Never understand how women get around in those things.
The windowless door to the torture room opened as Nigel, Dasha’s always present security, stepped through. He too looked very much the same as before – several inches shorter than Mac’s six feet, narrow shoulders covered in a casual sweatshirt, blue jeans and tennis shoes, dark skin, closely shaved, receding hair, and thin fingered, almost delicate hands. Nigel was a dangerous man, and his presence in the torture room caused Mac to close his eyes and take a deep, calming breath.
Don’t give them the pleasure of hearing you scream. It’s just pain. It’s just pain…
“He remembers you Nigel, enough to fear you. Good, it’s about time you show yourself to be afraid Mr. Walker. Nigel, don’t kill him. Just make him cry. There are few things so beautiful in this world than the sound of a big, tough American screaming. I want him ready for the trial. You see, we need you to come to an understanding Mr. Walker. There is no escape from this. You have a role to play, and I intend to make certain you are read to do so, and that assurance requires that we first break you. Completely.”
Dasha smiled briefly at Nigel before exiting the room, the insulated door closing silently behind her. Nigel turned to face Mac as he began placing his hands inside of a pair of black, leather gloves.
“Too much of a pussy to hit me properly Nigel? You gotta protect those soft hands of yours in some gloves?”
Nigel’s eyes flashed briefly in anger before returning quickly to their nearly unreadable, emotionless gaze.
“I am sorry for what is about to be done to you Mr. Walker, but the events now unfolding are far beyond either of us, and we are but minor actors in a very big play. I have been given my orders, and unlike you, intend to follow them. You may believe yourself capable of withstanding a great deal of pain Mr. Walker, but I assure you, this time will be different. Very different indeed…”
Mac closed his eyes and focused intensely on withdrawing deep within himself, far away from the pain that was soon to come. Before closing the mental door behind him, he opened his eyes again to stare back at Nigel, Mac’s lips pulling back in a feral snarl as he growled his challenge.
“Bring it.”
IX.
Nigel walked calmly toward Mac Walker and pushed the former Navy SEAL’s head backwards slightly as the tips of his right hand fingers jabbed lightning fast into Mac’s exposed throat. The blow caused Mac’s windpipe to expand and then contract in excruciating pain as his lungs cried out for air that temporarily wouldn’t come. If he had delivered the blow with a fraction more pressure, it would have likely killed Mac, but Nigel was proving to his victim just how well practiced he was at this kind of thing.
It was merely the first example of a very long lesson for Mac Walker.
“That’s to prevent you from pulling away from me Mr. Walker. Trying to hide out somewhere inside of yourself. I know the methods of people like you – how you’ve trained for torture. How you believe yourself prepared for it. Not today Mr. Walker. I told you, this time will be very different for you.”
Mac’s windpipe remained a throbbing fixture within his throat, but he was again able to inhale the oxygen his body cried out for. This all too brief reprieve was pushed aside as Nigel hit Mac’s nose with the lower palm of his right hand, sending Mac’s head crashing backwards as his vision was overtaken with the flashing pain of the blow. Mac felt blood from his nose trickling down into his throat, causing him to cough, which in turn enflamed his already just damaged wind pipe. Nigel’s methods were proving both methodical, and very precise, each action of torture building upon the other with minimal effort.
Son-of-a-bitch knows his shit.
Nigel straightened the gloving on his hands and stood directly in front of Mac again.
“Are you familiar with the term epididymis Mr. Walker?”
Mac tensed, inhaling sharply while struggling not to cough.
Nigel, already realizing Mac knew exactly what the term epididymis meant, continued.
“The epididymis is a very particular part of a man’s testicular structure. It is, in essence, the connection between the testicle and the vas deferens. Now the epididymis itself is commonly mistaken as part of the testicle, when in fact is its own entity, and actually, due to the strong nerve connections it shares with the testicle, can prove extremely painful when damaged even slightly. So much pain in fact, men have been known to pass out from it.”
Mac sat up and a with loud flourish, spit out a glob of blood onto the room’s concrete floor, its landing a wet, red frothed splat just inches from Nigel’s feet.
“You gonna ask me to turn and cough, or you wanna just play doctor?”
Nigel smiled and nodded his head.
“Actually yes, Mr. Walker, something like that. I’m happy to see you keeping your sense of humor – you’re going to need it.”
Nigel’s right hand shot out toward Mac’s lower groin, plunging between his tightly closed legs before finally gripping firmly around Mac’s testicles.
“There you are Mr. Walker. Now I want you to know, this is going to hurt. A lot…”
The pain that erupted from Mac’s right testicle was of a kind he had never before experienced. Mac had been shot, knifed, suffered broken bones, and any number of other injuries both great and small, but what Nigel’s clasping fingers did at that moment sent Mac’s body into instant convulsions as he strained against the ropes that tied both his hands and arms firmly to the chair, which itself was bolted into the floor of the torture room.
