Sleeper's Run

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

Inside the container, the rag tied around my mouth muffles my howls of pain. I'm stretched up on my toes by a chain, hooked to my handcuffs like a slab of meat. A smaller chain had to be rigged to my hand's cast to make it work; otherwise it was too wide for the shackles. The cast offers me some relief from the shackles biting into my other wrist, but it offers no comfort from the pain of my strained wounds. Qusay gives me electric shocks using a wet sponge attached to the car's battery. Uday sits back watching as he enjoys another cigarette. He gives his comrade a signal to stop and gets close to me, uncovering my mouth.

"Who is your buyer?"

I don't answer; I'd rather spend the time catching my breath. Uday blows smoke into my face and burns me again with his cigarette. I grunt and struggle to keep on my toes to avoid more strain on my wounds.

"You know you can make it all stop at any time if you just talk," Uday says. "It's so simple. Tell me what I want and the pain goes away." He burns me again slowly. "What do you have to lose? You are going to prison anyway. All you are doing by protecting your buyers is bringing yourself more pain."

"...fuck...you..." I say.

Uday leans back and rubs his goatee as if pained by my derision. "Get the blowtorch."

Qusay complies, when a series of shots crack just outside the container. "What the hell was that?" he says, as he freezes.

"Shh!" Uday says. He springs to his feet and pulls out his pistol as he approaches the container's door.

Qusay steps in front of me pulling his gun out. I grab a hold of my fake cast and slip my hand from it, revealing my dive knife taped to my forearm. I hug Qusay from behind using my bodyweight to drive the blade down behind the clavicle into his heart, piercing through the subclavian and pulmonary arteries and the aorta in the process.

By the time Uday turns and aims, I have crossed the seven-odd feet between us in a rush of adrenaline. I deflect the Iraqi's gun as he shoots; the trapped noise thunders in my ears. I slice the biceps and triceps, neutralizing the armed hand, and stab and cut across the quadriceps of one leg putting it out of commission as well. I trap my foe's head and thrust the blade up through his neck into his brain.

I stagger to a wall. I know I'm not alone, so I kneel down to take Uday's gun. The door opens and I find myself aiming at James Sanders, who's mirroring my stance.

"It's cool, Eric, it's me." James lowers his pistol.

"Jim?" I lower my weapon. There are three bodies gunned down by a table just outside.

"Yeah. Don't worry, we're clear," James says and helps me to my feet. "You OK?"

"Never better."

"Good," James says. "Becausewe're not out of the woods yet."