Captive

An unyielding light forced my tired eyes open. Was that the sun? Squinting, I pulled my face off the concrete floor where I must have been sleeping all night. I tried to look around me but my muscles were too sore and I couldn’t move my leg.

Alarmed by the numbness in my leg, I tried sitting up but realized that I couldn’t move my left arm either. Oh, I was sandwiched between Crosby’s body and a wall, well, two walls, technically. That explained why I was feeling hot too. I guess we both needed some warmth at night. I don’t recall falling asleep next to him though.

I shook Crosby who woke up with a start. The once navy blue bandage on his stomach was a dark shade of red, but it was dry. We both looked around the cell at the same time, maybe to see if something has changed since last night. Other than a brighter confinement, nothing has changed. We were still imprisoned.

“Let me check your wound.”

Without a word, Crosby sat against the wall, allowing me to inspect my handy work. He was no longer bleeding but he definitely needed antibiotics and a few stitches.
I could feel him watching me closely as I examined the rest of his body, now that we had the luxury of light.

He had a cut on his thigh, but much smaller than his abdomen one. Some minor cuts were scattered around his torso and neck, and one that may require a couple of stitches on his eyebrow. Despite being muddy and bloody, Sidney Crosby was undeniably handsome up close.

“I’m very thirsty,” he said with a hoarse voice, interrupting my thoughts.
I sighed uneasily. So was I. And it’s only going to get hotter as the day went on. But he bled quite a bit from what I could see on his discarded shirt. He needed medical attention and water, desperately.
“Try not to talk too much, it will make it worse,” I suggested.
“Like this fucking situation could get any worse,” he said angrily. I didn’t have the energy to argue or even answer but apparently, he did, despite the shape he was in.
I ignored him and rested against the wall with my eyes shut. There was no use in freaking out. Help would come eventually. I should have some faith. I should remain calm. That’s what Josh would do.
“Who’s Josh?” Crosby asked.
I must have spoken out loud. “None of your damn business,” I answered with my eyes still shut.
We both perked our heads up as we heard a noise outside. It sounded like the clanking of metal chains. I wasn’t sure if I felt relieved or terrified. Maybe it was a mix of both. Relief that we won’t die from dehydration, and terror because I had no idea about the ugly way we will.

Before we could move, the door opened and my heart almost stopped in my chest. Two tall bearded men dressed in black from head to toe came in. We remained quiet out of fear of course. Or that’s what I thought until Crosby decided to stand up and speak, thinking that he was back home and had the right to complain.

“Who are you? What do you want from me?”

Our visitors had hard looks on their faces and were clearly unfazed by Crosby’s questions. I could recognize military men from a simple glance. These two surely were. I stood and pinched Crosby discretely to shut him up as I remained quiet myself, following protocol, waiting the enemy out.

They approached us and as if on cue, we both moved back awkwardly towards the wall, seeing that they were armed. They didn’t pull their guns out though. Instead, and as our backs reached the wall, they brought thick pieces of fabric close and blindfolded us without so much as a fight on our part.

“The man is hurt. He will be of no use to you if he dies,” I tried with the most confident yet good-mannered tone I could muster. “We both need water,” I added quietly.

Nothing. No response.

“I know you’re following orders. But tell your superior what I just said, please,” I pleaded. Crosby remained quiet, now that two armed men were breathing down his neck.
“And what would that be, redhead?” came the deep voice of a man. I couldn’t see him, but I assumed he’s just entered the cell. His tone held some sort of authority.
“This man is hurt and needs immediate medical attention or else he will not make it,” I said, my voice betraying me this time. I was no heroine. I was terrified to my bones.
“Check him,” the boss commanded in English, an oddly flawless English.
I heard Crosby struggle and groan. I could only assume he didn’t like these men touching him.

“She’s not lying,” a man said.

Crosby groaned again, but this time he did not remain quiet.

“Get your hands off me. Do you have any idea who I am?”

I huffed, as if his hockey heroics are going to help him out of this situation.
“We have every idea who you are, rest assured, Mr. Crosby,” the boss said very calmly.
As a first impression, the boss man had a very calm demeanor. It could only mean one of two things. He’s either a psychopath or, hopefully, a reasonable man. He also knew who Sidney Crosby was. Maybe Crosby was their target all along. But if he wanted him dead, he would have killed him by now.

It appeared we had a bargaining chip.

“What do you want from me?” Crosby stubbornly asked.
“All in good times,” the boss man simply answered. “Get Logan in here immediately,” he ordered as I heard the sound of handcuffs being tightened.

