Fear the Fever ⏃ Captain America [3]

Chapter Five

Scott kicked in the door and walked into the dirt-covered confines at which were holding Christina. "Are you ready to have more fun?" he asked, kneeling down in front of her.
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She didn't even dignify that with a response. She knew it was not fun and the sheer fact he viewed something so sick, so maniacal as fun made her sick to her stomach. Scott had changed so much, and it hurt her ever more than the torture itself to see him this way. She downed the rest of the water in the bottle and set it aside.
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It was a room she had not seen in a long time and that was a good thing.
Scott tied her back onto the table, and he doubled checked the restraints before fetching Hans and Tobias. When they came back they found Christina trying to wiggle around in her restraints. They were tight, tighter than usual. She noticed this, but didn't question it because it no longer mattered. She knew in her heart that she was going to die. She was going to die here and no one could do a damn thing about it.
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Tobias and Hans retrieved a large rag and bucket of water from across the hall before returning to Scott and Christina. The three men watched as Christina's chest heaved up and down anxiously. Tobias took the rag and put it over her face; stretching it tightly.
Christina could feel her breathing become raspy through the rag, but it was about to become much worse. Hans poured the ice cold water over her face, giving her the sensation that she was drowning despite the fact she was not underwear.
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It was a process called waterboarding, also referred to as dry-drowning, and it was a torture technique that was not only affective but agonizingly painful. When the men ran out of water Scott unshackled her and they uncovered her face. She fell off the table and she seemed to be gasping for air. She appeared to be a fish out of water. Every breath seemed to set her chest on fire and she began coughing up water. Her lungs burned and her throat ached.
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Tobias and Hans began kicking
Christina until she lay there seemingly lifeless. She looked utterly broken and without any form of remorse in their veins they continued abusing her.
Water and blood pooled around her in ever-growing puddles. It clouded around her body and her muscles shivered. She thought that nothing could compare to the torture she had endured that day but every time she was proved wrong.
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The next day would always be worse and more pain would be brought upon her. Every day was a new degree of endless torture and there was no escaping it, for three weeks they continued to push Christina's limits.

She had finally accepted that this would be her life forever. She would become the Germans' punching bag and she had to live with that. Despite everything she was trained for, nothing on the face of the planet could have ever prepared her for what was up to come.
- - - -
Scott stormed out of his room and to Christina's cell. She was huddled in the corner, blood seeping from her bottom lip. Scott figured one of his men decided to have a little fun with bashing her face in. Almost the entire left side of her face was swollen and the bruises were all different colors, indicating that they were in different stages of the healing process.
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"You know, I have been holding onto this for long enough." He whispered. "I think it's time I have some real fun with you."
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She frantically shook her head when she realized what he was planning.
"No, no! Please, don't! I'm begging you, don't!" she screamed.
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"Too late for begging, Ms. Sitma," Scott replied, taking ahold of her flimsy wrist.

