"It is fortunate that you have come to rescue her, for tomorrow, as ordered we were to dig her eyes out. They don't last long after that."
I looked up at the man feeling sick to my soul at the sight of him, "Why?"
It was all I could manage to say, desperate to understand how one could come to such a state of wretchedness.
He shrugged, "It's a job."
That was almost by rote the same excuse given by Nazi death camp guards. 'It was a job' or the classic 'I was only following orders'.
I glanced past the man at Trent behind him. Thankfully Trent hadn't understood a word of the conversation in Russian. I nodded and Trent snapped the man's neck, as easy as he would a toothpick. The man slumped to the floor dead.
It wasn't enough somehow. If I'd had the chance I'd of buried him in an ant mound right along with the others, even though I knew that was the wrong way to take a life. Did that make me as bad as him? Oh Lord I hoped not!
I stooped down and picked up the man's keys and turned the corner. 10 cells down on the left. I stopped and pressed a surprised Trent up against the wall.
"I need you to stay here and cover us."
He shook his head stubbornly and started to push back against me.
"Please Trent stay here! Our mission is to get her out of here. We can't get lost in a mad desire to enact revenge and to that end I think it's best if you let me handle this part!"
I stepped back and he stayed where he was, the muscles of his neck looking, as if every blood vessel was about to explode with the effort to stay where he was.
I stepped away and moved down the corridor toward the cell my feet heavy an alien feeling to my own perception of them. I reached the cell and opened the door relying more on rote memory of muscle action and the procedures of the past, in like circumstances, with people I hadn't been close to. It was different with someone you loved and cared for, but I kept my emotions at bay, as best as I could, as I knelt down beside her and laid out a carry bag.
The overwhelming thought of 'I have to get her out of here!' guided my actions. She was poised on her knees hanging heavily from her wrists, from where they were suspended above her head tied off to a chain that came down from the ceiling. She was unconscious, but she was breathing.