One Hope in Hell

"He's lucky."

Laszlo opened his eyes, and his vision cleared quickly. The unit doctor was there, and beside him stood the Commander.

"Was –was I shot?" Laszlo asked, noticing that there was only a mild headache.

The doctor smiled, "You might say, you shot yourself." And his smile widened at Laszlo's puzzled look.

The Commander came in here, "I've had a full report on your extreme bravery, and your poor handling of hand grenades. Oh, your first one did the job, took the whole machine gun nest out. You, however, were taken out by the second one—" And he smiled "—one of the pieces of rock you blew into the air struck you as you kept on running."

The doctor moved in and asked how he felt, and Laszlo told him. The doctor removed a bandage that Laszlo hadn't realized was there. "Oh, fine. No more bleeding, we can leave that off."

The doctor went away, and the Commander told Laszlo how everyone was talking of his bravery. He said there would probably be a medal to come out of that. "But I lost one of my fetchers in that battle, I want you to take his place."

Laszlo doubted whether that was a job he wanted---but to refuse the Commander---he was nice when things were right, but to cross him that was something else.

"Good," he said, after Laszlo's reluctant acceptance. "If the doc clears you, I'll expect you at my office first thing tomorrow morning."

Laszlo was released by lunchtime, but while still in bed, Corporal Farsi came to see him. His eyes were bland as he said, "We thought you were dead when we saw you go down. How not to throw a hand grenade," he laughed and shook his head.

"I'm never going to live this down, am I?" Laszlo asked.

The corporal eyed him seriously before saying, "You never intended to live anyway, did you?"

Laszlo did not reply, and Farsi went on, "I've seen it many times. Carrying grief is the hardest thing to bear. You likely to try again?"

Admitting that he hadn't had time to think about it, had Laszlo's mind switching to Kanin and Nadia. Yes, it was still painful, but what about this offer from the Commander?

"I hear your going to be a fetcher," Farsi broke into his thoughts. "That's going to be interesting for you. At least you'll only be called out for the big battles."

When he was released from the medic at noon, Laszlo knew he needed to find solitude in order to think through his situation. The tower was the obvious place, but when he got around to that section he found one or two men, lazing out in the hot sun.

Looking up at the mountains always reminded him of his father. Thinking about his father, made Laszlo wonder how proud he might be to hear of his son's exploits. That led his mind back to the idea of suicide, which led to his new notoriety as the brave one, and this fetcher idea.

At the back of his mind was the way that fetchers forced women into the men's quarters to be gang-raped. He couldn't see himself having any part in that. Therefore, the Commander would shoot him. But to refuse the post would get him shot anyway. Suicide by the back door?

Just after seven fifteen the following morning Laszlo presented himself at the Commander's office. He was introduced to the soldier who was to be his fellow fetcher, a sallow faced, mean eyed individual, who looked at Laszlo as though he'd crawled from under a rock.

"Gozil here will keep you on the right track. All you need to know is you fetch and carry for me, outwards and inwards, and –" His eyes narrowed, "—no slip ups."

"I've been doing it for three weeks now, haven't I, sir?"

"You have, Gozil, and we can make an early start." He gave them a leering smile as he said, "Apparently we took a female Varian officer last night. Might be a good day for some people."

Out of the office, and on the way to the prisoner hold, Gozil was determined to regale Laszo with what this could mean. "These are my favourites, female captives. Sometimes they are plug ugly, but when they're decent I like to get an early bid in to have a crack at them."

Laszlo had nothing to say to that, and when they got down to what they called cells, but were no more than broom cupboards with barred windows, the corporal in charge was quick to tell them, "This one's a bit special. Hope she doesn't talk, I get off in half an hour. Tell them to put me on the list."

When the corporal brought the prisoner out, and Gozil had made his expected growl of lust, Laszlo had to admit to himself that this was one hell of a good looking woman. Black hair, pulled back from her high cheek-boned face, wide dark eyes and pert M-shaped lips. Her breasts appeared to want to get out of the shirt, and even in camouflage service pants, the rest of her looked just as good.

"I've had a feel of those tits. Great, and no bra."

The woman's face showed no reaction. She had her hands tied behind her back, and her ankles were tied together with just enough freedom to allow her to hobble along, between Gozil and Laszlo.

