(By Permission Of PublishAmerica)
Somewhere in
The prisoner estimated that he had been on his knees for over an hour; his arms and hands, bound tightly behind his back, were numb. His two companions were bound in similar fashion—the only difference being they were blindfolded. They were in front facing him about 25 feet away. Behind his companions stood their captors in a semi-circle, with only their glaring dark eyes visible behind the tails of their kaffiyehs, which were wound loosely over the lower portion of their faces. The leader of the group ranted loudly in Arabic, reading from the document in his hands. A camcorder positioned on a tripod to his right recorded the spectacle.
So, it’s finally come, the prisoner thought. We’re to be executed. The events of the past four days flashed through his mind: the betrayal by someone whom they thought was a friend; the three of them kept separated he supposed for interrogation purposes. Since his capture, there had been plenty of physical abuse but surprisingly no torture. He had not said one word, causing his abductors to strike out at him with their impatience and anger. They tried to goad him into begging for his life, but he still refused to say a word and was then forced to watch a video in which his companions pleaded for their lives.
The speaker stopped his ranting, handed the document to a cohort and pulled a long, butcher-looking knife from a waist scabbard. He moved closer to the two blindfolded prisoners, raised his foot and kicked one of them in the back, forcing him to sprawl face down on the ground. Two of his henchmen pinned the victim to the ground while the leader placed his foot on the victim’s head and attended to his gruesome business. The victim let out a bloodcurdling scream that abruptly ceased.
The prisoner tried to close his eyes in order to shut out the gruesome spectacle, but someone behind him forced his eyelids open and whispered in his ear, “No, my silent American, you will watch.”
The prisoner was beyond being afraid as his adrenalin put him into a vengeful rage. You fucking inhuman freaks, he silently screamed, one of these days you’ll get yours, and when it comes, may it be slow and painful.
The leader walked behind the second victim who had fouled himself and was weeping uncontrollably, tears streaming from beneath the blindfold down his contorted face. The execution procedure was repeated while the prisoner watched with stoic resignation. And then it was over.
The individual who had forced the prisoner’s eyes to remain open released his grip and stepped around to his front. In crisp, unaccented English, he said, “Well, my silent American, you are most fortunate.” He pulled a long, curved sword out of its scabbard and commenced prancing around, whirling the blade above his head and from side to side, making imaginary chopping thrusts.
The prisoner knew that his time had come. He looked straight ahead thinking about home and the beautiful woman he loved and was leaving behind. He fought to keep his eyes from following the prancing figure. The swordsman disappeared from his peripheral vision. He heard a savage yell, felt a flash of blinding pain and then nothing.