Page 93 of S.O.S. Billboard

O’Shea’s first impulse was to refute his words, but she bit her tongue, knowing Billboard had to let things out in his own way, in his own time.

She already knew that his secondary duty in the service—after flying helicopters—had been questioning insurgents. She just didn’t know the extent of it.

“And I did it on purpose,” he clipped, then scoffed. “Officially they called it ‘interogation’, but it doesn’t matter what authoritarian name you give it, the stuff I carried out was torture.”

O’Shea wiggled in Billboard’s arms, getting as close to his body as possible. She still didn’t want to interrupt, but she could show solidarity with her physical presence.

His arm tightened around her, and they stayed that way for what seemed like a long time, with Billboard not giving her any more to go on.

Well, maybe he needed a small nudge. “Can you tell more than that, Billboard?” she urged him gently.

He groaned. “Yeah. I can. You see, what nobody knew, or at least what most people weren’t aware of, was that I hated that job. It was given to me because I had a history of being able to intimidate people with only a look. When my commanding officer got wind of that, he recruited me for his own purposes, then…upped the ante.”

O’Shea had to speak out again. “That’s not on you, Billboard. He was your superior. You were doing what you were ordered to do.”

“But I never told him no during the times he asserted there was no viable alternative for extracting information.”

His chest heaved under her cheek. “Maybe if I had denied him more often, my punishment, if I’d refused, wouldn’t have been so bad. He needed me, after all, for my piloting skills, so I might have gotten away with a write-up for insubordination.”

“But you don’t believe that.” O’Shea was certain that Billboard would have been able to read the situation, and done everything he could not to be railroaded into something that went so blatantly against his morals.

He huffed. “Maybe. Maybe not. My CO was a blood-thirsty prick, and heprobablywould have made an example of me if I’d declined to do as ordered.” Billboard took a deep, shuddery breath, and began to explain.

“At first it was all about intimidation, and that I understood,” he managed. “My presence alone, looking big and mean, was often enough to get the information we needed from a detainee about their planned terror attacks. But as time went on, word must have gotten around that I wasn’t anything but talk, because our prisoners began refusing to spill their plans.”

O’Shea could feel Billboard’s entire body stiffen.

“Me and the guys on my team discussed how to up the ante, and almost as a joke, we started putting together what we called a ‘torture kit’. It had everything in it from tin-snips to blow torches, and we designed it to fit in a pack that would open up flat and have everything on display. We all figured that since my ugly mug had stopped being scary, our little array would do the trick. And it did, for a while.” He hesitated, then spit out, “Little did I know that our hastily assembled paraphernalia would soon become the tools of my trade for the next several months.”

There were so many things O’Shea wanted to say.

She wanted to rail at his superior for putting him in such an untenable situation. She wanted to soothe Billboard, tellinghim it wasn’t an evil within him that had caused this, but an evil outside himself that he couldn’t control.

He had, however, begun talking again.

“I did things with those implements, O’Shea… Things that no human being should have to be witness to, let alone perform. In one particular instance, I—”

O’Shea couldn’t help herself.

This time she cut him off.

“Billboard, you don’t have to go into detail,” she assured him. “Which doesn’t mean youhaveto be quiet about it. I’m not squeamish, so I’ll listen if you want to tell me the things you were forced to do. That’sifyou think they’re necessary for your healing. But if saying that shit out loud is going to make you relive moments you’d rather not, then don’t go there, because I can read between the lines.”

With that off her chest, O’Shea settled down again. She’d wait to hear what else Billboard needed to spew, and only open her mouth if she had something pertinent to say that would point out the misconceptions regarding his supposed guilt.

“I…I’d rather not go into detail. Thanks.” He ran his free hand through his hair. “I’ve been over and over the minutia with Doc Ed, and it’s helped.She’shelped take my self-reproach down several notches. But every time we go there, into the actual nitty-gritty of what I did, I still…” He groaned through clenched lips. “Let me back up.”

He took a minute to regroup, and O’Shea was patient, stroking his chest comfortingly.

“After each interogation, after I extracted the information our CO deemed necessary, I’d rush off to the latrine and puke my guts out. I wish I could say it purged me of my shame, but it didn’t. Nightmares always followed. And just to show you how much a part of me the whole thing still is, even though the night-terrors have abated, when I reveal new things to Doctor Ed, Iend up vomiting every time, as if I were back in that shithole of a base, still committing atrocities.”

He turned his head away, as if ashamed, bending his arm and crooking an elbow over his eyes as if he could hide.

O’Shea bristled. She’d heard enough.

“Billboard,” she implored. “Look at me.”

He didn’t move. “Why? So you can tell me to my face what a monster I am?”

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