Laszlo was fully expecting his new duties to be the end of him. Never could he allow this lovely woman to be sacrificed to the mob. Nadia was in his mind, as he realised that refusal, would have him shot, but would not protect the woman. His mind began its ticking over.

Even now, as they adjusted their pace to accommodate her shuffle, he caught sight of Gozil's hand stroking over her breast. Laszlo glanced at the woman's face. It was completely expressionless, as she gazed straight ahead.

Just short of the Commander's door Gozil pulled the woman away from Laszlo, slammed her against the wall, and tried to force his hand between her thighs. "Let's feel what we're going to get," he hissed. The woman's eye had widened in shock and distaste.

But, all within the same action, Laszlo felt the blood rush to his head, and, with all the built up anger of recent events, he grabbed Gozil by the hair and yanked him back and away from the woman, slamming him against the opposite wall.

"She's not a toy made for your dirty little prick," Laszlo growled, trying to keep his voice down, so close to the Commander's office. He glanced towards the woman, who was still against the other wall. Was that a look of gratitude in her eyes? Laszlo would have liked to think so.

Gozil struggled free from Laszlo's grip, showing no sign of the retaliation that had been expected. He could only mumble pettily, "She'll have had a few dirty bigger pricks by midday."

In his gut, Laszlo was realising that he had undergone some kind of sea-change. He could be more aggressive in the face of the ugly events around him. Was it the effect of the cruel deaths of two people he cared about? Or was it that moment of looking into the barrel of a machine gun and thinking it was the end? But he was feeling compelled to take some kind of preventive action now, on behalf of this woman.

A notice outside the Commander's door ordered them to leave all guns in the rack before entering. They both did that and without further words they knocked and entered. A single wooden chair stood in front of the desk behind which the Commander sat. He gestured for the woman to be sat there. Laszlo bristled at the force Gozil used to get her there. Then they stood back on either side of her.

The Commander leaned across the desk, his cold eyes moving up and down the woman's body."Hmm, this is quite some looker," he mused in that sinister voice. "If she's uncooperative the men are going to have a lot of fun."

When he addressed the woman, Laszlo discovered that he spoke the Varian language fluently. In response to his first question he heard the first two words the woman spoke, and when she repeated them a little later, he guessed that her name was Anya Tillia. The Commander's lips tightened as she repeated the same response over and over.

"Nineteen years old, " the Commander informed his two fetchers. "Young for an officer. The men will enjoy such young meat."

He repeated one question several times, without getting any different response from the woman. After the next attempt, the Commander stormed around the table, and slapped her viciously across the face. Then he repeated the action and the woman almost tipped sideways, Laszlo, whose fists had tightened at the first blow, prevented her falling by clutching her shoulder.

At that moment the desk phone sounded, and, his sallow face reddened with anger, the Commander picked up the receiver, listened for only a moment. When he hung up he turned to Gozil. "A supply of new weapons has arrived, Gozil. Would you go down and supervise the unloading, and bring one back for me to inspect?"

Gozil's face had fallen, "But—" He gestured blindly in Laszlo's direction.

The Commander's face darkened," Are you about to refuse?"

"No, sir." Gozil whined.

As Gozil closed the door, a little too loudly, Laszlo had a brief moment of rejoicing. Now he had more thinking space to review how he could help this poor woman, this Anya.

The Commander waved a finger at Laszlo, "Come and stand by the desk here, and watch her face when I tell her what to expect when the men get their hands on her."

Laszlo, moved unwillingly, nevertheless found it a pleasure to be able to look on that face while it was, if not in repose, at least surprisingly calm. And she did treat him to an open glance from her brown eyes. It was unbelievable that, in these circumstances, he could find that pleasing.

The Commander then went into a rapid flow of words, and Laszlo could tell, by the tone of his voice, that he was making his outline as lascivious and vicious as possible. The woman's lovely face remained as impassive as ever, as though she had heard it all before.

While the Commander ranted on, Laszlo was letting his mind wander ahead. Kanin had told him about the usual procedure , which would mean the woman, Anya, would be led straight to the sleeping quarters. A vague, stupid, impossible idea was taking shape in his head.

