Chapter 1: The Video

Two American soldiers dragged a man by the arms down a dimly lit corridor, ignoring the cries pouring out of the crowded cells. The man was too weak to even stand, and did not attempt to ease the soldiers burden. The lack of cooperation was no surprise, however, because for the last week they only fed him once a day and kept him from sleeping using loud music and flashing lights. The soldiers quickly dragged the prisoner into the brightly lit interrogation room where the Colonel was already waiting. The only thing in the room besides the Colonel was a chair, and a video camera on a tripod across from it. The prisoner was at the brink of delirium from the lack of sleep, which was just how the Colonel wanted him.

Colonel Davis was the chief interrogator for Abu Ghraib prison, and stood at a menacing 6 feet 3 inches tall. His height made him stand out from any other officer deployed, so he was simply known as The Colonel. He stared at the prisoner, noticing his weakened state as the soldiers struggled to put him in the chair. The Colonel smiled; as an interrogator, he quickly learned that deprivation was the most useful tool for his exploits. Everybody needed to sleep, eat, and go to the bathroom; once you controlled that, you controlled the person.

“Well hello there,” the Colonel said in English. He turned to his left and began to record with the video camera. “I'm Colonel Davis, what is your name?”

The prisoner stared at the Colonel as if he didn't understand. The Colonel sighed. He didn't like it when prisoners refused to talk even after days without food or sleep. It made him feel like all that time could have been put to better use by just skipping straight to pain as a motivator. The Colonel then simply walked up to the prisoner and punched him in the face, knocking him off his chair. The two other soldiers remained standing at attention without so much as flinching.

“What is your name?” Colonel Davis repeated. “What were you doing in that village? What is your plan?”

The prisoner remained on the ground, giving him that same blank stare. The Colonel kicked him while he was on the ground. He then turned the prisoner onto his back, raised his boot onto the prisoner's neck, and then hesitated. If the man knew English, he would have said something by now. But the Colonel also found it strange that the man hadn't said anything any language. The Colonel shook the thought from his head; he would just have to fetch an interpreter.

“Stay here with him,” he said to the two solders as he rushed out of the room. The two soldiers saluted until the Colonel cleared the room, and then quickly went back to standing at ease. The guards looked at the prisoner who still laid on the floor, looking so helpless.

“S**t, this guy aint going anywhere,” one of the guards said. “I'm gonna go outside for a quick smoke. The Colonel asks, I went to the bathroom or something.”

“Alright, just hurry back,” said the other guard, his voice giving the slightest hint of disappointment. He wished that he had been the first one to call for a smoke break. The soldier left, the sound of his footsteps quickly fading into the darkness. The remaining guard righted the chair and sat next to the fallen prisoner. It had only been a couple minutes since the Colonel left and already the boredom was killing him.

The prisoner let out a soft moan as he turned to his side, facing away from the solider. The soldier barely had a chance to glance over from his seat when the prisoner quickly shifted his weight back and kicked the soldier in the chest. The soldier was stunned, and fell over chair and all. The prisoner quickly reached the soldier, and used a choke hold using the soldiers own shirt collar to tighten the grip. The soldier struggled, but everything faded out as the blood flow to his head was stopped. The solider finally lost consciousness, and the prisoner stood up.

* * *

James King looked solemnly down at the soldier he had just knocked unconscious, recalling how he had ended up in such a torturous place. He was doing aid work in Baghdad when he kept hearing rumors about a prison where prisoners of war were being tortured. At first he kept ignoring it, assuming it was just anti-American propaganda being spread by Al-Qaeda. That was until he snuck away to a small village outside of Baghdad and met with a prisoner who had managed to escape. The man had scars from cigarette burns, missing teeth from being beaten, and the tears of a child when he merely hinted at the fact that the soldiers had sodomized him.

James remembered feeling so powerless to help that man, knowing the damage had already been done. That was when American soldiers raided the village, arresting every male over the age of 12, himself included, under suspicion of collaborating with terrorists. Next thing he knew was locked in prison, experiencing many of the torturous acts described to him for himself. That was when vowed to collect evidence of those tortures and bring the prison down once and for all.

He knew that his life was at risk, but he had been prepared for the worst when he signed up to do humanitarian work in Iraq. He was also prepared in other ways. Thanks to his mother he knew a few forms of martial arts, including the jujitsu that he had just used on the soldier. His father taught him basic knowledge of firearms, and he had learned a very special skill in college that would help him escape.

James stepped over the soldier, ignoring the gun strapped to his hip. If he carried a weapon, they would shoot him dead without question. Instead he walked over to the video camera, which was still recording, and took it off its tripod. He was going to do a walk-through of the cells with the camera, and then make his escape. He peaked outside of the door, making sure it was clear before getting out. The guard who left for a cigarette would be back at any minute, or worse yet the Colonel.

James' stomach growled from a weeks worth of hunger. He had never been without enough food for so long before. Rations got tight for a day or two when out near the edge of Baghdad, but they eventually returned to the well supplied Green Zone. He was also immensely tired, and was almost grateful that the Colonel had hit him because the pain kept him awake. He heard the cries of his fellow prisoners saw a dim light coming from around the corner, and knew he was getting close to the cells.

He turned the corner and pointed the camera, hoping that the lighting was good enough to catch at least some of it. He pointed the camera from one cell to the other. Many of them looked like they had been here for months with their clothes reduced to rags. They all reached their arms out from their cells, pleading in Arabic. James tried hard to ignore their cries, focusing his eyes on the camera. It was going to be hard enough to escape unharmed on his own, and many would be shot and killed if they tried to make a massive escape. Not only that, but he had no way of telling who was wrongfully imprisoned and who was a terrorist. For now, it was better that they stay.

After James had filmed all of the cells, he pulled the tape out of the camera and noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned and saw the smoker had come back, and quickly threw the camera at the soldier's head. The soldier quickly ducked, and James charged at him. The soldier raised his rifle, but one of the prisoners reach out of his cell and grabbed the rifle, preventing the shot. James rushed up and threw the soldier over his shoulder, hanging on to his arm. He then placed his foot on the side of the soldiers neck while pulling at the arm, cutting off the blood supply. The soldier went limp. He looked over at the prisoner who had helped him.

“Shukran,” James said, using one of the few words of Arabic he knew. The prisoner replied what he assumed to be your welcome, and then James began to undress the soldier.

Reviews

[Geist Von PA]

Powerful and moving. Excellent! A most anticipated continuation.

I, myself, so often wonder how many are wrongfully imprisoned, how much propaganda is forced upon us, and fear to know how many sheeple will follow blindly the words of such media and leaders.