Captive in the Dark(63)

Blood. Lots of it. It mixed with the fine dust of the ground and created a mixture inside the boy’s mouth. He cried. He’d never been hit so hard. Above him the strange man was yelling again, but he didn’t understand. The words were too fast for him to piece together and even if they weren’t, he’d never heard those kinds of words before. He wanted to go home.

He closed his eyes and for a moment, he was there. He was drawn up in his mother’s arms and she was kissing his neck, making him giggle. He was her ‘Handsome Little Man’. His small legs flailed as he squealed with laughter, but his mother held him tight, she wouldn’t let him fall.

Tears burned his eyes. Everything burned.

“Sukat!” said the man. The boy knew that word, it was what the man always said when he cried or screamed. The boy forced his mouth shut, trying to breathe through his nose and swallowing all the blood that drained into the back of his throat because of it. He was no longer hungry. His belly was full of blood now.

His hunger had led to this. Every morning Narweh placed a scarce amount of unleavened bread and water on a small table in the room, eyeing the boys wickedly as he left. There were six of them in all; two English boys, one Spaniard, two Arabs, and the boy.

At first they shared it in equal measure, but as the days wore on and hunger set in, it became a battle that ended in a full belly for one or two, and a bloody nose for those that challenged.

The boy was often the victor in such battles, but on more than one occasion the collective strength of the others was used to rob him of his spoils. Such had been the case that day.

When he’d smelled the food, he hadn’t been able to help it. It had been two days since his last won meal. The water had been hot and the bread cold, but he’d savored it all too quickly.

Not enough. The plate on the table had lots of things, he thought he smelled chicken. He was still young enough that all meat was ‘chicken’ to him. He sat at the small table and picked up the meat. It burned his mouth, but he didn’t care, the tingling tickle infusing his lips, tongue and throat wasn’t enough to overpower the deliciousness of his stolen meal.

The boy hadn’t seen the blow coming. One moment his mouth was filled with delicious chicken and the next, blood and dirt. He didn’t even know what he’d been hit with. He didn’t really know why he’d deserve it, just that he wouldn’t do it again.

“Ghabi! Kéleb!”

Something hot and wet collided with the side of his face. His eyes were really on fire now.

His small hands rubbed at his eyes but it only made matters worse. He screamed, gurgling sounds bubbling out of his blood filled throat. Still, in the grips of his agony, he could taste the savory food sliding into his mouth. He swallowed. Eyes tightly shut against the burning pain of the spices he dragged the food out of his hair and across his face into his mouth. It burned twice as much as before because there were open cuts in his mouth. But he was, apparently, still too hungry to care.

Kéleb , the man continued to call him, then grabbed him by the nape and dragged him across the floor while he struggled to crawl on hands and knees.

The boy cried.

Screamed.

Begged for his mother.

She never came. He hated her.

***

The air was thick. Tangible. Filled with an all-consuming excitement for things to come. She Captive in the Dark CJ Roberts wasn’t far. His fingers curled tighter around the steering wheel of the SUV. Stroke her, or strangle her? He still didn’t know. He only knew he wanted his hands on her. He gripped the wheel tighter and pressed farther down on the gas pedal. Jair gave him a bemused look from the passenger seat. Fuck him.

“How did she get away?” Jair accused. Caleb shot him a look he hoped could murder him where he sat. Jair only smiled. “She must be good. I look forward to having a taste after Rafiq learns she’s ruined.”

Caleb said nothing, focused instead on controlling the rage running rampant through his veins. This time was critical. He still didn’t know Rafiq’s purpose in Jair and reacting would only lend credence to things that weren’t true. Caleb’s loyalties remained intact, even if his resolve had wavered for a fraction of a moment. “Touch her and I’ll cut off your hands,” he grated. Stupid. “We’re here.”

Caleb parked the SUV some distance from their intended target. The house hadn’t been difficult to spot. It was the only house with any lights on and the only one blaring music. Still, he didn’t want to risk losing the element of surprise. “Attack him where he is unprepared, appear where you are not expected.” One of the very first lessons in Sun Tzu’s, The Art of War.