12 Minutes (#2 in Military series)

Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Marc twitched in his sleep as the muffled sound of popping reached his ears from far away, like popcorn in a microwave behind a thick wall.

Groaning, he shifted onto his side. Batting at the side of his head as the popping noise grew louder in his ears, a thin layer of sweat broke out on his skin.

"No," Marc's features contorted in his sleep as memories of a rifle pressed roughly into his cheek flashed through his mind, "No!"

His heart raced inside his chest as he felt the barrel grating his cheekbone, knowing that any moment the man wielding the weapon could end his life. Kaput!

"No!" Marc didn't know when he opened his eyes but he was suddenly sat upright, strapped to a chair in a box room that stank of sweat and blood. His sweat and blood.

Breathing heavy, the rifle against his jaw pressed his head back until he was staring up at the ceiling where a single light bulb hung from the ceiling.

Looking down, Marc was confronted by the sight of the end of a rifle. Looking up the barrel, Marc saw a man with a scarf tied around the lower half of his face holding the rifle against him.

Marc barely saw his features when he heard a voice speak from the corner and he looked behind the man to see him.

Marc's teeth rattled in fear when he saw him standing there leant casually against the wall.

Clenching his jaw tight, Marc tried to swallow but his throat and mouth were dry, his lips cracked from days of dehydration.

"You can stop this," The man in the corner spoke slowly in a thick accent, "Just tell us what we want to know."

The rifle indented in his cheek as he croaked, "No."

His eyelids began to flicker from delirium as the man in the corner nodded to his friend, his eyes hidden in shadow.

Every muscle in Marc's body constricted, his eyes clasping shut, as the man pulled the trigger.

For a second, he felt nothing and he wondered if he was dead but then he heard it again; the soft click of an unloaded rifle.

Slowly opening his eyes, breath tumbled out from between his lips, as the rifle was removed from his face and he realised that it was another trick.

Anger erupted inside of his chest, "Just kill me!" Marc screamed as the man turned his back and left the room, leaving Marc alone with the man who held the rifle.

Throwing himself forward on the chair, pulling at his restraints until they bit further into his flesh, he yelled after the other man, "I'm not going to tell you anything! Just kill me!"

The man whose scarf covered the lower half of his face dropped the rifle and sent a hard punch into the side of Marc's jaw, blinding him.

"Marc! MARC!"

Opening his eyes, Marc found himself being held by the shoulders by Carlos, his worried eyes staring at him intently. He was breathing heavy, taking in big gulps of air as if he had been drowning and had just reached the surface.

Glancing around, he saw that he was in the apartment. Kazeem was stood nearby and Marc let out a sigh of relief. He had been dreaming again, but it had felt so real.

Marc reached out and gripped Carlos's shoulder in an attempt to tell him that he was okay.

A familiar soft popping noise filled the air and Carlos turned to look at the window. Marc followed his gaze and saw that everyone was awake and staring at him.