Sabotage: Beginnings (10 page)

Ben’s patience was running out. Fury for being lied to ignited in his veins. The blood ripping through his body demanded action.

“Say it,” he bellowed like the devil.

“Shytan,” Jabar mumbled in Dari. “Fuck off, American,” he repeated in a feigned broken dialect.

“It’s you after all, you little rascal. Seems like you’re more the devil than I am.” Ben’s muscles tightened again, but he was physically drained. Adrenaline and the promise of another feast and fucking was all that willed his body to move.

“Please, I will pay you many riches.”

Ben twirled a knife in his hand, the other one he slipped back in its sheath. A wicked grin slathered across his face as he began to whistle the national anthem of the United States.

“You know that song?”

“Yes, it’s what your invading soldiers played every day.”

Ben motioned with his hand for Jabar to stand. “Now stand at attention and salute my national anthem,” he said while he saluted. “And feel free to sing along if you know the words.”

“Please, I cannot.”

“Cannot or will not?” Ben moved closer.

Jabar’s eyes darted toward the empty cells—possibly looking to lock himself inside for protection.

“Salute,” Ben ordered then began to whistle.

Jabar fell against the wall. The fat of his man boobs jiggled—Ben was aroused. He was more plump than Juicy was.

“Salute, damn it.”

“No, please.”

“Fuck him, Ben. Let’s butt fuck him.” Ben grunted.

Ben stiff-legged down the hall with his knife ready to take Jabar apart.

“Watch out,” yelled Justice.

The traitor bolted from an open cell. Ben was smashed into the side of the hallway by a vicious blow from the man with the American-made white teeth. His blade flipped from his fingers and landed handle up in the dirt floor.

“Kill him,” Jabar cried.

The man looked dazed from the impact, but his eyes were drawn to the lethal blade. Ben stood empty handed. The man laughed, flashing two rows of perfect teeth. He dove for the knife, had the make on Ben. Justice shoved his massive frame against the cell door one last time and launched his long arm through it. His vice grip snatched the man’s ankle, throwing him off balance.

Before he straightened to attack, Ben mustered all the strength he had left and drove his second knife into the man’s back. It severed his spine. The man collapsed in the hall. Ben noticed his back rose and fell with each labored breath. Too bad. He’d die an even more horrible death suffocating under his own weight.

Jabar was frantic. Ben noticed a puddle of piss beneath Jabar’s feet.

“You going to clean up before I take you.” He motioned for Jabar to crawl into an open cage. He lifted the key ring from the hook and locked him in. “I’ll let you marinate while I tend to my guests.”

Jabar pleaded through sobs, “What will you do to me?”

“Baby, all I can say is, you might want to take advantage of this time alone and try killing yourself. It’ll be much more pleasant than what I’m going to do with you.”

Ben fell against the opposite side of the corridor. Drained once the adrenaline of killing escaped him, he kneeled to face Justice. Instant recognition.

“Justice Boudreaux, I presume.”

“Benjamin Franklin Ford, it’s my pleasure.”

“What shall I do now?” Ben asked.

Justice pressed his face against the rusted bars, “There’s been enough killing tonight.” His eyes cut toward Jabar’s cell, “Well, maybe just one more.”

Fatigued, Ben’s quaking hand rattled the ring of keys as he maneuvered the old skeleton key into the slot, “I couldn’t agree more.”

Ben stepped back toward the front room as Justice unfolded himself from the small hole. Ben was intimidated in the man’s presence. Not just his massive build, but the man exuded badass.

“Too bad we’re not playing for the same side,” Ben said awkwardly.

Struggling to stand upright, Justice smiled. “We are on the same team, just not the same rules.”

“Who is she?” Ben asked as he backed up around the table where Batya laid motionless.

“My partner.”

“Jewish?” Ben asked.

Justice nodded.

“Because of Tel Aviv?”

Justice nodded.

“You know they provoked me.”

Justice nodded.

“Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.” Ben said politely.

“Thank you.”

