Very, Very Carefully
Part 3
Along with his back feeling like it was on fire, John's legs were also uncharacteristcally wobbly after the guards unchained him, and it didn't take any acting at all to let his knees deliberately give way. The guards slung their machine guns over their shoulders and grabbed him, taking an arm each. Slumping in their grip so that they practically had to carry him out of the room, John took the opportunity to look around as much as he could, but there wasn't much to see. They only went next door, and one of the guards took a key from his shirt pocket to unlock the padlock that held it shut.
The room was oppressively hot, because the window had been boarded over from the inside, and it stank of human waste, sweat, and blood. As they dragged him inside, John saw Alexandra Kehoe lying on her side on a stained, bare mattress. She lifted her head, caught a glimpse of his nudity, and immediately hid her face in the mattress again, pulling her legs closer to her body and whimpering quietly. The men turned John around and dropped him on his back next to her, making him shout in pain. Pushing himself up, he accidentally brushed against her foot. Whimpering more loudly now, she scooted away as far away as she was able, and John realized she was saying, "No, no, no," over and over again.
One of the men pulled a chain out from between the mattress and the wall, and snapped a manacle around John's wrist. Checking it out, he saw that the chain was approximately four feet long and connected to a pipe that ran horizontally just above the floor. It would just allow him to stand up, he thought, and move back and forth along the length of the pipe, but he would not be able to lift his arm higher than his waist. Another chain disappeared under Alexandra's body and he assumed she wore a manacle on her right wrist as well. He also saw the source of the stench; there was a bucket at her end of the mattress, next to the door. The rest of the room was empty.
"Time for the antibiotic," said one of the guards, and went out. The other one stayed, squatting down next to Alexandra and stroking her arm and her hair. If he'd been the guard with the key, John would have seriously considered attacking him and starting the escape plan, but for now, there was no point.
"Antibiotic, Alexandra," the guard said. "To keep you from getting sick."
"No, no, no," she murmured, twitching her arm away as much as she could. John could see that she was trembling all over. He could also see that her shirt was sticking to her skin where blood from the welts on her back had soaked through and dried there.
Eventually, the first guard came back with a syringe, and handed it to the other man. The guard removed the cap, ran his hand up Alexandra's leg, then lifted the shirttail away from her bare buttock and plunged the needle in. Alexandra cried out, the man rubbed his hand over the tiny wound, then stroked her leg again. "All done, Alexandra. Now you won't die of infection."
The guards went out and John heard them lock the door. After a few moments, Alexandra stopped whimpering and risked a glance at John, but looked away when their eyes met.
"My name's Andy," he said. "Don't be afraid."
She didn't react to that. John knew he had to gain her trust before he made any attempt at rescue, because he didn't think he could battle the men from ARGON and simultaneously convince her to do what he said. Trying again, he said, "I won't hurt you. You don't have to be frightened of me. Look, I'll move over here, all right?"
Ignoring the pain in his back, John slid himself off the mattress and into the opposite corner of the room, as far away from Alexandra as he could get. Seeing that she was peering cautiously in his direction, he even tucked his fingers under his thighs and gave her a quick smile. "See? No hands."
She didn't smile back, but he thought he saw her relax just a tiny bit.
"It's all right," he said. "Just trust me."
A long moment went by, and finally, in a very small and hoarse voice, Alexandra said, "I have to pee. Would you mind … not looking?"
"Sure," he said. Although he turned his face away, he was acutely aware of her staring at him the entire time, obviously terrified that he might take advantage of her vulnerability to risk a quick glimpse anyway – or something worse. He could hear her making small hurt sounds each time she moved, but finally, after what seemed like forever, there was a little whoosh from the mattress and she said, "All right."
"I have to pee, too," he said. "Should I use the bucket there, or take it over here?"
With a great effort, Alexandra gripped the handle of the bucket with both hands and lifted it up over the mattress. He could see her arms shaking with the effort, but when he reached out, meaning to take it from her, she flinched away with a little cry, dropping the bucket onto the edge of the mattress. John grabbed it instinctively before it could tip over, and Alexandra retreated even more, panting audibly with fear and pain.
"It's okay, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you," John said. "I'll take it from here, shall I?"
She turned her face to the wall and didn't answer. Although his time in the army had stripped him of his reservations about doing anything in the nude in front of anybody, John turned away, too. When he'd finished, he set the bucket a little further from the mattress, then sat down and tucked his hands out of sight again.
