I am currently very much over One Hundred Points of Failure. As a first draft I don’t think it is worth taking to a second draft or a re-write, so I am not going to spend any more time on it. We all know how it is going to finish and getting there will be just a masochistic typing exercise.

“Keep talking, I will find you.”

She stopped talking but continued crying. He inched forward, patting the ground with his foot. It ended abruptly.

“Susie?”

“Down here.”

“How far is it?”

“I don’t know. Two feet or so, I guess.”

He went down on one knee and probed with his foot. A shallow trench, probably a dry drainage ditch. He could see the faint blob of her face and hair. He patted around for her legs.

“It will be okay. Which leg is it?”

“My right.”

He found the soft material of her tracksuit and under that shape of her knee. He traced her leg down to her ankle.

“Ow.”

“I am sorry.”

Her ankle felt swollen already. He felt for a fracture. It had been a short fall, but a break was still possible.

“Ow. That hurts.”

“I am sorry. I am checking if you have broken anything.”

“It really hurts. You should take me to a hospital.”

“It will hurt, but it is only sprained, not broken.”

“What would you know, you’re not a doctor.”

“I am doctor. I was a doctor. I do not practice any more. I will have to carry you to the car. Put your arm around my neck and I will lift you up.”

“You were a doctor?”

“Yes. In Ruzekhistan. Put your arm around my neck. Let us go.”

She complied. He slid an arm under her legs and the other around her waist and lifted her in a smooth motion.

“I cannot see a thing. I will try not to hit you against a tree, but please forgive me if I do.”

He felt with his foot for the edge of the ditch and stepped up. The road was bright through the trees.

“The moon is rising,” he said. “The night will not be so dark any more.”

He maneuvered them to the edge of the forest and looked out. There were no cars coming. He walked quickly across the road to the passenger side of the car.

“I am going to put you down on your good leg. Then I will open the car and we will sit you down. Okay.”

“Okay.”

He stood her up, then dug out the keys and unlocked one of the back doors. He helped her hop into position so she could sit down.

“In one of the bags behind you there is some tape. Please get it for me.”

He squatted down and untied the shoelaces of her right shoe. He loosened them and gingerly took her shoe off and put it on the floor of the car. He took off her sock and placed it in her shoe. She held out the roll of tape.

“Here.”

“Thank you. We have no bandages, but this will work.”

He tore off a long piece of tape.

“Why did you buy the tape?”

He quickly and expertly wrapped it around her ankle and foot and tore off another length.

“I was afraid you might hurt your ankle. It looks like I was right.”

She held up the coil of rope.

“And this.”

He wrapped a final piece of tape around her ankle.

“The safe house – our swing is broken. That will do for now. Of course you cannot put any weight on it. Now let us move you to the front seat.

“I want to stay back here.”

“No, that will look strange and draw attention. Up you get.”

He helped her hop around into the front passenger seat. There was no need to re-lock the door, she would no longer be running off. He shut the rear door and got into the driver’s seat. He took a deep breath and checked his watch. It felt like midnight but it was still early. He started the car and they were under way again.

“In the other bag there is some food and some water. Just some sandwiches.”

Susie swiveled around and dragged the bags into the front seat and went through their contents.

“Ham sandwiches? I thought Muslims didn’t eat pork.”

“I am not a Muslim.”

“Then why do you work for Islamic terrorists.”

“I told you, we are not Muslims and we are not terrorists.”

“Damien said the rioters were Islamic terrorists.”

“He was wrong. Some Ruzekhistani’s are Muslims, but we are revolutionaries, not zealots.”

“So you can eat ham?”

“Yes. I can eat ham, bacon and pork chops.”

“Good. I don’t like ham. You can have those.”

He took a sandwich and placed it in his lap, unwrapping it with one hand while steering with the other. She unwrapped a chicken sandwich and took a bite. She put it down and opened one of the bottles of water and took a long drink.

“I needed that. I am so dehydrated for some reason. Were you really a doctor?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you stop? I mean, why go from saving lives to blowing up an entire hotel filled with people. How do you do that?”

“It is not a happy story.”

“Tell me.”

“If you wish. Murzak, my target, came into power by buying an election. There was blatant fraud and intimidation. I do not even think the votes were counted. It was all a play put on for the rest of the world. Then like despots everywhere he began to loot our country for the benefit of himself and his friends. Any opposition was threatened into silence. Those he could not scare he killed. It did not take long for a movement opposed to him to start. Even before the election there were protests. Things got worse. I was working in a hospital I saw people coming in who had been severely beaten by the police, or Murzak’s own Guard. That was bad, then it got worse. I was seeing people who had been held and tortured. They had cigarette and electrical burns, broken fingers and teeth, pieces of their skin were missing. I was horrified. I spoke out at the hospital. What happened? My medical license was revoked. I returned to my parents’ restaurant to support my family.”

“Other people I knew, braver than me, continued to speak out against Murzak. They disappeared one by one. I kept quiet, but I stilled participated in the opposition. It was so little. I let people stay in the shed in my garden. They would stay a night or two and then they would be gone, into the mountains to join the militia.”

“One evening I was at home with my wife and daughter. We had finished dinner and we were playing in the lounge room. My daughter Milya was six and she loved to dance. She would make everyone dance. We were all dancing in front of the television, no music, just a movie. I left them. I left them to go to the bathroom and I heard shooting and the glass in our windows breaking and the shooting just kept going. It was a machine gun, or several machine guns. I could not get back down the hallway until it stopped. My wife and daughter were already dead from terrible wounds; a fire had started. I guess they firebombed us as well because I could smell the fuel. I tried putting the fire out. I was crazy. I guess I was trying to save them from further harm. There was nothing I could do. Neighbours came and dragged me out of the house. They called the fire brigade but it never came. My friends arrived and pushed me into a car. They made me leave my wife and daughter, they said I would be arrested. They were right. We met another car and they put me in the trunk and drove me out of the city.”

“The next morning I woke in a cabin in the mountains. My life was destroyed. Around me were others who had suffered just as much, or more. I was in the militia. I have been fighting ever since.”

“What about your parents

“They are dead.”

“Were they killed by Murzak too?”

“Indirectly, like many people. Life got very hard. They lost their restaurant. Almost fifty years they had it. They spent everything they had to keep it going. They even sold their home and moved into a tiny apartment. I guess they thought things would get better. But if no-one is eating in restaurants… My father died soon after the restaurant closed. My mother kept going until the next winter.  I was told about her death months later.”

“Did they know you were still alive?”

“Yes.”

“Did you visit them when you were in the militia?”

“No. I couldn’t. I saw them two days before Murzak’s men killed my wife and daughter. I never saw them again.”