Redemption Shadow: Shadowhawk, #1

By Dominic L Cameron

It was supposed to be a simple errand. On a food run into Jalalabad, Captain Liam Daniels, a specialist marksman, ends up captured by a madman. Methodically tortured for three months, Liam loses himself when his SERE training fails him, becoming a dead man walking.

In one last attempt to save his soul, he escapes, but instead of the homecoming he envisioned, he faces charges as a deserter, the result of the machinations of a rogue CIA agent. Evidence of his innocence surfaces, but Liam fears the deadly creature within him. The fear of this creature he had become drives him to beg for isolation from the world, but a secret government organization had different plans.

Tasked with creating the most efficient rescue unit known to man, Liam develops tactics no conventional unit would consider and Shadowhawk is born. The fearsome unit quickly becomes a beacon of hope for captives hidden everywhere.
With dogged determination and the support of his handler, Nora Smith, Liam finds purpose in his new role. As the legend of Shadowhawk grows, Liam makes his way through the aftereffects of hell, finding love and hope.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Daniel Compaan
• Release date: Oct 28, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223996460

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Present Day

SEAL Team Delta members watched from the grandstand, their attention divided between the upcoming demonstration and the CIA agent, Nora Smith, who stood off to the left. The atmosphere was one of quiet camaraderie, with soldiers exchanging low-voiced jokes and observations.

Charlie team was noticeably absent from the grandstand, as they were preparing to participate in the demonstration. The memory of their last operation with Nora Smith, which had resulted in the loss of two men, still lingered in the minds of SEAL Team Delta. However, they held no blame against her, recognizing her unwavering determination to uncover the reasons behind the operation's failure.

A diverse representation of other Special Operations units, including MARSOC, the Rangers, Force Recon, and Delta Force was present. It was clear that this event had drawn the elite of the Special Operations community. There were also individuals from various clandestine agencies, adding an air of secrecy and intrigue to the occasion.

In addition to the military and intelligence personnel, a significant presence of politicians and high-ranking officials was evident. However, these dignitaries held the real decision-making power, making their presence all the more significant and potentially consequential for the exercise about to unfold.

As Delta team members scanned the area of operation, softly discussing potential scenarios for the exercise. While the CIA agent, Nora Smith, captured their attention with her striking appearance, their primary focus was on the imminent spectacle.

Above them, the distant whine of a C17 cargo plane was audible, though it remained far too high to violate the strict no-fly regulations enforced over the clandestine training grounds in Virginia. The plane was likely cruising at an altitude exceeding 30,000 feet.

Their attention shifted back to Charlie Team, which was displayed in classic breach formation, their sniper hidden skillfully in an overwatch position. The formation was flawless, leaving no openings for potential threats. Charlie Team boasted the highest success rate within the SEAL community which meant that their inclusion in the exercise signaled that the proof of concept being demonstrated was meant to be nothing short of impressive.

The spectators took in the setup of the training exercise. It simulated an urban area, constructed from shipping containers, represented a typical small town. They observed the six sentries positioned strategically throughout the area, with massive outdoor video screens displaying the views from seven different cameras inside the structure. One of the rooms contained two hostages, while the others held combatants, totaling eight hostiles inside and six outside. The combatants were probably CIA special operatives or perhaps DEVGRU

Delta team discussed their breach preferences, as they knew this training ground intimately. They knew every nook and cranny of the setup, and their training had prepared them for various contingencies. The dense perimeter established for this exercise was nearly impenetrable, providing clear sightlines to all potential access routes. It would be virtually impossible for anyone to approach without being spotted, resulting in the execution of the hostages.

They listened for any signs of a possible insertion chopper, but there was none. It was evident that the exercise organizers had accounted for every standard insertion method, making this scenario all the more intriguing and challenging. The anticipation continued to mount as they awaited the commencement of the exercise, eager to see how the situation would unfold and what surprises might be in store.

The tension in the air was palpable as Nora Smith finally addressed the gathered audience, her quivering voice carrying over the PA system. Her clenched fists betrayed her nervousness as she spoke.

