P. O. W. by Donald E. Zlotnik Read Free Book Online

split bamboo
     rod. She walked around him for a couple of minutes, humming softly, and then she swung the bamboo version of a cat-o’-nine-tails
     hard so that the split rod landed on the soft inner soles of Spencer’s feet. The pain behind his knees was forgotten as his
     feet burst apart in pain. Spencer bit his lip, even though the colonel had told him to start screaming the instant they touched
     him. He would try to hold back for just a little while.
    “Well, he’s going to be a
brave
boy today.” She lashed out with the rod again and again, until she heard the first whimper from the young man’s throat.
    “Let me have a swing….” Mohammed James held out his hand for the bamboo rod. Van Pao hesitated and then smiled. She gave the
     switch to James and spoke rapidly to one of the guards in Vietnamese.
    Spencer was gasping for air. The pause in the lashes against his feet let the pain flash up his legs.
    James noticed the bulge in Barnett’s black pajama pants where the teenager’s testes were and lowered his aim. The blow was
     so hard that it rocked Spencer halfway around the pole.
    The old Montagnard heard the blond boy’s screams from his seat on the porch. He stopped adding water to his rice wine and
     looked over toward the building where the female Vietnamese tortured the prisoners and occasionally one of the villagers.
     He had been the headman of the village until the North Vietnamese soldiers had come. He had spent a couple of very unpleasant
     days in the darkened room.
    Colonel Garibaldi heard Spencer’s scream and felt like crying. He watched Mother Kaa sleeping in her cage and mumbled to himself.
     “Please… talk, Spencer! Tell them every damn thing you know! Talk… talk…
talk.
” He started crying.
    The old Montagnard struggled to his feet. The cool weather was making his joints hurt all of the time. His eyes were getting
     so bad that he was blind as soon as it got dusk outside; even with a full moon, he was sufficiently incapacitated to need
     one of his grandsons to lead him to the men’s place behind the village, if he had to go at night. He knew what he must do;
     a Bru chief did not sit idly by and allow the evil spirit, Tang Lie, to bring so much pain to his village. He was still the
     chief of the Bru.
    Colonel Garibaldi looked over at his wooden cross and started praying for Christ to intervene and stop the boy’s pain.
    Spencer passed out.
    “He isn’t lasting as long as he used to….” She gently tapped the bamboo whip against her leg and could feel the sting through
     her khaki pants. She stopped hitting herself.
    One of her soldiers appeared in the doorway. “Lieutenant! There is a call for you in the radio bunker!”
    She nodded her head and started for the door. She turned and looked at James, who was watching Barnett’s face. “Mohammed?”
    James looked up at the officer with an expression of pure pleasure. “Yes?”
    “You were too busy to notice….” She held up the half-dozen Polaroid photographs of him beating Barnett that her guard had
     just taken and fanned them out in her hand. “This is what we call in the intelligence community…
insurance
.”
    “Keep them! I could give a fuck less… Lieutenant!” James spat out the words.
    She left, and all but one of the guards followed her. She shivered when her back felt the warm sunlight touch it, not from
     the warmth but from her thoughts of Mohammed James. He was a very sick man.
    Spencer had forced his eyes open and saw the photographs in Lieutenant Van Pao’s hand. The pain coming from his feet, buttocks,
     and testes was excruciating and blended together as one great force. He swallowed hard and shivered.
    “James… I am going to kill you….” The words were spoken so softly that James barely heard him.
    “You’re not going to do shit, honkie!” James kicked Spencer’s bruised buttocks, sending the POW swinging back and forth, as
     he left the darkened room.
    Mohammed James walked down the