Prisoner of War

An American spy is captured when he tries to take intel from a Russian camp. He is transported to a base and tortured for the intel.

It was pitch black. The stuffyness in the air was unfamiliar. Bumps in the road bounced me up and down as I rode in a vehicle of some sort, going somewhere. Men were talking amongst themselves in a weird language. Russian maybe. The ropes that were tightly around my feet and wrists kept me from fighting.

          I felt the vehicle come to a halt and the sudden stop threw me on to one of the men.

"Get off me!" He said in a very cruddy acsent and hit me to the side with the butt of his rifle. The air was blown out of me. I gasped for air as a set of doors opened and shouting filled my ears. The smell of diesel filled the air and at once I knew that it was a truck of some sort.

          More shouting had commerced. I was now being carried away from the truck and footsteps echoed down a corridor. The screeching sound of metal rubbing on metal rang in my ears. Some men pushed me down to the freezing cement floor and removed the sack that was on my head. I was almost blinded by the light that shown above me. My eyes painfully opened and I saw three men standing in a doorway. They wore brown uniforms and had AK-47's on their backs. Their red boots reflected the bright light. Red stripes and a crest on their caps perfected their uniforms.

          They motioned to someone to come in the windowless room. Another uniformed man walked in with a cart that had to have a car battery on it. The other uniformed men, who carried me, poured water all over me with buckets. Chills went through my body as the cold water splashed upon me. What were they going to do me?

           As the man with the cart had two wires hooked to what looked something like steal wool. He inched closer to me and the steal wool like things sparked as they were rubbed together. I started shaking in fear of the pain that was going to come. A smile as wide as his face appeared and his brown teeth disgusted me. He started to laugh as he got closer.

 

          

AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!    

         Electric surges zipped through my cold, wet body. I took a glance upward and the steal wool was coming back.

 

AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!....

AAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!......AAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

          I fell to the floor, breathless, hopeless. I shook as if I were a leaf in the biggest thunderstorm, wind blowing at a hundred miles an hour. All the men laughed as they left me alone in the dark...

 

          I heard the large metal door swing open. I looked and light blinded me. A officer it looked like was walking in my direction. One of the other men had brought two chairs in and set them down facing the other. The officer stood as I was hurled into one of the chairs and being zipped tied to it.

"Hello there." The officer in brown and red said very cockily as he sat down. He had dark brown eyes and a evil smile stuck on his face. The crest on his hat had a red star, sickle, and hammer on top of a globe. Russians.

"Hello, yourself." I replied as strongly as I could. He laughed and then punched me. I glared back at him; blood starting to run down my chin from my lip. "What do you want?" I asked looking into the Russian's eyes.          "I want to know what you took from my country. What your country plans to do with it."

"I didn't take anything..." I said until the Russian punched me again harder. "I'm not telling you, Russian slime." I spat on the Russian. He only smiled and shouted to the guards something. They came and dragged me out of the cell and down the hallway into another room.

They had set me down in another chair and strapped me down. The officer had taken his coat off and had my boots and socks removed. A hammer was put into the Russian's hands. He bent down and slammed the hammer down on my littlest toe. "That little piggy went to the market." The Russian officer said with a smile.

Pain shot to my brain and every bone in me craved to let go. No! The officer slammed the hammer down again and again until all of my toes were crushed. My breathing was heavy and sweat trickled down my face. I looked at the Russian: "What's next? The sickle?"

More commands were shouted and I was replaced back into my cell. I leaned againts the stone wall and observed my feet. All of my toes were purple and broken. My breathing slowed and the acheing started to fade.

        

          A small hatch opened in the metal door. Two pans were placed on the floor. One with a watered down stew it seemed, and the other had dirt and water. I scouted both pans away and completely ignored them. My stomach growled, because I haven't eaten in days.

The door swung open and more Russians hauled me away to another room. They took my hands and tied them with rope. My feet were tied to ropes that were bolted to the floor. I started to be lifted into the air and my body began to stretch. The Russian officer walked in and the stretching stop.

"Where is it?" The Russian said patting a silver sickle againts his brown glove. I stared at the blade coming closer. The blade was cold as the Russian rubbed it againts my face.

"Alright, alright." I said keeping my eyes on the blade of the sickle. The Russian lowered the sickle and grinned. "It's underneath my bed by the Playboy." I lied. 

A smile formed on the Russian and he swung the blade. The cold blade sliced my cheek open. Blood started to flow. He swung the blade again and... Blood ran down into my eyes. The bloody sickle was replaced with a whip. Other Russians behind me tore my shirt off.  

WHACK!

Pain shot up to my brain as I was whipped. My nerves wracked inside and I started to breath more heavier.

WHACK, WHACK, WHACK!!!

I couldn't feel anything in my back, not even the blood free falling from the whip marks. The Russian barked more orders and I face planted into the cement floor.

      

"This is your last chance." The Russian barked at me. He came into my cell and punched me around like he did every single day. A few men brought a table in and a couple of chairs. The Russian officer sat in one and I in the other.

"How about we play a little game?" The Russian smirked. He extended his hand to one of his comrads and a snub nose revolver was put into his hand. I saw the Russian empty the revolver and one bullet was replaced. Russian Roulette.

The revolver slammed on the metal table and the Russian motioned to me to begin. "Play or tell me where the chip is!" I picked the revolver up and my eyes were glued onto the chamber. The bullet was going to be first. I put the cold barrel to my head and started to pull the trigger...

      

Reviews

[James E. Peterson]

I would sure hate to be in his position. Great write!

[Praveen Kumar A.X.]

One question... Don't you think the story is about a spy and not of a Prisoner of War?. But apart from that this story is written with absolute beauty. I could feel the pain.

[J. F. Charleston]

Thanks. Well the first title was Prisoner of War. I'll rethink about the title.