continued from two weeks ago...
As soon as he heard the scream, Tim knew that they’d been tricked. He and Sarah both looked at each other and then whirled around and started tearing pell-mell through the forest, looking for Ryan and Emmy. They kept their weapons in ready position constantly scanning the perimeter for any danger. No one could be seen, however, including Ryan and Emmy.
“They vanished,” Sarah gasped.
“It looks that way,” Tim replied, still searching for any signs of Ryan and Emmy’s whereabouts.
“I should never had left him,” Sarah groaned.
“I hardly see how you left him,” Tim disagreed. “We were on a recon mission, you and I had the eastern side of the camp and they had the west. How does that qualify as ‘leaving him’?”
“Shut up Tim,” Sarah muttered. “Just let me sulk, will you?”
Tim shrugged and sarcastically mumbled something he’d heard Ryan say a thousand times, “women.”
“What do we do now?” Sarah asked in a distressed tone.
“We have to tell Cathy about this,” Tim decided. “But first we need to get out of here.”
“We’re just going to leave him here?”
Tim sighed. “Last time I checked they’d both disappeared, which means we would be leaving ‘them’ behind not ‘him’, and yes, we are; we have not other choice.”
“I said ‘them’,” Sarah protested.
“No you didn’t,” Tim said.
“I did too.”
“Of course, of course, whatever you say.” Then he mumbled to himself again, “women.”
When the black bag was finally pulled from his face, a glaring white light instantly blinded Ryan. “Whoa there, turn the light down a little, will you?” Ryan also noticed that he was strapped into a metal chair in a very uncomfortable position and that the room had no windows.
“You will not find yourself so trivial in a minute, Mr. Cruise,” a heavily accented voice said from behind the light. He sounded Arabic but Cruise couldn’t imagine an Arab getting into the empire, the emperor had set up strict immigration laws that banned all Arabs and Mexicans from even entering the empire.
“So you’re the one that kidnapped us then, huh? Where’s Emmy, is she okay?”
“She is fine, worry about yourself.”
“I’m not too accustomed to that.”
The accented voice laughed. “You will learn quickly then.” He turned on a radio and heavy metal music started blasting from the speakers. “Are you familiar with this method of torture, Mr. Cruise?”
“Yeah that’s Slayer,” Cruise replied, never letting the boyish, cocky grin fall from his face. “Great band, love their music.”
“Aaaaa!” the interrogator slammed the radio and the music stopped. “You stupid infidels!” he yelled to someone outside the room. “I told you to get different tools for torture you stupid fools! Cruise likes loud American music with heavy metal guitars, get something else.”
“How about rap, like 65 Cent or Pee Wee Daddy?” a suggestion came from one of the ‘infidels’ outside.
“That’s some pretty sic stuff, bring it in,” Cruise replied.
“Ack! No you fools, try something else!” the interrogator yelled.
“Michael?”
“Sweet, what albums do you have?”
“Try something else!” the interrogator screamed. “Do you hate any music?” he asked Cruise.
“No, not really,” Ryan shook his head.
“What about punk?”
“Bring it on.”
“Pop?”
“Sure, whatever you got.”
Suddenly, a grin spread across the interrogator’s face. “What about… country?”
Ryan inhaled sharply. “NO! Not that, anything but that!”
“Bring in some country, men,” the triumphant interrogator bellowed. Then he turned to Ryan Cruise, “you will tell me where the Rebel base is, or you will listen to trashy American song about girl who hates cheating boyfriend over and over again.”
“Noooooooo!” Ryan yelled.
15 minutes later…
“Please,” Ryan cried. “I’ll tell you what you want to know, just don’t make me listen to this song again.”
The interrogator smiled and turned of the music. “You see that this form of torture is much more effective than say… beating you within inch of your life.”
“I’d prefer that,” Cruise admitted. Then he added. “What is it that you want?”
“I told you already you stupid agent! I want your Rebel base!”
“Why?”
“So I can blow it up, why else would I want to know?”
“But why would you want to blow it up?”
“Because…” the interrogator paused and scratched his head. “I never really thought about that,” he said more to himself than Ryan.
“How exactly would you blow it up?” Ryan pressed.
“By strapping deadly explosives to my body with adhesive tape and screaming ‘Allah Akbar!’ and then pushing red button and blowing place to smithereens.”
“Wouldn’t that blow you up too?” Ryan seemed confused by the whole thing. “Why would you want to do that?”
The Arab paused. “I never thought about that either.”
“Wouldn’t it be a lot more beneficial to you if you just planted a bomb and blew the place up from the outside?”
“I suppose, but then no one would know I did it.”
“Exactly, and you wouldn’t be dead,” Ryan pointed out.
“I suppose that’s true, but what about my virgins that I’m promised in heaven?”
Ryan grinned and looked at him. “You seriously think that Allah has that many virgins, just waiting for every man who blows himself, and several small children, to pieces? Come on, he’s probably run out by now. I mean, if it was that easy to get twenty-one gorgeous women, everyone would be doing it. Not to mention that that doesn’t seem very honorable to me, blowing up innocent people because of your own religion.”
