1942

Glenn walked beside Jules and Ezra. They were out of breath, effortless, and lost all sort of hope. The walk already consumed many days and the jungle didn’t seem to end. The trees were their prison, surrounding their bodies from the outside world, concealing all horrors and miracles that happened in the world. The woods acted as iron bars, but they didn’t lock them in, but they hid them out.

Glenn decided that it was time to stop and rest. Jules and Blake roamed over the wide pine woods, searching for dinner. A deer just stepped in front of them, unaware that the two humans were about to rip and eat ‘em after tearing it to pieces.

Blake gestured Jules with his finger, leaned near the bushes, and took the shot. The bang scared countless birds which flocked out of the area after the bullet sprung out of Blake’s gun.

“Did you get it?”

Blake and Jules approached the area. No dead deer, just some blood splashing the area.

“Shit,” Blake cussed.

“Well, you did hit him.”

“Yeah, he’s injured somewhere. Let’s go.”

Blake and Jules scanned the leaves and dirt for blood prints. They found it, and followed north, further and further.

“That deer walks pretty far. How the hell does it do it?”

“Adrenaline?”

Suddenly, Jules just stopped.

“Did you hear that?”

Blake stopped Jules from speaking.

“Stream?”

Blake placed a huge smile on his face and smirked. “Yeah dude.”

They literally ran, excited and rushed. Their thirsty throats urged for clean water. All they had those past few days were muds and puddles which were like drinking vomit.

And the view startled them. The river was decently big. It was big enough for fishes to swim and shallow enough for them to cross. But they glared some more when they witnessed what was in front of them. Open area, just across the river.

“Jesus Christ. We’re out!”

Blake slammed his rifle to the ground. He hugged Jules as tight as he could and squeezed the breathing person into his wider chest.

“We fucking did it!”

Across the streaming river, grass and open area waited for them. They could see mountains serving behind the panoramic view, and lush, green fields entertaining their eyes. Jules wanted to cry after seeing what he saw. The picturesque sight was too unbelievable, especially after almost being killed and trapped inside a thick jungle.

Beside them, a couple of feet away, a screaming deer panted and finally sprawled to the ground. It lost too much blood until finally died in the most helpless manner.

Blake scurried to it and wanted to kiss the dead deer. He was purified with joy right then. 

“Thank you so much, deery. Without you, we’ll be as good as dead inside that crazy forest.”

What did they do after? They ran, cheeks high, heart rumbled, legs cutting through bushes and thorns. Mosquitos consumed them too much, so the pain didn’t register.

Glenn watched them hurrying toward the group with extreme speed. He didn’t see the excitement on their faces, so he seized his gun and aimed it toward Blake and Jules’ backs. He prepared for what was worse that could come.

But nothing chased them. They ran by their wills.

“We found it!” Blake grabbed Glenn’s shoulders and shook them. “We found a way out of this maddening place!”

Everyone else was preparing for a fire. They all stopped astounded, not believing with the words they heard. Both Blake and Jules looked so excited, which was queer remembering Jules’ state of mind all the time. They both acted a bit childish from the emotions blooding over them.

Glenn gave them his signature frown. “What?”

“I said we found a way out of here!” Blake screamed. He was like a kindergarten student receiving a medal for the first time.

They quickly packed and followed Blake and Jules. Their eyes became wet, shocked to see that they weren’t telling a lie. They settled, resting there for the night and waited for the sun to rise to continue the walk.

Everyone cheered, joked, laughed, hugged each other. Jules was too. He raised his mouth. It felt great for him.

John saw Jules smiling. Though he didn’t comment a thing, he was actually happy for Jules. He and Glenn were the two persons who knew Jules better than other people. They understood his pain, and they shared them too, but that man had lost about too many. There was nothing left for him, so to see him smile was the best thing that could happen to him.

Blake, who had the best voice out of all of them, sang a cheerful song… a song too alien for Jules as he lived in Hawaii, and not mainland America. But still, he had fun. 

“Jules should sing too,” Blake said after finishing his song.

“What? Hell no! I sing like a stifling buffalo.”

Asher sneered. “Yeah, I trust you.”

“How about you Roger?”

“Ezra, that was a mistake asking him that.”

Suddenly, Roger just produced the most confusing, false notes ever. His voice formed no melody, thus they stopped him before even finishing his first line.

But the most important thing was that they laughed. They felt joy again. They remembered what it was like to be happy even just for a while.

They slept without disturbance but with tons of excitement. They didn’t know where to go. Though that, they knew they wouldn’t die pathetically in a lucid forest full of spiders. At least they were able to feel the sensation of happiness for one more time.

One more time…

They walked in the morning. Flowers and dense lines of tress paraded all over them before finally entering the fields full of crops. Their heads were exposed to air attack or anything from the above, but the chances of an enemy spotting would be low, Jules thought.

And just like that, they continued walking through the crops, dipping their boots and socks to the muddy dirt. They passed confused farmers and women throughout the open space. They stared at the eight soldiers with questions bubbling in their heads.

The rice field was enormous, beautiful, and dreadful all at the same time. Enormous because it literally spanned over acres and acres of land, beautiful because mountain ranges which lied behind it all prettily decorated the panorama, but dreadful as the Japanese plated so many pointy poles everywhere in the field. This was done so the allies would have a difficult time if they were to parachute down and land on there.

Jules thought about this for a moment. He realized that everything didn’t have to only be about them. These people’s lives were far more miserable than his, and he thought his life was shit. The Japanese enslaved them, made them work for days non-stop with almost nothing in return. They also installed these poles which actually hardened their jobs. 

