Hell and Back

Chapter 5

By Kris Gupton

For the first day out from under our several day run of sedation, neither John, myself, or any of the other four men still present said much. Frankly, we were dopey as hell, I reckon it takes a bit of time for that kind of shit to get out of your bloodstream.

Still, though, the colonel's words upon my question to him when I first came to echoed through my mind. I don't know, Highwind, and if we want to get out of this alive, for right now, I think we'd be best to not go speculating about it…

We'd been military dogs for years. A lot of that was hold your tongue about shit you may or may not know. Be good boys, keep it under your hat. Never question why.

This wasn't really any different, was it? …was it?

I had the feeling in my gut that if I even considered finding out, I'd end up the eleventh former POW in the morgue. After all I'd been through to survive up to that point that was a notion which didn't seem ideal or really worthwhile.

John was a smarter man than I was, I would do whatever he so said I should do. That was the long and the short of it.

Regardless, we were left tied to our beds for the rest of the day. It was the following morning when Hojo emerged from whatever hole he generally crawled off to when not stinking up our room. As he had before, he came to my bedside first, giving me a quick visual inspection. He picked up my medical chart and scrawled something across it, before speaking. "Captain… Highwind… Do you feel yourself to be in an alert state of mind?"

From the tone of his words, I fully think he expected me to retort with something insubordinate, however, I had John's command, and I, the good, faithful lap dog I could be, responded in kind. "Yessir, I do."

He looked at me over the rim of his dirty glasses, tapping the end of the pen against my record. Maybe there was something bordering on surprise behind his eyes, I don't really know, I was trying not to stare. "And how would you say you are feeling in general?"

Goddamnit, it took everything I had to give a little nod and a smile. "Good, I was sorta groggy yesterday but, now I jus' feel like I need a good stretch an' some eats."

Inwardly, I think I envisioned spitting on him or worse. That's where the smile actually came from that lingered after I'd said my peace.

Hojo kept his gaze fixed on me for a moment. I think he was trying to figure out my level of sincerity. His lips tersed before he licked them, lowering my record. "I see. I'm certain that can be arranged."

I kept up that retard smile I had and gave another nod, before letting my head tip back and hit the pillow once more. From that pose, I watched as the professor moved onto the colonel next, picking up his medical record. He asked the same questions, and though he worded things differently, John gave replies that were lock step with mine. All of us had to be on the same page, I knew, and I lifted my head again. I met the gaze of Lt. Westin who was straight across from me, and he gave a curt little nod. We're all onboard, Captain.

Hive mind, remember? We'd learned over the past months or years in some cases, how to communicate without a word, and it was serving us one more time. I panned my eyes over toward Maj. Hemmings, receiving the same unspoken answer. All systems go, we all knew what to do.

It was a few minutes later, after Hojo had completed his rounds of the room, getting similar responses from each of us, when we were all alone again. In case we were being listened in on, the instinctual silence we'd learned with such careful discipline in Wutai settled in over us. We knew, oh God in Heaven we knew there were two possible outcomes for us. Either Hojo would decide that we were intimidated enough to be silent, a pot Shin Ra would undoubtedly sweeten with our 'compensation', or we'd be killed. I hoped we were on the road to the former.

I know that in a world of idealism, heroes are supposed to stand up for shit even at the risk of death, but in a world of idealism, I wouldn't have spent the last seven months of my life, wallowing in my own filth, struggling to survive only to die after my rescue. Fuck no. Call me a coward, call me what you will, but if we survived and got out, then would be the time to stand up to the company and try to affect some sort of change.

That's what I told myself at the time, though, not realizing I would continue to be nothing more than a whore to the company for years to come. I had to delude myself that I had some semblance of dignity or self respect left. Survival mode, no more, no less, and I will neither make excuses for that nor for what followed.

A while later, the nurses returned. One by one, our restraints were taken off, and in a final humiliating act, that fucking urinary catheter pulled free. In that moment, I grabbed my IV pole and quickly (though unsteadily) hauled ass into the bathroom. Having that thing yanked out made me feel like I had to piss like a racehorse. However, once I was inside, I stood there for probably five minutes, waiting. It turned out I didn't have to go at all, it was just some sort of urethral spasm as the nurses said when I came back out, looking a little… unsettled.

I got back into my bed and was presented a respectable breakfast before much longer. Steak and eggs, not exactly the sort of breakfast one is generally offered in a hospital, but I wasn't going to question it, not by a mile.

After getting that down, we were again left alone. I looked over toward John at some point, and he gave me the same sort of short nod I'd received from the others during our interrogation. We're okay, we're going to get out of it, he'd said without saying.

Yessir, I nodded right back, before rubbing at my wrists. They were sore from the restraints, after all.

Before lunch time, again the nurses came in, and our IV lines removed. I supposed since we'd all kept breakfast down without issue, they figured it was safe. That turned out to be correct.

