bother being gentle in the slightest, closing the cell door behind them.
Josiah erupted in a fit of coughs, blood dripping down his chin. Groaning, he dragged his beaten body to one of the corners of the small cell, resting his back against the cold concrete. Sighing in content, he closed his eyes, trying to rest as much as he could before they would come again and repeat the process.
The ruffling of clothes made him look over across from him where Samuel laid. "Sam..." Josiah's raspy voice filled the grueling silence. All that Samuel could do is lift his head slightly to let Josiah know he was awake.
"We're never going to get out of here... I just want this to end..."
"Y-You―" another round of coughs forced their way out of Josiah's weakened body, making him lean to the side to spit out the metallic taste in his mouth, "You can't talk like that Sammy..."
Samuel sighed, his body exhausted. "I can feel it Jay..."
Josiah Lahote had no words left to say to his suffering friend due to the heaviness in his eyes and the desire to sleep overtook him.
Struggling to reach the muddy bread a couple of feet in front of him, Josiah collapsed back against the wall: giving up. Grunting in paint, the soldier caressed his side where he felt one of his broken ribs scraping against his lung. He tried again after catching his breath but was once again not able to; this time his right leg being the reason.
The pain was excruciating. Biting his lip, to the point of bleeding, Josiah managed to hold back the scream he so desperately wanted to release. Instead a sob escaped his lips, hot tears streaming down his face at the immense amount of pain he was in.
At his friend's cries of pain, Samuel woke up from his uncomfortable slumber to find Josiah leaned back against the concrete wall, one hand on his right leg while the other on his left side and a painful expression on his face. With a hiss, Samuel managed to stand up and limp over to the other side of the cell. "Jay," bending his knees to carefully sit himself down, Samuel grabbed onto his friend's shoulder, "What hurts?"
"E-Everything." Josiah grunted out, clenching his jaw tight.
"Let me see," Samuel said, reaching down to look at his friend's leg. The sight was not pretty. "That's not looking good..."
The injury on Josiah's right leg had turned black, yellow pus slowly dripping down the side, and some swelling was extending upwards to the rest of his leg. It was definitely infected. And so was his injury on his left hand where Josiah was missing two of his fingers.
Ignoring his own pain, Samuel tried to distract Josiah the best he could. They talked about anything and everything that had nothing to do with where they were currently at. When the topic of their families came up, they found themselves quieting down. Just thinking of never seeing the people they loved and cared about again brought their whole mood down.
"I'm never giving up," Josiah started looking up the plain ceiling, Samuel listening, "I will continue to fight to stay alive... because I made a promise... to a very special girl that I would fight with all my might to return back to her."
Samuel remained silent as Josiah continued, "We've been here for a couple of months now, but I can still fight. I will still fight; until my body gives up because mentally I can still go on."
That night, Josiah's condition only got worse. Panting, groaning, and whimpering in pain, Josiah Lahote's body could no longer hold on.
The sound of gunfire and yelling woke Samuel up. Limping to the door, Samuel tried to see beyond to figure out what was going on. At the sound of men yelling in English, hope flared inside Samuel's chest.
"Hey!" Yelling as best as he could with his dry throat, Samuel called out to whoever could hear, "Hey! We're in here!"
"Jay!" Limping over to his still unconscious friend, Samuel attempted to shake his friend awake, "Come on Jay! You have to wake up. What happened never giving up? You said you would return back to Leah's side, remember? So you have to get up! Come on!"
However, Josiah did not wake up― no matter how much Samuel shook him. With blood dripping down his face from the hard hit he took to the head, Josiah Lahote refused to wake up. Samuel didn't even notice when four American soldiers busted down the cell door and pulled him up. They dragged him out of the underground cell they were keeping him and Josiah to the surface where a medical Humvee waited.
Everything felt very surreal to Samuel as he got in and watched them load up Josiah's body.
"Don't worry," the soldier who dragged him out spoke up, grabbing some medical equipment to treat the poorly treated wound on his face, "You're both safe now."
***
"I'm sorry Corporal, but I don't think you will be able to see from your left eye again," said the doctor who finished performing surgery on his face and cleaned up the rest of his injuries. "Corporal? Are you listening?"
Samuel was listening to every word that he said, but he didn't find it in himself to care at the moment. All he wanted to know was if Josiah was alright. Had they treated him already?
"I-I'm listening but... is my friend alright?"
The doctor sighed. "I can't say much right now but all I know is that they just took him to surgery. They're going to try to save his leg but... it doesn't look good."
Samuel frowned. "Thank you."
Doctor Keith nodded, "I'll leave you alone to rest."
Resting in the hospital bed, all that Samuel could think about was Josiah. Hoping he would pull through. He had to go back to his family. To Leah.
