The file picture portrayed a young black man; his brown skin contrasting with his greenish eyes and mixed features denounced the diverse ancestry, which may have included from Australian aboriginal peoples to Scottish colonizers.
“This is private John Victor Burns. He was in the beginning of a prominent military career, which had already included joining operations on foreign territory. Up to last month, he had no fail in his records; on the contrary, he was one of four men whom I personally selected to send to a risky mission… A classified operation in the Indonesian coast. Our aim was to map the surrounding terrain to a secret paramilitary base where two Australian soldiers are being held. They were captured in East Timor, during our peacekeeping operation under the United Nations Transitional Administration. Burns had taken part in the ground setting phase; the second part of the operation would be the rescue of the soldiers itself.”
As Dubken spoke, Nicole ran her eyes through the files of a seemingly top ranked soldier, holding high marks in all assessments. He continued.
“Burns’ team, however, was somehow spotted soon after they entered the perimeter. They were ambushed in the jungle they had to cross to reach the camp where our soldiers are being held. Rightward and Jenkins were targeted… And immediately killed. Burns and Awaba managed to escape.”
Dubken took that kind of deep breath that usually announce the worst part of the talk.
“Things moved on to be considered and processed as a failed mission, were it not for what happened next in Melville Island, in the Air Force base where they were firstly brought to. Awaba immediately called the Colonel in charge of the facility and requested a closed-doors talk. He wanted to convey his own account on what had happened, separated from Burns. Obviously, they forwarded the issue to us and sent them back here in the first available flight – and, as soon as they arrived, Awaba insisted in talking to me privately… Well, I listened to him, and he told quite a different story abvout what happened.”
Nicole now browsed John Awaba’s file, which held a picture of a smiling, big-nosed, clear-brown-skinned young man who displayed some aboriginal characteristics. Someone knocked on the door.
“Come in.”
A female soldier entered the room, carrying a tray with cups, a pot of sugar and a bottle of coffee. She laid it on the table.
“Thank you very much, Fanny.”
As the young woman left, Dubken continued.
“Awaba told they indeed seemed to have been spotted and ambushed along the path in the middle of the jungle, but said that it all started when Burns fired – fired at him. At least, in his direction. It seems that Burn’s shots delivered their position, and then they were attacked, not the opposite. He said that hell broke loose next and that he and Burns just managed to survive because Rightward and Jenkins were some meters ahead and were targeted first. He also said that as they started pulling back, he was stormed by a stealthy fighter that surged from the jungle with a huge knife, but he managed to shoot the man down. Eventually, they managed to foil the group that chased them and reached ground zero.”
“Next you heard Burns, I suppose.”
“Exactly. And he insisted in his version of the facts. He… He seemed to not understand why he was being interrogated. Burns repeated with no hesitation that he, as well as Rightward, were about eight meters to the left of Awaba and Jenkins. They were about to reach the perimeter of the enemy’s camp and he saw a subject approaching Awaba, in a threateningly manner, from behind, silently and fast. He said there was no time, that he immediately raised his weapon and took a shoot. The rest of the story was pretty much the same, but he said he managed to put the attacker down at first. To be honest, the exact words he used were that he had saved Awaba!”
“…And what Awaba said about this first attacker?”
“He said that, after the shot, he first recoiled to get protection, and when he turned back and looked around, he didn’t see anyone.”
“So… You think Burns tried to kill Awaba, or that… That he may have purposefully tried to deliver their location to the enemies?” Nicole, puzzled, inferred.
“…That was our first thought, but…” Dubken moved his head negatively. “…Burns?! What would he have in return for that?? And Indonesia… They don’t have the know-how to plant an informant in our military, or something like that. Burns… Burns was really… He was not just unsettled with the fail. He was different, speaking fast, paranoid…”
“That’s indeed a sign of post-violence trauma.”
“Well, but that was just the beginning. Have a look at this.”
The Colonel grabbed the controller of the DVD player installed bellow the TV monitor. He browsed the files in the disc and played the first. Nicole watched grey fuzzy images appear on the screen.
“This is footage from internal cameras…?”
“Yes. After being provided with immediate medical assistance, meals and shower, Burns and Awaba were kept in a room in building two, while they awaited further questioning. That is standard procedure. They slept for hours, until one of the privates that guarded the floor heard a strange noise, like a brawl, coming from the room. Then he heard a bang, and soon after, Burns screaming for help. When he entered the room, Burns was kneeling on the ground, holding Awaba in his arms, trying to stanch the blood that ran out from a fifteen-centimeter cut to his throat. They were both all covered in blood. There was a gun and a knife on the floor.”
Dubken raised his gaze and Nicole followed his eyes to the screen. The images framed the room where both soldiers awaited interrogation from one of the upper corners, in a bad angle, which showed the extremities of the beds, each one set parallel to one of the walls of the corner, forming a square angle. The black-and-white, silent motion images showed in poor light and detail what appear to be two men sleeping on each bed under blankets…
Until all became dark. Nicole shivered with a sudden fright. It seemed that something, or someone had gotten in the way of the camera. She squeezed her eyes as she saw the darkness change to shades of grey and diminish, turning into a blurry figure, a dark stain in the middle of the screen that moved toward the bed on the left. Suddenly there was a convulsion on the bed – arms raising, grey blankets trembling; the man on the left seemed to be struggling amidst a black fuzzy shadow that stumbled upon him. Some seconds later, the silhouette of the man on the other bed raised and thrust himself against the shadow, dragging the dark confusion with him to the ground and out of the camera frame.
“Now comes the bang…”, cued Dubken, denouncing he had already memorized those images.
There was a bright flash on the screen, and what was seen afterwards could be more clearly defined – Awaba remained on the bed, his hands on the neck, his body jerking in despair, and a dark liquid spout from his neck. Burns then entered the camera angle again, kneeling beside Awaba and leaning over him. Dubken paused the video.
Nicole breathed deeply. Although her work had lead her to watch all sorts of violent events, that kind of “real thing” was never easy to see. Dubken realized that.
“Oh… Sorry, I didn’t even warn you I would show you such images, I…”
“No, no, don’t worry. I am used to it.”
“Yeah, I know… But that was different.”
“So, there is someone else in the picture.” Nicole felt a cold sensation in her stomach, a mix of curiosity and apprehension. She was intrigued. “Did you manage to track the gun, and the knife?”
“Yes. Very easily, in fact. It lead downstairs. The gun and the knife were Kevin’s, the private in the shift as the sentinel in sentry box three. Right here, next to the fence, in the perimeter of our facilities. We caught him… Sleeping as a dead pig, right there, on the ground. We locked him too, but he doesn’t seem to know a thing of it. He even wept... And I do believe in him.”
“And… Has Awaba survived?”
“Yes. We don’t know how, as well, since he lost almost seventy percent of his blood. But he is stable, in the intensive care unit in building four. Burns, in the other hand… He is in one of the cells downstairs… Burns seems to be really fucked up.”
Colonel Dubken, now was visibly hesitant. Facts had indeed extrapolated his range of scope, and delved into unknown territory.
“What do you mean by ‘fucked up’?”
“He is terrified. He didn’t lift a finger of resistance when other officials arrived in the room. He just called for help repeatedly, desperately. When they managed to calm him down, he kept shivering… And stuttering something.”
“…What did he said?”
“He kept saying…” Dubken faltered again. He took some air in. “He kept saying… That he had killed… That He had killed death. He had killed death, but it keeps coming back… For them.”
Nicole didn’t know what to say. But the sombre tone in the Colonel’s words, and his low, gloomy eyes gazing away assured her that something ghastly was taking place in that military base.
***
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