Lindsay McKenna - Wolf Haven

Sky didn’t know what to expect. Adrenaline began pouring into her bloodstream as she watched the tall Taliban soldier swiftly come around the table. He reached down, grabbing her by the shoulder, forcing her to stand.

Sky’s legs were wobbly. She gave a cry as his fingers sank deep into her shoulder, forcing her against him so she wouldn’t fall.

“Be gentle,” the pudgy man said softly in accented English, giving her an oily smile. “We don’t want her skin broken.” He held her wide, frightened eyes. “Take her to the table,” he ordered.

Blinking, Sky froze. The man spoke English very well. Her mind became paralyzed as she was dragged toward the table. Sky tried to fight. The soldier’s hands were like iron, and her struggles were useless.

“I am called Kambiz. What is your name, please?” he inquired solicitously, smiling at her.

Sky breathed raggedly, staring at the man across from the table. She knew she had to give her name, rank and serial number. And she did. He looked pleased and pulled out a small notebook and pen. Patiently, he wrote everything down.

“Continue to be cooperative, Lieutenant Pascal, and you won’t have to suffer,” he told her. Giving her an apologetic look, he said, “Now, I must ask you to not struggle. Jahid will have no choice but to hurt you.” He smiled a little more. “Your choice.”

Sky moaned and tried to free herself from the man’s grasp. She could feel her terror amp up as she stared at the fat man with the oily smile. She could feel his hatred of her behind that thick-lipped smile. “You can’t do this! There are Geneva Conventions you must follow. I won’t let you throw me on that table!”

In an instant, Jahid picked her up bodily and threw her on the table with stunning force. Sky gave a cry. Oh, God, were they going to rape her? She fought back. Every time she did, the soldier slapped her, stunning her. She felt the icy coldness as he jerked the cuffs of her shirt up to expose her wrists.

Kambiz scuttled around, holding her down on the table as Jahid jerked off her boots and then her socks. In moments, she lay gasping. The wood was smooth beneath her back. She fought to get up. Kambiz cursed and held her down. Chains rattled. Jahid quickly slipped them around her wrists and ankles. In moments, Sky was chained to the table, on her back, breath exploding out of her. The chains bit into her sensitive flesh, rough and icy cold. She shook with terror. What were they going to do to her?

“Now,” Kambiz muttered, angry at her resistance, “I am going to put this leather strap across your forehead.”

Sky’s terror and adrenaline blotted out her ability to think. Shame that she was unable to defend herself against these two men leaked through her. The soft leather strap, once in place across her brow, was tightened down until it was painful. She could not move her head one way or another. Further, she realized the board was canted downward just enough so her head was slightly below the rest of her body.

“Please,” she cried hoarsely, “don’t do this! Let me go!”

The pudgy man patted her shoulder gently. “Now, now, Lieutenant Pascal. As I told you before, if you tell me what I want to know, I’ll tell my friend Jahid to release you so you can get off this table. We will give you water and feed you.”

Kambiz dragged over a tall stool and situated himself close to her. He rearranged his long brown wool vest around himself, making himself comfortable.

She heard the Taliban soldier named Jahid move around to her left. What was going to happen? What were they going to do to her? Kambiz pulled a cloth from his pocket and laid it across his thigh with some pomp and flash.

“Now, Lieutenant,” he began, smiling down at her, “tell me why you were in that helicopter that crashed?”

Sky’s training warred with her terror and vulnerability. She saw the glint in Jahid’s eyes as he leaned forward, smiling down at her.

“I—I was with Dr. Zimmerman. I’m a surgery nurse. We were on a flight to save a man’s life. The soldier had appendicitis, and he needed emergency help.”

“Very good,” Kambiz praised, pulling out his notebook and writing down the information.

Sky became aware that Jahid held a bottle of water in his hand, waiting. Waiting for what? Her breath came in ragged gasps. The humiliation of being chained in front of them burned through her.

“Where were you flying to? What base?”

Sky shook her head. “I can only give you my name, rank and serial number.” She quavered as the man’s small eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

“Pity,” Kambiz murmured. He put his notebook and pen into the pocket of his vest. And then he stretched forward, laying the cloth across her face. “Lieutenant, I don’t like doing this to you, but if you refuse to answer my questions, you must know there is a price to pay.”

Sky’s panic arced as the cloth covered her face. She didn’t know what to expect next. Suddenly, water rained down on her nostrils in a slow, continuous dribble. It quickly soaked the cloth. The water poured into her flared nostrils and she opened her mouth.

Gasping, Sky strained, trying to stop it, unable to move her head to avoid the water. The chains bit savagely into her wrists and ankles as she tried to escape. The water kept coming, funneling into her nostrils. Sky choked. She gasped. Coughed violently, water sputtering out of her nose and mouth. Oh, God, she was suffocating beneath that stream of water! Screaming, her spine arching upward, the chains biting deep into her flesh, she was drowning! Grayness began to move in front of her eyes. The water kept flowing into her nose. Oh, God, she was going to die!

* * *

GRAY WAS ROUSTED from sleep by Sky’s screams drifting across the hall. What the hell? Wearing only a set of boxer shorts, he staggered out of bed and threw open the door. What time was it? He saw milky streams of moonlight down the hall from the living-room area as he ran across it to Sky’s room.

Flipping on the light, he halted once inside Sky’s room. Jesus. Sky was on the wooden floor, her legs tangled up in the sheet and blanket. She was on her back, her eyes glazed and unseeing, fighting off an invisible enemy, arms flying, legs kicking outward. Breathing hard, Gray quickly crouched near her, but not so close to get struck by her flailing arms and legs.

“Sky,” he called. “Sky? It’s all right. It’s Gray McCoy. You’re not there. You’re here. Listen to me, will you?” Oh, he knew the virulence of flashbacks. Knew that Sky was caught up in her torture, saw it in the stretch and tension in her contorted face. His heart caved in with anguish. Gray wanted to scoop Sky up, hold her hard and safe. But that wasn’t how it worked. If he touched her, he could deepen the hold of the nightmare that had trapped her within its terrible embrace. She could think he was the enemy.

She was gasping and choking, jerking her head from side to side. If he had any doubts that she’d been waterboarded, they were gone now. Her reactions were consistent with that kind of torture.

“Sky? Sky, it’s Gray. Listen to me, will you? You’re safe. You’re not back there. You’re here with me in Wyoming. Come on. Listen to my voice. Let it lead you out of that nightmare you’re caught up in. Please? Listen to me?”

Gray spoke in a low, urgent tone to Sky, hoping like hell he could reach her, break the hold of the flashback that had her in its steel grip.

It hurt to watch her struggle. Her chest was heaving beneath her white cotton nightgown. The fabric had hitched halfway up her thighs, her lower legs caught in the sheet as she tried to kick out. Reaching out, Gray swiftly unraveled the tight bonds of the sheet from around her lower legs. Gray kept up the singsong litany. He wanted to kill those bastards who had done this to her.