At that moment the Commander stopped, and with a final curse at the woman, he said to Laszlo, "Let's demonstrate what she's in for. Throw back her shirt."

Laszlo's breath stuck in his throat. The woman' eyes were on him.. "Come on, man. Unbutton her shirt."

Laszlo moved in front of the woman. He was looking into wide brown eyes, taking in the aroma of sweat and something mystical, as his fingers fumbled with the buttons of her shirt.

"Get a fucking move on, man. They're not going to be that gentle with her in fifteen minutes time." As Laszlo unfastened the last button so that the shirt began to open revealing tantalizing curves, the Commander said, "Just throw the shirt back off her shoulders."

Of course, with her hands tied behind her, the shirt could not be fully removed. He did as he was told, and was leaning over her looking at perfectly moulded twin mounds with delicate pink nipples. The woman's eyes never left his face, as he stepped back.

"Stay there. Stay there," the Commander urged, busy lighting a cigarette, and as Laszlo moved close to her, he heard the dreadful instruction, "Now, bite her nipples. Bite them hard, but not off. The men won't want damaged goods."

What kind of situation was this? Not having ever touched a naked female breast, he was now being ordered to bite her nipples. "For God's sake, I thought you'd like this. Get on with it."

Lowering his face towards the sheer beauty of her, wondering whether he should use his hand first, Laszlo tried with the slightest shake of his head, and rapid blinking of his eyes, to convey some meaning to what he intended.

Nervously, he placed his mouth around her right nipple, trying to look up into her face. His lips closed around it, and from somewhere came an automatic sucking action. His tongue actually touched at it. He looked up at her again, and made a deliberate feigned biting action with his jaws, partly so that the Commander would see that.

Then, to his utter relief, this woman Anya, obviously tuned in to him, threw back her head and gasped her agony. She knew. She really read his intention.

"Good, now the other one. A bit harder."

Giving the woman a little smile this time, they repeated the charade with her left nipple. Again, he found its presence in his mouth most comforting, so much so that, with a little shock, he became aware of a twitch in his groin. That was bad timing. But how wonderful, he thought, to be able to do that for real.

"Right," came the Commander's voice, "here. Give her a treat with this on those pink knobs."

Standing and turning, Laszo was horrified to see that the Commander was holding out his lighted cigarette. "I expect to hear her flesh sizzle," he laughed cruelly. Laszlo was to wonder later how close he was to leaping over the desk at him, and taking his chances.

Unwillingly, he took the cigarette, as he turned back to the woman, Anya, was it some kind of forgiveness he saw in her eyes for what he had to do. He leaned over her, keeping his shoulders squared so that the Commander would have little view of was happening. After all, he was only interested in her screams.

Holding the cigarette between two fingers, Laszlo moved the lighted end towards her right nipple. At the last moment, he flicked the cigarette around to press the unlit end into her, and took the lit end on the back of his free hand.

The agony of it made it difficult to suppress a grunt, but he saw her head go back and her scream of pain would have to do for him. There was the smell of burning flesh, which had been necessary. Laszlo tried to control his breathing, as he heard the Commander hiss, "Excellent, now the other one."

Heart thudding inside him, Laszlo repeated the action, pleased that Anya's wild scream covered his own more pronounced groan.

"Good," the Commander said brightly, "you enjoyed that didn't you, Puliz? Stub out the cigarette, and fasten her up."

Laszlo, dizzy with pain, was happy to pull the shirt back over Anya's breasts, so the Commander would not see that there was no damage. He only fastened two buttons before he turned back.

The Commander came around the desk, and fired one more question at Anya. Laszlo was finding that she was no longer 'the woman' in his mind. Now as she shook her head in response to his question, the Commander turned to Laszlo and said, "Very well. She's had her chance. Give her to the men. Call it my special treat, and there's extra beer if they get her to talk. I'll be down in about forty five minutes."

Laszlo signaled for Anya to stand, and when she did he grabbed her arm with mock roughness and led her to the door. As the door closed behind them, and Laszlo collected his automatic rifle, she surprised him by facing him and saying, "Thank you," in clear Padillan.

"You know the language?"

"Only since I was ten." The look on her face was half amused, half fear, as Laszlo stood there in dumb surprise. That surprise was heightened to shock level, when, without any warning, she leaned into him, placing a warm, moist kiss on his lips, before repeating, "Thank you for what you did in there. Now your duty leads me to my Nemisis?"

