1943

The boy had an almost bald head, but his short, black hair blanketed the whole scalp. His brown skin reflected the light of the single lantern. His shirt was stained with someone else’s blood. He wore no shoes. The Japanese probably took them for no reason.

“Kid, are you alright?”

Jules shook the guy’s shoulder several times, harder each time he didn’t respond. He touched the neck for pulse.

At least he’s still alive.

Jules glanced toward the doll sitting on his sleeping plank. She frowned, then pointed its soft hand toward the guy’s mouth. “Give him what he needs!”

“I’m not doing that.”

“Just do it! He needs your help.”

“Alright, alright, don’t yell to me, Av.”

Jules lowered his mouth, took as many air as he could, and gave the poor boy some oxygen. Then, he pumped his chest, blew more air, pumped his chest, blew more air. Everyone else inside the dungeon turned their gazes upon Jules. They had very serious eyes and strong admiration to him.

And seconds passed. Jules thought he could feel the boy’s mouth’s scent forever now. But the guy coughed and everyone in the room sighed. A sight of relief burst into Jules’ heart. His doll clapped its hands and congratulated him for being a savior.

“Incredible job, Jules.”

Jules helped the boy up, leaning him against the iron bars of the cell. 

“What’s your name?” Jules asked.

The guy didn’t answer. He probably didn’t understand English.

“His name is Yudhistira,” said the local guy in John’s cell. He pressed his face to the bars separating Jules and John’s quarters. “I’m Arjanta.”

Jules inspected him. “At least you can talk.”

“Who are you guys?” Hal asked from across the dungeon. 

“We’re the resistance.”

“Which one?” Jai asked.

Arjanta squeaked his mouth, realizing there was a Dutch in the cell. Their looks were distinct to Javanese eyes. They colonized the island for three hundred years and more.

“We call ourselves the Humans Freedom Warriors, well, that’s what we are called in English.”

Blake raised his left brow. “You weirdoes the ones who broadcasted that weird message to all radios?”

“Yeah, that would be us.”

“Well congratulation, you have succeeded in freeing us. Also our friend, Glenn, died because of that stupid speech.”

Arjanta shook his head. “You don’t understand. We are the distraction. We attacked this church merely so the others can free the prison camp four miles from here. More than seventy locals are locked there for no reason, and twelve British soldiers are also tortured there.”

“I’m puzzled,” Jai said. “You guys are locals who want to free everyone under Japanese’s giant foot?”

“That’s right.”

“Including Dutch and Brits and whoever?”

“Yes.”

“With spheres and bamboos?”

“The HFW isn’t a Javanese organization, it’s international. There’re more than just locals. People joined in every day. People who are against oppressive governments followed us. We’re a worldwide resistance movement.”

“You guys fight NAZIs too?”

“Yeah. Our spread out organization helps resistances in Poland, Denmark, and the Netherlands. They also arranged a secret collaboration with the Belgian government to get rid of the Germans from their country.”

“Alright, this fairy tale is over.” Jules stood and sat back to his sleeping plank, hugging Ava’s doll some more. The warmth reached his skin in an instant.

“This is not fake. It’s real. We make differences, and we too will help you.”

“That sounds so surreal.”

“You all have lost all hope, that’s understandable, but we made a promise in that broadcast and we want to keep that promise. It takes time to do that but we will get you out of here.”

Jules interrupted the annoying statement Arjanta spited and glanced to the delirious boy in the corner of his cell, Yudhistira. “How old is he?”

“He’s fifteen,” Arjanta said. “And he’s not the youngest in our resistance.”

“You guys are barbaric cults,” Jai said. “You drag these innocent teenagers into war.”

“They are already in it one way or another. And we never drag anybody, they joined willingly. They are tired of being invaded and enslaved by you people. Europeans, Asians, they’re all the same. Thirsty for power and money, and commit genocide in other places to satisfy themselves.”

Jai’s face reddened. He boiled, ready to blow up. But he kept his mouth shut for some reason.

“You lost anyone?” John finally opened his mouth. “During that previous attack, I mean.”

“Two. It’s okay, they realized their risks.”

“And inside this dungeon, you’re the only one who speaks English?”

“Yeah, more or less.”

“Great.”

The door strolled open like it’d been hit by a thunderstorm. It hit the wall and produced a dizzying echo that startled their ears.

The Japanese corporal with his usual trench coat was very angry when he stepped inside the dungeon. His face was genuinely angry, like he’d been embarrassed to his life.

It was because he had been embarrassed by some local teenagers. He must’ve lost more than a dozen men. He was humiliated. 

Three men joined Yamako into the room, carrying their loaded guns. Their boots intimidated everyone, but Jules relaxed and watched the show. He guessed what would happen and he didn’t want any trouble.

Yamako crouched before John’s cell. His face was really close to Arjanta’s. His breath waved to Arjanta’s nose, but the guy didn’t bother.

“Where is your base of operation?”

Yamako had never been that angry before. Apparently this resistance group was such a big trouble for Japanese’s prosperity in Java.

“Why would I tell you?”

“Because, I can do whatever I want with you people.”

“Yeah, good luck with that. We know what the consequence of attacking this place was.” 

