A Lost Ghost

Chapter 17: Dangerous Games

"Where is it, Binky?"

I take in breath after breath, still not answering. The last thing I have left in this world is my voice. And I'm keeping it no matter what. He's not gonna break me. He's not gonna break me.

The next thing I know, I'm back underwater. My lungs burn. The air leaves my lungs much quicker this time, and even though I try my hardest, I can't help but struggle this time. He yanks me out of the water. I gasp, my chest heaving up and down. The guard curls his fingers tighter around my hair. I clench my jaw, trying so freaking hard not to make a sound of pain. My eyes lock with Volkov's colorless gaze as he brings his face close to mine. He smiles.

"You will break. You Americans always do."

I can't hold back the small laugh that comes out. Volkov's face hardens as he raises an eyebrow.

"You find this amusing?"

I shake my head, still laughing because it is genuinely funny to me.

"Life's been trying to break me for a long time. If it can't do it, then you sure as hell won't be able to."

A wicked, cruel smile curls at the corner of his mouth.

"Challenge accepted."

    They left me alone in the cell for three days. I spent the entire time sitting against the wall, staring out the small barred window. They never shut it, so the frigid air keeps coming in. The thin jumpsuit I'm wearing is doing a horrible job of keeping me warm. For those three days, I kept hearing the prisoner in the next room screaming. I try to convince myself that it's not, but I know it's Dice. I recognize his voice begging them to stop, yelling that he doesn't know where the fleet is. In an attempt to block out Dice's screaming, I limp over to the window and stick my head out as far as I can. It's not far at all, though, considering that it's up super high and barred. I stand on my tiptoes, trying to get a look.

My eyes narrow, my heart sinking as I stare at an airfield. The very same airfield that took me down. I look around, seeing an array of different aircraft. A couple of British Eurofighters, South Korean F-15s, Russian SU-57s, and one F/A-18 Super Hornet. I stare at the F-18, imagining myself squeezing through these bars and flying away. Wouldn't that be something? Another, bigger question buzzes around in my mind. Why and how do they have all these different aircraft? They have to be planning something big. Maybe they're trying to figure out what technology they have in them. Maybe they're studying the technology in different jets? Or planning a Trogon horse mission, although I'm having difficulty seeing that working. Or maybe they're using these jets to build a... superjet? I don't know. There's no point in thinking about it. It's not like I can tell anyone. Or do anything about it. On the fourth day, they finally fed me. It was beef soup, but all the meat and potatoes went to the guards, leaving me with nothing more than cold broth and grease. My stomach churns with each slurp.

The guards would beat me every other day, most of the time, for no reason. My jaw aches as the guard bashes his knuckles into my cheek. I look towards the floor and push the blood to the front of my mouth, spitting it on his shiny boots. I smile, flashing my bloody teeth at him. I can't see his face through the ski mask, but I just know it's scrunched with anger. He cocks his fist back and slams it into my teeth. I swallow a mouthful of blood. By the end of the day, my eyes are so swollen that I can barely see out of them. The next day, Volkov comes in, holding scissors and pliers in his hand. A chill curls up my spine. Before I can stop myself, a shaky breath leaves my parted lips. He smiles as he catches the dread in my eyes.

"Oh, don't you worry, Binky. I'll let you keep your fingers and toes...for now."

I don't even want to know what he's about to do with those. He hands the scissors and pliers off to the guard. He pulls up a chair and sets it in front of me. The guard stands me up, handcuffs me, and shoves me down in the other chair. I stare Volkov dead in the eye, forcing my face to harden, to not look afraid, but behind my eyes, it's no secret that I'm terrified. I tighten my fists, forcing them not to shake. I can't, however, slow my pounding heart.

"Where is your fleet?" Volkov sings. I again say nothing because I genuinely don't know. They may be in the same spot. They're more than likely not. Either way, I can't put my friends, my squadron in danger. I take in another shaky breath and slowly shake my head. Joy flashes through his eyes. He glances at the guard and nods. The guard grabs my leg and cuts the fabric around my gunshot wound with the scissors.

Oh crap.

He takes a roll of duct tape and wraps it around my entire head so tightly that I can't even breathe out my mouth. My blood freezes as he takes this weirdly shaped mask and puts it over my nose, preventing me from breathing out of either airway.

Volkov inspects my wound.

"It's healing nicely. Whoever helped you did an excellent job."

He chuckles and shakes his head. "Let's change that."

The sweat instantly starts to pour from my skin as the guard places the cold pliers against my leg. I'm holding my breath, but my lungs begin to burn. "Unless...you want to tell me where your fleet is, who helped you, and how you knew about this base."

I swallow hard, and for a nanosecond, I think about telling him where the fleet is. I don't know the answer, but I can make something up, right? Lie? I'm sure I can come up with something. I can give him some random spot in the ocean. No. I cannot give this guy the satisfaction. If Matrix were here, he'd never break. He'd never tell him. I already let him down twice. I'm not letting him down a third time. My face hardens as I glare at Volkov. I stare at him as if I'm not afraid at all. He smiles that cold, cruel, sadistic smile and nods at the guard. Pain explodes from my leg as he shoves the pliers into my wound. I bite down on my tongue, forcing myself not to scream. The pliers clamp around my stitches, and the guard slowly pulls. I squeeze my eyes shut, wanting to scream so bad. It feels as if he's ripping the very flesh from my body. With my eyes closed, I try to think about something, anything else, to avoid the pain. I think of Hurricane and her coffee-hating self. How can anyone hate coffee? She does. I think of Ghost and his anxiety. I think of Matrix. I think of his family. I think about how his family will probably never know what happened to him.

The guard tugs, pulling the stitch out. I open my mouth to scream but quickly stop myself. The only noise I make is a mangled groan. I squeeze my fists. I can feel my nails digging into my palms. I try to take in deep breaths, unable to breathe at all. Heat flares up my leg, pulsing in sickening throbs. At the same time, my lungs are burning, screaming for air as I slowly suffocate. I slump down in my chair, feeling my eyes roll into the back of my head as the last bit of air leaves my lungs. At the last second, Volkov yanks the mask off my nose. I breathe in hard. The air feels freezing as it races into my nostrils. Before I can get another real breath in, he puts the mask back on. I wheeze, starting to suffocate again.

"Why are you choking? Just breathe!" Volkov teases. He and the guard laugh in my face. Volkov takes the mask off again. I breathe, but my nose is stuffed because of the lack of oxygen. My nose feels like it's slammed shut. I can't get a single breath in.

"Where's your fleet? Who helped you? How did you know about this base?"

Even if I wanted to answer, my mouth is freaking duct-taped shut. I do nothing but wheeze, trying to bring any ounce of air I can into my lungs. The guard grabs another stitch and tugs. I can't help it this time. I scream. Volkov and the guard laugh in response. I was freezing moments ago, but now the pain makes my body burn. My skin is hot and swollen around the metal jaws of the pliers. I take in a deep breath, only to get nothing in. Black spots blossom in my vision. My eyes roll into the back of my head again, but before the sweet relief of unconsciousness can take me, Volkov rips the mask and duct tape off. I gasp, breathing in a lungful of air, coughing and choking as my throat burns. I lean over, my entire body heaving as I finally breathe. Volkov pats my back.

"Deep breaths. Deep breaths. In through your nose. Out through your mouth."

I want to break his nose. I winced as the guard grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls my head back. Volkov stares at me and smiles. "Where is your fleet? Who helped you? How did you know about this base?"

I clench my jaw, stare into his eyes...and say nothing.