My body still ached, though. I have visions of my body having been locked up tight, every muscle tensed like all fuck during my time sedated, but that could have just been my imagination or a dream. I ached, I felt strained, period. When the nurses would come, though, we'd all look pleasant as hell. Just a nice relaxing Sunday or whatever day it was. You get what I mean.

It was a male nurse that came in just a bit later and ordered me out of bed and to follow him. I gave John one look, hoping for some sort of reassurance, not knowing what was going to be done to me. He simply lifted his right hand and gave me a salute, one that I instinctively returned to him. That was goodbye, somehow, we both knew it.

I followed the orderly out and into the hall, down to the showers. I was ushered inside and allowed to wash up, brush my teeth, and even shave the scant bit of stubble that had grown back in since my arrival there. Once done with all that, I was handed some clothes and instructed to dress. A pair of fatigue pants, a plain gray tee shirt, some socks, boxers, and boots. With that all on, I was then handed a set of dog tags, identical to the ones I'd worn when first captured in Wutai, but subsequently torn off me at some point during my captivity. The last thing that was done, was the nurse came to me with a bit of medical tape, and covered the Wutain POW mark on my temple. I didn't understand why that was done at the time, later on it would sink in, and it would be a habit I would continue myself for decades to come.

So, with me looking a little more like a human being, I was directed back into the hall, then into a small side room. I was left inside for just a few moments, before someone I had never seen before in my life entered. An older man, with dark hair, and looking a little haggard. He came over to me, holding out a paper. From the suit he wore, I knew it was a Turk, and I was officially on company business.

I took it without looking really, finally speaking. "What's this?"

He glanced at the paper in my hand, before meeting my gaze. "Captain Highwind, that is the prepared statement that you are about to give to the media waiting in the next room. You are a hero, it is known that your bombing run signaled the end of the Wutain war machine. Furthermore, it outlines your future goals with the company with which you are being rewarded given your valiant service and particular abilites. Do you understand?"

My eyes slowly drifted down to the paper and I gave a shallow nod. This was the compensation, as well as a public lock in that would go around the world the moment I was in front of those cameras. I was a whore, a damn whore, and I was going to do what they wanted, just because…

…because I had nothing else honestly to do with my life.

"Now, we understand that you have been under great duress given your recent ordeal," he said in his somewhat gruff voice. "We dearly hope that your mental state holds up. It would be a shame after this offer if you were to suddenly start to suffer… paranoid delusions. Do you understand, Captain Highwind?"

Pride. I'd once been a man full of it, to a fault some would say, only equaled with my stubbornness, but reality was quickly stealing what I had left. Like I said, I was now a corporate whore, nothing more. I didn't know what was on that paper still, I wouldn't until I read it before the reporters, the wolves, waiting next door. Swallowing down the last vestiges of dignity that may have survived, I nodded and met his gaze. "Yessir, I'm… grateful fer… what the company has done. I know my compatriots from the camp will also, undoubtedly, be jus' as… honored."

I might as well have flicked the proverbial angel off of my right shoulder in that moment. That's how it felt, anyway.

The Turk gave me a false smile, before motioning toward a door. Paper in hand, I went forward, giving a deep breath before facing the flashes of assorted cameras. I was disoriented from all of it, honestly, but knew somehow what to do. There was a table between the reporters and I, two doctors at either end, who rose up upon my appearance. Everyone there started to applaud me, though I still couldn't quite understand a reaction like that. I'd never been famous before, it was something I was going to have a hard time getting accustomed to.

One of the doctors spoke first. "Everyone, be seated. The captain has prepared a statement for you all. We would like to remind you that he is still recovering from his ordeal, and so we would like to avoid any interruptions if we can. He's not up to taking questions afterward, so upon finishing what he has to say, we will end this conference."

The media pool obeyed, sinking into their seats and growing quiet, though there was still the occasional flash. There was one chair left at the center of the table and I went to sit there, as it seemed what I was supposed to do.

I held the paper in my hands, shaking badly. Public speaking was a fear of mine up until that point but I knew I had no choice. After a quick and forced thanks, I focused my eyes on the paper and started to read what had been written on my behalf.

"Seven months ago, my squadron was ordered into the heart of Wutai, our target, their only remainin' weapons facility. Given our superb trainin' in the Shin Ra Air Force, we were able to complete our mission, though there was great personal sacrifice involved."

"My ship didn't make it home, due to a mechanical failure, forcin' me to make an emergency landin' behind enemy lines."

I stopped for a moment and swallowed hard. It had been sanitized… heh… fucking edited for the sake of company glory. Over eighty men lost, pared down to just one ship not returning home from a mechanical failure… horseshit. However, I forced myself onward. "I was taken into Wutain custody, where I was held in conditions in accordance to the… Mideel POW Act, passed over twenty years ago."

So my torture had been stamped out, too… Unbelievable. I don't think one of those little fuckers in that camp holding us had ever even HEARD of the Mideel POW Act. Goddamnit. That's why my tat had been covered with the tape. Permanent marks were forbidden according to the pact, so from that moment on, I knew I was supposed to hide it. Why they wanted to make the Wutains look better after all that shit I never quite figured out, but I'm not a political man, never was.

