Lyangar Airfield
Southern Tajikistan
That night the door to Bradley’s cell opened again and Angra strolled into the room accompanied by his usual guards. He wore a jacket over his uniform, hiding the gun that was strapped to his chest. Colonel Bradley pushed himself up as Angra walked through the door.
“I want to see Captain Lei,” Bradley said.
Angra snorted angrily. “You are so concerned about this woman. What was she to you?”
“I am her commander!”
“She was beautiful, yes.”
“She was an officer!”
“You were lovers I think.”
“We were soldiers. And I am asking nothing that I wouldn’t ask for anyone else.”
“She was your woman?” Angra snorted, surprise in his voice.
“She was my responsibility!” Bradley answered defiantly.
“Ah,” Angra mocked. “I am Captain America. I must protect the women and children!” He laughed in disgust. “Alright then,” he snorted, “I will show you!”
He nodded to one guard, who hesitated until he saw the look in Angra’s eye, then turning quickly, he disappeared down the hall. Bradley heard a door open, then a shuffle, then a soft, dragging sound. He stood anxiously, the bile rising in his throat. As the sound grew nearer, the rage built inside.
They dragged in her body like it was a bag of soiled rags. He looked at her beaten face and nearly screamed out in rage.
What animal could do this! “Tia!” he cried.
Falling to his knees, he reached for her hand, holding it gently and feeling its cold.
Angra nodded to a guard as he pointed to the corpse. “Get it out of here. Go and burn it,” he said.
The guard bent over, grabbed the body and dragged it away.
Bradley drew a sharp breath as he clenched his fists at his side. The three guards moved toward him and Angra stepped away. Bradley stood and turned, then suddenly lunged for the monster, who stepped quickly out of his way. One guard lifted his rifle and brought it down with the force of a bull, but Bradley saw it coming and rolled out of the way. He pushed himself to his feet and faced the three guards again. Angra cowered behind them, then disappeared through the open cell door.
The squad leader stepped forward and pulled out his club. He was a small man with flat ears and hard, empty eyes. “Back down, American,” he whispered. “It is not time yet to die!”
Bradley didn’t move and the guard swung his club savagely. Bradley took the blow, feeling nothing as something snapped in his mind. “Come on!” he screamed wildly. “Come and get me!” he cried.
Flat Ears swung again, catching Bradley in the ribs. The pilot’s eyes blazed with the fury of a violent and mindless craze. He saw nothing but Tia, her broken body and bloody face. Baring his teeth, he snarled like a dog. He didn’t care if he died, he didn’t care if he lived. He wanted to kill him. He wanted revenge. “Come on!!” he screamed, taking a step for the guard.
Flat Ears fell back. “Get him!” he cried. The other guards moved forward. Bradley rushed the nearest one, catching him on the back of his feet. The guard brought down the nightstick, but it was too late.
Bradley pushed him back, knocking him against the concrete wall. The guard exhaled with a huff of stinking breath and Bradley pushed against his ribs again. He heard the guard curse and felt the primeval lust for first blood. The guard swore and leaned forward to bite Bradley’s neck, but Bradley felt his teeth and pushed back, knocking the guard’s head against the hard wall, feeling the stinging pain of the nightsticks beating on his neck and back. A furious blow hit his head and he went crazy with pain.
It was killed or be killed! He would accept either one!
He smashed the guard’s head against the wall again, blood and saliva splattering over his face. He held the Arab suspended, not letting him fall. The man reached for his pistol and Bradley lowered his shoulder and pushed with all his might. The guard huffed in great pain and Bradley felt his ribs crack. A powerful grip grabbed his shoulder, but he pushed it away. Reaching for the nightstick, he twisted violently, wrenching it from the broken man’s hand. The guard moaned and went limp, sinking like a rag doll as Bradley turned and smashed the nightstick into the nearest guard’s face, then reached out and slashed his dirty fingernails across his wide eyes. The guard screamed, dropped his club, and lifted his hands to his face as Bradley brought the stick down just behind his ear, feeling a crunch as the bone collapsed in his skull. He then turned to Flat Ears, but it was already too late.
Angra emerged in the doorway, holding his gun in his hand. “Get back!!” he screamed. “I will kill you right now!”
Bradley turned toward him in a fury, his mind numb with pain.
“Get back!” Angra screamed.
Another guard appeared, standing at the open door, a look of great surprise and fear on his face. Angra screamed to his subordinate, who scrambled forward and pulled the unconscious man across the floor. The second guard stumbled forward, still holding his eyes, following the sound of his comrades’ voices toward the cell door.
Bradley took a step forward.
“I’ll kill you!” Angra screamed.
The colonel eyed him coldly. “I’m ready to die!”
Angra winced and stepped back, reaching for the door. He passed over the threshold and the last guard slammed it closed.
The sound of ringing metal echoed between the cold cement walls. It was silent and dark. Bradley held out his hands in the darkness. They were sticky and wet. He couldn’t see the blood, but he knew it was there. His entire body was on fire; every bone, every muscle nothing but throbbing pain. He moved his head slowly, feeling the bloody cuts on his neck, then fell back, almost stumbling, bracing against the back wall as he slowly and painfully lowered himself to his knees.
He didn’t realize he was crying until he tasted the salt on his lips.
He knew it was over. They would come back for him. They would come back to hurt him. It was personal now. And the beating he had suffered was nothing compared to what they would do to him now.
Yes, he knew it was over, but he no longer cared.
Then he thought about Tia and lowered his head as he moaned.