"All right," he said.
She was silent for a long time, and then, suddenly, she turned ever so slightly to look at him, and said, "Thank you for catching it. They would have whipped me … if I'd knocked it over again."
"I would have told them I did it," John offered.
"Then they would have whipped you."
"Well, good thing I've got good reflexes, then." He smiled, but she didn't smile back. Still, the fact that she was speaking to him was encouraging, and he added, "I'm going to get you out of here. They won't hurt you ever again, Alexandra."
She shuddered visibly, then whispered, "Don't … call me that. Please."
Remembering how the guard had said her name while administering the jab, John said casually, "I've got a daughter named … that. We always called her Lexi, but when she grew up, she insisted on Alex."
"Lexi sounds like a little girl," she said, turning a little bit more in his direction. "And I had a boyfriend once who always wanted to call me Lexus. I broke up with him because he was too obsessed with his car."
John laughed aloud at that, and was pleased to see that her lips also twitched in a vague imitation of a smile. "So, Alex, then?"
She hesitated, and then, without knowing why, John heard himself say teasingly, "Or Steve?"
"Steve," she said instantly. Grunting a little, she shifted her position so that she could look directly at him. "Sorry, what was your name again?"
"Andy," he said, and vowed that this new Steve was not going to end up dead like the old Steve.
"The other men said they were going to get me out, too," Alexandra – Steve – said quietly. She looked down, letting her hair fall forward to hide her face. "But they killed them. They took them away, and I heard them screaming and screaming and screaming, and then, suddenly, it was quiet. So quiet."
"They didn't kill them," John told her. "They let them go. They're still alive."
For a moment, Steve looked directly at him, her eyes alive with hope. Then the light faded abruptly, her shoulders slumped, and she glanced away. "It doesn't matter. Wherever they are, they're gone. And I'm still here."
"Steve," John said. "It'll be all right. I'm SAS; I'll get you out of here."
"How?" she asked dispiritedly. "Do you have a machine gun up your bum, or what?"
John snorted, amused. "Or a set of lockpicks up my –" he hesitated, then substituted the word, "nose? It's big enough, isn't it?"
Steve glanced at his face and her lips twitched a little. Encouraged, John smiled back. "Tell me about the guards."
Her almost-smile transformed directly into a frightened grimace, and she looked down at the mattress without answering.
"How many different ones have you seen?" John prompted.
"Oh." Relaxing just a little, Steve shut her eyes and a scowl flitted across her face as she tried to remember. "Four? No, six, I think."
"Do you know if they're all here now?"
Steve opened her eyes in frustration. "No."
"How often do they bring you food?" John pushed on. "What about the antibiotics? Do they empty the bucket?"
"I knocked the bucket over once, at the beginning," she said slowly. "I collapsed and I just – I just lay there because it hurt too much to get up. They whipped my legs – they thought I did it deliberately, trying to give myself an infection so I'd die. I think they only cleaned up the mess because they didn't want to step in it when they came in. They don't empty it, though, they just give me antibiotics twice a day."
"And food?"
"It should be coming soon," Steve said. "After the antibiotics."
"Do they come in at any other time? For any other reason?" John watched her curl up protectively, and said, "I'm sorry, Steve, but I have to know. It will help me plan our escape."
"Yeah," she whispered. "Sometimes they come in … when I'm awake. Before the antibiotics … or before the food … They made Daniel watch once …"
"Is it always two of them?" John asked. "Never one alone?"
Steve shook her head, and John was about to ask something else when he heard the rattle of the lock outside. A moment later, the door swung open to show the two guards again, one holding a gun at the ready, and the other, behind him, holding a tray. Once he had made sure that neither of the prisoners were going to attack him, the first guard stepped slightly to one side to make room for the other one.
Steve whimpered, and when John looked at her, he saw that she had huddled in on herself, hugging her legs to her chest with her arms wrapped around them.
"Food, Alexandra?" the guard said, putting the tray on the floor. It held two plastic bowls with some kind of stew, two flimsy plastic spoons, and two bottles of water without lids. The guard dipped one of the spoons into the nearest bowl and held it up as though wanting to feed it to Steve.
"No, no, no," she chanted, hiding her face within her arms.
"Alexandra, aren't you hungry?" he went on. He reached for Steve's hair with his free hand, tucking it behind her ear. "Come on, you must be hungry."
"No," she answered. "No."
