When Given a Lemon

Part 5

Blinking my heavy eyes to clear them, I see that I am wrapped in blankets and my limbs in strips of cloth making me feel a little bit like one of those preserved bodies found in a sarcophagus. Seeing myself wrapped up like this makes me itch all over. I can't discern why I'm having this reaction to it, but it's very uncomfortable!

It takes too much effort to sit up so I'm stuck viewing the room from down here on my cot. I'm back in the medic tent. I had helped build tables and chests for it the day before. Now I'm glad I did since I ended up being one of its first patients.

When they finally allowed me to get up and move about I had already suffered through many shivering spells while my body slowly tried to warm itself back up to its normal temperature. But now that I have recovered a bit I am allowed to walk around a little. My hands and arms are still wrapped up, making it very difficult to grasp anything, but my feet are able to move around just fine. They had been mostly protected by my woolen socks and heavy boots that had kept them warm if not completely dry.

Slowly shuffling out of the medic tent I stop to lean on a large crate just outside so I can enjoy some fresh air. Not that the tent smells bad or anything, not yet having any soldiers returning from battle, my being one of the very few patients in there. There was another like me, that had been submerged in a frozen lake, one of the medics let slip, but they hadn't made it. I wondered darkly who they were and why they, and I, had been targeted.

A loud crack and a groan followed by breathless murmurs caught my attention so I meandered over to where the captain's tent was stationed and spied a small crowd that had gathered there. Slipping between a few other soldiers who merely grunted or huffed at me, I spot two soldiers at the center, on their knees with their backs to me. Their hands are tied up over their heads so that they are leaning forward and red, bleeding welts are marked like lopsided stripes across their backs.

Another crack! I flinched, not really expecting it, nor the result of it.

This time I was able to see what had caused the sound and I couldn't help staringn at the new, bright strip of red dripping large ruby beads down their back. Another crack! And the other one lurches, as do I. They are doing their best to stifle their sobs. It only takes a moment for me to see that one of them is my tentmate. What the fuck is happening here?!

Why are they getting whipped like this!? What did I miss while I was packed away in the sick bed?! What could they possibly have done to deserve such a punishment?

The man doing the whipping is one of the lieutenants. As he brings down the lash his face remains immobile, lifeless. Almost bored. As if this is an everyday chore that he's done a thousand times before and just getting it over with.

I watch in shock as lash after lash leaves bright, thick wrents across their skin, ripping and tearing the flesh as they cross over each other. I don't know what to make of this, of what is happening right now. My old tentmate continues to grunt under the impact of each strike but his companion has given up all pretenses of toughness and is sobbing, begging for it to stop. It doesn't. We all stare in horror of it as if locked in a trance.

It doesn't end until neither of them are able to cry out or whimper any longer. The last lash that fell sends my old tentmate to the ground, a plume of dust rising in his wake. Arms still dangling above him. I can't tell whether he lives or not. Afraid to look beyond him at the smaller and very still figure that is also on the ground with their arms pulled skyward, I tell myself to turn away but my body is still frozen to this spot so instead I grab onto the shoulder of the person standing in front of me who jumps in surprise.

"W-w-why. W-w-why did this happen?" My hoarse voice barely comes out a whisper –due to my recent almost-freezing to death more than what I have just witnessed. The soldier yanks himself free of my grasp, glaring death at me.