by Anthony Puyo
In the distance, Brimm watches with his arms tucked. The situation is turning into a test for Rico, and all eyes are on him. Even the Captain watches with intrigue. What the young man does next, will define him. It’s his choice now; there will be no one to lie blame to.
Possibly it is the liquor, perhaps it is the pressure of the on looking eyes of Hawks’ men. And let’s not forget about his prize—Eva. She means more than anything—he had to have her. That isn’t to say he didn’t care for Bodo, because he did. Bodo saved his life. Rico wouldn’t forget that. Charlie; he didn’t know too well. His feelings weren’t the same for him, but it was a loss nonetheless. No more debating—it’s decision time.
Rico’s face changes, he knows what he has to do. He pumps himself up, hiding his feelings of remorse. He’s one of Hawks’ now, and he can’t show mercy.
“People die, that’s what happens. Sometime they have too. It wouldn’t be that way if people were grateful. They weren’t. But I am. Jason too. And if you want to survive, you’re going to have to start. All of you.”
Chet charges, punching Rico in the jaw, knocking him onto the floor. One of the soldiers quickly hits Chet with a straight jab of the brunt of his rifle, this knocks him into the arms of Craig. The other soldiers move up, ready to attack.
“Leave ‘em!” Rico slurs while being on the ground. He wipes his bloody mouth with his sleeve.
Chet battles with Rico’s betrayal. “What are doing? What are you saying? This isn’t you, Rico. Bodo and I rescued you. You could’ve died out there if it wasn’t for him: for us.” He glances at the soldiers by Rico’s sides and shakes his head. He spits blood to the floor.
Rico stands up. “Times have changed, Chet.”
Chet nods. There is no changing the kid’s mind. “I guess they have.”
Eva asks. “Why are you here? Are we the enemy now? I see you have your army.”
“I’m here for you.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Come with me?”
“Are you fucking crazy? I would never go with you . . . Never! If that is your intentions, you can leave now. You got my answer.”
Rico’s eyes hold tears . . . They aren’t for Eva or his former friends. They’re for himself. The last shred of good that rests in him: in his bones, in his flesh, in his blood. Is about to be exterminated. And he felt it—his tears held it.
“Please Eva, make this easy,” Rico says, his mouth shaking.
Eva, defeated in tone, sighs rebelliously. “What are you talking about, Rico. Just leave us. We don’t want you here!”
Chet reiterates. “You heard the woman. Leave us.”
“I like you, Chet, but you need to stay out of this one.” He stares back at Eva and sternly speaks, “You need to come with me—now!”
Eva disappointed, disgusted. “And I said no!” She turns away, not knowing the extent the young man would go.
The tears he held back, finally overflow, and so went the goodness with them. Rico becomes angry to the point of shaking. “Then you leave me no choice.” He turns to his comrades, “Grab her.”
Upstairs: Robert smiles. Proud of Rico’s actions. And on the ground, Brimm shares the same sentiment.
The soldiers walk up to the dismay of the shocked group. Chet and Craig try to stop them, but they don’t even get a step as guns are drawn on them.
Chet yells angrily, “Rico, you’re going too far!”
Rico instantly replies. “Stay back, Chet, Craig, or you will die.”
Eva struggles in the soldier’s grips. “Get your hands off me! How dare you, Rico? You bastard!”
“You wanted it this way!”
Chet, outraged, pulls his pistol and aims it at Rico. “I may die, but not before I take you down.”
The soldiers aim their guns at the Iowa cowboy. One of them threatens to kill him. Craig with almost no choice pulls his gun. Melissa covers Ryan and Violet while Isabell moves in close, shielding them all.
Everyone is at a standstill. Chet won’t hold his tongue. “You little punk, Rico. You fucked up everything!”
Gary Brimm walks up, arrogant in stature. “Men! Fire on three . . . One . . . Two—” The whites of the group’s eyes can be seen. The quietness is almost defining. Brimm’s mouth about to open again.
“Nooo! Stop!” Eva yells.