"I'm hungry," John said. He was actually still full from the restaurant, but he wanted to distract the guard's attention from Steve. He reached out towards the food, but the man dropped the spoon and grabbed something at his belt. Pulling out a short whip, he brought it down across John's arm. The welt stung; John snatched his hand back.
"You wait!" the guard shouted. "You wait until I tell you that you can eat!"
He slashed out again, catching John's leg just below the knee, then stood up and gave him a vicious kick to the shin. After that, he seemed to lose all interest; exhaling resignedly, he then turned and stalked out. The guard with the gun followed and the door slammed shut behind them. John heard the rattle and click of the lock.
It took a minute or two for Steve's frantic panting to slow and her trembling to cease, but then she lifted her head and whispered, "Thanks."
"No problem," he said.
Slowly, hissing with pain, Steve stretched out her hand for one of the bottles, but she was too far away, and had to move her entire body closer. John fought the instinct to grab it and hand it to her, but remembered how she reacted to sudden movements, and remained quite still. She took a few swallows, then set the bottle down and reached for the other bowl and spoon, the one that the guard hadn't touched. Placing it on the mattress, she then pushed the entire tray in John's direction.
"Here," she said, letting go and leaning back. He watched as she picked up the bowl and cradled it in her lap before lifting the spoon to her mouth.
"Actually, I ate just before I came," he said.
"You should eat it anyway," Steve said, taking another bite. "They'll whip you if you don't."
John didn't remember seeing a food tray in the room before, and realized the guards probably came back at some point to clear it away. "How long do they give you to eat?"
Steve swallowed. "I don't know. Twenty minutes? Thirty? Sometimes I'm asleep already when they come in."
After putting the spoon in her mouth again, she added, "They put sleeping pills in the food, but I don't care. It's better than lying awake and waiting –"
John lunged over and grabbed the bowl from her hands, ignoring her frightened and pained sound of protest.
"I'm sorry," he said, "but you can't sleep. We're going to get out of here, and I need you awake."
The expression on her face reminded him of Lexi as a toddler just after she'd been hurt and just before she was going to cry, but Steve didn't cry. She merely stared at him with panicked eyes and even more panicked breathing.
"You should drink as much as you can, though," John said. He reached out and pushed both bottles of water in her direction, then took the other bowl from the tray. After a moment of contemplation, he dumped the food into the slops bucket and returned the empty bowls to the tray. When he looked back, Steve was just leaning towards the water. Their eyes met and she froze automatically for a moment, then visibly forced herself to continue reaching for the bottle.
Part 4
The room was oppressively hot, because the window had been boarded over from the inside, and it stank of human waste, sweat, and blood. As they dragged him inside, John saw Alexandra Kehoe lying on her side on a stained, bare mattress. She lifted her head, caught a glimpse of his nudity, and immediately hid her face in the mattress again, pulling her legs closer to her body and whimpering quietly. The men turned John around and dropped him on his back next to her, making him shout in pain. Pushing himself up, he accidentally brushed against her foot. Whimpering more loudly now, she scooted away as far away as she was able, and John realized she was saying, "No, no, no," over and over again.
One of the men pulled a chain out from between the mattress and the wall, and snapped a manacle around John's wrist. Checking it out, he saw that the chain was approximately four feet long and connected to a pipe that ran horizontally just above the floor. It would just allow him to stand up, he thought, and move back and forth along the length of the pipe, but he would not be able to lift his arm higher than his waist. Another chain disappeared under Alexandra's body and he assumed she wore a manacle on her right wrist as well. He also saw the source of the stench; there was a bucket at her end of the mattress, next to the door. The rest of the room was empty.
"Time for the antibiotic," said one of the guards, and went out. The other one stayed, squatting down next to Alexandra and stroking her arm and her hair. If he'd been the guard with the key, John would have seriously considered attacking him and starting the escape plan, but for now, there was no point.
"Antibiotic, Alexandra," the guard said. "To keep you from getting sick."
"No, no, no," she murmured, twitching her arm away as much as she could. John could see that she was trembling all over. He could also see that her shirt was sticking to her skin where blood from the welts on her back had soaked through and dried there.
Eventually, the first guard came back with a syringe, and handed it to the other man. The guard removed the cap, ran his hand up Alexandra's leg, then lifted the shirttail away from her bare buttock and plunged the needle in. Alexandra cried out, the man rubbed his hand over the tiny wound, then stroked her leg again. "All done, Alexandra. Now you won't die of infection."