In this scenario, standard insertion protocols can not breach the perimeter within an acceptable time frame to ensure the survival of the hostages, she explained. The crowd remained silent, fully aware of the gravity of the situation.

She instructed everyone not to move from their seats until they received the all-clear signal. Her gaze swept over the grandstand one last time, ensuring that everyone was prepared.

She put on a headset and turned away from the spectators, her free fist clenched still. The tension spiked. Then, her voice came through the PA system once more.

Shadowhawk, you are clear.

The crowd watched in anticipation as Smith scanned them one last time, her breathing patterns subtly shifting. The operators and decision-makers understood the significance of these subtle cues, knowing that something significant was about to unfold.

Finally, a male voice came through the PA system, simply saying, Alpha.

The spec ops personnel recognized this as a checkpoint call, a signal that the exercise was advancing to a critical phase. The sixty seconds of silence that followed seemed eternal, and every eye remained fixed on the area of operation. Charlie team were on high alert, scanning the surroundings for any signs of movement or activity. Delta Team leader found himself not breathing as he waited.

Then, the radio crackled to life, breaking the silence.

Bravo, it announced. The audience waited for the next call. Charlie, came the response, ten seconds later.

In a matter of seconds, it all unfolded. The six sentries were suddenly struck, their heads marked with the telltale splotches of simunition ammunition. The source of the shots remained undetected.

Delta Team leader noticed Smith glance upward. He followed her line of sight just in time to witness a figure hurtling towards the ground. It was far too close to the ground for a parachute to open, and then, in a heart-pounding moment, the chute opened with a loud crack. One hundred feet above the ground, the parachute fully deployed, violently shaking the descending figure. He reached the ground, swinging back from the initial descent, and landed hard before rolling.

The grandstand erupted with gasps and murmurs at the unexpected aerial insertion. The display of skill and daring left the audience on the edge of their seats, captivated by unexpected and non-standard insertion.

Delta. The voice sounded a little shaken.

The audience watched in anticipation as the operator swiftly cut loose from his parachute, his movements fluid and precise. There was still a lot of hostiles in play. In a matter of moments, he had his weapon, a suppressed SCAR H, at the ready. The transition from chute deployment to combat-ready stance took less than five seconds.

Out of nowhere, three well-hidden green team members appeared about sixty meters away, attempting to engage the operator. However, they were no match for his incredible speed and accuracy. He dispatched all three in a matter of seconds.

With the immediate threats eliminated, the operator wasted no time and began sprinting toward the main structure that housed the hostages. He moved with a purpose, dispatching another target in the doorway with precision. Charlie team was in motion as well, realizing they were out of position and needed to catch up.

As the operative approached the door of the main building, the spectators couldn't help but notice the distinctive mask he wore, which had a skull as its face. It added an eerie and enigmatic element to the unfolding scenario, further intensifying the atmosphere of the exercise. Everyone watched with eager excitement to see how this high-stakes situation would play out.

Echo.

Shadowhawk continued to move with unparalleled precision and speed as he seamlessly switched to a sidearm. Inside the structure, he cleared each room with single headshots, his firing almost instinctive. The cameras captured every moment, showcasing his extraordinary skill and expertise.

When he entered the room containing the hostages, he faced a dire situation. The hostiles were using the hostages as shields, making it a high-risk operation. However, in less than two seconds, Shadowhawk neutralized the threats with headshots, ensuring the safety of the hostages and impressing the onlookers with his swift and decisive actions.

Then, over the radio, the call Foxtrot came through, and the agent known as Smith responded, Shadowhawk, this is Nightingale. Charlie is now hostile.

In response, Shadowhawk's replied, Fucksakes, you will pay.

The unexpected turn of events added a new level of anticipation, and the spectators were left wondering how this situation would resolve, with all teams now in hostile roles.

Charlie team advanced from two sides, effectively covering the main building. However, the exercise had now turned into a cat-and-mouse game. Shadowhawk, despite his extraordinary skills, couldn't get a clear shot at any of the remaining members of Charlie Team. It was apparent that Charlie Team had managed to stay one step ahead of him, making the situation increasingly challenging.