She knows her friends don’t stand a chance. It had to be her choice to stop the slaughter. “Don’t shoot!” Hesitant, she turns to her hate which has incarnated as a man. In a diminished tone, she utters to Rico, “Leave them alone.” She gazes down for a moment. Knowing what she’s going to do brings her to weep. “Let the little girl’s mother go, and I’ll go with you.”
Rico sees he’s won. And though he preferred Eva to go at her own will, his infatuation for her didn’t let it bother him too much. And with her decision, he no longer sees the need to hurt his old friends.
“Let them live, Sergeant, I got what I came for.”
Brimm gives a scoffing look. “I make the decisions, kid. Is that clear?”
Rico nods, hoping for the best. Brimm scans over the scared and angered faces. He knew upstairs on the monitors, Hawks is watching. He also knew Hawks would prefer the marked ones to live. Their death would only bring a swift joy. Letting them live, powerless to their own destiny, stripped of their pride, fighting amongst each other, is a much more brutal fate. One that Robert would greatly enjoy.
Brimm barks out. “Lower your weapons.” And his men do so. He gave a haughty stare to the group. “Release the woman,” he snickers to his men. “She’s old anyways. Her cunt probably reeks.” The men laugh.
Eva walks past Chet and Craig. She glances into their eyes, wincing a slight frown of her lips before peering away.
“You don’t have to this.” Chet whispers.
“I know.” Eva says, never looking back. She didn’t want to make it a debate. She knew it was hard on them already, and talking would only make it harder.
When Rico and the soldiers left, the group grumbled mightily about what took place. The only one who seemed to be emotionless about the whole thing was Dockery James. He had seen enough to know man was man. And when push came to shove, man would both push and shove the weaker down. So he reserved himself. Rather than get swallowed in the moment, he would spend his energy contemplating. Figuring the best way to deal with a particular situation. In short, he strategized revenge. He had a bone to pick about Charlie, and he had a promise to keep.
“Things are only going to get worse here. We must leave,” Melissa speaks tenderly.
“It’s impossible, they got the whole place fenced and secured,” replies Chet, rubbing his conquered face.
“There is a way,” the raspy voice that sat away echoes.
Chet turns to Doc, “The man who rarely makes peep, gots a plan?”
“There’s a manhole by the parking garage. If timed right, you could go down it without being seen.”
Chet thinks about it before answering. “That could work. It would be risky, but it could work. We’ll need a flashlight of course.”
Craig blurts. “I got one in my bag.”
Chet goes on. “We don’t know what’s down there, and we won’t know where we’re going.”
“That’s easy,” Doc replies, putting his pick in his short afro hair. “You head south as long as you can. And for your other problem, you’ll have to take your chances—kill anything that moves.”
Craig responds. “That’s easy for you to say, you're a trained killer—survivor.”
Doc removes his shades, staring down the bunch. “The training I got was elite. Could kill anyone, anyhow, anywhere. But the training you got, with this mess we’re in, is far greater than anything we trained for. And you all survived it. That means something. There’s a fighter—a soldier—in all of you. You have to embrace it—believe it.”
Chet and Craig look at each other, pondering what Doc implies. They’re running out of options. And what he said makes sense. Melissa
had a point too. Things were only going to get worse. They had to do something. And though it was scary, the reward had finally outweighed the risk. Like Doc said, they had to take their chances.
Melissa asks, “When should we go?”
Doc responds. “Now.”
The group is surprised at his comment. Chet speaks for them all. “Now? I don’t know.”
“They’re drunk, occupied, and they ain’t going to expect it,” Doc explains. “After what happened tonight. Your time is limited. You’re also weak now. As soon as he wants, you dead. It’s going to happen. I’m sorry to say, but you don’t have a chance straight up.
Chet, a bit stumped by Doc, “What do you mean ‘we’ should go, ‘we’ don’t have a chance? How about you, you’re not coming, not going to fight with us?”
Doc tucks his mouth to one side. “I got some business to handle. Then I’m going to help you. Tonight only. After that . . . I’m gone.”