The guards went out and John heard them lock the door. After a few moments, Alexandra stopped whimpering and risked a glance at John, but looked away when their eyes met.
"My name's Andy," he said. "Don't be afraid."
She didn't react to that. John knew he had to gain her trust before he made any attempt at rescue, because he didn't think he could battle the men from ARGON and simultaneously convince her to do what he said. Trying again, he said, "I won't hurt you. You don't have to be frightened of me. Look, I'll move over here, all right?"
Ignoring the pain in his back, John slid himself off the mattress and into the opposite corner of the room, as far away from Alexandra as he could get. Seeing that she was peering cautiously in his direction, he even tucked his fingers under his thighs and gave her a quick smile. "See? No hands."
She didn't smile back, but he thought he saw her relax just a tiny bit.
"It's all right," he said. "Just trust me."
A long moment went by, and finally, in a very small and hoarse voice, Alexandra said, "I have to pee. Would you mind … not looking?"
"Sure," he said. Although he turned his face away, he was acutely aware of her staring at him the entire time, obviously terrified that he might take advantage of her vulnerability to risk a quick glimpse anyway – or something worse. He could hear her making small hurt sounds each time she moved, but finally, after what seemed like forever, there was a little whoosh from the mattress and she said, "All right."
"I have to pee, too," he said. "Should I use the bucket there, or take it over here?"
With a great effort, Alexandra gripped the handle of the bucket with both hands and lifted it up over the mattress. He could see her arms shaking with the effort, but when he reached out, meaning to take it from her, she flinched away with a little cry, dropping the bucket onto the edge of the mattress. John grabbed it instinctively before it could tip over, and Alexandra retreated even more, panting audibly with fear and pain.
"It's okay, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you," John said. "I'll take it from here, shall I?"
She turned her face to the wall and didn't answer. Although his time in the army had stripped him of his reservations about doing anything in the nude in front of anybody, John turned away, too. When he'd finished, he set the bucket a little further from the mattress, then sat down and tucked his hands out of sight again.
"All right," he said.
She was silent for a long time, and then, suddenly, she turned ever so slightly to look at him, and said, "Thank you for catching it. They would have whipped me … if I'd knocked it over again."
"I would have told them I did it," John offered.
"Then they would have whipped you."
"Well, good thing I've got good reflexes, then." He smiled, but she didn't smile back. Still, the fact that she was speaking to him was encouraging, and he added, "I'm going to get you out of here. They won't hurt you ever again, Alexandra."
She shuddered visibly, then whispered, "Don't … call me that. Please."
Remembering how the guard had said her name while administering the jab, John said casually, "I've got a daughter named … that. We always called her Lexi, but when she grew up, she insisted on Alex."
"Lexi sounds like a little girl," she said, turning a little bit more in his direction. "And I had a boyfriend once who always wanted to call me Lexus. I broke up with him because he was too obsessed with his car."
John laughed aloud at that, and was pleased to see that her lips also twitched in a vague imitation of a smile. "So, Alex, then?"
She hesitated, and then, without knowing why, John heard himself say teasingly, "Or Steve?"
"Steve," she said instantly. Grunting a little, she shifted her position so that she could look directly at him. "Sorry, what was your name again?"
"Andy," he said, and vowed that this new Steve was not going to end up dead like the old Steve.
"The other men said they were going to get me out, too," Alexandra – Steve – said quietly. She looked down, letting her hair fall forward to hide her face. "But they killed them. They took them away, and I heard them screaming and screaming and screaming, and then, suddenly, it was quiet. So quiet."
"They didn't kill them," John told her. "They let them go. They're still alive."
For a moment, Steve looked directly at him, her eyes alive with hope. Then the light faded abruptly, her shoulders slumped, and she glanced away. "It doesn't matter. Wherever they are, they're gone. And I'm still here."
"Steve," John said. "It'll be all right. I'm SAS; I'll get you out of here."
"How?" she asked dispiritedly. "Do you have a machine gun up your bum, or what?"
John snorted, amused. "Or a set of lockpicks up my –" he hesitated, then substituted the word, "nose? It's big enough, isn't it?"
Steve glanced at his face and her lips twitched a little. Encouraged, John smiled back. "Tell me about the guards."
Her almost-smile transformed directly into a frightened grimace, and she looked down at the mattress without answering.
"How many different ones have you seen?" John prompted.
"Oh." Relaxing just a little, Steve shut her eyes and a scowl flitted across her face as she tried to remember. "Four? No, six, I think."
