Mary McDonald - No good deed

Bill leaned into Mark’s field of vision, his eyes narrowed. “You know what? Just to get this show on the road, what do you say we start out with a little stretching exercise?” He motioned to the guards. “Get him in the rowing position.” He turned back to Mark. “You ever rowed a boat?”

Mark hesitated, looking past Bill to Jim at the table. Did he look annoyed with the suggestion? It was hard to tell. “Uh, yes sir. A few times.”

“Well then this should bring back some memories.”

The position they put him in did bring to mind rowing a boat, but only if he remained in the coiled position without ever pushing with his legs and straightening his body. The shackles bit into his wrists and his back muscles jerked. They left him like that while they went to get lunch. The guards remained, but neither spoke to him. What was the purpose of this? Mark tried to come up with something he could tell them. Had something happened in Afghanistan that they would want to know about? He straightened his knees as much as he could to ease the pulling on his shoulders. That worked for about a minute, then his hamstrings burned. Mark bit his lip to keep from moaning. His thighs ached as though red hot pokers were being jammed into them.

Sweat ran in rivulets down his face, the itching causing its own torment. He wiped his cheek against his arm, then left his head there, blocking out the bright lights.

In a small town outside Kabul, he had witnessed a woman being beaten by a crowd. He’d wanted to rush over to help, but Mo had stopped him with the warning that the crowd would turn on them if they did anything. It was the custom there, and there wasn’t anything they could do. Horrified, Mark had turned away, but not before using his long lens to get some shots of the atrocity.

That night, Mo had gone off alone, telling Mark he was just going to visit some old friends. Mark hadn’t felt like socializing after seeing the scene in the town square and had been happy that Mo had dropped him off at the hotel in Kabul. What if Mo’s visiting had been something more sinister? Mark groaned with both physical and mental anguish. How could he prove that he had been at the hotel and not off hatching plans with Mo and the bad guys?

The door to the room opened and Mark tried not to look at the men as they filed in, not wanting them to see his weakness, but he couldn’t help stealing a glance, despite his best efforts to refrain. He hoped that someone would release him now-before he began to moan. It took all his willpower to remain silent. Bill had a bag from a fast food restaurant. The scent wafted to Mark and his mouth instantly flooded. He swallowed and tried to ignore the smell. His back spasmed again and the tantalizing aroma was forgotten as he gasped and writhed.

Jim, his hands in his pockets, stood beside Mark. “Ready to talk?”

Mark panted, “Yes, sir.” Whatever it took to end this. He could tell them about Mo going off alone that night. It was all he had. He prayed it was enough. Had Mo been put through this kind of interrogation? Is that how they had acquired information on Mark? If it was, he almost couldn’t blame his old friend for lying.

The guard unclipped Mark’s wrists from his ankles and, with the release, Mark sagged onto his back, gasping. The relief was immediate, but not complete. His muscles still quivered and jumped, and he was surprised that they allowed him a moment to compose himself. He gulped air, every breath drying out his mouth. He must have sweated a gallon.

Jim stepped back and began a slow circle around him, making him nervous. Mark was the carrion, Jim, the vulture.

Mark bit back a groan as he sat up and the guards helped him to his feet where he swayed for a moment. He felt like he had just run a marathon. The smell of French fries made his stomach rumble.

“Well, let’s hear it.” Jim had come around to stand in front of him.

“One night, Mo went off by himself to meet old friends.” Mark paused to catch another breath and to stall, trying to make the thin bit of information sound more important than it was. He slanted a glance at Jim. “Maybe he planned something that night?” It sounded lame even to him. Mark saw a flash of anger on Jim’s face. Ice rattled as Bill swished his drink, before setting it down. A drop of condensation raced down the side and pooled on the table. Mark licked his lips and tore his eyes away from the sight. No use adding to his own torture.

“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to tell us?” Jim shook his head and turned away as if thoroughly disgusted with Mark.

Mark bowed his head. He should have gone with Mo that night. At least then he would have something to tell Jim now. Paper crinkled and Mark looked up to see Bill unwrapping a burger. Lettuce and tomato peeked out from under the bun. The scent made his mouth water.

Jim came back to Mark, his arms crossed. “I’m disappointed. Here I thought you had something useful.” He sighed.

Bill opened a pack of ketchup and squirted it into a pile on the wrapping. Mark watched him dip a fry and then pop it into his mouth. Jim said something and Mark pulled his attention back to him. At least he tried to, but when Bill lifted the burger and took a bite, his eyes darted back to watch the man sink his teeth into it. Mark could almost taste the cool lettuce, the crisp tomato and the tangy mayonnaise.

“Am I boring you?” Jim’s voice was low and held a note of danger.

Mark snapped his gaze back to him. “No, sir.”

“We’ve tried to give you a break. Did you notice the extra food? The time outside? Those perks don’t come for free. Now you have to pay for them. You have to give up some information. Some real information.”

The comment was straight out of his dream. Somehow, even without the camera, his dream was going to come true. Mark locked his knees to keep from sinking to the floor. They insisted he give up something he didn’t have to give.

Jessie strapped her shoulder holster on before slipping her arms into her jacket. The pictures from Mark’s camera lay on her dresser, and she picked one up. She had already shown her sister the ones from the recital and just said that the group shots hadn’t turned out. It was true, so she didn’t feel guilty and there was no need to mention these images.

She tucked the two of Mark into her purse along with the negatives. There was a camera shop on her way to work and she planned to talk to them during lunch, if she had a chance. If nothing else, she wanted to enlarge the photos. There might be something in them that would clue her in to when they had been taken. The negative listed them as the twenty-third and twenty-fourth frames, but that couldn’t be right. They had to have been on the film and she had just used up the rest photographing the recital. The frame counter had said zero, but it was an old camera. She hoped the person at the camera store could tell her something about it.

The morning dragged and Jessie kept glancing at the clock. It was a beautiful day. School had just let out for the summer and, she heard children playing at the park across the street. The clock inched towards noon, and Jessie pulled the photos out of her purse to take another look. Even though she had studied them a dozen times already, she hoped each time that something would turn up and show that the pics were only from a costume party or even some kinky sexual thing. She felt her face heat up and glanced at Dan at the other desk, hoping he didn’t notice. She shouldn’t have looked because he caught her eye.

“What do you have there?” He rolled his chair across the gap between them.

Jessie turned the photos face down and bent to get her purse. “Oh, nothing, just some photos I…found.”

“Yeah? So why are you hiding them?” Dan grinned and made a ‘give me’ gesture. “Come on, show me.”