Get Some (10 page)

All around me were little fires; the whole place was more or less flattened by the grenade .I walked around slowly and saw some feet under some rubble. I figured the guy under was injured or dead so I nicked his shoes. My feet were bleeding and had sores, so the feeling of having shoes on my feet after God knows how long felt like pot noodles to a piss head. Isn’t it funny how you take the smallest things such as footwear for granted? It felt like an amazing find, I have to say.

So there I was, the lone survivor of the blast, the last man standing so to speak, walking around the rubble searching for anything I could scavenge.

That’s when I saw him.

That’s when I hit the wall.

He moaned in pain as I came across him. He was sitting there with a huge boulder on his leg which had all but crushed it. There was bone and flesh all squashed and flat. His leg looked like road kill. He was crying out in his native tongue when he saw me. He looked at me in disbelief.

I knew what he was thinking at that moment. How the fuck, out of all the people in there, had I survived? I wondered that too. But I walked over and sat beside him, not knowing of my intentions at first.

It was Mr. Haircut. He was in pain, great pain, and he was scared.

Fucking beautiful.

The wall I referred to was a place in my mind. I felt relieved and very much overcome with joy that I was free and alive, but now I had this man, Mr. Haircut, the man who had tortured me, sitting there as helpless as a child in front of me, begging, crying, and dying.

I had come to the wall, the place were I could walk away, walk away from this mess and try and find my way home, or move forward, past the wall, and do whatever it was in my heart to do. I had a fire burning up within me.

A fire of vengeance.

In all my years being involved in this business, I was proud to say I’d never killed anyone who didn’t deserve it. Ok, I’d killed a few but, with good reason, and they were all bad. It’s an occupational hazard in my game. The guys I had clipped had tried to kill me but, nevertheless, killing a man is serious shit, and when you do it, I really think you lose a piece of yourself every time.

However, it was in mind that if I should find anyone breathing, they would die.

Someone once told me that one day in this game I’d hit the wall, and it didn’t matter which way I went. I could turn back, or climb over it, but in terms of taking a man’s life who couldn’t defend himself, the wall was a symbol of choice.

If I killed this man and embarked on what I felt in my heart (my mission of revenge) I would have climbed it. Once over there, there was no going back. What innocence I had left would be long gone. I always had my limits, the point I wouldn’t go beyond, that was my wall.

The point of no return.

Mr. Haircut was just the beginning, I’m not proud of it, but it had to be done. Some people believe in an eye for an eye, I believe in an eye for two eyes, and maybe even more, depending what has been done to me. No matter how cold it may sound, I had to kill this fucker. He had tried to kill me, and to me this was fair game.

For the first time in my life I wasn’t just climbing over this wall into the unknown, I was breaking it the fuck down, along with anyone who stood in my way.

Chapter Seventeen

‘
Well, I bet you have some questions going around in your head, eh?’ Tommy almost sniggered as he spoke, but the snigger wasn’t the friendly kind, more a devilish snigger laced with hate.

Tommy circled the man, slowly. Mr Haircut’s eyes followed Tommy as he walked around him, circling his prey.

‘
I honestly don’t know what to do with you, y’know. Fucking killing. All this shit’s new to me, you see. But let’s get one thing straight, you are gonna die. So whimpering or whatever the fuck ain’t going to do shit. I’m just trying to figure out how to do this shit. Getting my bearings so to speak. The only question I guess is if I do it quickly or creatively. Right now I have to say I’m leaning towards the creative, sadly, doesn’t look good for you at all.’

Tommy sat down as he continued to speak. He was relaxed and spoke quietly, almost whispering.

‘
I’m of the thinking, Mr. Haircut, that seeing as though you guys took your time with me, it’s only fair I reciprocate. Show you that same undivided attention that you showed me.’ Tommy ran his fingers through his own hair, wiping some more powder off his face in an attempt to tidy himself up. ‘Unless…unless you have any…information perhaps? Information on how you come to have me in your custody?’