On the screens, the spectators watched as Shadowhawk glanced directly into a camera inside the building, then cursed in frustration. It was a clever move, demonstrating the cat-and-mouse nature of the engagement. The tension was momentarily broken when he aimed his SCAR out of a window and fired. An operative in the grandstand yelled in pain, a paint splotch marking the spot between his eyes, a radio in his one hand. Laughter erupted from the CIA agent and the rest of the spectators, a momentary release of tension as they realized the level of complexity and cunning involved in the exercise. It was clear that everything had been rigged against the masked operator.

One spy down, they heard Shadowhawk say over the radio, followed by a chuckle.

Shadowhawk soon got the upper hand against Charlie Team, simply because he was near clairvoyant in anticipating their moves. It was clear that he was either tactically superior, or he knew SEAL tactics very well.

With the remaining members of Charlie Team eliminated, Shadowhawk's attention turned to the overwatch position, where only the sniper remained. This particular sniper was a formidable adversary, positioned about three hundred meters away.

During his freefall descent, Shadowhawk had managed to spot the sniper's general location, giving him a valuable advantage. As he exited the building, he quickly scanned around the corner, only to jerk back as a training round buzzed dangerously close to him.

‘Yep, the sniper had not moved,’ Shadow thought to himself.

Charlie Team's sniper had a legendary reputation with an excellent combat record, but rumors suggested that there was an even more exceptional sniper at Jalalabad, surpassing anything they had ever witnessed.

The high-stakes standoff between Shadowhawk and the legendary sniper added a thrilling dimension to the exercise. The spectators watched with bated breath, fully aware that this final showdown would be a test of skill, cunning, and nerves, as the masked operator faced off against one of the best marksmen in the field.

Shadowhawk entered the building and emerged with a large duffel bag. He hurled the bag across the gap between the buildings, drawing the sniper's attention toward the unexpected object. Without wasting a moment, Shadowhawk sprinted for the opposite corner of the main building, putting as much distance as possible between himself and the duffel bag, which was now the focal point of the sniper's attention. As expected a training round hit the bag moments after it landed.

As Shadowhawk leaned out from behind the corner, he fired almost immediately. A yelp echoed from the hill behind the building, indicating that the sniper had been hit. In an indignant manner, the sniper abandoned his position and made his way down to the staging area. It was clear that Shadowhawk's clever diversion had succeeded in fooling the formidable adversary.

With the sniper out of the picture, Shadowhawk re-entered the main building and emerged with the hostages, successfully completing the mission. The exercise concluded, and everyone seemed impressed by the strategic brilliance and exceptional skills displayed by the masked operator. It had been a thrilling and unforgettable demonstration of tactical prowess and ingenuity.

What the fuck did we just see? Delta One whispered to his team.

It was clear to them that what they had witnessed was beyond human capability, even for elite operators like themselves. The level of skill and precision displayed by Shadowhawk was nothing short of extraordinary.

Delta Two and the rest of the team shared in their leader's astonishment. They couldn't help but acknowledge that the masked operator, Shadowhawk, was in a league of his own, and his abilities defied conventional understanding.

Delta One, driven by his curiosity and desire to get closer to this operator, got up and made his way toward Shadowhawk. He knew that the stories he had heard about the man in the mask from Bravo Team were legendary, and now he had witnessed the truth of those tales firsthand.

On the other hand, the CIA operatives and Charlie team appeared rather unimpressed by their loss to a masked operator. Speculation began to circulate that Shadowhawk might be from Development Group, or DEVGRU, a possibility that added an air of mystery to his identity.

Then, two shots rang out, and Smith, shrieked in surprise and pain. She swung to glare at Shadowhawk, two neat paint splotches on her right butt cheek. Shadowhawk, with a chuckle, made it clear that he hadn't forgotten the fact that she had turned Charlie Team against him and had just exacted a bit of payback. The spectators laughed, the tension broken.

As Shadowhawk walked away, making his weapons safe, he left an indelible impression on everyone present. His enigmatic persona and unmatched skills had made a lasting mark.

