Читать книгу Manipulation - D.K. Wilde - Страница 11

His head hurt, his back and chest was stinging and he could feel his arms pulled above his head. Slowly opening his eyes, he saw he was still in the bunker and was suspended over a pit, hanging by his arms.

He was naked and the stinging sensation, across his back, was from a whipping he’d received. His blood was dripping into the pit and the crowd seemed fascinated by this.

“Well, well mister soldier or whoever you are. I finally get the chance to get rid of you and your tampering in my affairs,” said Cooper watching from the screen.

Wade deducted by the tone of voice that she was still speaking as the personality Troy and he knew from his studies that triggering the onset of one of the other personalities when the patient least expected it could sometimes cause the patient to enter a state of confusion.

“Hope your dolls didn’t suffer too much,” said Wade.

“What?” came the stunned reply.

“You know … dolls all blown to smithereens.”

“It was you … you will pay … I hate you … I want you dead,” she screamed in her childlike state.

Still screaming and yelling, ‘Kill him … kill him.’ Wade felt the support rope cut as he plunged into the pit.

Falling twenty metres into a pitch black hole and not knowing what to expect; he suddenly smashed into the freezing water. Force of the impact caused temporary concussion. Coming to his senses, as he reached the deepest part of his fall, he knew that going directly back to the surface, from where he came, would be suicide. He started breaststroke kicking and five metres later his head crashed into a wall. Changing direction, he kicked ten kicks knowing he would have covered ten metres and then started for the surface.

He could feel the pain in his head and he knew he was in the early stages of oxygen depletion and hypothermia. Hands bound and the water sapping his energy at a frenetic pace he needed to find the surface and get out of the water. A master of controlling his mind he focused on the result not the problem. Lactic acid had built in his legs as he struggled to keep moving and he started to feel the initial onset of loss of consciousness. Concentrating on his US Navy SEAL underwater training, slowly releasing air and relaxing he pushed further toward the surface. With everything around him still completely black and without warning his head smashed into a concrete base.

Concentrating on holding his bound hands against his stomach and using his back as a guide against the concrete, he tried desperately to kick. He knew his kicks were losing their strength and he was drifting in and out of consciousness, possibly even concussion.

Wade had shown he was one of the most gifted Special Forces soldiers throughout his various training regimes. He had proven to be the strongest swimmer, had the greatest endurance, the highest pain threshold and could sustain concentration well after others had succumbed.

With his head about to explode and the screaming desire for oxygen about to send him into a subconscious and consequently deadly state; he heard the spirits talk to him. They told him you don’t give up; you will only die when you have served your time and now was not that time. His belief and faith in the spirits was so strong he gave it one last effort and with that the concrete stopped and he burst through the surface. Gasping for air and struggling to stay afloat his first priority was to get out of the water.

He saw the shore thirty metres to his front as he kicked and lunged himself across the surface. Eventually reaching the lakes rocky edge he pulled himself out of the water. Exhausted, involuntarily shaking and trying desperately to stay coherent. Wobbling to his feet, he used a rock to cut the rope binding his hands and headed for the hangar.

Entering he saw the plane had gone. With the air temperature approaching freezing point; him naked, wet, beaten and having suffered doses of concussion he knew he needed to get his core temperature up. Staggering to a change room he found soiled overalls, boots and an emergency Space Blanket. The small shower stung his back and head eating into the cuts but having been conditioned he ignored the pain and let the steam billow through the room. Unaware of how long he had stood under the ever increasing water temperature, he dried himself off and donned two pair of the overalls. Wrapped himself in the blanket and stared into the mirror. The image staring back would have made most people collapse with despair but years of fighting in some of the worse battle zones on earth had left him in far worse condition so he closed his eyes and focused on beautiful images.

Wade had learnt when lying in some putrid, disease infested trench in a remote jungle or hiding in a rat infested building, whilst engaged in urban warfare, that the only way to remain focused was to block out the surrounding conditions and concentrate on images like a cascading waterfall or a lush green oasis buried somewhere deep in his beloved desert. He had mastered this art and could do it with his eyes open while still completely aware of his surroundings.

His head felt foggy but the warm water had started to ease the throbbing.

Thirty minutes later he felt his energy levels rise, the warmth had returned and the shaking had stopped. A further thirty minutes passed and after more searching he discovered a tattered flight jacket and beanie.

Returning to the now deserted bunker with the last of the fires flickering, he located his pack, weapons, GPS and NVG. It was midnight when he arrived at the Ucluelet harbour, after a steady paced twelve kilometre run from the bunker. The harbour was deserted. He found a forty foot, twin engine Scarab. Ensuring it was fully fuelled he released it from its moorings and let the outward flowing current drag the boat down to the open sea. Once passed the harbour master tower he engaged the engines and commenced the five hour trip.