I’m worth more to them alive, I told myself. I whispered it, repeated it over and over again. I breathed it, dreamed it, and shouted it when I had the energy. Most of the time I wept in the darkness, trying to convince myself that it was true, that they would keep me for bargaining or trading prisoners. But in war, the value of a human life depends on the uniform you wear and whose ground you sleep on.
My captor, a short, powerful soldier with a mean left hook, seemed to be on her own. She had gotten lucky, or perhaps I was unlucky. She had stumbled upon my hiding place and it came down to an old fashioned quick draw. I had lost, and raised my hands in surrender. Most of her unit was massacred by mine, but now she held me chained to a tree at a small camp where she was apparently waiting for extraction.
A branch cracked in the dark nearby and I looked up lazily. She was approaching.
“Let me go,” I seethed weakly. “If my guys find us before your guys come, you’re dead. But they’ll make you hurt first you twisted scumbag!”
She stared down at me. No doubt she couldn’t understand a word I was saying. She’d had me for three days so far, and I hadn’t seen a drop of water or food the entire time. Now she squinted at me in silence.
“Well?” I demanded. “Are you gonna kill me or what?”
She didn’t move. Her face was cast in shadows. I could see a frizzled ponytail when she turned to the side, but otherwise I couldn’t remember her face. I had been scared spitless when she had me at gunpoint, and this was one of our first interactions since then.
“You probably sniff your own farts.”
Nothing.
I sighed and rattled the chain. “It’s uncomfortable,” I groaned.
She produced a canteen and tossed it at my feet, then turned and went into her tent.
I hooked the canteen with my boots and pulled it in. My wrists were bound but I was able to unscrew the cap. Thirst had long since become a constant thorn in my side. In the back of my mind I remembered that I probably shouldn’t chug the water, and I wasn’t even sure it was water. She may have given me urine or gasoline or something. I let a splash of it into my mouth. It soaked into my dry tongue. It was nectar from the gods. My cracked, parched lips closed around the mouth of the canteen and I took swig after swig, each time promising I’d pace myself but ultimately succumbing to the overpowering thirst. It was the most delicious water I’d ever had. I couldn’t even be sure it wasn’t urine. My mouth was a desert and the liquid was turning it into the garden of Eden.
I slouched back against the tree trunk letting the empty canteen dangle from my numb, tired fingers. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and fell asleep.
The next morning I felt as though I was going to faint. My stomach was turning inside out, a wildfire of pain raging around my gut. There were the usual hunger pangs, but it was more than that. I felt sick.
The sun was just poking through some of the trees, shafts of light blasting on and off as leaves swayed gently in the morning breeze. My captor’s tent flap rustled and she emerged wearing her camo pants and a thin camisole. She glanced over at me and did a double-take before looking off into the distance.
As she disappeared into the brush, presumably to relieve herself, I grappled with the nails in my stomach. Somewhere in the back of my mind though I recognized the brief look she’d given me, and it had raised my heartrate a tiny bit.
When she returned she began rearranging her camp. To my surprise, she moved her fire pit a little closer to me. She started a fire, moved a few more things around, then began cooking her breakfast. She had access to a vast collection of supplies, surely intended for the rest of her unit, including fresh eggs and bacon. She had cooked it before, letting the smell waft over to me from a distance, but cooking closer to me was actual torture. The aromas of the food twisted and stabbed deep in my growling stomach. The pain intensified until I was moaning to keep from dry heaving.
As she cooked I saw her subtly glancing over her shoulder at me. Was she curious? Was she hoping to see my agony? I groaned and covered my head, hoping to block out the smell. “Why not just shoot me?” I yelled.
After a few minutes she had plated up her food. She sat there, staring away from me in silence. Perhaps she was offering a prayer to her heathen gods. I was tempted to yell something rude, but the hunger pains had me feeling too weak.
To my shock, she stood up and walked over to me, carrying the plate. She stood there, just out of my reach, and stared down at me. After a moment, she spoke. I couldn’t understand anything she said, but it was brief and terse. She looked at me expectantly, raising her eyebrows. Her eyes seemed… softer. I glanced over at the box she had been sitting on around the fire. There was another plate there.
“Oh!” I cried. “You made two plates?” I stared at her with a look of horror and shock on my face.
She held my gaze and slowly knelt, setting the plate on the ground just outside the range of my boots. She said something again, just a few words, then nudged the plate toward me.
