Apartment B

Caged

Mud clang to my boots like tar, pulling me down to the watery abyss at my feet. Thick jungle foliage stifled my sight.   Occasional bombs flashed in the distance like lightening and roared through the dark canopy of the jungle.  My breaths were steady as I ran with my team to our newest checkpoint. 

“Private Cason,” screamed our first officer, leading the pack.  I was in the middle of the squad, enjoying our small journey through the jungle. “Move your ass soldier, two minutes until we reach our destination.” 

“Aye sir,” I yelled out, straining harder as I ran against the sucking mud.

Near the front of the pack a small light crept through the overbearing forest.  It displayed the eager faces of my four other brothers.  We were specialist, sent from hell itself.   It fit us well, we are most commonly known as mercenaries.  Loyalties were near zero, money was our common language. A better team at extracting vital information, there was not. 

Best and brightest! I laughed to myself. These despicable excuses for humans deserved the fate that was bound to them.  Every mission brought forth the true reality of how much I hated our own kind. Purely insane is how most will describe our roles in society, but I see it as a cleansing.  A natural order that must take place, it is the survival of the fittest.

Arriving at a small hut concealed amongst the jungle, a dark figure stood silhouetted in the doorway.

“What’s up doc?” I smirked. 

“Mr. Cason, excited to get this underway?” He said, an evil grin spreading across his lips, making my skin prickle. 

He ushered us into the hut. 

The stench of blood flooded my nostrils. Intensity overtook me as I gazed at the already bloodied man tied to a chair, in the middle of the room.  Reaching for a knife harnessed on my hip, I felt the unsteady state of my nerves.

The man’s eyes grew wide upon noticing the long blade, strapped to my hip.  I tapped the top of my knife gingerly, as if contemplating the next move.  Licking my lips, I unsnapped the two buttons holding my weapon in place.   

The doctor moved past me to confront gentleman in the chair.  He strangled the bloke until drool oozed out the sides of his mouth.  We all laughed as the man shuffled in his chair, trying to grasp for air. 

Letting go, the doctor gave him a violent punch in the face.  Turning he looked at me, his eyes were filled with hatred.

“Kill him, but make it painful.” The doctor’s warped smile grew big on his sunken face.  He motioned for me to come over.

A razor sharp knife with jagged edges gleamed in my hands.  Each step added a rush of adrenaline into my veins as I crept to his imminent death. Grumbling could be heard from the man restrained in his chair, waiting for my arrival. 

Staring at the dying man, I grew anxious.  Practice makes perfect.  This was just another war-criminal, I must not fail.

  Trying hard to focus on the task at hand, my eyes blurred.  Execution was always the hardest for me.  Torture and capturing was easy, but taking a life still had a lasting effect.  

The menacing knife grew sweaty in my hand.  The doctor said something, but it took a few seconds for me to unscramble the words in my head.

 “Who’s the next victim?” He unemotionally asked. 

“Her name is Jen, from Apartment C.” Looking down my hand was shaking violently.

            “You ok son, having more flashbacks again?”