He tried to stick his hands between her legs, but she clamped them shut. Scott rolled his eyes, retrieving a pocket knife from his pants and jamming the blade deep into her upper thigh. Her back arched as she shouted out in agony.
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She began to pull against him, still holding onto the will to fight. When suddenly, a shot rang out and blood splattered across Christina's face.
Scott's body fell limp and lifeless against her, blood seeping out of the bullet wound on his head. The popping sound of the gunshot rang through her ears painfully as she stared blankly at the dead body lying on top of her.
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"Christina, are you okay?" Micah asked, kneeling beside her. Christina curtly nodded, barely understanding his words.
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Christina's whole being was shaking and her lungs felt like they were being crushed under the dead-weight of Scott's body. She tried desperately to pry his body off of her, but she couldn't seem to find the strength in her arms to push him off. Micah noticed this and grabbed Scott's shoulders and yanked him off and tossed him back to the ground.
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She lied motionless on the ground; black dots began to cloud her vision.
She shut her eyes tightly and willed to fight off the unconsciousness that tried furiously to take ahold of her.
Two large hands suddenly cupped her face, one of them was slightly tapping her cheeks, trying to catch her attention.
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"Christina, you've got to stay awake, okay?" Micah said, wrapping his hands around her upper arms and began to hoist her into a standing position.
"Come on, we've got to get out of here before these idiots around here come to their senses about that gun shot."
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Her entire body ached and throbbed and yearned for some food, water, and sleep. But she knew that she needed to escape first. Micah placed an arm around her waist, keeping her up right as they slowly exited the cell filled with nightmares. Christina glanced over her shoulder and finally got a good look at the cell, the four walls were covered in her and Scott's blood. Micah urged her forward through the doorway and into the empty hallway.
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The only door she saw was at the very end of the hallway that led to a part of the facility that she hadn't been to before. Even though worry ate at her like spilled acid in her veins, she had to remain focused on staying awake and trying to find a way out of this hell hole. Micah was having a go at the door, with the same useless result.
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"It's locked," he muttered when he finally gave up, his arms falling weakly to his sides while Christina leaned against a nearby wall. "Let's break this fucking handle off." He looked around as if he expected Christina to give him a sledgehammer.
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"Here," she said, suddenly reaching out and grabbing the slender but solid fire extinguisher off the wall.
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Micah grabbed the red cylinder, ready to pile-drive the door handle.
Christina stood as close as she could, eager to see what was on the other side of the door, though she had a very bad feeling that whatever it was, they weren't going to like it.
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Micah lifted the extinguisher, then slammed it down on the round silver handle. The loud crack was accompanied by a deeper crunch, and it took only three more whacks before the entire unit of the handle crashed to the floor with a jangle of broken metal pieces. The door inched outward, cracked open just enough to show darkness on the other side.
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Micah stood quietly, staring at that long, narrow gap of blackness as if he expected demons from the underworld to come flying through. Absently, he fumbled with the extinguisher in his hands. "Let's go," he said. Christina thought she heard the slightest quaver in his voice.
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"Wait," Christina called out. "You sure you want to go in there? Maybe that door was locked for a reason."
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Micah turned around to make eye contact with her. "What else are we going to do? Sit here and wait for those Germans to get us? If they find us here, we'll be dead on sight. Come on."
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He kicked out with his foot and the door swung completely open; if anything, it seemed to grow even darker on the other side. Christina couldn't quit staring past the open door, into the pool of inky darkness. She felt a now-all-too-familiar clench of apprehension, knowing that something had to be wrong.
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Without waiting for a word from
Christina he walked through the open door, his body vanishing in the gloom almost instantly. Christina sighed heavily, then followed. Step by step, she left the hallway and entered the darkness of the unknown room, hands reaching out in front of her as she limped. The glow of light coming from behind didn't do much to illuminate things; she might as well have been moving with her eyes squeezed shut.
And the place smelled. Horrible.
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Micah yelped up ahead, then called back. "Whoa, be careful. Something...weird is hanging from the ceiling."
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A grunt from Micah from somewhere further ahead was followed by the squeal of metal dragging across the floor. "Table," he announced. "Watch out for tables."
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"Do you see any evidence of a light switch up there?"
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"That's what I'm looking for," Micah responded. "It should be around here somewhere."
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Christina continued walking blindly forward. Her eyes had adjusted a little; where before, everything had been a wall of blackness, now she could see traces of shadows against shadows. Yet something was off.
Things seemed to be in places they weren't supposed to be.
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"Bluh," Micah groaned, a shudder of repulsion.
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Before Christina could ask what had happened, she bumped into something herself. Hard. Awkwardly shaped. The feeling of cloth.
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"Found it!" Micah shouted.
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A click was heard; then the room suddenly blazed with fluorescent lights, temporarily blinding Christina. She stumbled away from the thing she'd bumped into, rubbing her eyes, ran into another stiff figure, sent it swaying away from her.
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"Whoa!" Micah yelled.
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Christina squinted; her vision cleared. She forced herself to look at the scene of horror around her.
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Throughout the large room, dead bodies were strewn about the room - at least two dozen. Some were hanging, strung up by their necks, ropes twisted and trenched into purple bloated skin. Some had their throats brutally slit open, like a ravaged animal had mauled on their flesh. Others appeared to have been shot - execution style - some stabbed in the chest with a ragged piece of wood or metal. Their clothes and their faces were all too familiar to Christina.
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A combination of a sob and scream escaped Christina's mouth as she dropped to her knees.
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She knew these people.
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And lying on the ground right in front of her was the dead body of her best friend.

Liam King.