CHAPTER 2

Eighteen Months Earlier

Captain Liam Daniels sat behind his desk in the supply store at Jalalabad Airforce Base. He was working on a supply drop for one of the FOBs, or Forward Operating Bases. It was a routine drop consisting of food, ammunition, and mail.

The supply drop would also serve as an insertion for an operation with SEAL Team Delta. A local Afghan leader was becoming a security problem in the region, and he needed to be captured as he threatened the fragile truce among the locals. It was conveniently on the way to the FOB, so they would deploy into the area of operations on their return from the supply drop. Liam wondered about the nagging feeling in the back of his mind regarding the supply drops to this specific base and had requested paperwork from past drops. For a moment, his thoughts flashed back to his family.

He had left home as soon as he graduated, and in their eyes, he was useless and good for nothing. At the time, he was headed to a dark place in his life, having been arrested for being a passenger in a stolen car.

He missed his baby sister, Emily, immensely, even though in the last two years before he left, she turned cold toward him. She was his best friend, and even now, after she had stolen all the affection of his parents, Liam still missed her. She was six years younger than him and would be turning twenty today.

Liam cursed himself as he realized he would need to go for a run to rid himself of the effect of the memory. And yet, the memory had a sweetness to it, as it caressed his psyche. He heard the sound of her voice and knew he would willingly allow the memory to return. He started to entertain the idea of reaching out to her again, as he knew he needed some form of family. He had his uncle and aunt and the whole extended family, but none of them were Grub, his baby sister.

He forced himself to focus on the task at hand. Normally a convoy would do the drop, but the helicopter was needed this time. Liam's biggest issue was calculating the weights of the supplies so that the pilot could make recommendations that would eventually determine the gear selection for the SEALs.

He also had to determine which long gun he would take, deciding that the McMillan Tac-338 would suffice because of its weight. The operation was still five days away, so there was no real sense of urgency. He would finalize the supply list the next day, as the SEALs' gear took priority.

Mail for the troops would be the most important. He loved watching the soldiers grab their parcels and letters. The base commander normally had his hands full keeping his soldiers focused on the perimeter, yet nobody ever got written up during the delivery time. Troops ran up and down with parcels for those in the guard towers. Liam often organized something from stores for those who received nothing, so they would not feel left out.

Noisy laughter from outside the office disturbed Liam’s thoughts. A quick look at the clock told him it was almost the end of the shift for the supply team. He presumed that it was Davis and Gomez, both Lieutenants, goofing around on their way out of the supply room.

Hey, Captain, It was Davis at his door. The colonel asked us to run one of his special errands after our shift.

Davis was a lanky blonde with a wide smile and a quick laugh. Davis made quotation marks around the word ‘special’. It was fairly normal for them to go out into the surrounding area for local cuisine. The region was quiet, as long as you informed your commander. Liam also knew that soon the specific vendor they were going to support would have a license to start trading on the base.

Wait for me, Liam replied. He needed to let the colonel know he was joining the two rowdy lieutenants.

He closed all the windows on his computer and shut it down, then walked to the colonel’s office. Colonel Kramer was a portly man and seemed completely out of place amongst all the well-trained soldiers on the base. His physique disqualified him from anything requiring more than the average amount of exertion, but he kept the supply store in very good order. The region never lacked anything, as he had a unique ability to predict upcoming supply needs. This made him indispensable, so he was allowed some leeway when it was time for physicals.

Liam knocked on the doorjamb. Permission to join Davis and Gomez on the supply run, sir. The colonel looked up, his eyes just clearing the rim of his reading glasses.

Any particular reason?

I suspect that they are going to procure some falafel balls for you, and I wanted to go to the tobacco shop across the street. Captain Cross just had a baby boy, so I wanted to get him a box of cigars. He is quite homesick right now.

Very well, just watch your back. Scuttlebutt is a bit ominous.

Liam smiled at the colloquial term for the grapevine. Scuttlebutt, or the grapevine, has been invaluable at times and often saved lives in the past.

I will make sure of it, sir. See you in about forty-five minutes. Their destination was very close to the base.