Yamako sighed. Again, he question Arjanta. “Where is the HFW hiding in?”

Arjanta’s answer was disturbing. “Good luck torturing us.”

“Oh you have no idea.”

Yamako reached the bundle of keys from his pocket and walked to the furthest of the cells. One of the local attackers was sleeping in Roger’s old place. Yamako and one guard brushed him out of the place. They dragged the poor guy to the front of Arjanta’s cell. 

Yamako snatched the guy’s arm, planked it down to the floor, spelled his finger one by one, and grabbed a screwdriver the guard brought. Then, he heated the screwdriver with a torch held by his man. Jules could see the iron part of the screwdriver turned yellowish red. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Jai asked from his cell.

Surprisingly, the locals’ eyes didn’t wander. They didn’t panic. Arjanta and Yudhistira watched with zero remorse. 

Their flat expressions maddened Yamako even more. His white teeth clenched. 

The most horrifying act came. The screwdriver plunged into the guy’s mother finger. It burned. His skin literally melted. The guy screamed.

And he screamed again. Yamako ruthlessly cut another finger, and another, and another. All of this happened for five minutes. The guy’s heavy breathing and echoing scream casted all over the dungeon.

Finally, Yamako too was out of breath. He lurched himself to the floor, breathing harder than ever before.

Yamako cut ten times.

Ten screams. Ten stabs. Ten fingers.

The guy lost every finger he had. He sobbed like a baby, soaping his cheek to the stone ground. Even the bravest, most persistent man in the world could not bear that sort of physical torture.

Jules and the others could see ten detached fingers smoking on the floor. 

“You crazy son of a bitch,” John shouted.

But the guy on the ground, the guy with no finger, started to cry weirdly now. He cried while laughing. He laughed, barked, howled to Yamako’s angry face. He laughed so hard that water started coming out of his eyes. It looked like the guy’s mental had been turned inside out. All of his fingers had been cut from his hands, but now he was laughing. 

“What is so funny?” Yamako asked directly to his ear.

But the guy didn’t answer. He probably didn’t even understand what Yamako asked.

“This guy is crazy,” Asher said.

“I agree,” Yamako added. “You are all crazies, freaks. You and your crazy group should care more about your members. You know I’m not the execution type person, so I can actually save hundreds of lives.”

“We’ll prefer death, thanks very much,” Arjanta responded bravely.

“Fine.” 

Yamako unpatched his gun and blew the laughing guy’s temple with it. He dropped to the ground after one hit.

Yamako strode out.

“I told you locals here are crazy,” Jai said after the iron door closed.

“We’re not crazy. We’re devoured. We want to save people and we want to fight for our island. Japanese shouldn’t be here. They should go home and do whatever they want with their country. We don’t like being used.”

“But that was crazy,” Jules said, almost a whisper.

“That you might think so. We aren’t crazy, though. You should live as us Javanese, invaded for three hundred years. It might take us five hundred more to be independent but we will fight and die as long as our children and grandchildren can live freely.”

Strong words, but still, crazy. No one even flinched when Yamako tortured that man. If the guy was one of Jules’ friends, he would smash the crap out of the iron bars and choked Yamako until he drowned his own blood. 

Barbarians. Savages. Cavemen. These resistance men were everything from those three words. They were real Vikings.

That was everyone’s first impressions. That was what people would see these men first. These men were actually nobler and way kinder than the king of England, or the commander from Greece, or an American philosopher. They were real fighters, fighting for the sake of their own people, unlike Jules and his friends. Americans fight because it was necessary to fight. They fight because they had to, or their generations would die all the time, every second, every day.

−

Yamako came every morning and evening, beating those locals, drowning them, electrocuting them, but no one opened their mouth. No one spoke of this underground basement in which the secret HFW Organization lied upon.

Until four days later, Yamako came into the dungeon with four armed guards. It was really strange of him to do that, considering Yamako always either brought one or two with him. 

“You,” Yamako called to Arjanta. “Come to the door. All of you! Come to your cell doors!”

Arjanta didn’t resist. He did as was told, so everyone else followed him. Seven local soldiers lined up in front of their cell doors, firmed up like in a ceremony. 

The four guards each unlocked a cell, Yamako too in his own unlocked Arjanta’s. Yudhistira, the kid in Jules’ cell, was also got out. After every resistance was out, they locked those cells back. Arjanta and the others lined up, and after Yamako told them to follow him, they marched outside the dungeon with their heads hung low. They knew exactly what was going to happen.

And after the dungeon’s door was closed, silence crept in once more.

Ava sang a song in Jules’ cuddle. The doll sang beautifully, although everything was practically his imagination.

Three minutes later, several loud bangs echoed from outside somewhere.

Yamako and his men executed the eight locals. They died in his hand, including Arjanta and Yudhistira.

No body commented. No one moved. Everyone just stilled their bodies.

Yamako, the Japanese commander who was very much against executing people, just did the very thing he swore not to do unless was necessary. Glenn and Ezra weren’t executed, just coldly murdered. But those young men out there, they were executed.

The fat corporal must not like himself at the moment. Something about these HFW upset him too much. Certainly this organization was pretty disruptive to the Japanese reign.