The mood of the group glooms over Doc’s words.
Melissa begins to speak for everyone in the pack. “We would like it if you came with us. You’re a part of our lives, a part of this family.”
Doc’s heart skips a beat to Melissa’s kind plea. It resembles the many oaths he and his unit had taken for one another. It also made him remember Charlie. A teardrop falls from his heart.
He speaks again. “Caring words. I can see you’re a genuine person, a good heart. I know now, why that man right there,” he points to Craig, “went all over this city looking for you. But unfortunately, I have to decline the offer.”
Craig asks. “Why, man? You can start over. Have a new life away from all this bullshit.”
Chet, lips tight and eyes gloomy, puts his hand on Craig’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze, a signal to stop the insisting. Chet understands that Doc is a man on a mission that he cannot stray from.
Doc replies. “We all have something that awaits us. A destiny. You got to follow the right path to get to it. It’s hard to see sometimes, but it’s there. You just have to recognize it. It’s often the road that looks scary, desolate, a place filled with unknown dreadful surprises. The fear in a man’s mind can talk them out of ever stepping foot on that ground. They opt for different path. An easier, more captivating one that leads to nowhere. That’s the real scary place. They find themselves years later, passed by time. They became what they feared most: a waste. Nothing but deteriorated skin and bones with no cause in the cycle. No purpose or mark on the world. Those people never realized the scary road, the one less traveled, was the right one all along. And the other path, the easy one, was nothing more than a trap. One that appealed to the eye of the brain. If they only knew it was a sham . . .
“But you do now. All of you know now. Let me tell you something. No matter what calamities seem to emerge on the road in front of you, you shouldn’t be deterred. Knowledge, goodness, hope, will always surface from the ashes of our choices. Even if they ain’t the right ones. In those choices and outcomes, a person finds their destiny.
“So what I’m saying to you, brother Craig, is your path is to leave here with your family and friends. Wherever it leads, is to be your destiny. It’s going to be a scary road, but the right road. Things are going to happen. Some good, some bad, but don’t stop. Keep going forward. Just the same, my path is in front of me. It’s a different one than yours. That’s where my destiny lies.”
The mystery man’s words touch the group. It uplifted them. It is something Craig would have pondered more if he had the time. So he filed the words away in his memory, to revisit later. He then shook his head in approval, aware of the choice Doc’s making came from a very deep place.
Melissa concerned, asks, “What about Eva? We can’t leave without her.”
Craig replies. “We’ll wait.”
“The horrible things they must be doing to her. We need to get her out.”
“If we try rescuing her, we’ll all get killed—including her . . . Unless?”
Chet’s ears perk up. “Unless what? . . . Spit it out, Craig.”
“We make a distraction of some sort. Something that will cause them to come out of there.”
“That, my partner, is not a bad idea.”
“But if we’re going to do this, we need to get the women and children to the sewer.”
Doc interjects. “I got a score to settle. You can leave the diversion up to me.”
Rico walks out of the elevator, holding Eva by her arm. She’s clearly upset, but he doesn’t care. They walk up to the front desk where Hawks and his men have their setup. From there, camera monitors post video feed from all around the hospital and its grounds.
Hawks smiles deviously. “You got good taste, kid.” He looks Eva up and down. “Tight body. I might have to enjoy in on some of that.”
Rico grins like he’s not against the idea, but deep inside, he’s bothered by the mere comment.
Try it, and I’ll cut your balls off! “We’ll see, Cap, I really like this one.”
Hawks’ smile simmers down. “I advise you not to get too attached. I’m sure many of the boys here are going to want a piece.” He winks at Eva, “We’re all about sharing here.”
Rico displays a coward's grin before escorting Eva down the hall.
Robert sits back boastfully in his chair, watching his soldiers and their bounties grace the room. The females, young and old, are scared, crying, but that just adds to the excitement for the men, and even more so for the Captain who enjoys the sound of misery.