He walked out of the office into the cooler Afghan fall. The afternoon air temperature was almost at the point where a second layer of clothing could be considered necessary. Liam decided that he might need to add a blanket to his bed that evening as the night air cools down. He located the two rowdy lieutenants, already waiting at a car that had been purchased from a local for one hundred dollars. Right now, Davis was banging on something under the hood and shouting, Try it now.

The car exploded into life with a large puff of smoke coming from the exhaust. Nothing seemed to work properly on it except the engine, which was capricious at best. That was all they needed in any case. It could be guessed that the car was light green at some stage. Gomez scratched the gears as they pulled out.

They drove through the base, meandering past the different offices that ensured the war machine ran as a slick catastrophe. None bore any distinction apart from numbers mounted above doors which which personnel were now pouring. Most had just been relieved by the night-shift. Liam noticed most carrying travel mugs with some or another brew in them. He knew it would be palatable at best, as very few actually bought decent brew. Most of them threw the green monstrosity a look of disapproval as it passed them.

The only divergence from the homogeneity was the secure area where the SEALs and other special forces were housed. It was also where the TOC, or Tactical Operations Center, was located.

Liam would be going to a preliminary briefing at the TOC in the next week in preparation for the mission. Heavily armed soldiers guarded the entrance, their vigilant observation of any movement seemingly pugnacious. A couple of fifty-caliber machine guns flanked the gate, their barrels following the car out of habit. The green menace received due diligence, with some objectionable commentary shared between the soldiers. The Supply deathtrap was well known and had the colonel standing in the Base Command offices on more than one occasion, explaining why his men needed alternate transport. The Supply unit could not get an extra vehicle for their personal use, though an extra Humvee had been requested almost monthly. The crate on wheels was invaluable when emergency supplies needed to be dropped urgently.

Servicemen were walking back to their barracks; it could easily have been Times Square after 5 PM, with office workers heading home or to the subway, chatting and joking. Life on the base was very normal, but everyone carried an air of attentiveness about them.

As they passed through the main gate, the guards also shouted orders for food to be brought back, mostly more of the same falafels they were already going to buy. The lieutenants were furiously remembering the orders, knowing they could charge ten dollars extra per order.

The car bounced and vaulted around on the short trip, barely ten miles away. There was almost no suspension left, evidenced by the ominous knocking sound emanating from under the car when a particularly deep pothole was encountered, but these boys lived dangerously, so a deathtrap on wheels was commonplace. The lieutenants were discussing the new nurses, often asking Liam for his opinion. Liam liked to tease, so they were often indignant at his answers. He told them that the red-headed nurse with the Texan accent was engaged as he saw the ring. Their despair made him smile, as he had made it all up. She was particularly attractive, which explained their distress. He would rectify it as soon as he had gotten enough fun from his jest.

Liam was looking out the window as he heedlessly engaged his companions, his eyes scanning the buildings they passed. Forward progress to the restaurant was slow, as the city center was emptying with laden trucks and cars, and Gomez was cursing in three languages. The traffic would consist of vendors from various markets scattered around the city, returning home after the day’s trading. It required fortitude to drive in this city, and the cacophony of horns and braying mules filled the biting atmosphere. The area was still hot during the day, but in the late afternoon, it could feel a little snappy. Liam studied the various buildings; some were stores, some were houses, but most served dual purposes as businesses and residences.

It smelled rank, with the stench of animal and human waste mixed with the smoke of wood fires and poorly maintained vehicles, disgorging smoke. Their green monster held its own, creating a smoke cloud that an Abrams Tank using countermeasures would be envious of. This was Afghanistan as Liam knew it. Parts of him felt as if there wasn’t a war as he watched humanity move around the vehicle.

They were glared at, and some showed their fists at them, but Liam knew why. Politics affected these people, and it did not favor their well-being. A foreigner was almost always hated.

