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Don't Get Caught Part II
Rick could see that the bidders came from all walks of life in both western and traditional dress, and to his surprise, not all were men. While he and the other `items' had never seen a slave auction before, it became quite obvious that every one else had.
The slaves were poked, probed, and prodded. And although you could see their uneasiness, you could see that they were trying hard to comply with the general's orders. Rick, on the other hand, had no intention of showing his revulsion at being on display, and tried to remain cool. He tried to reason with himself to look upon this as an opportunity to escape, not an opportunity to remain a slave the rest of his life, as the general would have him believe.
And the general. His behavior puzzled Rick. Why give him cigarettes last night? Why the gag? Something was certainly up, and Rick hoped to be sold off so he didn't have to find out. In the meanwhile, though, he made a mental note to show the general some appreciation for the favoritism. Suddenly, his attention was brought back to his present surroundings, as the guards unchained his legs from the floor and walked him over to a family, using the chain around his neck as a collar. Rick determined that now was not a good time to show defiance, so he followed.
He was led over to a family, a man about his age and height, a woman in western clothes and two boys who looked to be about ten and maybe 6.
The guard acting as salesperson spoke to the couple, "This one would make an excellent nanny. He's educated, we think he even speaks some Arabic."
The man looked dubious, "Why is he gagged?" The man grabbed Rick's balls and gave a hard squeeze. Instead of jumping back, as was his impulse, he moved closer until the man could feel the prisoner's breath on his face. The man, surprised, pulled back, "What is this one, gay or something?" Secretly, the man hoped the slave was gay, and Rick knew it.
The guard smiled "He's not gay, just cocky. Testing you already. He's a pilot, they are like that. And he's gagged because he talks too much. But you can have his vocal chords severed for a small fee. And", the guard looked down at Rick's balls, "There is a small procedure that will cure the cockiness"
The woman spoke now; She knew her husband was hoping the slave was gay, too "Then how would he teach my boys with no voice? No, I don't think so. I don't think I like this one at all, in fact I don't think I like any of them. Not near my babies anyway. We need a proper nanny." The couple walked away, the guard grabbed the chain around Rick's neck.
Suddenly he realized why he was gagged. These buyers wanted Americans, and he was gagged so he would not have to speak
Rick watched the family leave, and it brought back thoughts of his own. The family he hoped he'd see soon. His wife, who had begged him to resign his job. And his boys Farouk, the intrepid ten year old, the reason he'd married Jasmine, and his son Ibrahim, the baby, who was his joy. Rick could remember exactly the four happiest events in his life and all four were connected with Jasmine and the boys.
He'd met Jasmine at university. She was studying journalism while writing for whatever paper would publish her work to pay the bills. The educated and beautiful Palestinian woman and the handsome Israeli, from a wealthy family. It didn't matter the differences in their upbringing, they looked good together as a couple, and they clicked. And the day Jasmine told him she was pregnant was one of those four happiest events.
When he had to tell his grandmother that he was marrying a Palestinian girl, and the reason the marriage was going to be so soon, the fireworks erupted, and once again, his life changed forever.
His grandmother was sitting behind her giant desk, in her oversized office, the intimidating surroundings chosen purposely. Her long black hair was pulled up, and she wore black, her trademark color. She was a slight woman, but instead of the black clothes slimming her, they actually made her look entirely unapproachable. A look she'd worked on for years. "Shame on you, Israel. What did you think you were doing with this Arab girl? Don't you know what she was after? You come from a well known family and you don't protect yourself against this." She was beside herself with anger, "I thank God your parents are not alive to see this."
Rick did not thank God his parents were not alive to see this. Had it not been for the death of his parents when he was 16, he'd never have ended up in this country, with its unfamiliar culture and difficult language he was still working so hard to learn, living under the commanding eye of his overpowering grandmother. He'd still be in Cuba, he'd still be the happy go lucky kid who liked to dance and play the piano.
His grandmother's booming voice continued, " You will NOT marry this girl. I will take care of her. And you will finish your studies, and YOU WILL become a Rabbi. It is expected of you, your parents wanted it for you, and you will do it."
He looked at his grandmother and realized that in spite of his fear of this woman, he was going to have to defy her.
"No, abuelita, I am not going to be a Rabbi. My parents would not have wanted me to do something I didn't want to do. I want to study music and art."