"However, my mission had ultimately been a success, an' it was because of it, that the war was eventually ended, an' the POW's being held in Wutai were released. Six men in total. I would have made this public statement sooner, but as you can understand, there was some recovery required, as well as debriefings to go over prior to this engagement."

Once more I paused. Reading this was selling my soul to the devil, plain and simple. Ten lives had just been written out of the public record. There were only a few lines to go, though. I think I cleared my throat. "Now that the war has ended, an' peace reestablished, Shin Ra has enlisted me to assist with the new Space Program…"

My heart stopped for a few seconds at that, or so it felt. I'd always dreamed of being the first man in space, but to now have it offered like this… Part of me wanted to protest still, but the selfish part of me that would take hold for the next several years blazed to life, a fact that shames me to this day. "…S…Space Program… d…due to my superior abilities in design work, an' the company's belief that I am the right choice to be the first man in Space, within the next s…six years. I am grateful for the opportunity I had to serve in the Air Force, an' I will show it by workin' in this new department, and makin' the dream of manned space flight a reality. Thank you."

I was applauded again, patted on the back by the doctors, and then escorted from the room and away from the flashes. In my hands I still held the paper, rereading my pre-assigned fate.

Space flight. It had only taken my immortal soul to get it, too. Well, that and ten lives in the hospital, eighty some odd more in the war from my squadron. What a deal…

From there I was immediately taken from the hospital and put onto a helicopter back to Rocket Town. The former satellite lift station was to be the site of my future launch.

At least I was home… but I was very much alone. It was the first time I'd been back to the house since my leave at the time of Sarah Jane's death. People in the town I'd known all my life were diluted out with the scores of Shin Ra people now there. Those that did know me, treated me differently than before. Always with some sort of pity in their looks. Sometimes I'd overhear them talking behind me in the store.

"There's Cid… poor thing… losing his wife and then being held captive for so long, I wonder if he's still in his right mind after that. Going into space? That sounds insane."

Raised my hackles each time I'd hear it, but I never replied. There was no point.

I was allowed a few more weeks of recovery at home while Shin Ra set up their new launch facility in the small town, all the while I wondered what had become of the other men. I had no way to contact them, but they never left my thoughts. None of the others seemed to get a press conference in any event. I guess I was the squeaky wheel. Months later, I did meet Lt. Jared Westin as he was sent to Rocket Town to consult on various aspects of the project. Though my time with him was limited, I was able to find out that the others had been released as a group a day after I had been turned free. All of them had been given rather… cushy jobs for the company with good paychecks attached to keep them silent.

It was always Col. John Laron who I thought of the most, though. Westin hadn't been able to give me specifics on the older guy, and I never really seemed to have the time to look him up on my own. Years went by, and the rocket launch neared. I met Shera and helped her rise through the ranks on the Shin Ra 26 Project. Everyone knows how that story went, though.

I didn't see nor hear of or from John until nearly twelve years after our release. Mind you, twelve years after our release takes us right up to the time immediately following Meteor. I had come home and married Shera, then trying to settle into something along the lines of a normal life.

Then the phone rang on a Tuesday afternoon. "Highwind Shipyards," I'd answered, as Shera had run to the store. Normally she was on phone duty.

There was a brief pause before I heard that deep, dry voice reply back. "Captain? How are you doing, soldier?"

Without even being told who it was, I knew. Maybe it ain't manly to admit, but I felt tears in my eyes at once. "…Colonel? John? Is that ya, pard?"

He laughed a little and told me it was, that it was good to hear my country boy accent again after all those years. I landed at the kitchen table, feeling a mix of happiness and to some degree loss as I talked to him. The phone conversation went on for nearly four hours. I told him about the failed launch ages before, meeting Shera, the ordeals of Meteor, so forth. He disclosed to me that he only felt safe talking to me then because Shin Ra had been knocked back several pegs. I understood what he meant and I agreed. After all, he'd always been smarter than me.

He came out to Rocket Town after that. I gave him the tour of my new hanger and ship building business. He told me about the position he'd been given as the head of the Air Force flight instruction school until his mandatory retirement a few years before. His wife had waited for him during all of his years in captivity, and his already adult children now had kids of their own. His missing teeth had been replaced, and instead of the thin being I'd known in the hospital, he was one of those round, jolly types, I guess you could say. He looked good, gray hair and all.

In the end, it didn't sound like his life had turned out too bad, but I could see something behind his eyes that I knew he could see in mine as well. That secret we'd carried for all those years, how the lives of ten of our comrades had been lost for the company's blind ambition and greed.

I'd had my revenge, of course, having seen to Hojo's demise myself, even if Vincent had put the final bullet in the fucker. I told John of that and he'd bowed his head for a moment, giving me a quiet thanks, and telling me that he would never forget our other men.

I never forgot them, either.

Nov. 8, 2008

Capt. Cidriel Augustus Highwind, Jr.