They turned into the street where Kalim’s restaurant was, and the remnant odors of the nearby market hung stubbornly in the air. Liam smelled the fried foods that were served during the day, as well as rotting fish entrails and some other rotting and decomposing dead flesh. They were accustomed to it, and it rarely affected Kalim’s trade. His mom-and-pop restaurant was roughly one hundred meters from the open market, identified by the widening of the road into an open plain. Right in the middle was a water point.

Liam watched as donkey carts filled with plastic water containers moved into the city after getting filled at the fountain in the middle of the plain. His heart broke as he saw small children wrestling heavy wheelbarrows with three or four containers, each weighing twenty kilograms. Liam wished it would end, that they would put a stop to the bellicose actions, for the sake of these people. The brakes squealed on the green monster, and they slowed.

Some buildings were brandishing bullet holes from previous conflicts. Mostly black laundry hung everywhere on rooftops. He scanned the area as they slowed and made a U-turn. Davis hollered at a driver, who bellowed back at him. The shouting match escalated and then died down just as suddenly. Liam smiled, that was the way here. Fiery tempers followed by amicability. He knew if Davis and the driver were to get out they would end up joking and laughing within minutes, sharing a cigarette as they bemoaned the weather or politics.

The intrepid explorers reached the restaurant, for lack of a better description. Kalim’s made the best falafel balls, and most of his other food was top-notch. He was very popular with the base personnel, and Liam had received a request for him to become a food vendor on base, which he approved. Liam had chosen to never venture into the kitchen of the restaurant though, fearing it might cost him his appetite.

They walked into the restaurant and were greeted by an Afghan male matching Colonel Kemper’s physique. It was conclusive that he partook of all the offerings inside.

Hi, Kalim, Liam greeted. We will be looking at your final paperwork to become an on-base vendor, but it looks very promising, Liam continued, knowing the question would be asked by Kalim.

Kalim’s face beamed, but Liam suddenly felt a disquiet enter his consciousness as Kalim’s gaze wavered to fear, or maybe enmity. Liam banished the thought, attributing it to pre-mission tenseness.

Shukran, sir Daniels, Kalim shook his hand, and Liam again got the feeling of uneasiness.

Hey guys, make it snappy. I want to get going when I get back from the tobacco shop, he addressed the two lieutenants, and they sensed his unease by his succinct order. And get me some Aush. Aush is a thick noodle soup with chakka, a strained yogurt.

Yes, Captain, they replied in agreement.

Liam left the restaurant and crossed the road. The tobacco shop was at the edge of the plain, diagonally across from Kalim’s. Liam made sure to check for traffic, Afghans have absolutely no sense of road etiquette, and both sides of the road are in play in all directions. It was quiet except for a van slowly driving out of the plain. In the tobacco shop, Liam quickly picked a box of twenty cigars and paid. These were not Cuban, but they were symbolic. Smoking them would be similar to breathing in paint stripper. As he was putting his change away, he felt a distinct edginess. He ran the last few minutes through his mind, trying to find the anomaly. He remembered Kalim’s expression and also recalled seeing Kalim reaching into his pocket and pulling his phone out as Liam turned to leave. None of these actions warranted this feeling of unease.

All at once, the realization hit him. There were four men in the van, with their faces covered. Liam turned quickly and started to run out of the store, straight into two men with AK47s. One tried to hit him with the butt of his rifle but Liam ducked and planted a straight right into his solar plexus. Liam kicked out at the second man, hitting his kneecap. The man screamed in pain.

Liam looked up to see his escape route to where Davis and Gomez were. They were walking out of the door looking for him, then seeing the commotion. Gomez jumped into the car and got it started. Davis started to run as Liam started his escape, which was the last thing he saw before his head exploded in pain as the rifle butt hit him, and he blacked out.

CHAPTER 3

Liam struggled to open his swollen eyes as he slowly regained consciousness. He felt the weight of his hands which were tied, unable to move. The stench of the room was overpowering, with the odor of feces dominating. He lay on a cold mud floor, completely naked, and the pain coursing through his body was almost unbearable. He felt that some of his teeth were missing, and the cracked ribs added to his torment.

He whispered softly to himself, This is not something to do on a holiday.