Laszlo shook off the brief paralysis her kiss had provoked, and he told her, "I have no intention of delivering you into that kind of Hell." His brain continued to churn over how he could move his plan into something positive. It was still such an inconclusive idea. If only he'd known what his first task would be, he might have been better prepared.

Quickly he drew his bayonet, and the woman, Anya, jerked away, her eyes wide with fear. Then he asked her, "Do you trust me?"

Her eyes on the blade in his hand, her head nodded. God, even with that frightened look on her face she looked beautiful.

Bending down to her ankles, he asked, "If I cut your legs free, you won't try to run, will you?"

"Where would I run, with my hands tied behind me?"

Swiftly, Laszlo bent at her feet and sawed through the ropes, "We have to move fast. Just do everything I ask, Anya." As he stood up, he looked into her eyes, to see if his use of her name had an effect. None showed. She was flexing her freed legs.

"This way," he said, keeping her ahead of him...

Turning her head, she said, "You know my name. I don't know yours."

He told her, as he they made the left turn leading to an outside door, and away from the sleeping area. The store where he'd found the mattress came first, and, on impulse he darted in, grabbed two blankets, before urging her forward to the side exit, where he made a quick check outside to ensure their route was clear. Satisfied, he signaled to Anya, and as she came alongside him she asked, "Where are we going?"

"No more talking for now." He replied, turning the corner that led to the tower. Up ahead, the mountains rose high and tree covered. Dare he think that far ahead?..

At the tower, after another quick look round, he heaved back the stone and told Anya to clamber down.

"Into a hole?"

Then realizing that she could hurt herself without using her hands, he produced the bayonet again to cut her hands free. This time she winced, as she flexed her arms.

"It's not deep, you'll see. Quickly now."

Having followed her rather hesitant descent, he was pleased to see her face as they emerged in the enclosure of the tower. "Does no one know of this?"

"Only me. I've been coming here to escape some of the ---" He was going to say 'rapes' but decided against that,"—awful aspects of living. We must keep our voices low."

She stood in front of him, for the first time completely free of any bonds. "Why have you brought me here? Are you keeping me as your personal rape?"

Laszlo tried to keep the anger out of his voice, as he said, "That is the last thing I want."

"I told you I was grateful. It wouldn't need to be rape."

Not seeing the significance of what she was saying Laszlo was ready to burst out, "I've told you, I don't---" That was when she reached out a gentle hand, to take his left hand, and hold it up to look at it.

Her eyes came up to meet his, "Look at those burns. You took them for me. Why?"

"Because you're a woman. I've seen too much of what can happen to a woman." Laszlo was feeling strangely uncomfortable, as her fingers tenderly stroked over the two blistered areas.

"And the way you pretended to bite my nipples. I was acting agonized but I quite enjoyed it." Her first smile at him was like a balm.

He wondered if his returned smile was as shy as he felt. From being in charge he felt uncertain, but he admitted, "The first time my adult lips had touched a female breast---and you enjoyed it?"

Her amusement turned to surprise, "The first time? You've had a girl friend, surely?"

Laszlo told her about Nadia, and the fourteen kisses.

"Just kisses?" There was a note of disbelief in her voice.

Laszlo nodded, annoyed by this sense of belated adolescence. Living in this environment of almost accepted physical assault he could appreciate her surprise.

They had been standing together at the point of entry, but now she looked across the rubble to where the low bunk bed was shaded from the sun.

"Should we have some comfort?" she said, moving towards that area. Laszlo had the strange feeling that from being his prisoner, this Anya was now capable of calling the shots. But in this case, she was right.

When they were seated side by side she asked, "I still don't know why we're here."

"Mainly to work out a strategy to help you escape."

"Escape to where?"

Laszlo couldn't understand her response, and the cynical expression on her face."Well, back to your home unit."

Her eyes fixed firmly on his, as she said, "You know what will happen to me if I go back?"

Laszlo was puzzled by her attitude, "What do you mean"

Anya gave a shuddering sigh, "I'll be raped, maybe to death, but if not, when they're done with me, then I'll be shot."

Laszlo was shocked, "But that means—"