Darkness Dissolves When the Door Opens

The Corporal

“Someone please call the guard!”
The call came from two cells to Jules’ right.

“What happened?” John asked.

“Ezra’s not feeling too well.” The voice was Glenn’s, one of Jules’ closest friends in the military.

“No one is feeling well,” Jules sharply commented. “We’re all zombies, we’re not well.”

“No. Ezra’s burning up. He’s been unconscious since like hours ago. His head is as hot as lava.”

“It’s no use.” Jai the tall Dutch called. “They won’t even bother to look at him.”

“Just fucking try, Please.” The shaky voice on Glenn wasn’t very usual. He certainly was very fond of the kid more than anyone else in the dungeon.

John, the closest to the dungeon’s main door that led toward the Cathedral, gained balance and leaned on the iron bars of his cell. He grabbed one of the planks of his bed and smashed them as hard as he could to produce banging sounds.

“Hey, guards! Hey we need help! Come down here, someone is dying!”

The bang-bang-bang worked. Two Japanese men entered and one rushed to grab John’s collar. He was the only one who spoke English and his temper was worse than anyone you’ll ever meet. His name was Akira Yamako.

“You wake us up again like that and I will put a bullet in your throat. Oh no, I have a better idea. I will slice your knee one by one for one hour. That sounds fun, right?”

His dark hair flowered before John’s eyes. They were literally very close to each other’s face. John was stuck to the bars, but then Yamako let go and John dashed to the floor.

“Please, Corporal. You must help my friend. He’s burning like hell.” Glenn’s voice reached Yamako. His snake eyes turned and he strode to their cell. He stopped and observed Ezra’s face from outside the cell.

“Can you people stop bothering me already? Three dying soldiers in one week? Why are you people so weak?” Yamako’s accent was hilarious, but Jules’ humor died down long ago.

“Try living as us.” The voice surprised us.

“Who said that?” Yamako pinched his pistol as an intimidating object. “I said, who said that?”

No one spoke.

Yamako flashed the prisoners one by one and put the smug smirk on his face. “It was you, right?” 

Yamako stood in front of Asher, the youngest of all of us. He turned eighteen the day before, and the present for that from the Japanese was another torture.

“Look at me when I speak to you, filthy cucumber.”

Asher raised his head very slowly. His furious face was full of dying wounds.

“I ask again, it is you who said that, no?”

Asher leaned forward on his bars and his two hands flew toward Yamako’s uniform. He got his left arm and his collar. Asher jerked the man forward until his head banged the bars. Asher pushed him and pulled him again. The sound of head smashing to iron echoed to every cell in the dungeon.

Jules could see Yamako’s blood poured from his nose. Yamako’s head bumped again for the third time, and the other Japanese guard at the entrance of the dungeon helped the nasty corporal and pushed Asher down.

“Kid, what did you do,” John commented.

Yamako tensed up and wiped the blood of his face.

“I like you a lot, Private Vans. You have the true spirit, and you’re probably the least weak soldiers among all of you. I’m very impressed. It’s hard to crack that mind of yours too. And I’m also still shocked that you’re the youngest.” 

Yamako walked back toward Glenn and Ezra’s cell. Ezra shivered while his fingers trembled. His face pale as heck, and it seemed to Glenn that his blood probably froze inside his system.

The limping Japanese corporal asked Glenn. “What does he need?”

Glenn’s face went brighter. Rainbow sparked from his center. He was smiling inside. “Antibiotic and maybe a warm tea. And also a blanket.”

The corporal told the other guard to fetch those. He reached for his coat pocket and a sprawl of silver keys called our names from his clutch. Yamako opened the barred door.

The guard returned with one white box which everyone assumed was antibiotic, a small red blanket, and a cup of warm green tea. Such a miracle that this could happen.

Ezra drank the tablet with Glenn’s help. He coughed after the swallow, and the tea was still too hot.

“Thank you,” Glenn said.

Suddenly, Ezra started twitching like crazy to every direction. He grumbled and snarled. Glenn jumped back in anticipation, his heart like a bombed village. They tricked him. It wasn’t antibiotic. Glenn felt himself as a fool.

“I was honestly about to treat him. I, with the most bottom feeling of my deep heart, was actually thinking of giving this poor private the real medicine, but you, young man.” Yamako peered with his eyes toward angry Asher. “You and your big mouth stepped in to bark to me. That wasn’t very wise, right?”

Asher fisted the bars. For one second Jules thought they might bend. “Fuck you.”

“And there’s it again. The unstoppable mouth. Your friend pays for your selfish act. His death is entirely your fault.”

Glenn tried to hold Ezra’s arms. Ezra was still twitching. Now, he screamed louder than anyone had every screamed in the dungeon before. Then, white foam plundered from inside Ezra’s mouth. 

“Please.” Glenn begged below Yamako’s feet. He kicked Glenn’s face and he sprung back. His friend, Ezra, passed away. His body firm. His eyes opened, stared at the nothingness.

The familiar sight returned. Memories formed. Another death. At this point, Jules witnessed the passing of so many people. Death was like a breakfast for him.

Glenn climbed to his feet and hugged the dead guy. He was crying now.

“Well, as a bonus punishment for Private Vans’ incredible mouthed behavior, I will leave this body to stink here for one month. No need to thank me, thank Mr. Asher Vans there.”

Asher was boiling now. The iron bar which his hands were fisting seemed to move a bit. 

Yamako shot a look to everyone and stopped at Jules’ face. “What are you looking at?”

Jules hesitated from his eyes.

“That’s what I thought.” And Yamako exited the dungeon.