War is Heaven pt 2 – Chas Smith
War is Heaven pt 2
We were hurried out of the metal shed, through the blood screaming mob and into a waiting Mercedes. Two men holding Kalashnikovs sat smoking in the back. Plus, I assume, a driver in the front. The pistol continued to press my temple. The Globe Branded t continued to be pulled over my head. The bottom front of the shirt over the top back of my head. I could still see, a touch, until someone pressed heavy fingers into my eye sockets. The day went black.
The Mercedes swerved and bounced for what seemed like 15 minutes before coming to an abrupt stop. Arabic shouts. Doors flew open and we were dragged out into the muffle. Shouts. Men. I was yanked up some steps and then felt it.
A dull but powerful ache enveloped my whole backside. Pain like fire. Someone had kicked me in the buttocks, full force. A massive field goal swing to my rear. I couldnâ€™t see where it came from due my shirt situation. I assume from behind me.
I also couldnâ€™t hear my very best friend and thought I was alone. Dragged through an indoor area with a high ceiling (I could tell by the Arabic shout echoes). Then I heard a metal door being unlocked. I was kicked, again, inside a small place.
I sat for a minute before removing the shirt from my head. It was a small small cement cell with only a sliver of light daring come in under the door. There was a dirty mattress shoved in the corner and fingernail claw marks on the ceiling, which was maybe 5 feet high. I saw my very best friend. Both of our shirts looked like dresses. We called them Hezbollah dresses and laughed while the guards outside yelled â€śBush is dog!â€ť in English. We kept laughing. Then they yelled â€śBush ibn Kalb!â€ť in Arabic and we kept laughing.