“No thanks needed. It’s what Americans do—look out for one another.” Ben said. His eyes fixed on Justice, he moved toward the hallway.

“True. Plus it’ll make it easier on us both when the time comes,” Justice said. His eyes averted contact with Ben’s.

“Yes, of course. When that time comes.”

Justice dressed Batya, who was still unconscious. Ben watched, but his thoughts focused on enjoying Jabar soon. Justice gently lifted Batya and stopped to peer out into the blackness of night.

“Ben, why’d you do it? Risk your life to save the man who’ll soon erase you?”

Ben wiped the dried blood from his chin and smiled. “You were in peril, but I knew you could take care of yourself. But then I saw that helpless woman being raped by those Osama bin Laden clones. I had to do something.”

“But you could’ve walked away scot-free.” Justice still looked confused.

“I’m a cannibal, not an animal.”

M
usty and tattered,
a canvas veil cloaked the flatbed’s cargo area. It looked to have once been a UN military asset donated to the Afghani Local Police. It was the best of what sat in front of the outpost but was still a piece of shit.

Justice kept his bloody hand beneath Batya’s head as he eased her onto the bed of the truck. She moaned but remained unconscious. He smoothed his hand over her hair and pushed back the strands twisted against her forehead.

“Batya, it’s going to be okay. I’ll take care of you,” Justice whispered.

He hurried to the driver’s seat and worked the ignition until the clunker spewed to life. There were no NVGs, night vision goggles, to be found, so driving blacked out was out of the question. He eased the truck into first gear and slowly let his foot off the clutch. His calf ached, and he realized the damage he’d self-inflicted as he’d fought to escape the cell. He’d have to hurt later—he had work to do now.

The camouflaged vehicle lurched to the corner of the building. Justice smashed the brake and gnashed his teeth together. It stung where Jabar had stabbed him, but the force of hitting the brake must’ve caused the wound to open. He pressed a cloth against it—that wasn’t his biggest concern.

Headlights moved closer from across the horizon. From the height of the headlamps, it looked like a light personnel carrier—definitely military grade. Headlights turned off on his vehicle, Justice rechecked the cache of weapons he’d taken from the armory.

“Justice?” Batya whispered.

He torqued his torso to lay his right hand through the opening. “Yes, baby?”

“Now I am a baby?” she grumbled.

“Sorry. Please lay still. We got company and it may get ugly.”

She whined with a quivering tone that cracked her voice. “More soldiers? Kill them.”

“I’m not sure. Hold on.”

The last thing Justice wanted was another fight. He was beyond battered and his body was close to shutting down. His focus was reserved for locating a safe haven and nursing Batya back to health. Gingerly, his right hand slipped out of her weakened grip and he patted the RPG—rocket propelled grenade—launcher. No matter how many were in that carrier, one blast from the RPG and it was over.

His eyes darted between the approaching vehicle and the weapon. In good conscience, Justice couldn’t open fire on unknowns.

“Are you going to launch a preemptive strike or not?” Batya asked. Her voice rasped with concern.

Justice squeezed the steering wheel. He blinked repeatedly, trying to will his vision to slice through the night. Lifting the RPG onto his lap, he exhaled with the reality of what had just happened and what might yet occur.

“Justice, I implore you. We cheated death once tonight. Do not tempt her again.”

Justice melted at her touch. Warmth radiated from her palm on his shoulder. He leaned his head toward her until his longish hair and bearded jaw touched the top of her hand. His eyes never waivered from the approaching vehicle.

“Baby, please do it now.”

“Baby? Now I’m baby?” he said.

Justice moaned a guttural growl of indecision. The tightened grip pulled the RPG to his shoulder. He kneeled on the unpadded seat and braced against the backrest. His finger was nowhere near the trigger mechanism, though he pressed his bruised right eye against the scope.

“Justice, you are not going to fire that weapon in this truck, are you?” she scolded.

“No.” He leaned harder into the scope. It improved the weapon’s accuracy but wasn’t designed for long range spotting. He swallowed hard against the lump that wouldn’t budge. For once, Justice had no idea of the right thing to do.