I withdrew, pulling my feet in close. I didn’t want her to think I was going to attack. I just watched, my mouth watering, as she pushed a plate toward me. It had a single strip of bacon and a small scoop of scrambled eggs. I gulped down the excessive saliva in my mouth, staring at the plate and only the plate as it inched closer.
Satisfied that it was close enough to me, she got up and backed away, watching me. I carefully used my boot to pull the plate a little closer. Some twigs and dirt got onto the plate, but I didn’t care. As soon as my bound hands could reach the plate I brought it eagerly to my face and began sucking it into my mouth. A full canteen hit the ground by me with a thud and I heard the liquid inside sloshing around. I looked up and saw her staring at me expectantly again, then her eyes went to the empty canteen by my hip. I set down the plate and tossed the empty one to her. She said something else, stared at me a little longer, then turned and went back to the fire where she sat watching me and ate her food.
At first I didn’t pay her any attention. I finished my food quickly, downed half the canteen, then decided to save the rest. At that point though her staring was making me uncomfortable and I guess she realized it because she disappeared into her tent.
I saw her again the next morning. She came out of her tent with her back to me. She was wearing nothing but a bra and panties. She stretched, glanced at me over her shoulder, and disappeared into the brush. When she came back she approached me and looked at the empty canteen by my side. I stared at her, taking in her athletic build and surprisingly feminine features. Slowly, with a furrowed brow, I hooked the canteen on a finger and tossed it at her feet. Her eyes lingered on my dirty face a moment, then she disappeared into the tent with the canteen.
When she came out she had a couple of towels, soap, and a pitcher. She dragged a half-full tub of water close to my tree, but still outside of my reach.
Looking down at me, she indicated the items in her hands, which seemed to include some soap. She said something in her language. Actually she rattled on for a bit, miming the actions required to clean one’s body… thoroughly. I was shocked. She proceeded to strip down and make use of the soap and pitcher to clean off her body. Part of me was disgusted at myself for thinking her attractive, but she was still a woman, whether she wore the face of an enemy or not, and I was still a man. The bath didn’t take long, but I found myself squirming uncomfortably with arousal and confusion. By the time she had wrapped herself in the towel I felt heat in my cheeks and my ears were on fire.
With great effort, she pushed the basin toward me and tossed the soap inside, leaving the towel and pitcher within reach by the side. The tub was just close enough for me to pull water out with the pitcher. She stood by, wrapped in her towel, and waited for me to begin. I stared at her. Well, perhaps I was gawking a bit. Her thin black hair was clumped together in long strands that clung to her wet face. Her big, bright eyes darted around as she watched me without a hint of animosity or hatred. Her lips were more plump and soft than I remembered them from previous encounters, and her cheeks were framed by a beautiful jaw line that connected with dainty ears, behind which she tucked her hair nervously.
Nervously?
I was aghast. What was happening? But I was also terribly uncomfortable. The more I stared at her clean hair and face, the more I writhed in my own grime and sweat and dirt. I wanted to be clean, like her.
Like her???
I shook my head and let out a long, explosive sigh.
“I don’t know what you’re doing, but you’re really messing with my head lady.”
She blinked and continued watching me without a hint of understanding.
I pulled my feet in and unlaced my boots, kicking them off with great difficulty. I was able to unbutton my tunic, but soon it became apparent to both of us that I wouldn’t be able to undress with my hands bound.
She gasped and shook her head, laughing adorably. Her plump cheeks pulled into cute little dimples and she dropped the towel, prancing back into her camp. Eventually she came back with another chain. She motioned for me to take off my pants and mimed putting the chain on my ankle. I rolled my eyes and complied. Still though, she wasn’t satisfied. She motioned taking off my pants again.
“I’m not stripping down for you,” I said, immediately feeling guilty. She stood before me completely nude. It was honestly a better treat than the bacon and eggs had been. Laughing nervously to myself, I pulled down my boxers and kicked them off. Sharp rocks and twigs poked into my bare skin and I felt tiny tickles all over, like I was suddenly crawling with bugs. “Alright, happy?” I said, doing my best to maintain modesty with my hands.
She smiled and motioned for me to extend a leg. I did, and carefully she knelt down and put the bracelet around my ankle, securing it with a padlock. Then she carried the chain to another tree, about the same distance from the basin of water but opposite such that she was stringing me up directly between the two trees, and looped the chain around the tree, fastening it with another padlock. Then she went to the original tree, now completely out of my reach, and released the chain, letting it drop to the ground.
