War Dog

Chapter 39

As soon as I made a move towards Wolf hands grasped my shoulder holding me back. I saw Ghost being held back by the Captain. I began to turn around to tell the fuckwit holding me to fuck off, only to find myself being pinned against the floor hard. I wheeze out at the impact of the knee between my shoulder blades. I watch as Wolf drops to the floor spamming, gasping for air unable to breath through the tasering. I struggle trying to shove the knee from my back so I can at least try and get to her, only succeeding in having more weight bear down on my, squashing the remaining air from my lungs. 

I slam the floor with my fist in frustration, watching as she'd been carried out with a look of shocked betrayal on her face. Only once I'd settled down did the weight remove itself from my back, and I stood up cautiously. 

"Johnny, go make sure she's alright while I have a little chat with the Captain here." 

"Sure thing LT," I murmur in response, keen to find Wolf as soon as possible. 

"She'll be out the back in the pond," the gruff voice of the asshole who'd held me down. I didn't bother with the niceties and made my way through the once familiar corridors of the place I myself had been trained in. I knew what she was facing was nothing compared to what I myself had faced, and she'd only have to deal with it for a week, and not the months long process I and many others had endured. But it was Ceri. I had my issues with how she handled herself out on the field, but this was the woman who'd snuggled up in my arms and fallen asleep watching a kids movie. Damnit. I pushed through the exit door and made my way to the pond I still remember vividly. I saw the hole in the ice but no Wolf. 

"Where the fuck is she?" 

The man gestured towards the hole of ice where I'd refused to believe she was but deep down knew. 

"Did you even let her remove any of the clothing?" I asked, horrified. "The cuffs?" Fuck fuck fuck. She came from normal military. She wasn't prepared to undergo the SAS selection course. 

As the man replied in the negative, I heard a gasp of air from the water. "She'll fucking drown! You could have at least taken the hoody off!" I am furious, but underneath that is abject terror. We'd told her she was going through some mild torture resistance training, not full blown torture. The man is facing me and doesn't seem even slightly agitated at the situation or me yelling at him. I know full well he'll restrain me again if I intervene. As I go to start yelling again, a wet sopping projectile lands at our feet, splattering icy cold water all over our legs. I flinch at how cold that water was, memories trying to force their way up at my own time in the pond. I stare at the piece of sodden clothing, and the faceless nameless man did too. Appeared we were both shocked at the sudden appearance of the jumper. 

"I thought you said she was still cuffed?" I asked as she disappeared under the water again.

"She is... was..." She bobbed back up again and she threw her shirt at us. 

"Then how the fuck is she doing that?" I ask quietly, confused as fuck. Louder I called out, "What the fuck are you doing, Lassie?"

Her response had me gawking at her. I'd have almost said that she was trying to be a smart ass in her response until I realised that my question hadn't been clear enough. I rephrased my question and her answer boggled my mind. 

Fucking lunatic knew how to dislocate her own thumbs? The faceless soldier seemed to be thinking the same thing. 

We stood out in the frigid cold for almost the entire night. My arms crossed against my chest trying to remain as warm as possible. I wanted to bitch, but knew Ceri had it significantly worse. Throught the night her ears went from being their usual perky upright, to flattening against her head. She sculled the water, treading to keep herself afloat and warm. She looked pissed to be in the cold, but even her expression drained as the cold began to sap at even her strength. I wanted to pull her out the first time she went under, but the soldier held me back.