It came out from Jules’ mouth. “Damn.” 

The sun turned orange when the first house shadowed their eyes. Their feet, wet and dripped, must be all red and bloody from all the days of walking. 

The whole village would be ransacked to find them if the Japanese knew Americans were stepping foot, so there was no other choice but to continue walking and find some safer shelter for the night. They didn’t want to endanger the villagers, especially as there were so many kids playing on the streets.

But they didn’t need to bother walking anymore. 

They were about to sneak behind houses and buildings, slipping through gaps and small roads until entering another field.

That never happened though. 

Yamako and dozens of his men welcomed them in the village. Ends of guns vectored toward their heads. A single twitch from one of them meant death. They were already waiting for Jules and the others to round back a house at the outline of the village.

Yamako clapped his hands while sitting his ass on a hand-made wooden chair. He was smiling, real big. He danced his fat ass for his small celebration of achievement. 

“What I told you,” Yamako started. “You will never escape me. I will find each and every one of you.”

He smiled again and finally laughed the most villainous laugh ever. He was like a cheesy bad guy from those French plays.

Yamako’s men came toward them and herded them to the center of the village where five military trucks were parked. Asher cussed one more time before he ducked his head and entered one of the trucks.

Activities stopped for a little while on the village. Those locals never saw anything like that before. They dropped their shovels, sickles, sacks, and barrels. Kids with meatless bodies spectated. Women with the most disgusting hairs watched the Americans’ every move. 

Jules saw the sunlight for the last time, before he was to be imprisoned forever beneath a holy house with walls pinning him from the outside world. The sun was bright red, shining to his eyes, and when the soldier closed the truck’s banner, he was no longer a free man. He was a property to the Japanese. The world closed by his face. Darkness then swallowed him. 

He knew he would be executed regardless. These Japanese decapitated so many heads, especially Americans. He would be more than happy to accept that.

But Yamako owned his own company, his own platoon. He made his own rules. He wanted to torture these men until their souls were drained from their bodies. He wanted to use them as experiments, to see how long they lasted before they couldn’t hold it anymore.

Why? Because he could. Because he would!

Because Yamako was the craziest madman alive, and he so happened to be in charge of things on the area.

−

Jules slept inside the quick-moving truck. Holes on the roads were too common in those areas but Jules was already used to it.

When his eyeballs rerolled and his eyelids disclosed, he suddenly realized he was going to die. The thought of death didn’t bother him. A plank would be placed below his landscaping head, and the executor would swing the axe or the katana one or two times, giving it more momentum, and released the pointy end of it to his neck. His blood would splutter, coloring the entire room to the color red, and he will still feel the world around him seconds after he is decapitated, then he will die, drifting to the endless streams of time and space. And the last thing that will happen is his mother and sister welcoming him to the gate of eternity. 

The hinges of the truck’s door were rusted to their cores. The sounds they made when the door was unpatched were excruciating for the bone. 

What did Jules see first?

Yamako’s round, smug, monstrous face. 

“We have arrived. Welcome to your new home.”

Soldiers extracted Jules and his friends one by one, skimming them to the ground.

Outside, the temperature was surprisingly low for Dutch Indies. It felt like Alaska or Finland, but it was Southeast Asia.

Jules glanced for his surroundings.

The building before him was toweringly high. It was majestic, meticulously built with Roman architecture. 

A pretentious masterpiece in the form of a Cathedral. 

The Cathedral, a house of God. Below it, cells after cells arranged altogether inside two dungeons. Those dungeons symbolized enemies of God, and that they must be punished to live forever beneath His feet.

The Cathedral’s stone walls were almost superstitious and mythical. The rustling wind themed the whole building, as if a choir was singing a soundtrack for the church’s holy walls.

“At least we’ll die in God’s house,” Glenn said, trying to sound positive even before doom.

Yamako caught that and responded. “Oh, you are mistaken, private.”

Glenn didn’t comment.

“What’s your name?” Yamako asked.

Glenn still threw his face off him.

“Private, it would be wise to answer or your friend will lose one of his fingers.”

“We’ll die anyway. Why would you threaten us like that?” Asher barked. Two soldiers immediately jerked him to the ground, face hitting it first.

“Oh, you think that I’m going to pike you? Such classic for Japanese people to do so. But no, I promise to keep you alive. I promise to feed you, and to help you in times in need.”

No one cared.

“You will live your lives here, pathetically, remembering all the lives you took, remembering all of your dead friends. And one day, you’ll be extremely jealous to the dead ones.”

Asher spitted to Yamako’s shiny boots.

“Ah, you must be the rebellious one in the team. Every team has a person like you.”

Yamako unveiled his trench coat and showed his expensive-looking iron knife. He swung it around like some attention-seeker, and placed it below Asher’s head. He didn’t flinch, but that didn’t make Yamako less intimidating.

“You don’t mind to be punished, right?”

Asher’s eyes answered his question.

“Very well, I guess we’ll have to punish you with extreme creativity.”

Suddenly, the big corporal lunged himself to the ground beside Jules and stabbed his left pinky until blood burst out, spilling into the gravels around them.

Jules’ scream made everyone hinged. Asher shouted some cusses, while John and Glenn struggled. 

But he didn’t stop screaming. Blood didn’t stop too. 

Now, Jules’ left pinky was separated from the rest of his hand. Everyone could also see his bone twinkling out. Jules was screaming, crying, gasping, and jolting his body at the same time. Yamako just put his flat face and shot Asher with his bright eyes.

“That is what I called a creative punishment.”

Yamako said something in Japanese and Jules was hauled out of the area by two soldiers.