“Do it.” Batya’s voice grew more angry.

“Not until they’re a little closer.”

“Do not chance it, Justice. I beg you. I’ve got nothing within to defend myself but a fighting spirit.”

Guilt suffocated him—he’d failed her once. Promises to protect her were empty after what she’d just gone through. Should he launch the RPG to ease his guilt and her fear?

His foot smacked against the ground—his spine ached. Justice crept to the front hood and rested his weight against calloused elbows. The projectile’s tube sat parallel with the horizon. Hands swiped at streams of moisture that rolled down from beneath his hairline. His heart weighed heavy but time was running out.

Horrific screams from inside the government office building drew Justice’s attention. His eyes widened with revelation. He had it, and returned the RPG into the truck’s interior. Batya’s head popped into the open window between the cab and the truck bed. Justice pressed his right index finger to his lips.

“Stay down. They’ll go inside first.”

“But what about Ben?” she asked.

“I never promised him a free ride.” Justice stared toward the open door of the outpost. “While he kills them, we escape. While they kill him, we escape. It’s a win-win.”

Her arm shook as Batya motioned for a weapon. Justice didn’t argue. At ten percent she was better than ninety percent of the soldiers he’d served with.

Justice crouched behind the truck. Pulse pounded in his temple but no time for pain. Justice concentrated on calming breaths and a narrowed focus.

He held his submachine gun close against him. Heavy metal magazines loaded with extra ammunition were strapped to his chest. He was ready to rip enemies apart—Ben included.

Finally, the personnel carrier arrived. The light blue vehicle bore the distinctive United Nations emblem. It crawled to the front of the compound, just before the patio. It appeared no one was in a hurry.

“How many?”

Justice motioned for Batya to be quiet. He noticed the very top of her head raised to match the barrel of her weapon. Justice nodded to her confidently—two pairs of eyes were better than one.

“Three. There’re three of them.”

Batya feigned a snicker. “Just three? I am capable of eliminating them in my diminished state.”

“Baby, just slow down. Ben is better at handling them.” He grinned. “Or them handling him.”

“Think he can take them out?” Batya asked.

“Unless he’s so ball deep inside Jabar he doesn’t notice them.”

Batya shook her head “Ball deep?”

Justice smiled and watched the three men exit their vehicle. They wore light colored urban camouflage battle dress uniforms. Each tugged off their baby-blue berets as they crossed the patio toward the door. Focused more on poking their caps inside the deep pockets along their pants leg than holding their weapons ready for combat, they entered.

They must have come for the gangbang. Fuck them.

“They look Greek,” Batya said.

Justice winked. “Notice something?”

“Yes, it’s been quiet inside.” She whispered. “He’s waiting for them.”

Justice cat-stepped backward until he returned to the driver’s seat. Batya offered a thumbs up. He knew she was ready to haul ass away from that hellhole and her memories of what had gone on.

Justice’s fingers waggled against the thin metal ignition key. Shoulders slumped forward as his ear craned toward the outpost. His hearing had been weakened during the earlier closed quarters combat, but it was vital to time the engine’s crank with the interior screams.

“Go,” Batya prompted.

He did as she said—and heard the hollering after.

His fingers strangled the stick shift and steering wheel. His head said hurry, but his heart insisted he slow down. Batya’s spirit might’ve been strong but her body was weak.

Once they’d distanced themselves from whatever horror Ben was inflicting, Justice’s mind began to fracture between what was right and what was necessary. He’d realized years ago that black and white wasn’t always black and white. He’d never failed a mission, much less allow a target to walk free. This was different—or was it?

Anxiety wasn’t a luxury he could afford, but deep down—even deeper than his layers of specialized training—Justice was still human. He’d suffer later. Right now, he needed to care for Batya. He drove aimlessly for the first ten miles. He wasn’t sure where they were but knew if Ben had killed the last three, he’d been plenty pissed that he hadn’t been warned. They needed as much distance away from the regular travel routes as they could create.