“That’s not true,” the Arab disagreed. “There will be twenty-one virgins.”
“Maybe, but are you willing to take that chance? Besides, you don’t need to blow yourself up to get a girl. How selfish is that anyways? I thought Islam was a ‘peaceful religion’, if blowing up innocent people is ‘peaceful’ then I’d hate to see a violent religion.”
“Shut up you infidel! You defy Allah!” The interrogator screamed and smacked Cruise on the face, then he turned the music back on and left Ryan to suffer.
Cathy gave a miserable sigh and rested her head in her hands. “Are you sure that they’ve disappeared.
“Without a trace,” Tim replied with a slight nod.
“And why do I get the impression that that doesn’t bother you?” Sarah struck out, showing her frustration.
“Because I know how to keep my emotions in check, as should you,” Tim answered.
Sarah ignored him and turned towards Cathy. “We need to launch a rescue mission, immediately. They’re still out there somewhere.”
Cathy heaved another long sigh. “I’m afraid we can’t do that.”
Sarah could hardly believe her ears. “Why not?”
“Because,” Cathy paused, searching for the right words. “In technical terms, the mission was a success, we’ve identified the camp as nothing more than a decoy. Ryan and Emmy’s loss was definitely a huge setback… but there’s nothing we can do.”
“Sure there is, we can rescue them,” Sarah pleaded.
Cathy shook her head. “We can’t afford to use our troops for anything other than this attack. We strike tomorrow morning, as soon as the sun hits the sky. We need every man and woman we can get, Sarah.”
“Then we need Ryan Cruise, you know that,” Sarah pressed, not giving up.
“It would take too many of our forces to rescue him or Emmy, and I’m not sure whether he would give us the advantage we want.”
“So that’s it,” Sarah replied, disgusted. “You’re thinking tactically, is that it?”
“One has to,” Tim interjected. “But I would like to point out that your words are somewhat cold, Cathy.”
Cathy glared at him. “And I’d like to remind you that he’s partially responsible for the death of one of my dear friends.”
“And for saving your life a hundred times over,” Tim shot back.
“Ryan Cruise never sacrificed himself for anything other than his own personal gain and glory. Obviously he’s seen that we’re in an impossible situation and persuaded his sister to run into hiding with him, or perhaps even betray us.”
Sarah’s mouth fell open and she started to object, but she was cut off by a very pissed off Tim.
“Now just a minute, Cathy. Ryan has sacrificed himself a thousand times for nothing other than what he thought was right. I admit that his ways are somewhat… different, but he would never betray us, he’s our friend!”
“Dismissed,” Cathy said.
“If you don’t rescue him and Emmy, then we will,” Sarah said, arms folded.
“That would be disobeying a direct order,” Cathy informed them, daring them to do so.
“Watch us do it,” Tim said, answering the challenge.
Then they walked out the door together, disgusted at Cathy, at the empire, and themselves.
Cathy just shook her head as she watched them leave. “They don’t understand, I’m only trying to do what’s right for the Rebellion.” Then she picked up the phone on her desk. “Clarence? Yes, it’s Cathy. Yeah, listen; I want you to move the attack up. Yes, make it tonight. Yes Clarence, I’m sure, it’s now or never.” She hung up the phone and repeated her words. “Now or never.”
Ryan had been listening to the worst country song in the history of bad country songs for over an hour now, and his ears were screaming, or they would have if they’d had mouths.
The terrorist entered the room again, once again repeating his demand. “Where is the Rebel base?”
“Whom are you working for?” Ryan whispered. “The Empire?”
“Do not insult me,” the terrorist scoffed. “I wish to destroy both the Rebels and the Empire.”
“Wouldn’t it make more sense to destroy the Empire first, since they’re stronger?” Ryan offered. “Two smaller adversaries could much more easily take down a bigger one. Then when we’ve won we can turn on each other.”
“You suggest this?”
“Sure, it’s been done a thousand times, just look at the U.S. and the U.S.S.R.”
“You make good point, Cruise,” the terrorist stroked his beard. “But I still want to kill you.”
“That comes later,” Ryan tried, but to no avail.
“No, it comes now.” The Arab drew a knife from his belt and stepped towards Cruise. Ryan flinched and prepared for the blow. He had a feeling that he couldn’t survive a point blank knife stab into his heart, which was no doubt what the Arab intended to do.
The terrorist raised his arm and then paused. “The heart is in left ventricle, no?”
“No, it’s in the right,” Ryan lied.
“You lie.”
“Yep, you’re right.”
The terrorist paused, confused. “Wait, do you lie then, or lie now?”
“That… is a very good question.”
Just as the terrorist was about to say, ‘screw American games’ and stab Ryan in his heart, a knife blade sliced through his own heart, sticking out his chest and revealing it’s tip to Ryan.
“It’s on the left,” a man’s voice said from behind him. The terrorist groaned and dropped to the ground, dead.
The man turned off the light and removed Ryan from his torture chair.
“Who are you?” Ryan asked.
The man looked at him with a serious face. “Jason Scorn,” he replied.
to be continued...
