The Jericho Files #5.2

Here it is fans! If you haven't read the other entries, scroll down! They're all there! Enjoy!

  The Jericho Files #5.2

I awoke to the sound of electricity crackling and sparks flying everywhere. My eyes took some time to adjust, as it was almost pitch black wherever I was at. I tried to move, but apparently was strapped down in a chair and felt a slightly pressure in my head which means I was almost hanging upside down. I had no way to determine my whereabouts or know what time it was. All I knew was I was tired and my head was killing me. The sparks or burnt smell they were creating weren't helping.

I began to hear some movement and voices no higher than a whisper, I strained to listen but was unable to make anything out. They seemed to be far away, so I began to make deductions based on what I had seen so far. I was apparently in a large room, as there were far off individuals that I could barely hear. I was being held in a chair in an uncomfortable position, and there was someone making sparks nearby. This only meant one thing.....

Interrogation.

At that point, my eyes began to adjust and I could see only two men in the room. One seemed to be holding a welding torch in his hand and was creating the sparks I saw when I woke up. They seemed to be welding several parts of metal together, although it was hard to tell at the time. The pieces of metal seemed to be shards with sharp jagged points. They didn't look friendly, but then again, nothing felt friendly about this place. I began to prepare myself for a world of pain.

I laid my head back and closed my eyes. There was no use in attempting to escape because they were blocking the only entrace. Besides, the longer I stayed here, the more I could find out about my captors. It was obvious that whoever they were, they were up to no good. There was a high chance they were the Lebanese soldiers we were looking for.

I slowly let myself slip into a being of relaxation. Suddenly, I was back on the farm in Ireland. My mother was on the porch cleaning the day's catch my father had brought in. I was out in the fields, tending to what little crops we had. I watched my mother work vigorously to clean the fish and game. It was getting late in the day and we wouldn't have much daylight left to work. She never quit, whatever got the job done. Where my father's job ended, hers begun and continued at a blinding pace.

You couldn't help but be impressed. The family was famous for it's work ethic. We never quit. We never tired. There was always a solution.

I let myself slip just slightly to my current situation. I wouldn't quit either, I wouldn't tire during this interrogation. I refused to be the weak link in this chain of my outfit.

I was ripped from my being of relaxation by a strong tug of my hair. My eyes snapped open to be greeted by an ugly sneer on a man of middle eastern descent. His features were crude and weathered. He had seen combat, his scars spoke that. He stared a hole through me, trying to frighten me. He opened his mouth to speak, and a foul stench of wine and old meat came forth in his breath. He was definitely a soldier, as hygiene care was not top on your list when you were in skirmishes. He began to speak in a dialect that took me a little to decipher. As I caught up on the translation, I knew that I was in for a long fight.

“Hello Dog, you can either talk and die quickly or be silent and die slowly. It is your choice....choose now”

He picked up a rugged combat knife and placed it against my face. I took a stock of the situation:

I was restrained in a chair slightly upside down, the blood was rushing to my head at an astounding rate that I was beginning to see spots. I had two men concocting insane devices to interrogate me. They wanted my identity and what I was doing here. More than that though, they wanted my life.

I think my decision became quite clear then.

I kept my mouth shut.

To Be Continued....