Mac Walker didn’t scream though.
Not yet.
Nigel’s eyes widened slightly, his face just inches from Mac’s own.
“Very impressive Mr. Walker. Most men would have broken down already, so severe is this kind of pain. Perhaps a bit more pressure then?”
Mac’s body had broken out into a thick, drenching sweat as his head snapped backwards at the same moment a scream attempted to release from within him. Instead, Mac’s head dropped back down onto his chest as he began to lose consciousness, his mind instinctively shutting down from the torture.
Nigel loosened the pressure being applied to Mac’s testicle and slapped him across the face with his left hand.
“Not yet Mr. Walker. I need you to be with me for a bit longer. Let’s see how long you can hold out before giving me a really good, healthy scream.”
Again Nigel’s fingers squeezed tightly while pulling upward slightly, creating a searing, tearing sensation that originated in Mac’s groin and then erupted throughout his body.
And still Mac Walker refused to scream.
Nigel’s composure broke momentarily as he looked back into Mac’s eyes with clear frustration, his face brushing up against Mac’s right cheek.
“Scream Mr. Walker. Scream for the men who died because of your incompetence. Scream for your country that now falls apart all around you. Scream for you friend Tilley who I killed not more than a few hundred yards from the White House. Scream because it HURTS!”
As Nigel’s fingers once again squeezed, Mac turned his head sharply to the right, his mouth opening wide and then clamping down hard onto the exposed neck of his torturer. Mac could feel his teeth sinking into the flesh of the man’s neck, the move shocking Nigel enough that he released his grip on Mac’s groin and instinctively attempted to pull his head away.
That mistake cost Nigel dearly, as a chunk of skin was ripped from his neck, creating a wound that began to bleed profusely. Dasha’s security detail stumbled backwards, a hand to his throat as he looked back at Mac sitting in the chair with a flap of Nigel’s neck hanging from his mouth.
Mac spit the piece of skin out onto the floor and raised his head upward in defiance, glaring back at Nigel. Though the pain of the torture still coursed through every fiber of his body, Mac Walker refused to let Nigel know how much he had hurt him.
“Hey – I let you feel me up pretty good there. Normally someone gets that far, they’ve at least bought me dinner fi
rst.”
Nigel stared back at Mac in temporary shock and disbelief, unable to fully comprehend the unrelenting toughness of the American who still sat bound in the chair in front of him. What Nigel did understand though, was the amount of blood coming from the tear in his neck. If he didn’t get it attended to quickly, he would be in real trouble. Applying yet more pressure to the wound with his hand, Nigel stared back at Mac Walker and hissed the future of the man who had just nearly torn the life from him with his teeth.
“Mr. Walker, what happened to you today is just the very beginning of what is to come. Dasha has her plans for you, and I pity you all the more because of it. Everything you know, everything you once believed in, will be taken from you Mr. Walker. And the brilliance of Dasha, is that you will help her to do it. And once you have provided that service, even then your pain will continue. Day after day, year after year, that pain and loss will be all that you will know.”
Mac Walker’s eyes held no fear in them. His mouth now a mixture of his own blood and the blood of his torturer, he again snarled his response to Nigel’s threat.
“BRING IT.”
X.
The place reeked of disinfectant. Bleach.
Shit – I’m in a goddamn hospital.
Mac Walker’s arms were secured tightly at his sides. He wasn’t ready to open his eyes quite yet, wanting to first try and determine if anyone was in the room with him.
“Hello Mr. Walker – you’re coming out of your sedation right on schedule.”
Guess that answers that.
Mac didn’t recognize the voice, but sensed whoever it was, now waited for him to respond.
“Where am I?”
The sound of movement was heard to Mac’s right side, someone moving across the room toward him.
“You are at the medical facility inside of a military detention center Mr. Walker. The authorities brought you here three days ago. My name is Dr. Walter Bedman. You have been placed under my care for now, pending your trial.”
Mac struggled to recall how he came to be in this place.
“You said three days? I’ve been here for three days?”
“That is correct Mr. Walker. The authorities had concerns over your potential volatility, and for your safety and the safety of others, ordered you sedated.”
Suddenly Mac found himself getting sick, his head turning to his side as a small amount of vomit escaped his mouth.
“That is perfectly normal Mr. Walker – the results of the anesthetic. You’ll be feeling more yourself in a couple more hours. I imagine you’re quite hungry as well.”
Mac realized he was hungry – starving in fact.
“Can I get you to open your eyes for me Mr. Walker?”
Mac’s eyes opened slowly, taking several minutes to adjust to the light. To his right he saw the gaunt face of Dr. Bedman looking back at him. The doctor was a tall man, at least a few inches over six feet, mid-50’s, salt and pepper hair, heavily lidded eyes, and a pair of enormous, almost comical, ears that protruded from each side of his narrow head.
