Fortunate Sons

Chapter 38: Devour the Darkness

Taylor, Dix and Mitch lifted their weary, heavy and battered heads when they heard another set of footsteps entering the room. Their necks and shoulders ached as the effort took more of their strength from their already drained bodies. Of course it had been General Cao who entered, but they did not expect to see who had entered next.

"I trust that everything is in order with the prisoners?" the man enquired.

"Yes it is," Cao replied. "And from one of them I was able to take quite the trophy."

Through his blurry, hazy vision, Taylor saw the faint features of someone he had seen barely a few months ago, his greying black hair and suave façade that almost anybody could have easily recognized. Fear and panic spread through all three of them like wildfire as the figure eyed them with his cold and fishy looking eyes. Their jaws hung open as the figure stepped into the eerie orange light and revealed the one that the voice belonged to.

"Didn't think I'd be seeing you again here," he chortled evilly.

"We should've known you'd be in on this the whole time," Mitch spat. "The minute we saw you...."

"Oh spare me the lecture," Gershwin scoffed. "You three have done nothing but foil our plans the minute you set foot in country. I should've done away with you when I had the chance."

"How?" Mitch questioned. "Death of three Green Berets would've looked awful suspicious."

"I very well could have killed you and made it look like an accident," Gershwin said poisonously. "After all, that sort of thing is my specialty."

Mitch seethed on the inside but he kept from showing any of it. He knew deep down that people like Gershwin thrived on anger, resentment and rage. He knew what Gershwin really wanted.....but no matter how hard the bastard tried he wouldn't get it.

"You won't find what you're looking for here Gershwin," Mitch informed him. "Even if you did it would kill you."

"And you with it," Gershwin retorted. "For when our curse is lifted, we will have the power to do away with your kind and everyone else like you."

Mitch's anger flared but kept his cool until Gershwin walked away. All three of them watched in uncomfortable silence as General Cao placed Taylor's wings on a wooden table before him. The feathers once whiter than snow were now beginning to turn black as they molted and fell away. Dried smears of blood stained them from the roots to the tips, but Gershwin seemed to be more than pleased.

"Oh," he sighed. "Such a pity. Little birdy's had his wings clipped."

Mitch turned his head and peered over at Taylor who was slumped with his head against the thick wooden pillar and his entire back coated in blood. Two huge holes where his wings had been were bleeding profusely, the skin inflamed and burning painfully. Though Taylor was in agony, he was too weakened and too tired to let a single cry of pain escape from his throat. All that escaped was a weak, sickly moan.

There has to be a way out of this......Mitch thought. Wait a minute.....it could work.....

Mitch slid his roped wrists up a little bit, gnawing at the fibers with his teeth until they started fraying and coming loose. It took him forever, but finally the bonds snapped and broke just enough so that he could twist his wrists and wriggle free. Once he was freed, Mitch relaxed his and felt himself transform in a matter of seconds, his fair skin and ashen blonde hair becoming tarry black fur and his hands becoming small clawed paws. His eyes, once a brilliant hazel, were now a deep yellow green and a long, black tail swished in the hot, muggy air.