Page 124 of Stone

A bright flash of light shone on my face, and I groaned out loud. I shielded my eyes with a hand that hung limply from my wrist and croaked, “I told you fuckers, I don’t know shit,” through a throat dry as sandpaper.

“Sarge!” a voice shouted. “They’re U.S. soldiers—I think.”

My heart jolted at the accent.

For what felt like eons, we’d heard nothing but Arabic voices. Arabic laughter. Arabic shouting, threats, and screeching. Questions, more threats, and beatings.

“You a Brit?” I rasped.

“Yeah, mate. I’m a Brit,” he replied softly. “All we seem to do is get you Yanks out of bother. You gung-ho motherfuckers.”

Somehow, I forced my eyes open, but everything was so damned blurry, I couldn’t make out his face, only the dark walls of the cave that had been our prison for God only knew how long. Our captors had left us here and ran, maybe a couple of days before, tied up, injured, and starving.

Boots stomped, and voices rose up around me. After what seemed like hours of constant chatter in my ears, I felt pressure as I was pulled and lifted onto something—maybe a stretcher. I cursed at the pain shooting through my arm. Every inch of me ached, and the back of my shoulder felt as if it was on fire.

“Be careful,” one of the Brits called out. “He’s wounded. Shoulder, arm, and hand. He’s got some bad burns, too. Infected and stinkin’.”

“Get them on the transport. Radio in and ask for medics on standby.”

“Marine,” I rasped at Spence, my head lolling to one side as I felt myself being carried. “You okay, bud?”

“Will be when I get a steak down my neck,” he replied hoarsely. “Need a fuckin’ beer, Stone.”

Laughter rose up around us, then a snort and, “Fucking nutty Yanks.”

“Nutty Marines, you mean.” More laughter.

“How long have you been here?” One of them asked.

“What’s the date?” Spence muttered.

“Tenth of April,” he replied.

“Few months,” Spence muttered. “Jesus Christ. How’s Desert Shield goin’?”

“It turned into Desert Storm, mate. The ground assault commenced back in January when we declared war. Coalition troops swept through Kuwait within the month, and the enemy ran for their lives. Since then, we’ve started rebuilding. We were ordered to cross the border near Abdali, push through, and do a sweep for weapons in these caves. We got a tip-off. Found a stash of assault rifles and M4s, then we found you.”

“Stone,” Spence muttered from beside me.

We were jolted as the truck started moving, and I turned to my bud, the man who’d kept me going for the last few months when I thought I’d die. I couldn’t see shit. Just an outline. “Yeah, Spence?”

“You’ll see her soon, bud,” he rasped. “You made it.”

A vision swam through my mind, the same one that had pulled me back from the brink of death more than once during the last few months. My Leesy, tossing her long, beautiful blonde hair before smiling at me over her shoulder.

My heart cracked open, ‘cause being without my girl had been worse torture than the beatings I endured. God forgive mefor bein’ a weak ass, but my throat heated, and moisture filled my eyes.

“Yeah, bud.” I paused as a tear slid down my cheek. “I’ll see her soon.”

We were taken back to our original base, patched up, and sent back to Camp Pendleton within the week. I needed additional surgeries on my arm and an IV full of antibiotic drugs that were so strong it turned my piss blue. Our debrief was sad. Laska and the Lance Corporal driving the Humvee lost their lives. Spence and I were presumed dead. They never recovered our bodies, so it was believed we’d also been caught up in the explosion.

We explained how we were taken into Iraq, questioned, and tortured. At first, we’d been imprisoned in a village where we’d initially been treated by a young girl called Fenal, who was no older than fifteen.

Spence told me I was delirious for weeks until, eventually, Fenal managed to get my infection under control by using herb compresses. My bud’s leg was broken, and she’d re-set it the best she could with no pain relief, except it hadn’t been done correctly, so the doctors here would have to break it and re-set it again.

We both had wicked burns that were now healing, but they weren’t pretty, and we’d be scarred for life.

It was clear we had a long road ahead of us. We were emaciated, almost starved. It would take a while to build our bodies up again.

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