Mr. Haircut spoke, panicking and shaking as he stuttered his words out. ‘I was doing my job, I was under orders, orders, you a soldier you....’

‘
So what if I’m a soldier, so that gives you the right to torture me? The motherfucking Geneva Convention ring any bells?’

‘
But sir, I, er, we, thought you were...er, but, the man who gave you to us ….’

‘
Ah, now we are getting somewhere. The man, tell me about the man who, how did you put it, gave me to you. Explain that. Explain it all.’

Tommy noticed that there were some cigarettes hanging out of Mr. Haircut’s trousers. Tommy knelt down as Mr. Haircut squirmed, thinking Tommy was going to do something.

‘
Relax, Fuckhead. I wanted your cigarettes. Now I need a light. Shouldn’t be difficult.’ Tommy walked over to a little fire caused by the grenade. He knelt again, lighting his cigarette in the flames. He turned back to his captive.

‘
Now…talk.’

Going into a lot of detail, Mr. Haircut spoke of how he and his group , known simply as ‘Annah’, meaning ‘ The Answer’, had been dealing with various groups and factions. They were against the war. They were basically against everybody. They hated their own corrupt government, the U.S., England, basically everyone who in some way, as they saw it, caused harm amongst their people.

Tommy sympathised with that. He couldn’t understand the war either. As Mr. Haircut continued, he went into detail about how Annah had to do deals here and there to raise money for its cause. One of his bosses had met a contact who had met a contact who wanted drugs which they had in abundance. In return, the contact would give them money. However, an additional deal was struck whereby the contact also promised them a soldier who would fetch a high price and expand Annah’s circle of influence yet further.

It was Annah’s objective to process the soldier, find out who he was, and sell him to the highest bidder, whether that be the Iraqi Army or some other group who wanted to parade a British soldier on TV. Mr. Haircut explained it was just for money, nothing personal.

Chapter Eighteen

After a short but interesting chat, me and Haircut were done. Now it was to more pressing matters. I could hear a few more moans and groans so I decided to have a walk around and see who else was still breathing. After all, Mr. Haircut wasn’t going anywhere soon so I figured I’d leave him to stew for a while, the least I could do in return for how he had treated me.

Being in that room I hadn’t had the foggiest idea of how big or small the place was where I was being held captive. It wasn’t massive, however it was of a decent size. Haircut told me it was an old fuel depot for the Iraqi Army which he and his buds had converted into their very own operations centre. It was fairly simple, but now flattened.

I walked through the rubble, well I limped rather than walked, but I also knew I had to get the fuck outta here. Odds were this place was well known, so some fucker would be by here sooner or later. It was fair to say I would make sure everybody was dead before I left. My main point was I was going to try and find my American cellmate. Even if he was dead, he deserved a proper burial. Haircut said he wasn’t handling him and didn’t know where he was. I wasn’t sure if I believed him or not.

Walking through all the building’s rubble, I managed to get an AK47 rifle, a favourite with the Iraqi militia, as well as two handguns. Got me a Desert Eagle and a Glock 9, nice! All had ammo in them. The Eagle had about half a mag, the Glock a full clip, and the AK47 was empty but I managed to find ammo on the floor so I loaded it up appropriately. I love AKs. I remember my sarge used to say ‘just point ‘n spray, and you’ll ruin their day’. Fucking amen to that.

I spotted my first victim. He wasn’t under rocks, but one of his arms was missing. He was groaning something. I wasn’t gonna waste my ammo – fuck that. I knelt over him. He was saying something about Allah.

‘
Oh really?’ I said. I wasn’t interested, and at this point the very thing which made me human left me momentarily. People have asked me what if feels like to kill. well I would say it depends. Doesn’t feel good, I’ll tell you that but, y’know, when some fuckers hurt you or yours, I would say it ain’t that fucking bad either.

In moments of rage a man can find out how far he can go and I was going all the way with these bastards. I knelt above my former captor and went for the neck break.