They must have handcuffed Crosby, but not me. Of course, I’m a helpless woman. But it was not the time to dwell on it and go all-feministic on the enemy. Though I wanted to kick his ass. I sure can kick his ass, but it wasn’t wise to show my strengths to my enemies. It was more dangerous than showing your weaknesses. Those were Josh’s wise words, not mine.
“To save your time, I’m just a nurse. And I don’t have any useful military intel, if that’s what you’re hoping for,” I spoke.

“No”, the boss man answered, much to my disappointment. “Your doctors were all killed. You’re the best nurse they have. The prettiest woman in Baghdad too, if I say so myself,” he added and my heart sank. The last person you would want to hear say you’re pretty is your enemy.

He also said that all our doctors were dead. Who else died? My silent tears spilled and stained the dark mesh over my eyes. All this for Sidney fucking Crosby! Instead of focusing all my hate on the real enemy, I resentfully thought that I should have let him die last night. But as fast as this thought came, I dismissed it. This wasn’t who I am. It was certainly not Crosby’s fault either.

God, I wasn’t thinking clearly. I was dehydrated, tired, and scared. Crosby was the only person I had, and I was the only one he had.

Whoever that Logan person was, he arrived as the boss man greeted him. Logan sounded British as he was talking to himself while examining Crosby, recounting his injuries, and the supplies he will need. He sounded like a doctor, a good one. What was he doing with a group of English-speaking terrorists? Perhaps he was a terrorist too, or maybe a poor captive like us.

The room got quiet; the only sound I could register was that of scissors cutting gauze, a sound I knew by heart. Crosby groaned quietly every now and then. Doctor Logan must have used Lidocaine to do the stitches, otherwise, the strong athlete would have been screaming right about now.

“I’m sure this isn’t your first time getting stitches,” Logan commented. “I’m a huge fan of yours, by the way”, he added.

Was Doctor Logan fangirling, seriously?

“Shut up and work, Logan,” came the sound of one of the men who seemed to be supervising us closely.

So, Logan may not be one of them. He may be a captive too, likely from the British Air Forces. They kidnap famous athletes and medical staff. They had a type. How interesting.

“I’m all done. Now, you may want to avoid bending down or carrying heavy weights until the wound heals,” Logan spoke and Crosby huffed. It wasn’t like Crosby was hitting the Arabian Desert’s gym that afternoon.

“I applied topical antibiotics but will give you a shot as well to prevent infections. You will need six more doses,” Logan said and despite his kind manners, he did not earn a thank you from his hockey hero.

Then I felt someone near me. Something touched my lips and I bolted away.

“It’s just water Miss...Shaw?” Logan said. He must have read my nametag. I exhaled a quiet sorry, regretting it as soon as it left my mouth. I shouldn’t be the one apologizing here.
Logan made sure we both drank enough, before coming back to me.

“Miss Shaw, I will examine you now and clean up your wounds, okay? I’m sorry they will handcuff you,” he said apologetically. True to his words, my arms were brought behind my back and handcuffed, bringing back memories of military school. Except then, handcuffs were part of drills and happy memories.

I wasn’t badly injured. My shoulder was a bit tender and I had some small cuts here and there, nothing serious it seemed, until he touched my cheek, near my right ear. Will I end up with an ugly scar on my face? I almost chuckled; this should be the least of my worries. As if reading my mind, Logan said that it was a scab, not a cut. It may leave a small mark nonetheless.

“Thank you,” I whispered. Logan was under clear orders to tend to us, but even if he wasn’t, I was sure he would have done it all the same. It was our sacred oath as medical professionals.

I heard Crosby scoff and grumble under his breath. Though I couldn’t see him, I could feel his rage. I imagined if they made the mistake of unleashing him, he might kill everyone in this room. Rehydrated Crosby seemed more threatening than scared, unwisely threatening though.

Once Logan finished, a man unfolded our blindfolds. The other man that initially came with him was still there. No sign of Logan or the boss. They did not want us to see the boss. He must be someone of high importance in this group.

I looked at Crosby, his face was clean and white again. His dress pants were cut at the thigh where a small bandage was placed. His stomach was wrapped all around with another bandage.

I glanced at my barely-there, sleeveless uniform. I must have looked ridiculous, like a zombie on Halloween.
“Stand up.”

We were still handcuffed but I managed to push myself off the wall. Crosby, on the other hand, had a major mid- section injury and another one on his thigh. He tried but couldn’t stand up with his hands tied. One of the men held him by the elbow and brought him to his feet unceremoniously.

Instead of folding our eyes this time, they had two black bags waiting for us. Crosby mentioned them last night. We must be going on a trip.

Notes

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