“Very good Mr. Walker, you appear to be doing just fine.”
Mac Walker’s eyes caught the white and blue metallic flash of a small pin attached to the front of the doctor’s white lab coat with the initials N.U.N.
New United Nations. These assholes are everywhere.
Dr. Bedman’s tone took on a more serious note of caution as he continued to look down at Mac while testing the straps that bound Mac’s arms.
“There is to be no attempt at escape Mr. Walker. No outbursts. No threats. You are to remain here until your trial commences, which my most recent notification indicated would be within a week. I’m not the one to inform you of those details though – that will come soon enough. If your behavior poses a threat to anyone, including yourself, you will promptly be sedated again. Do you understand Mr. Walker?”
Mac ignored the last question, instead wanting to find out what exactly his upcoming trial was about.
“What have I been charged with?”
Doctor Bedman offered Mac a thin, emotionless smile as he turned and made his way to the room’s single, light grey metallic door.
“That is not for me to discuss Mr. Walker. I will let the authorities know you are ready for your first preparation session. It could begin later this afternoon. I will send a nurse in within the hour to feed you a meal. Good day Mr. Walker.”
The door closed behind the doctor, leaving Mac alone in the twelve by twelve, low ceilinged room. No sounds could be heard from outside, indicating thick walls, similar to that of a bunker. Mac was hooked up to a simple iv drip, and as he shifted in the medical bed, he sensed he had been catheterized.
The straps on his arms were of a nylon material, and though light, Mac knew he was far too weak to have any hope of breaking them. His legs though, had been left unsecured. This brought a small smile to Mac’s face.
No other furnishings are medical equipment were in the room. Whatever this place was, it offered the very minimum of care and comfort. Mac closed his eyes again and refocused on trying to recall the events that brought him to this place.
The last image that came easily to him was that of Nigel leaving the holding room of the Henderson Kentucky Police Station. Nigel had tortured Mac, and then paid a price for his work by way of a ferocious and near fatal wound Mac delivered to the man’s neck.
What did Nigel say before he left that room? What was the threat he made?
Mac slowed his breathing down and cleared his mind of all distractions, mentally pushing back the drug created fog that still permeated his thoughts.
Mr. Walker, what happened to you today is just the very beginning of what is to come. Dasha has her plans for you, and I pity you all the more because of it. Everything you know, everything you once believed in, will be taken from you Mr. Walker. And the brilliance of Dasha, is that you will help her to do it. And once you have provided that service, even then your pain will continue. Day after day, year after year, that pain and loss will be all that you will know.
Mac’s eyes opened again as he stared at the door from which Dr. Bedman has just exited the room. The doctor had mentioned a trial beginning within the week, but for what? Shooting a man who was beating a woman to death and then drew a gun on him? Or for killing another man who had just murdered a law enforcement officer? A man who was also linked to this New United Nations organization that Dasha Al Marri was such an integral part of.
And what did Nigel mean when he indicated Mac would help Dasha with her plans?
Good luck with that - I’ll die before I help any of you murdering little shits
The door to the room opened, followed by the appearance of a short, round faced man who appeared nervous to be in the same room as Mac Walker.
“Hello. I’m uh…I’m Hubert Gresh. I have been assigned to represent you in your upcoming trial.”
Mac stared back at Hubert Gresh, his mind reeling at how quickly things were now moving against him. Sedated for three days, and now facing trial in a week on charges he had not yet heard.
“Did you hear me Mr. Walker? My name is Hubert---“
“I heard you fine. How about you start off by telling me what the hell is going on? And if you’re my attorney, don’t you think it’s just a little strange that I’m strapped into this bed here?”
Hubert took a step backward toward the door, his red, round face openly expressing his near panic in having to be in the room with Mac. He appeared to be no older than forty, wearing an ill fitting brown suit and his dirty blonde hair combed back from a sweating forehead.
“Yes, the charges.”
The lawyer paused, shifting uncomfortably from side to side before continuing.
“As I understand them Mr. Walker, uh…you are being charged with a hate crime and use of a banned weapon with deadly intent.”
Even Mac Walker found himself shocked at Gresh’s words.
“What banned weapon? That was my sidearm, I’m licensed to
carry it! It was self defense!”
The lawyer held up both of his fat, short fingered hands.
“That will be for the jury to determine uh, Mr. Walker. During your trial. Your weapon had been modified, made uh, made to be more deadly. There is apparently a global treaty banning such modifications. You were probably not aware of that treaty, it wasn’t ratified but rather, uh, it was grandfathered in.”
Mac glared back at the man who was supposed to be defending him against the bogus charge.
Military Fiction: THE MAC WALKER COLLECTION: A special ops military fiction collection... Page 50