The Traitor ✓ (Book Six)

Chapter Twenty Four

Ten years Ago

  I am not the only one here. I know that for a fact because I'm looking at the faces of five other Guantanamo bay prisoners- all of which we're involved with the group in some way. I ratted three of them out myself, so they glare at me now.

  We're all restrained since we're considered dangerous criminals, heavy metal shackles keep us in our plane seats, which are bolted to the floor. Besides- where would we go?

  As far as I know nobody here knows how to fly a plane except for the actual pilot. There are fifteen military members on board with us who are getting stationed at Guantanamo, one of them told me. If we  somehow got out of the shackles, tried to hijack  the plane and fly somewhere else- they've been instructed to kill us all. If there is any sigh of distress in the plane, air traffic control will remotely direct the plan to Guantanamo bay, where hundreds of military members will have been alerted and they'd be ready to end our lives too.

  So I'm still, uncomplaining even though I'm insanely thirsty and have to go to the bathroom.

  The guy a few feet from me's leg is bouncing up and down- he really, really has to go but he knows better than to ask. Because even though they're supposed to treat us like humans, they get annoyed when we need to relieve bodily fluids. The shackles are hard to take off and at least two people need to watch while you're using the bathroom. Ahhhh, the benefits of being considered a terrorist even though you were forced into it are just astronomical.

  A younger, female military member gets a message on her work phone. Then she stands in a way that commands attention, her shoulders back and chin up. "Attention Motherfuckers-" She yells. "We should be landing in approximately five minutes. Be smart, don't try anything and you will be treated like humans there. We're not legally allowed to torture ya'll anymore, but we do get quite creative with punishments."

  Then sure enough, I feel the plane start to dip. Nobody else does. They stare straight ahead, in their own worlds. Maybe not thinking about where I'm going would help me. There will be no tv, no internet access, news will be infrequent and in the form of newspapers, we will have to get used to the same rooms twenty three hours a day. A kinder soldier told me this when he came to take me to the plane.

  I strain my neck as far as I can to look out a soldier's window. Just barely, I can see the ocean. And then what must be a quarter mile away- the island. It looks tiny from here though I know it's not.

  The pilot switches angles. We're now heading directly for it. This is where the rest of my life will be spent.

Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out.....

  I will not have a panic attack in front of twenty people. I will not have a......

  I start hyperventilating. Instead of helping me, offering water or meds, the military lets my body just deal. I close my eyes, ignoring the snickers of one of them, and instead try breathing in and out through my mouth. It works to a point, my breathing does slow down, but then we land. I hadn't realized we were still moving, that's how absorbed I was.

  A commander mumbles something else into a work phone, and then he gives the universal nod. Soldiers sprouts us, detaching the shackles from chairs. It's clear a few are thinking about it, but none try and escape or injure people. I get off the plane last, staring at the ground until one woman who must be a prison guard lifts my chin up.

  "Full name?"

  "You know my full fucking name. Every single person in the world does right now." My response comes out more aggressive than I meant.

  "Sure- but we have to make sure you know it. That you haven't lost your mind yet. Be careful- wouldn't want to get put in solitary from day one." She raises an eyebrow, a cruel look on her face.

  For what? I think. Being rude?

  This place'll take some getting used to regardless of what that nice solider told me.

  "I.... I'm sorry." I apologize. " I'm.... James García."

  "That's better-" She chuckles. "Get in the damn car."

  She gestures to the soldiers standing behind me. Im shoved in a van, which has the windows blocked out and a divider between the back and drivers seat. Reasonable enough, I guess. Ya don't want prisoners knowing the layout.

  Two of the guys from the plane are in here, only in much closer quarters. Now, they could really just head butt me and the soldier if they wanted to.

  I stare at the black screen the entire ride so I don't have to look at them- it ends up being shorter than I expected when the van stops. There's mumbling outside and then all doors open and they pull us out. We'r standing in front of what must be the largest building.

  Before I have a chance to look back and see any surrounding ones, I'm shoved ahead. There are multiple layers of barbed wire fence, multiple layers with chip activated gates.

  When we actually reach it, there's another one. A solider presses her finger to the reader and we're in.

  This is just a large hallway, where we are. The soldiers split off and take the others in different directions. The two assigned to me  drag me down a side hallway, and then another one- where a bunch of detainees scream "New recruit."

  Whatever that means, I don't want to be a part of it. I'm shoved into a tiny cell with two cots. When I turn back, the soldier is still there.

  "Since you were non violent with the staff and prisoners at the other place, you'll have various roommates, as long as you continue to be nonviolent while here."

  Perfect. Just perfect.

  "Get some rest. You'll deal with the first day things tomorrow."