Globall War of Terror: Hanged Man

[drewkitty]

In the Tarot, the Hanged Man - sometimes by the neck, sometimes by an ankle and upside down - represents either death or transformation. The end of the story, or the end of _this_ story and the start of a new one.

I start with a Hanged Man. Quite literally -- strung up by wire, by the neck, dangling from a Highway 101 overpass. Obviously been up there for a bit, but not long enough for the vertebrae to separate and leave yet another corpse on the highway below. No idea what he did to get up there, other than the obvious "He pissed someone off and didn't have enough friends nearby to save him."

The relief convoy coming to the rescue of the relief convoy is in full battle rattle and I am in command. I should not be in command of a rubber ducky in a bathtub, but here I am and there it is. Two armored trucks, three convoy trucks, a battered minibus, a tow truck and a tractor trailer towing a flatbed with a sandbagged bunker on it.

So how did I get from there - braced on the edge of a sunroof at about 70 MPH, trying to steady binoculars to see what is going on ahead - to dangling by my ankle from a tow cable, upside down at about the same speed, playing tactical pinata and/or swaying target for a horde of unhappy campers with rifles?

Therein lies a story.

Comments

(spoiler)

[drewkitty]

In desperation. Buddy yanked on the jury rigged lift switch on the tow cable. It snapped. Deprived of voltage to the switch, the reel motor relaxed and let the cable run free.

I hit the concrete with a sickening crack and I felt my spine snap.

I did not feel the tire going over my chest.

I did feel it crush my skull.

-or-

I do the best I can to stand at attention despite the cardboard and duct tape splint on my broken lower left leg. The cut on my cheek drips, untreated.

Boot Hill has a single large hole into which our bulldozer is pushing the piled bodies.

My captors on either side push me towards the hole. I do not resist as they make me stand at the edge and look down.

The bodies of my subordinates and my friends.

Their officer cocks his pistol and stands behind me.

I have one moment to see the sun starting to set, beyond the mountains, before the pistol barks.

-or-

I limp towards the gate to let in the Marines. I am one of the few with the strength remaining to open it.

We have no choice at all. The wounded outnumber the hale and hearty, but the dead outnumber both. And none of us have eaten for ten days.

I am numb as the handcuffs go on and the standard counter terrorism charges are read. My next stop is a detention camp.

I doubt I will live long enough to volunteer for China service.

Failure in a totalitarian regime carries only one penalty.

-or-

I weakly return the utterly improper salute of the Marine colonel.

We have been relieved. Most of the Security Force is dead, but the Reaction Team has held.

He then shakes his head.

"Get on the helicopter, Private."

I blink for a moment, then nod. Slipping me out to China is probably the only way he can come up with to save my life.

The helicopter banks low over the site and I see the damage clearly from 500' AGL. The data center has burned to the ground. But the techs are alive to be relocated.

My moment of astonishment is very brief when the door gunner pushes me out.

I have all the time in the world to fit the pieces together before I hit.

-or-

I am in the infirmary. My gut is a sodden pulsing mass. Patty is holding my hand. Her hand is very warm.

"Hold," I tell her.

It comes out a whisper. She leans in forward to hear my next words.

"Fucking hold..."

My heart stops but I can still hear her scream as she lets go of my hand and picks up her rifle.

"HOLD! The man said We Hold!"

I hear the chatter of machine gun fire, which fades to the silence of the grave.

-or-

I suppose I will have to live through it to find out.

[drewkitty]

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