"Do you know if they're all here now?"
Steve opened her eyes in frustration. "No."
"How often do they bring you food?" John pushed on. "What about the antibiotics? Do they empty the bucket?"
"I knocked the bucket over once, at the beginning," she said slowly. "I collapsed and I just – I just lay there because it hurt too much to get up. They whipped my legs – they thought I did it deliberately, trying to give myself an infection so I'd die. I think they only cleaned up the mess because they didn't want to step in it when they came in. They don't empty it, though, they just give me antibiotics twice a day."
"And food?"
"It should be coming soon," Steve said. "After the antibiotics."
"Do they come in at any other time? For any other reason?" John watched her curl up protectively, and said, "I'm sorry, Steve, but I have to know. It will help me plan our escape."
"Yeah," she whispered. "Sometimes they come in … when I'm awake. Before the antibiotics … or before the food … They made Daniel watch once …"
"Is it always two of them?" John asked. "Never one alone?"
Steve shook her head, and John was about to ask something else when he heard the rattle of the lock outside. A moment later, the door swung open to show the two guards again, one holding a gun at the ready, and the other, behind him, holding a tray. Once he had made sure that neither of the prisoners were going to attack him, the first guard stepped slightly to one side to make room for the other one.
Steve whimpered, and when John looked at her, he saw that she had huddled in on herself, hugging her legs to her chest with her arms wrapped around them.
"Food, Alexandra?" the guard said, putting the tray on the floor. It held two plastic bowls with some kind of stew, two flimsy plastic spoons, and two bottles of water without lids. The guard dipped one of the spoons into the nearest bowl and held it up as though wanting to feed it to Steve.
"No, no, no," she chanted, hiding her face within her arms.
"Alexandra, aren't you hungry?" he went on. He reached for Steve's hair with his free hand, tucking it behind her ear. "Come on, you must be hungry."
"No," she answered. "No."
"I'm hungry," John said. He was actually still full from the restaurant, but he wanted to distract the guard's attention from Steve. He reached out towards the food, but the man dropped the spoon and grabbed something at his belt. Pulling out a short whip, he brought it down across John's arm. The welt stung; John snatched his hand back.
"You wait!" the guard shouted. "You wait until I tell you that you can eat!"
He slashed out again, catching John's leg just below the knee, then stood up and gave him a vicious kick to the shin. After that, he seemed to lose all interest; exhaling resignedly, he then turned and stalked out. The guard with the gun followed and the door slammed shut behind them. John heard the rattle and click of the lock.
It took a minute or two for Steve's frantic panting to slow and her trembling to cease, but then she lifted her head and whispered, "Thanks."
"No problem," he said.
Slowly, hissing with pain, Steve stretched out her hand for one of the bottles, but she was too far away, and had to move her entire body closer. John fought the instinct to grab it and hand it to her, but remembered how she reacted to sudden movements, and remained quite still. She took a few swallows, then set the bottle down and reached for the other bowl and spoon, the one that the guard hadn't touched. Placing it on the mattress, she then pushed the entire tray in John's direction.
"Here," she said, letting go and leaning back. He watched as she picked up the bowl and cradled it in her lap before lifting the spoon to her mouth.
"Actually, I ate just before I came," he said.
"You should eat it anyway," Steve said, taking another bite. "They'll whip you if you don't."
John didn't remember seeing a food tray in the room before, and realized the guards probably came back at some point to clear it away. "How long do they give you to eat?"
Steve swallowed. "I don't know. Twenty minutes? Thirty? Sometimes I'm asleep already when they come in."
After putting the spoon in her mouth again, she added, "They put sleeping pills in the food, but I don't care. It's better than lying awake and waiting –"
John lunged over and grabbed the bowl from her hands, ignoring her frightened and pained sound of protest.
"I'm sorry," he said, "but you can't sleep. We're going to get out of here, and I need you awake."
The expression on her face reminded him of Lexi as a toddler just after she'd been hurt and just before she was going to cry, but Steve didn't cry. She merely stared at him with panicked eyes and even more panicked breathing.
"You should drink as much as you can, though," John said. He reached out and pushed both bottles of water in her direction, then took the other bowl from the tray. After a moment of contemplation, he dumped the food into the slops bucket and returned the empty bowls to the tray. When he looked back, Steve was just leaning towards the water. Their eyes met and she froze automatically for a moment, then visibly forced herself to continue reaching for the bottle.
Part 4