Robert lets out a laugh while pouring out two shots of wild turkey. It wasn’t his favorite, but the Jim Beam ran empty. “Here you go, soldier,” he passes the extra shot to Brimm. “Good work out there. The foundation on what we’re building, rests on shoulders such as yours.”
Brimm lifts his drink, acknowledging Robert before slamming it down. “I’m learning from the best.”
A proudness hovers the Captain.
Rico and Eva walk down the hallway of rooms. Blake Edward passes by them, investigating the odd couple with his eyes. Eva’s sorrowful face alarms him. He stops, about to say something, but the weeping of women and yelling of men from up front, grab his attention further.
What the hell are those guys up to now?
The redhead Staff Sergeant begins to march with authority to the party. Usually he could refrain his tongue—at least partially. But if what’s seems like going on is actually happening, it would be something he would have to put an end to.
Blake comes to find the scene outrageous. Pigs! Goddamn pigs!
Music plays in the background, drinks and bottles sit empty on counters and tables. Trash is scattered about. It seems the soldiers are animals in more ways than one.
The women are forced to strip and dance while the snarling cheer them on. They cry in fear and embarrassment, shaking in their movements while the onlookers bare lustful, excited faces and throw out useless money.
Blake Edward walks right up to Robert who sits in his cushy chair, watching everything. “Captain, what the fuck is going on here?! Have you lost your fucking mind?!”
The Captain turns to the irate man, hardly alarmed. “What’s-the-matter, Sergeant? You afraid of pussy too?” He laughs at him point blank.
Edward, tight faced, doesn’t waste another word on his leader. He paces to the nearby young women who are clinching their own bodies, trying to hide their nakedness. He has to push through the drunken soldiers who are dancing around them.
“Come on girls, grab your clothes.” He turns to the men, “It’s over.”
The women and young girls, still whimpering, crouch down and scavenge for their garments. Blake’s even more disgusted that a couple of the females don’t even look of age.
The soldiers stop dancing and gape at him. Some show animosity in their body language.
He goes on to say, “All of you go to sleep, the party’s over. Let’s not forget why we’re here—why we became soldiers.”
Irate with Edward, the Captain
stands up. He stumbles at first, putting his hand out on the counter to hold his balance. His one free hand holds the whiskey bottle. He swigs another drink before thumping the bottle down on the counter. “No one’s going to sleep until I say they’re going to sleep, Sergeant! I’m the Captain here, not you!”
The big man begins to walk around the counter. A prideful disgust burns in his eyes. His sluggish steps, wobbly body, are easily noticed amongst the room. Everyone watches in silence, even Blake.
Hawks points to one of his men, “Get them girls outta here!” The roar of the brute has the soldier move swiftly.
All six-foot, four-inches of Hawks stands in the face of Blake who only stands five-eleven and is of average build. The other soldiers stand around not knowing what’s about to take place, but they can tell from the flared nostrils of the Captain—he isn’t in the best of temperaments.
Blake is ready. He had been intimidated by Hawks in the past, as was everyone else, but he feels the Captain has destroyed everything the uniform stands for. Disrespected it. To him, Robert is nothing more than a savage dictator. The sort of man the U.S. military trains to despise.
The two men are toe to toe from each other. The Captain glares down at his counterpart, and with two stiff fingers, he pushes sharply into the chest of Edward. “You listen here, Staff Sergeant. This is my unit, and the only one who gives them orders around here—is me. Do you understand that?”
Blake glances in the eyes of the soldiers who surround them. Their faces say it all: they’ve been compromised. They wear the faces of men who are waiting, and wanting, for the Captain to prosecute. They want him to hurt the man who has judged them.
“I’m a U.S. Soldier, Captain. I haven’t forgotten that, but it looks like you have. Raping women, killing innocent civilians, you have disgraced your country, and you need to step down from your post.”
Hawks pierces deeply into the eyes of Edward who could almost feel the hate radiating from his glare. The anticipation in the room rumbles like volcano. No one has ever stood up to the Captain in this manner.