"Your school and your destiny are paid for and determined, you will go. No grandson of mine will end up some kind of artist, and I will NOT have Muslim grandchildren. Where are you going? I. AM. TALKING. TO. YOU!"
Rick picked up his jacket wordlessly and made his way through the large house to his bedroom, where he packed up some clothes, a few mementos of his parents, his guitar, and started towards the front door.
"Don't come back here until you have come to your senses. From this point on, you are dead to me." He heard from behind him.
"Fine."
"Don't `fine' me, you'll be back as soon as you need money. You don't know how to live without it."...
The sting of the cattle prod on his ass brought him back to the present "Hey, stop daydreaming!", as the guard held up the prod again, threatening to use it. Rick noticed that there were no more customers in the room.
"What was that funny business, getting close like that to the customer? You think this is a game or something? You're lucky we can't put any new marks on you today, this will have to do. " The guard took the cattle prod and touched Rick's cock. Rick screamed and struggled, more and more guards came over, and finally it took seven of them to tie him to a chair so he could not move. Ten more times the cattle prod was applied to his genitals. First his cock, then his balls. Alternating. Between the incredible pain from the cattle prod and the feeling from the butt plug up against his prostate, he realized his cock was getting hard, and for the first time since his ordeal had begun, he was embarrassed. "Hey look at this, I think the infidel pig likes it. I know American boys can't control their cocks, but really, I thought you'd do better. Maybe I should give him ten more."
When his tormentor stopped, the guards untied him from the chair. But Rick didn't move. He couldn't, it was as if both his body and his brain had just stopped. Then he felt the ice water poured over his head, his cock went back to normal and life came back to him as he was dragged over to the others, who had been chained together while Rick suffered his torment.
The prisoners were led back to their cell the leg irons and chains removed. The zoo cell, as Rick had begun to think of it.
The guard addressed the prisoners in English, "The auction will begin in a few hours. You will all be fed now. Any funny stuff and ALL of you will be punished."
Four bowls of food were put on the table. The guards stood back and watched. The men looked at the four bowls and looked at each other trying to figure out how to handle the fact that they were one bowl short. While the others just stood and stared, Rick went over, picked up a bowl and started to eat.
The Colonel spoke, "Take the food, guys" The men just looked at him. "It's ok, I am not hungry anyway."
Rick passed the Colonel his bowl, half eaten. The Colonel took it and ate, passing Rick a glance that said a silent thank you.
Shortly after feeding time, the general entered the room and looked around. He motioned to the lead guard. "The auction starts in a couple of hours, I want them all cleaned up."
"But Sir, we already shaved and bathed them."
"Well do it again and see if you can clean up the bruises, I want them to look good, I've got something to do later and I need for this thing to be over quickly. Why are there only 4 bowls here and 5 men?" The general looked over at Rick, "Has this one been fed?"
"No Sir."
"Why not?"
"He took a bowl but then gave it to one of the Americans, the leader."
"Well bring in another bowl."
"We don't have any more slave feed."
"Then feed him one of the pitas meant for the bidders." The general turned to Rick who was looking back quizzically, "You don't mind a good Halal meal, do you?"
The guard left and returned with a pita sandwich. As he was hungry, and this was his first real food in a long time, Rick could not eat fast enough. It was lamb, his favorite food. He looked up at the general, and in between bites said "Thank you", with an earnest tone and expression that the General had not seen before.
"You are welcome", he responded, equally as earnest and smiled, "What a proper young man you must have been in your past life."
Rick cast his eyes down for a second, sighed, and continued eating. The other soldiers just watched the action, not comprehending the Arabic conversation and confused by the kindness shown to one prisoner.
Andre Menendez, the seasoned Colonel, was watching with particular interest and unlike his men, did understand the conversation. My clever boy, he thought of his former pupil, just the right amount of humility at just the right time. This Rick was all business, and a far cry from the party boy with the beautiful wife he'd met years ago at West Point.
Meanwhile, some of the guards had left and returned with a rolling office chair, scissors and an electric razor. Each prisoner, in turn, was strapped to the chair and given a haircut and a shave, and his face was cleaned up. When the guards got to Rick, the general spoke up.
