Hands and Feet

The room looked drab. A mixture of copper and cleaning products permeated the air. A crack of sunlight barely showed in the corner. Jerrod Grier sat with his hands behind his back. Sweat drenched his tank top and his brow was soaked as well. No marks or signs of torture appeared.

“Alright we’re going to go over this one more time…we’re not going to put hands and feet on you. We’re not even going to water board you or do anything physical. This is a mental game. We’re going to play this without impunity. We need you to be alive for this entire exchange,” Fisher Kanely reiterated.

He had said it again because aside from the sweat (the room was almost a hundred degrees Fahrenheit) Grier looked calm, sedate. He had no tape over his mouth.

“I understand. If you want to know the codes, you’re going to have to get them yourselves. Do your worst to me. I’ve been in worse situations in the Corps.”

Kanely looked bleary-eyed. “It would take a Jarhead to show he’s got a pair swinging below the belt. I don’t care. You will give up those codes. You will comply. You will submit.”

Two strong men wheeled a TV and DVD player in front of Grier. The crinkle sound of the wheels going over the cement floor almost rankled Grier.

“What we have here is some entertainment for you to help change your mind. Don’t worry. We have blinders and a tool to keep your eyes focused on the screen,” Kanely mentioned.

The TV brightened. The pictures and sounds seemed very pleasant. A symphony played. A flower bloomed. A cat played with a melon on top of its head. Then, it got dark, extremely dark. Trap music, corpses, impaled corpses, people being burned alive, animation of dogs being mutilated, car crashes with decapitated passengers all flashed before Grier. He didn’t flinch. Then, a few stills from his wedding and the birth of his children popped up on the screen. He clenched his bound hands.

“If you want me to tell you the codes, you’re going to have to shut that off, now.”

Kanely motioned to one of the strongmen. He wheeled away the apparatus.

“Okay. Talk.”

“First, let me see that Heather and my kids are alright,” Grier said evenly.

Kanely tapped an app which displayed Grier’s wife and children at a park enjoying the Saturday morning.

“Okay. Type in Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo Yankee Oscar Uniform.”

The computer tech entered the code. It worked…or so it seemed. Grier had built in hundreds of dummy codes to look like the real thing.

“Hey! That only took us to the first level of the program. What else do you have?”

“Sierra Hotel India Tango Hotel Echo Alpha Delta,” Grier kept a straight face.

“Alright, that’s level two. Are you stringing us along? Because it seems to me that I’m being led on. You better not, Marine. I’m serious. We won’t hurt you but that beautiful family you have can be touched. So you better start using that brain housing unit fast before something bad happens,” Kanely’s voice hardened.

“If you let me out of these cuffs, I’ll be better at assisting you.”

“No games, no tricks?”

“You have my honor.”

Kanely found the key and undid the restraints. He positioned Grier in front of the computer. He put in a code that locked all of the windows, spray painted them black and increased the heat to a blistering 120° Fahrenheit.

“But your honor?” Kanely gasped.

“There’s no honor in dealing with evil,” Grier said and wrangled the three henchmen and Kanely together.

With sweat sliding off his brow, Grier made every attempt to put in the code to have the room explode in two minutes. He typed in all the lines of data. Within minutes, he had discovered the right amount of characters to input into the system. A timer appeared and he escaped out of the hatch and took one look at the goons.

“Have a blast!” Grier marched up to the landing and found the keys to his chopper. As he traveled away, he saw the nondescript building collapse on itself away from any surrounding structures. He journeyed across town to his house where he showered and shaved. He then drove his SUV to the park where he met up with Heather and his girls.