“I hope you slept well last night, friend,” Rod said, approaching the prisoner. The other guards, including Nathan and Craig, took up positions on either side.
“Not especially,” Golf replied, slurring his words thanks to a fat upper lip bisected by a scab. “Your accommodations suck, man. It’s like the back end of a third-world country here.”
“Sorry, the hospitality room is for people who don’t try to invade our territory and steal our people,” Rod said. “You should thank me. I gave you a bigger cage. You could almost lie down in there.”
“Almost,” Golf agreed. “Thanks, Lord Supreme High Potentate.”
Rod found his attempt at sarcasm more than pathetic.
“Enough of the pleasantries,” Rod said, squatting in front of the man. “You’ve had a night to consider your priorities. Hopefully, you’ve come to your senses and we can talk like friends now. What do you say?”
Golf might have been trying to smile, but it was hard to tell. Besides the fat lip, he had a swollen right cheek, a welt on his jawline, and a black eye.
“What would you like to know, God Emperor?” he replied.
“I want to know what the Marines are doing in our territory,” Rod replied. The anger felt like it was eating through his stomach, making it harder to keep his questions calm. “I know they didn’t come all the way here to steal one of my comfort women, so what’s the mission? What are they looking for?”
“One of your comfort women?” Golf said with a laugh. “You mean, the poor sex slave we found fleeing your camp with her kid?”
“That’s such a crass way to say it,” Rod said. “What’s your mission, Marine? Why are you here?”
Golf stared at him for a second, mouth hanging open, and finally said, “I just plain forgot. Sorry. It was on the tip of my tongue, but it’s gone.”
Nodding, Rod rose. His fists were clenching and unclenching, almost against his will. “Well, I guess you’re no use to me then,” he said. Seething, he drew his sidearm, flicked off the safety, and racked the slide. It was already loaded, so he sent a bullet flying across the tent. He could scarcely think, seeing through a red haze as he pressed the barrel of the Glock between the prisoner’s eyes. To his credit, Golf merely closed his eyes. He didn’t protest or beg for his life.
“Sir, don’t do it!” Big, dumb Nathan rushed forward and thrust an arm out—a bold move, but it broke through the haze. “We need him alive. Once he’s gone, he’s gone.”
Rod jammed the gun back in the holster and batted Nathan’s arm aside. Then, for good measure, he punched Golf in the mouth, splitting the scab so that blood spurted down his chin.
“Just remember, I didn’t start this, Marine,” Rod said, wiping the man’s blood off his knuckles on the prisoner’s shirt. “I didn’t come onto your base and start harassing you. You came here. Got that?”
Golf had no sarcastic response this time. His head lolled on his neck, his eyes shifting back and forth, glassy.
Rod backed away from the chair, lest his anger get the better of him. Nathan was right, of course. There was no useful reason to kill the man, but at some point they were wasting their time trying to get anything out of him. As far as his buddies, Rod fully expected them to mount a rescue mission at some point, but the camp was crawling with armed guards. The militia could handle a few Marines.
“I won’t be made a fool,” Rod said. “We’ll give you one more day, and if you don’t prove useful by then, I’m done with you, no matter what this soft-hearted idiot here says.” He smacked Nathan on the chest with his forearm.
“I’m just trying to help, sir,” Nathan said.
“He gets one more day,” Rod replied, jabbing a finger in the guard’s face. “If he doesn’t share something useful by tomorrow, he dies. Now, do you have a problem with that?”
“No, sir, not at all,” Nathan replied, saluting.
“Good.”
Rod headed toward the tent flap. As he did, he caught a glimpse of Craig grinning like an idiot in the corner. He was tempted to go over and smack him too, but he decided not to. Craig, at least, had the hard edge necessary to do what needed to be done.
“Sir, should I attend to this man’s wounds?” Nathan asked.
Rod looked back at the prisoner. He was slumped forward, straining at his wrist bindings. Blood ran from his busted lip and dripped off his chin.
“I’ll run to the medical tent and at least get some bandages,” Nathan said. “You need him in good enough shape to be able to talk, right?”
“No,” Rod replied. “I’m not going to waste bandages on a man who’s going to die soon. He’ll be in the back trench with the rest of the bones. What’s the point?”
And with that, he strode out of the interrogation tent and started back across the camp. Soon he heard booted feet scurrying after him as his guards followed. Nathan stayed behind, but Craig was quick to catch up to him.
“If I find out Nathan bandaged that prisoner behind my back, I’ll strangle him,” Rod said, staring daggers at Craig.
“He wouldn’t go behind your back like that, sir,” Craig said.
“I don’t know what he would do,” Rod replied. “The man is close to worthless. One more blunder and I’m done with him. Got me?”
“Oh yeah,” Craig replied, baring his teeth. “I get you, sir. Trust me.”
“Good.”
He saw the old man and woman working on the camp stove. His kick had left a big dent in the metal, and the old man was trying to hammer it out. When they saw him coming, however, they scurried off like cockroaches. Rod found this amusing, but
