Buried Alive

Jorje was sound asleep when the men in hoods broke through the door of the room he was sleeping in. He woke up fighting but they were on him before he could reach his revolver.

He was hit with the butts of their guns several times before they drug him off to the truck. They placed a hood over his head and drove off.

When the truck stopped he was roughly pulled off and down some stairs. He was tossed into a chair. His arms and legs were tied to the chair.

He squinted from the bright lights in his face.

"Good morning Jorje Manual Martinez. I hope we did not disturb your sleep."

"I had to get up anyway."

"I have some questions for you that I will expect you to answer honestly and completely. Your answers will determine your fate today."

"I know you have been in contact with the criminals that are trying to overthrow the legitimate government. I want their names and where to find them."

"Who are you talking about? I do not know any criminals."

He was smacked across the cheek. His interrogator must be wearing a large ring he thought.

"You know exactly who I am talking about. What are they planning?"

"I do not know what you are talking about."

Again he got smacked.

"Wrong answer."

"I could make up something but you told me to be honest."

Smack.

"As I told you. Your cooperation determines your fate so you had better think seriously about providing me the information I want."

Jorje could not see his inquisitioner's face. All he could see was his silhouette.

The man stepped back into the shadows. Jorje could hear him walking around but could not see him because of the light.

"Did you know it was your own mother that turned you in to us?"

"No surprise there. I never was family in her mind."

"She is a good woman that realizes that she is obligated to report crimes against the state to the legal authorities. She only wants to stop you from harming yourself."

"Are you sure you are talking about my mother? She only believes in herself and vengeance. My wrong to her was that I was born."

"You are going to regret having been born if you do not tell me the names of your friends that are conspiring to overthrow the legitimate government."

"I do not know who you are talking of."

The interrogator signaled to others who took Jorje, untied him from the chair and tied him hanging from the ceiling.

"We shall leave you for awhile to think about rather or not you want to get our of here."

"Thank you. I look forward to talking with you again."

"I hope you are slow to answer my questions. I will enjoy forcing it out of you." He walked out leaving Jorje alone.

The bright lights kept him from being able to sleep. His wrists were tied together so he was dangling from the ceiling. Hanging like this he could only breath shallowly. The only way he could catch his breath was to pull himself up. Over time this left him exhausted. When he would pass out someone would come in and throw ice cold water on him to wake him up.

Jorje lost all track o f time. With every breath he had to concentrate on pulling himself up to breath out. After time he started coughing from the fluid that began to build up in his lungs.

He had passed out again and was awakened by another cold bucket of water.

The interrogator was back.

"I hope you slept well."

"I think you fixed my back."

The interrogator looked towards one of the guards that struck Jorje in his back.

Jorje anguished from the pain. When the pain subsided he coughed and said; "Oh yes, I think you got it. I believe you knocked that vertebrae back in place."

"Since you so enjoy our services I see it is time to step up our efforts."

On his signal two of the soldiers brought over a battery and a couple of cables. One end of the cables was attached to the battery. The other was attached to wet sponges.

"I am going to have my Lieutenant show you some skills he learned while in Cuba."

He was splashed with another bucket of cold water.

The Lieutenant stabbed the sponges into either side of Jorje's abdomen. He convulsed from the surge going through his body. It felt like every muscle had contracted, pulling his body apart in a sick tug of war.

"Are you ready to talk?"

"I'll talk, I'll talk. Just don't shock me again."

They allowed him time to catch his breath.

"Now, what were we talking about?"

His interrogator clinched his jaw and with a jerk of his hand ordered the Lieutenant to give him another shock. He lost control of his body functions as well as his consciousness.

He was brought to with more cold water.

After several times of shocking him until he passed out it took more than a couple of buckets of cold water to revive him.

"I have decided to give you a rest. We have catacombs here that have been used in the past to dispose of the dead. I'll let you rest where you can get a feel for how it will be to be dead. Maybe a few hours in a grave will loosen your tongue. That is if you do not chew it off."

He was too weak to resist their taking him down and placing him in a coffin.

The interrogator stopped them from closing the coffin. Holding the lid he asked, "Who are your co-conspirators? All I need is a couple of names and we can end this."

"I know no conspirators."

He slammed the lid shut.

The lid was nailed down and the coffin was pushed into a hole in the wall of one of the catacombs.

Jorje could hear him say, "we'll see if you are still same when we pull you back out."

With that they sealed off the hole.

The walls of the coffin gave him no room to move. Apparently it was not build but for small occupants. He smelled the dirt, sweat and waste. There was no light at all. There was no sound to keep him company except his breathing and heartbeat.

He wanted to claw his way out of the grave. He had heard of people being buried alive. They would rip off their own fingernails trying to escape.

He realized his worse enemies would be losing his sanity and running out of air.

He knew he had to focus his mind on something, anything in order to still the panic that could kill him. As long as he was alive there would be a chance.

Some old Shaman once taught him to focus his mind. He started with learning to control his breathing. That is what he needed to do now.

He tried to focus on each breath, breath in, breath out, good spirits in, bad spirits out.

He remembered that the old man had him sit in a cave with a fire while meditating on the fire and his breath. He remembered that after some hours that he thought he was running across the plains. The experience was real to him even though he was still seated in the cave. He wished he was running across the plains now.

"Breath in, breath out. Slowly." He repeated in his mind. His breathing did begin to slow. He calmed down even though he had an intense fear of enclosed places from childhood. The slower his breathing got the slower was the pounding of his heart, the more the walls drifted away from his body.

He was again on the plains in his mind. Then he was in the mountains and then the sea. The time passed as days.

When his hole was opened up he did not even notice the voices calling for him. He did not notice the coffin being pulled out and the lid being removed. He lay there as dead but he still had a pulse. Water finally revived him.

"Jorje wake up. Please wake up."

His companions in the struggle for freedom surrounded him.

"Am I dead?"

They all burst out into laughter.

They gave him bread and drink as they told him of their victory. Jorje was glad to learn that they also brought a change of clothing for him. His clothes were soiled and he greatly desired to wash off the filth of the last few days. Then it was time to go.

"Jorje my friend. They had you here six days. How did you endure without giving our names."

"My friend, I'll tell you."

"You know I did not have a good home growing up. Maybe the abuse I suffered from the person that gave me birth prepared me for what I faced. Certainly being locked in a closet prepared me for lying in that coffin."

"And certainly the taste of freedom was so sweet that nothing else could compare. Freedom must begin in the mind before one can cast off the chains. I already passed through one war for my freedom and won the war of the mind. Though they tortured my body the greatest war was in the mind."

"Jorje my friend. I do not know how we will be able to thank you. Your sacrifice made it possible for us to take back our freedom. You will be known as our greatest hero."

"Jose. Your are my friend. But do not make me a hero."

"But why? All shall revere you. You deserve the praise and the glory that the people will give you."

"Jose, please do not do that to me. I endured days of torture. I do not want to relive it publicly. I do not want to be praised for only surviving. I want to let go of the memories that I will bare."

"Besides" continued Jorje, "It is from hero worship that Ortega was able to position himself as a dictator. Do not dangle that carrot in front of me that took him from being a hero to a dictator. Go tell our friends to tell no one what I did."

Jorje watched as Jose went up ahead to tell his companions of Jorje's wish.

He had to take a deep breath to hold back the emotions. He survived the torture, even time in a coffin. But he was beginning to realize that it might have been easier to endure the torture than the memories.