His realization that they had captured him fueled his determination to escape. His captors had used metal cuffs, so Liam would need something to pick the locks. Liam tried to test his bonds, but his swollen eyes made it nearly impossible to make out any detail. He heard voices approaching and the door to what he had figured was a goat pen opened slightly, allowing a sliver of light to filter in, revealing two men. One of them appeared to be limping.

Liam thought, 'Good,' as he recalled the man he had kicked in the knee earlier. But any hope of retribution was short-lived as one of the men struck him with a club, landing two blows to his torso. The agony from his cracked ribs intensified, and Liam blacked out from the pain.

He came to in what he guessed was the early hours of the morning, judging by the temperature. He was still naked, and the cold was piercing. His eyes had swollen shut, making it hard to assess his surroundings, but he could feel that he was chained to a metal post with the handcuffs still in place.

In the darkness, he attempted to locate something he could use to pick the locks on the cuffs, but the absence of light thwarted his efforts. The pain, cold, and shock sent him into a state of disorientation and despair. Shivering uncontrollably, he moaned from the agony, acutely aware that his injuries were extensive. He suspected that he might have fractures to both his legs, some ribs, left clavicle, right shoulder, wrists, etc. Even if he got loose, there was no way he would be able to move at all, so fighting his way out would be near impossible. Liam started to pray. He was not averse to religion; he was just not practicing religion regularly. His pain and shock overwhelmed him, and he passed out again.

As the sun finally rose, Liam found himself in a different cell. He covered himself with a thin piece of cloth on the floor, wincing as the movement elicited fresh waves of pain. The door lock rattled as voices approached, and Liam shuffled to the back corner of his cell as best he could, given his shackled hands.

A man limped into the cell, carrying the handle of a pickaxe. Liam steeled himself for the inevitable onslaught of pain as the man swung it, striking him on the arm and causing his bone to snap with a sickening crack. Another command stopped the man from delivering further blows. There was a heated exchange, and then the man left, exasperated.

In his place, a slender, well-dressed man entered the cell.

I must apologize for Sayeed. He is very upset that you hurt his knee. The man’s English was accented, I am Doctor Al-Fahid. I will tend to your wounds.

Liam felt the man gently touching him, feeling for injuries.

Can you tell me where it hurts? His voice was calm.

Liam groaned through the agony, Everywhere, his voice barely a whisper.

The doctor, with a calm demeanor, promised to send water and clothing after Liam had washed.

Thank you, Liam replied.

He knew he was a wasted shell, that he had to try to regain strength if he had any chance of escape. Another man entered the cell carrying a plastic bucket, a washcloth, and some folded clothing.

He left the cell, and another man arrived, bearing a plastic bucket, a washcloth, and some clothing.

Can you manage on your own? The doctor asked.

Yes, Liam knew it wasn’t true, but he needed to try to restore some control within himself. The doctor nodded and walked out.

Despite the immense pain and his broken arm, Liam cleaned himself with determination, drinking some of the wash water. He struggled to dress with his single usable arm, the exhaustion and pain weighing on him.

As the doctor reached the door, Liam asked, How long have I been here?

Dr. Al-Fahid replied with a sinister smile, Less than a year, more than a day.

Dread settled in Liam's stomach as he sensed the malevolence in the doctor's demeanor. The man's smile never reached his emotionless eyes.

Once you have washed, I will send you some food, Al-Fahid said and then left to speak with one of his men outside.

The man the doctor spoke to entered and hardhandedly flipped Liam over. He then proceeded to take the cuffs off. Liam couldn’t try anything even if he wanted to, there was just too much pain. The man straightened up, then delivered a kick into Liam’s side. Liam felt the blackness close in, but he did not pass out. By the time he could move again, the men were long gone. It took him three hours to clean himself, as his arm was useless. He first drank quite a bit of the wash water, knowing that it was dirty, then washed. Getting dressed was near impossible, even if it was just a simple garment that pulled over his head. Liam was exhausted, and the pain was never-ending, throbbing in waves. Liam thought he was starting to hallucinate, hearing the Blackhawks fly overhead, and the sound still filled him with hope. SEAL Team Delta will come for him, they are in the area. He will be rescued. Liam started giggling madly. His door lock started rattling.

