Page 8 of Cooper

One minute we’re heading to the airfield, the next, we’re upside down.

Now I’m in this fucking cell taking a beating.

Jesus fucking Christ, I can take a hit or ten, but this is ridiculous. They’ve been going at me for hours now. And they went at me last night too. They keep asking about where “they” are, which I pretend not to understand, but now they’re back with some dickhead who speaks enough English to get his point across. Trouble is, even if I knew what the hell they’re talking about, I wouldn’t tell them.

Ironically, that’s the worst part of the beating I’m taking.

If I was protecting something important, it would be a worthwhile sacrifice to get the shit beat out of me. But this? I have no idea who they’re talking about or why they think I know where they are.

They scream some more Arabic at me and finally—thank the fucking lord—they leave the room. They’ll be back, but at least now I can catch my breath.

I spit out another mouthful of blood and wonder if I’ll have any teeth left when this is over. Thankfully, they’re not that tough, so while they’ve done some damage, I’m okay. I was more worried about my buddy Doug Seghin. He’s out cold, still tied to a chair on the other side of the room. I’m pretty sure he has a concussion because when the Hummer flipped, it landed on his side first and he banged his head against the glass. Leo Passero has a broken arm, but he seems okay otherwise.

I make eye contact with him across the room and there is an unspoken understanding that this is bad. It was probably a few hours before anyone figured out we were taken, and by that time the trail will potentially be cold. These guys want something specific, which means they’ll keep us alive for a while, but who knows how long and what shape we’ll be in by the time they figure out we don’t know what they want.

“You think anyone’s coming?” Passero’s voice is hoarse. We haven’t been given any food or water, so it will only get worse.

“I think they’re looking for us, but whether or not they’ll find us in time…”

“Fuck, man. If these fuckers don’t do it, Mary’s gonna kill me.” His wife Mary is six months pregnant, and he’s supposed to be home in time for the birth of their first child.

“I’ll make sure she knows this wasn’t your fault.”

We chuckle together. There’s no other choice since neither of us is likely to cry.

“You talk to Nat?” Leo is the only person I’d told about Natalia and me. Not that we had sex, but that there’s an interest there and that I’m hoping to go see her at some point.

“Not in a few days or so.”

And now she’s going to think I ghosted her.

“You two would be cute together.”

“She lives in Limaj. If we get out of here, I’m going to Hawaii. Not sure how that would work.”

“You gonna re-up when the time comes?”

“What else would I do? Go into the private sector?”

Leo arches a brow. “Pays better and, you know, very little chance of this shit happening.” He motions to where Seghin is sprawled unconscious.

“There is that.”

“And you know, in the private sector, maybe you and Nat would have a chance.”

“She’ll punch you in the dick if she hears you calling her Nat.”

Leo grinned. “Yeah, well, I’d rather that than what’s coming.”

“Chin up, Marine. We got this.”

“I don’t got shit. I’m not a punk, but I don’t want to die in this hellhole.”

“I know, man. I know.”

Our captors left me chained to the ceiling, metal cuffs around my wrists and my arms above my head. I’ve been like this so long I’ve lost most of the feeling in my hands, which is probably a good thing since the rest of me is sore as fuck. At least Passero and Seghin are on the floor, chained to the wall by a chain linked to one of their legs.

“Hey, try to wake him up, will you?” I suggest.

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