I held out my wrists, lying on the ground with my feet pointing toward the new tree, and she took my bound hands in hers. She seemed fascinated with the texture of the skin on my hands. With the tips of her fingers I felt her taking in my textures, letting the sensitive pads of her fingers ride the ridges and wrinkles of my knuckles and tendons. She gazed at them, turning them over and prying my fingers open to have a look at my palm. For an enemy warrior, her fingers were surprisingly soft and gentle. They were gliding over my rough, calloused hands like ice skaters performing a sweeping, beautiful dance. I looked up at her face, which was perfectly calm and still with fascination and awe. Her eyes shot up and locked with mine for a split second, then she quickly turned a key to release my wrists before backing away.
I rubbed my bruised wrists and regarded her with awe. For the first time, I felt like I really saw her. She was truly beautiful. The way she looked at me was pure and guileless. She blinked with delicate, natural lashes that reminded me of butterfly wings. I thought I detected a hint of blush in her cheeks. She remained crouched at my level, her breasts pressed into her knees, and we just held each other’s gaze for a long moment.
At long last I rolled onto my back and removed my top layers. She remained silently watchful while I bathed. I glanced at her from time to time, noting how she winced at the sight of my bruises. When I was done and drying off, she exclaimed something and ran off into her camp once again. When she returned she was carrying a fresh t-shirt that almost matched the color of my battle uniform shirt, as well as a clean pair of boxers. I laughed and caught them when she tossed them to me. I slipped the shirt on and shook my leg, indicating a need to reverse the maneuver we’d used to rearrange my bonds earlier.
She pointed at my dirty tunic on the ground.
“Oh, right,” I said, breaking the silence.
She smiled while I pulled it on.
“You’re really confusing me,” I admitted.
She grimaced apologetically, shaking her head.
“Yeah, I know you don’t understand me,” I said, letting out a sigh.
We switched my chains around, but this time she only chained one of my wrists, leaving me free to use both hands more naturally.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Oh,” she said, drawing out the sound unnaturally. “Yes. You… are…” she paused. “Well-comp.” She said it haltingly and butchered the pronunciation.
“So you do know some English!” I said.
She shook her head aggressively, laughing. “No no no no! No English! No English!” She was hysterical with amusement over the small exchange.
While I put the clean boxers on and pulled my trousers up she disappeared into the tent. By the time she emerged I was fully dressed again, feeling much better, and she had also put on some clothes. She wore extremely short shorts and another thin camisole with nothing underneath. It was like she wanted me to see her body. I couldn’t help but notice. What I failed to notice was the book she was carrying. It was covered in script from her own language, but I saw that it also had some English. It was a translation dictionary.
We spent the rest of the morning using the dictionary to communicate. It was slow and frustrating, but she consistently laughed at her own bad pronunciation and worked ardently with me to get it right. The effort was admirable, but the message she wished to convey was even moreso.
“I want…” she began, flipping to where she had marked one of the pages, “want…” She flipped again to another section. “Stay… with… you.”
I stared at her.
“You want to stay with me?”
She nodded, smiling sheepishly.
An hour later, we had found all the right words together. She wished to defect and go home with me.
I was shocked.
“I don’t know…” I began. “I don’t know how all that works. How do I know I can trust you? Why me? I…” I trailed off. She wore an expression of extreme dizziness. I had lost her. We dove back into the dictionary. We continued to exchange words while she cooked food for us.
The sun had set and the air was alive with the chirps and songs of crickets by the time she disappeared into her tent, glancing lovingly at me over her lovely, soft shoulder. She left her flashlight but brought the dictionary with her. I saw a light go on in the tent and her shadow moving as she paced around nervously inside.
Was this really happening?
It could just be a ploy, a trick. Get me to trust her so it’s easier to move me around, then she gets me back to her people where I’m starved, tortured, and used as a bartering token. But her government was authoritarian and cruel. Many of her people had already defected throughout the fighting.
This was really happening.
My heart raced and I felt short of breath.
This was really happening.
All the fighting and the killing and the surviving… and I might have the chance to take this beautiful girl home with me and settle down. Maybe I could get out of the service, claiming it was too stressful being taken a prisoner of war. Of course, what would they say if they found out that I smuggled her home and married her? I shook my head and laughed at the stupidity of it. No, we’d have to do it right. She’d have to defect. But how could I ensure her a safe and humane transition? Surely my people were being just as cruel to her people as they were to us. War is war. The value of her life was…
I clenched my jaw. There was no question.
This was really happening.
I closed my eyes. We would work out the details in the morning. It took a while to fall asleep, but when sleep finally came I dreamt of flying home, taking a real shower, eating a real meal, and doing it all with her.
Mermaid Pirate Dispatch 
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