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There were about ten soldiers on rotation for our training. But this one was the worst one. He took sick pleasure in every injury we sustained and enjoyed punishing us for not hitting the target during shooting practice.
We’d been sent out on a mission once so far. It had become clear very early on that they used us to draw out the enemy and disable landmines. They might train us to become soldiers, but we all knew our main purpose was cannon fodder. Unless we had a skill they could use. Which made us all very enthusiastic in learning how to fight and shoot.
I barely smelled the gunfire and smoke in the air anymore, the crying and shouts a constant companion. At first, I didn’t know why they’d taken me. For weeks, all they would do was get me up in the morning, then walk me to their torture chamber. I’d become numb to the blood coating the floor and walls, some of it mine.
I used to beg. Now I stayed silent unless spoken to.
The two most important people in my life, my sister and Thea, were all that made me hold on to a life no longer worth living. Picturing Thea’s face had become my obsession. The only bright spot in my otherwise grueling days.
A few weeks ago, things had changed, and the beatings mostly stopped. They must have deemed me ready, because they gave me a knife and told me to stick it into my training partner. My initial hesitation to stab someone had nearly cost me my life, my training partner not having the same hang up. He’d narrowly missed my liver, but a wound in this hellhole was impossible to keep clean. I’d miraculously avoided a serious infection, and the thick scar reminded me never to hesitate again.
From that moment, I did whatever was necessary to avoid feeling the steel sliding into my body. And thanks to my talent not only for hand-to-hand combat but also for shooting guns, I was still alive.
We’d been a group of about fifty who’d arrived at the camp at the same time. Now there were only twenty of us remaining.
“You want to practice at the shooting range later?” Callum, one of the few who had survived so far, asked. We’d become friendly, but I wouldn’t call us friends. Torture, it seemed, had a way of bonding people.
I’d taken every opportunity to practice. Becoming the best might prolong my life for a little longer, even though most days I wondered why I wanted to prolong my miserable existence at all.
“Yeah, I wanted to—”
Shouts sounded, and then the camp came alive with activity. People were sprinting to the armory, shouting at each other.
“Everyone, grab your gear and guns. We’re moving out,” our trainer instructed.
None of us asked questions, doing as we were told immediately. Once we were dressed and our guns strapped on, we got into the back of a van. There was a bench on either side, the top open, the sides consisting of some hastily put together boards.
That we were allowed to carry weapons was not only a testimony to the cockiness of our captors but also their utter confidence they’d broken us.
But if I had a chance to get away, I would take it. They might have made me their soldier, but they didn’t have my loyalty. And never would.
We spent the next few hours bumping our way over unpaved roads and through thick jungle. I hadn’t seen much of Guyana since I’d been taken shortly after arriving, but the beauty of the country was undeniable. The mountains, jungle, and thriving wildlife had sold it for me when I planned my trip.
“Where do you think we’re going?” Callum asked quietly. He sat next to me, staring straight ahead.
I glanced at the guard sitting at the end of the bench, weapon loose in his hand, his attention on the vehicle behind us. “Not sure. But I’d prefer not to find out.”
Wherever we were going wouldn’t be good.
Callum grunted his assent. “True.”
We didn’t speak for the rest of the uncomfortable ride. I ran different scenarios through my head, but when they became worse and worse, I stopped. Instead, my thoughts drifted to Thea. I wondered what she was doing. If she was happy.
I knew it was wrong to be so obsessed with a married woman, but it wasn’t like I’d ever see her again. Or act on my infatuation. I’d missed my chance long ago.
We eventually stopped in front of a mountain range and got out of the van, then formed a line and climbed up a steep path. The ascent was grueling, my legs burning and my lungs struggling to keep up with my heavy panting.
After hours, we finally stopped. Everyone collapsed to the ground where they stood, taking in gulps of air.
We’d learned early on to do everything quietly. No noise meant fewer punishments. Torture was a lot less fun if the person you tortured didn’t make a sound.
We rested for a short few minutes before we had to continue. Once we made it to the top, we were told to stay low. We slid and stumbled our way down the other side until we were about halfway.
One of the soldiers lifted his hand, and we all stopped. “Take position and don’t make a sound. Keep your eyes on the road.”
We pointed our rifles to where we presumed the road was. The vegetation was thick, but patches of packed dirt were visible every now and again.
We sat quietly for a long time. My face was hot, the skin feeling tight and getting more painful the longer I stayed out in the sun. Despite being surrounded by jungle, there was enough sun peeking through the trees to burn.
