He heard the hard crack of a broken bone and withdrew his rifle, drawing it close. When Ivan looked up, he saw Ali - unconscious - and the Japanese men already trying to tie him up and gag him.

Despite Ali's limbs drooping motionless, the men still struggled to wrap the cloth around his head and hands. He raised his sights, and Ivan fired at them.

One captor fell and the other looked up.

A second time, and again. Again.

The last of the men dropped to the ground and another came out of the bush. He aimed and fired again.

Ali sat unconscious still, but the men around him had either been wounded or fled. If I stay here, they won't find me, he mused. He called me commander. Wanted to kill me to save the commander.

The men here are just as loyal as their country.

But for Ivan it wasn't even a question. Ivan slunk over the log. Sitting, he held onto Ali, and pushed away from the log with his good leg, gradually nestling them both in the thick foliage. It was slightly uphill, and as he realized he began to panic at his lack of strength. They would be back any second, and he was still half-exposed.

A bristle of bushes caught his attention. They were coming from where the soldiers had run off from.

Ivan began pulling with his hand while pushing with his leg.

A few more inches and he could pull his legs in and be completely hidden.

The swish of leaves became louder and louder. He pushed once more and was beneath the leaves, letting out a quiet sigh of relief. "We're safe," he whispered, knowing that Ali was still unconscious. He let his breathing slow and the leaf-bristling came closer.

But when he squinted to watch for any visitors, he realized one thing and his breath caught. His bad leg was still laying in the open.

The shuffling came closer.

Carefully, he began to draw it in, wincing in pain. He almost had it in the shadows when the pain was unbearable, so he hoisted himself up on his elbow and kept pulling it in with his other hand.

The shuffling stopped, and so did he. The leaves began to shift in the silent breeze and he let out a soft breath. He dropped his hand near his ankle and let his head fall in relief.

A hand grasped his.

When he pulled away, the stranger released his hand, catching Ivan's ankle instead.

The man wrenched the ankle from the leaves, drawing Ivan into the open.

Pain shot up his leg and he let out a groan, while his hands flung up to grab some hold on the dirt as it fled beneath him.

Helplessly, he watched as his rifle sling caught on Ali's arm, dragging him as well until they were both flung between three enemy soldiers.

They tumbled into the dirt between the men, Ali face-down.

Seeing no other options, he began kicking at them all with as much strength as he could muster. He caught one in the knee, but the other two simply stepped back and waited for him to drain his energy. When he finally did, two more men emerged and they pulled his arms tight behind his back, a pop releasing from his shoulder.

He gritted his teeth and squinted his eyes. He watched Ali as they mildly gagged him and tied his arms.

An idea cleared in his mind.

He looked at Ali once more and drooped his eyes. He let his movements slur, feigning that he had lost too much blood. He threw a lazy kick but he let his leg swing carelessly until it caught the ground, where he left it stretched before him. He closed his eyes completely. The men began talking in their language, a bit of laughter mixed in until he could hear the shifting leaves ahead of him. Soon enough, they began to haul him too. If he was lucky, they thought he was unconscious and would find no need to torture or interrogate him.

Carefully, he relaxed his muscles, slumping around the hard grip of the Japanese men. He let his head wobble as they walked, and very soon his throat was sore from the angle his head hung at. He began counting their footsteps.

It was at least six-hundred before he lost count.

***

He woke as soon as he heard more voices. He had no clue when he'd fallen asleep during the journey, but by the glow behind his eyelids, he could tell that it was sunrise again. Or sunset.

The voices travelled clearly but still seemed distant. He heard a clink of a glass.

In the darkness of his lidded eyes, he created the scene in his imagination.

A rowdy group of Imperials sitting around a picnic table, mugs full of drinks dripping every time a round of laughter erupted. Boots shined perfectly, guns leaned precariously on the table edge and on nearby trees. A tarp over it all to keep dry. Prisoners tied to a tree behind them.

The ground beneath him suddenly changed from the swish of leaves to the rickety crunch of gravel to pavement as they drew nearer to the crowd, and his scene changed.

A bar off a gravel road, Japanese crowding around an array of glass mugs placed on a draped table. The prisoners out of sight, possibly in the back, and the guns reclined on the bar and barstools.

The men stopped and dropped Ivan to the ground. He finally opened his eyes to see Ali wasn't in front of him, and the scene was nothing like he imagined. A large man standing in front of him, the tip of his bayonet catching Ivan's chin. Ivan took in a sharp breath. The man put the slightest pressure on the point.

In the background, a slap echoed and a yelp escaped from somewhere unknown. Are they torturing Ali? The tip of the blade dug into his skin as he struggled to stand, his leg shaking from his own weight. His other leg, wounded, was useless. Finally, he stood and glared at the man.

Ivan looked around him. Behind the man was a syndicate of Japanese soldiers, twice the size his own had been. Where's that boy? He thought, looking through the ranks. They stood in a line facing him, both hands on their rifles. The point twisted on his throat. Ivan's gaze shot back to the man and he tilted his head back to avoid its tip. The pressure was relieved for a millisecond and he caught his breath, slowing it, preparing to speak for his life.

He had already concocted a decent phrase before the man rushed the edge of his bayonet upwards, catching his cheek. Ivan sucked in a breath as it pierced his skin and drew blood, all the way up to his brow. The man nonchalantly let his rifle fall to his side, staring at Ivan.

Blood leaked down the front of Ivan's shirt, and he looked down to see the tip of the man's bayonet dripping crimson as well. He didn't notice as screams came from beneath his feet. The Japanese man turned his back and two men behind grasped Ivan's arms. He collapsed in their hold and they pulled him past the syndicate, down the road. Finally, he could see a large group. A thin wire was tied around his wrists behind him, digging into his skin. It was also attached to the man behind him, and the one behind him. Ivan followed the silver line until he counted twenty people, all tied to the same wire, all connected. He slouched and fell to the ground, ignoring the pain in his shoulders. The guards were posted on him all day and all night. There was no escape.

He had just opened his eyes when a loud crack echoed and pain screamed from his bad leg. He looked at it to see it was bent at an odd angle, and a man stood in front of him with a rifle raised. He said something in Malay but Ivan didn't understand - until the soldier yanked him from the ground to stand on his one good leg. Ivan scanned the scene. A bridge was to the left, where brown waters raced below.

He searched through the men again, looking for a familiar face. Finding none, he turned towards the Japanese.

His breath hitched when he caught the gaze of one of the soldiers and Ivan pulled on the wire.

He tugged again, harder.

His heart began to thud in his chest, comparable to the rushing water beneath the bridge.

Jerking his body back and forth, the man attached to the wire behind him fell to the ground.

His eyes narrowed into slits as the man made eye contact with him, and his glare solidified.

The confusion boiled into a deafening rage. He twisted from his torso, struggling to use his dislocated shoulder to his advantage, to get himself out.

The boy stared right back omnisciently, his nose covered with a bandage and his hands pinched behind him. His hands were bound. Ali nodded, gaze unwavering.

The tension curling in his veins was released. Instantly, regret hit him in the gut, and he let out a chuckle to himself. How could I have suspected him like that? He wondered. He's clearly tied up. He wouldn't betray an ally, I know it.

Then Ali lifted his hand to adjust his bandage.