"Shave him, but don't shave his head like the others. Just clean him up a little. I kind of like his hair." And so he was given a shave, a trim, and ice was applied to the black eye he'd received the day before. Rick realized that he was not to be made to look like the others and this was by design, yet they were trying to sell him as an American soldier. Of course, he thought, I'm not being sold today. I'm not going anywhere.
The General spoke, "The auction will start soon, but don't worry, you're being sold from here. Just act natural." He laughed.
Meanwhile, Rick had been studying the mirror that spanned the wall opposite the cell door. One way glass, of course, but how thick? There was only one way to find out. He looked at the Colonel and looked down at the wooden bowls that were still on the table. The Colonel gave one short, almost imperceptible nod. Both men walked to the table slowly.
"Ahora!" the Colonel screamed and they both picked up the bowls and hurled them with all their might at the mirror. The other men picked up on their cue as they all lifted the picnic table, ran across the room, and rammed it into the glass.
In a split second, it was pandemonium. A siren sounded, the mirror shattered, glass flew everywhere, the guards and the prisoners started to fight, and Rick blasted through the shattered glass into a room filled with confused people, all who jumped and scattered at the sight of the glass breaking and the prisoners running..
Rick heard a voice behind him, "There!! Puerta!!" and he and the Colonel ran as fast as they could out the door and into a corridor that Rick recognized.
"Adelante!" Rick screamed. The two ran down the corridor, through an office, smashed through its window, and bolted into a large parking lot. Rick looked over his shoulder at the building where he'd been housed. It looked like a warehouse and other warehouses surrounded it. Although he was pretty sure they were still in the capital of the country, this was a part of town he'd not seen before.
They heard gunshots and saw the guards running around like bees. They had not been spotted yet, but it was just a matter of time. They ran amongst the cars while Rick tried to open all the doors he passed. Finally, he tried the door of a large Range Rover, it opened, and both men jumped in and slammed it shut.
"Jeez Rick How'd you know it would open?"
In English, with a mild Spanish accent Rick replied, "I didn't, but what else could we do, two naked guys running around a parking lot."
"That was amazing. You still don't do anything normally, do you Ricky?"
Rick looked up to see where the guards were, "Sir, define normal for me in this situation."
"Shhh, stay down."
"I know to stay down, Colonel. What about your men?"
"Let's one of us get out of here, we'll come back for them."
"You will come back, they are your men."
"Nice attitude."
"Sorry, but I didn't ask to work with anyone. I work alone."
"Shhh, get down."
"I need to get up front to see if I can start it"
"Wait Rick, remember its easier to hide if you don't move around. Wait."
It was against his better judgment, he wanted to start the car and crash out of there, but Rick obeyed. So they lay low and waited.
And it was true, he had always worked alone. He begged with his superiors to leave the Americans out of it. The little voice in his head told him that they would bring trouble. But his superiors were insistent; the Americans would be there after the assassination to pick up the pieces, and with any luck, the world will think that the Americans were responsible for the assassination itself. His country was hated enough by its neighbors, no need to take credit for this mission.
"Um, Sir" Rick whispered
"What"
"I need to do something" He blushed a little. After all, this was his former teacher, a man he respected.
"You want me to do it for you, little baby?"
"Fuck that, I do it myself, and I do it to you."
"Then do it"
Rick took a deep breath and yanked out his butt plug, the source of so much of his distraction all day. He reached over to his mentor.
"Get away, faggot, I can do it myself" and the Colonel did the same, "I want you to know, Rick, that nothing that happened in this place, nothing you did, nothing that was done to you counts. It means nothing about who you are."
"I know. Here. I found some blanket. Cover yourself"
And now, here they were, naked in a parked car, hiding from their captors. Rick knew it had to be some one from the American side who was the mole, who was responsible for this, he just knew it. I will get out of here and I will figure it out, and while I am at it, I will kill the bastard dictator of this fucked up country, he vowed to himself.
Meanwhile, in a large office overlooking the other side of the warehouse complex, the general and the doctor were enjoying afternoon tea.
"Where are they now?" asked the doctor.
"Somewhere in the parking lot, maybe under a car. Hopefully they did not split up yet."
"Lucky he took the American with him."
"Yes, I was hoping he'd do that, so much easier to find when your companion is wearing a locator chip."
The doctor laughed. "I wonder how long it will take our little friend to figure it out"
"Not long, I am sure, but by then it will be too late. Would you like more tea, Doctor?"
"Yes, thank you, General."