Sayeed walked in with a steel pipe, but before he could raise it the doctor gave him a sharp order. He glared at Liam, then limped out. Al-Fahid came in again, carrying a plate with some bread and a plastic cup with what turned out to contain very tasty tea. Liam ate slowly whilst the doctor watched. His wrists were in serious pain and he could only use one arm, but he ate. He realized how ravenously hungry he was, but tried to keep his composure. It was all he could do to not wolf down on the food like a maniac. Liam expected he would pay the price for it later if he did not eat slowly. The doctor watched his every move, no, studied him.

Tell me where your next mission is? The doctor's question was unexpected.

My name is Liam John Daniels, Captain, United States Army.

Oh, Liam, the doctor simpered, You are not a prisoner of war. You are an enemy combatant, a terrorist. I am not a soldier, I am a freedom fighter, so I am not obligated to adhere to the Geneva convention. I submit only to Sharia.

The doctor got up and said something to Sayeed, before walking away. The man limped back in and delivered two blows with the pipe to Liam’s body and the broken arm, and Liam passed out. When he woke up, he was back in the goat pen, naked and cold. They kept him in the pen for two days, drinking the rotten standing water from the trough. Sayeed finally came back again, except his limp was better. Liam approximated that it had been two weeks since they kidnapped him. Sayeed was less indignant, settling for slapping and punching Liam in the face. Sayeed dragged him out into the daylight and Liam could see his surroundings. In the distance, he saw a Blackhawk dipping down, and a C17 labored into the air just beyond it. ‘Jalalabad,’ Liam realized. He was less than ten miles from safety. ‘Surely, they would find him here.’

Sayeed dragged him from the outbuilding to the main structure. Liam gauged it to be about thirty yards. There were three cars, two clunkers, and an SUV. He realized it was a compound of sorts. There was a twenty-odd foot wall around the place, and two massive steel gates about 100 yards to the far side. Liam counted thirteen sentries in exceptionally well-placed positions. Delta will have their work cut out when they come to rescue him. Sayeed dragged Liam into the main building.

Liam studied the hallway which would be easily fortified and defended. The windows were narrow and had burglar bars. The second room held an office, probably the doctor’s, and the next room seemed to be a guard room. The next four rooms were cells, all locked. They threw Liam into the last one, the smallest. He saw six more men inside the main structure, and Liam suspected that the rest of the buildings would be housing more guards and staff. It was dark when the doctor came to him again, this time Sayeed did not break any of his bones, just punched his face.

How are you feeling, Liam? Al-Fahid kept using the same disturbingly sanguine voice.

Like I am at a Caribbean beach resort, Liam immediately rued the flippant remark, expecting pain to follow it. Sayeed moved in to deliver, but the doctor waved him off with a laugh.

Glad to see you still have your sense of humor, the doctor chuckled, Kalim did say that you made him laugh whenever he saw you.

I will be glad to show him how hilarious I can be with a Ka-Bar, Liam snarled.

Please don’t be angry with him, the doctor gave Liam a serious look, they killed his niece and two nephews in a drone strike a little more than a month ago.

Liam felt his anger, that the very thing he wants to stop had brought him here, the unnecessary deaths of innocent people. The doctor grimaced as his mind cycled to a thought.

Kalim was going to load his vending truck with explosives and blow up your airbase, but I stopped him. That would only have brought more Americans here to kill us.

Al-Fahid smiled again. He agreed to deliver an American officer to me in exchange.

Liam felt the trepidation in the pit of his stomach.

Tell me, Liam, The doctor had a cold expression as he spoke, his tone chilling, You seem like a tough guy. How much pain can the human body handle? I have always been curious.

That is when the realization hit Liam. He knew that it was going to get much worse before it finally ends. The doctor abruptly stood up, and another man entered the room with a bucket and washcloth. He also dumped a garment in the corner. Next Sayeed came in with some bread, tea, and some water. They walked out, leaving Liam alone. He washed again, this time it went