You know when you see people on the telly breaking someone’s neck and there’s this ease in how they do it and then a click? Well, it ain’t always that easy. See, this fucker who was laid out was a big lad, decent shoulder and neck muscles. So you have to really give that neck a good crank. I have two favourite methods - there are many more but, hey ho, I’ll just go through the two for now. So here we go, neck breaking 101 with moiré!

Right then, let’s say you’ve decided to kill a man - good for you.

Today we are using the neck break .Now you’ll need a few things: firstly your mitts, and secondly some determination. Got the goods? Good, now it’s time to get killing. For the simple traditional neck break, take the subject in a good old fashioned head lock and squeeze tight, (like the ju-jitsu guillotine lock). Please feel free to kick and punch the subject before doing so. Then simply bring the subject to the floor (whilst still maintaining the head lock) and, as his head is trapped and secured, move your grip up, then to one side, basically turning the bones in the neck and at the top of his vertebrae so that all connections are severed.

During the transition from head lock to neck break you will hear a clicking noise. Don’t be afraid, in fact be happy, as this means you have done a good job. Sometimes they may not be dead. Don’t panic. Think of it as like following shampooing instructions; if not satisfied, just rinse and repeat - in other words try again. Sorry for going all psycho there, it’s just I am in fact a self defence expert and shit like that fascinates me. It’s not like I’m raving mad. I guess I’m just good at killing.

Back to the point. I was going to do this guy by neck break number two. I rolled him onto his stomach. I sat on his back, put one leg either side of his head, grabbed under his chin interlocking my fingers, and pulled back, crack-bang-wallop, as quick as that. It is quite humane really. He was crying from pain beforehand, so I guess I released him.

One minute he was yelping, the next he was a no-pulse motherfucker.

Funny how shit goes.

One minute you’re comfortable in your own little world like this fuck - he was chilling with a smoke earlier as I pelted my grenade - the next minute you’re in the proverbial shit with someone like me ripping all connections from your spinal cord.

I didn’t count on this many survivors. After my neck break, I got the chance to test my skills on five other survivors. I did two neck breaks, a jumping head stomp (which took me two attempts ’cos this fuckhead had a head like a fucking bowling bowl, nearly broke me god-damn foot, the motherfucker. I did a ground and pound on the fourth which sounds sadistic, I know - to pound a man’s head in – but, shit, the fucker bit me! I thought he was dead, leant down to listen for signs of life, and the shithouse bit my fucking neck like a vampire. I was mad as hell.

Last but not least I was saving something special for Haircut. I administered the Death Grip, a technique I learned years back. It is a fantastic technique, sometimes hard to perfect, but when done right it will submit anyone, and then kill them. If you’re good you can do it with one hand, and it gives you a huge feeling of power over your enemy.

I chatted more to Haircut before I killed him, found out some interesting things, but then it was time.

I looked him dead in the eyes and leant over him, ‘Just so you know, I’m not just a corporal, I’m a highly trained sniper. I have killed captains and generals, even your precious Manu An Abayi.’ Manu An Abayi was like a local religious figure in these parts, but the powers that be wanted him smoked, saying he was a liability with his preachings, which was where I came in. Everybody was pissed as all the little factions respected him. He was like their version of Desmond Tutu.

‘
You, you bastaaard! You kill man of god, you do this, you go to hell, you baaastard.’

The cries of Haircut made it all the better for me. It hurt him. He was a proud man, I could tell, had his beliefs. I respected that. Maybe on another day in another world, me and this guy could have shared a beer and a smoke and talked shit, but this wasn’t the day, and this wasn’t the world.

‘
Yep, I killed that hollowing fucker with four hollow point bullets, three in the back of the fucking head, one in the front – closed casket motherfucker. That’s how we do it. Just wanted to share that shit with you before you croak. See, you never broke me, you never could – ever’.

‘
You bastard, you English bastard. I spit on your queen and fuck your children, you go hell, you go hell.’