Five: The Escape

The screech of the door caught Jerald's attention as he sat in the dark corner of the room. Pushing his hair away from his face, he watched as the young girl entered, her long dark hair trailing down to her waist, concealing her face as she brough in his 'food and water.'

As she dropped the provisions beside him, he uncurled from his seated position and approached her cautiously. "I'm escaping from here tonight, Berezira," he said, keeping his voice low and non-threatening. Berezira was already too frightened of him, a fear he couldn't blame her for.

Her eyes darted up at him, then quickly averted. "That is good. I wish you the best of luck, good master. I..." She paused, a faint shudder running through her small frame. "I am to serve Master Amardad tonight. It's his turn to keep watch. I will try to steal the key to the secret vault from his waist belt."

He knew exactly which key she was talking about. The secret vault was the only way out of this underground prison, a hidden passage that led to the Helmand River. Gently, he took her tiny hand, observing her initial instinct to pull away, then the gradual relaxation that followed. Berezira despised physical contact, and for good reason.

"You won't be servicing anyone tonight, do you understand me?" he said firmly, looking deep into her blue eyes to ensure she grasped the seriousness of his words.

She gave a sad smile. "Oh, how I wish that were true. But you know the consequences if I don't go willingly. Master Amardad is the second cruelest among them, second only to Big Master himself." Her voice quivered when she referred to Mostafa as Big Master.

"How old are you, Berezira?" he asked, the rage building within him as he watched the constant shudders wracking her fragile frame. She was consumed by fear, a fear instilled by those monsters.

"I'm twelve, Good Master. But I feel like I'm fifty," she replied in a small, weary voice.

A surge of anger towards their captors fucked Jerald. Berezira was buried under layers of fear, a terror these monsters had created. "Gather whatever belongings you have, Berezira. You won't be serving anyone ever again because you're leaving this hellhole with me. And don't worry about stealing the keys. I already have them."

Taking her hand, he led her toward the entrance of the dungeon. He had been planning this escape for a long time, choosing this night specifically.

The 'Masters' were having a celebration today, and he had worked with Nara, the kitchen lady, to ensure they all got heavily drunk. Nara had been a crucial ally in his escape plans, providing him with the keys to the Secret Vault. However, she had refused to join him in his escape.

"I don't know any other life apart from working for these monsters. I'm sixty-seven, they see me as an old hag, which means I'm emotionally and sexually free from them. Working in the kitchen, at least I've got food to eat, unlike when I was on the streets," Nara had explained one day while bringing him food.

 "But I want you to take the little one with you, Jerald. These monsters love toying with her, and she's just too young! They sold the others who were much older than her, but they kept her around, inflicting unimaginable harm on that poor girl!" Nara had pleaded, her eyes filled with emotion.

However, her pleas had not been necessary. The first day he laid eyes on the young girl with haunted eyes, bruised cheeks, and black hair as long as a rope, he knew he would do anything to rescue her from these monsters, even if it meant risking his life. She was the reason it had taken him two torturous months to finally plan his escape.

Looking at the girl now, it seemed like she didn't fully understand his intentions. "I'm taking you with me, Berezira."

"I'll get you caught and killed, Good master. Big Master would be furious if you took me with you," she said matter-of-factly. No matter how hard he tried to stop her from calling him 'Good Master,' she insisted on using the title.

"Let me worry about that," he replied, kneeling down to her eye level. "You don't belong in a place like this! You're coming with me. Don't you want to leave this place?"

"More than anything in this world," she replied instantly. Yet, she hesitated, staring at their clasped hands. "Where will you take me, Good Master? After all of this?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"To your home. To your people," he answered.

Berezira shook her head, her long hair swaying. "I don't have a family; I only have my mother, and she doesn't want me." Her wide eyes met his. "Big Master didn't steal me from my family like he did with the other kids. My... my mother sold me to him when I was seven."

Jerald froze. That was five years ago. How could a mother do such a thing? It was beyond comprehension.

 "You're coming with me, then. I won't leave you here, do you understand me?" he declared passionately, standing up and taking her with him.

A single tear rolled down Berezira's unblinking eyes, but she remained silent. She continued to follow him as they made their way through the long, empty corridor. He knew that at this time of night, the corridor would be deserted. Every last Friday of the month, Mostafa celebrated 'Free Night' with his men. It was a grand event where potential investors, business associates, and influential figures gathered to revel and celebrate. Jerald's imprisonment in the dark underground, subjected to beatings and torture, was a result of his refusal to accept Mostafa's twisted reward.

Mostafa had orchestrated this elaborate scheme to taunt the U.S. Army. He had saved Jerald from an explosion, making everyone believe he was dead and forgotten, all while trying to recruit him into his circle. Mostafa had tended to Jerald's leg injury, which he had sustained during the explosion, provided him with entertainment and companionship, all in an attempt to coerce him into working for Mostafa.

For four months, Jerald had feigned compliance, leading Mostafa to believe he would join his ranks, all the while buying himself time to find a way to escape or establish contact with the outside world. Khalil Mostafa Ali Reza was a cunning and resourceful adversary. He had built his 'Tower Castle' in a location devoid of any communication or network access, leaving Jerald isolated.

At the end of the fourth month, Jerald was subjected to a test. He was required to prove his loyalty during 'Free Night.' It had occurred two months ago when Mostafa's men challenged him to combat. Jerald had emerged victorious in every encounter, defeating each challenger in mere minutes, all before an audience that included Mostafa himself.

Mostafa had been pleased with his performance, deeming him worthy of a reward.

Ironically, that reward was what had triggered the start of his two months of excruciating torture, making it the worst period of his captivity.

************

.Deep in a remote province of Afghanistan, the 'Tower Castles' stood silently in the dead of night. Most people were asleep due to the late hour, while some had been heavily drugged with their own substances.

Amidst the moonless night, the chirping of birds filled the air. A brisk, cold wind followed the river as it rushed along. The only movement in this quiet night was the imposing figure of a man dressed in black and the slender form of a young girl in a white robe.

Jerald almost laughed at the irony of it all as he took Berezira and walked through the dark tunnels leading to Helmand River. He had drugged drug lords into stupor. Yeah, the joke's on them, alright.

Two armed men lay ahead of him, fast asleep. He sidestepped them and continued walking. Nara must have overdosed them as he instructed; everyone he came across slept like the dead.

They had crossed the border hours ago, using a boat to ferry them to the other side of the riverbank, now a river away from Mostafa's clutches. They continued walking, Jerald searching for shelter to spend the remaining hours of the night. Berezira needed rest; it was evident even without her saying a word. She appeared exhausted, as if she hadn't slept properly in ages.

"Why did you rescue me? Why did you bring me with you?" Berezira finally spoke in her soft, subdued voice, breaking the silence as they ventured deep into a new town.

Jerald Brown glanced at the girl without breaking his stride. "You weren't meant for a life like that, Berezira. In my country, things will be different for you," he replied matter-of-factly.

Berezira regarded him, hurrying her steps to keep pace with his long strides. She was still wary of him, but she sensed that he was a good person, despite his intimidating appearance. "Are we going to your country? How will we get there?" Fear laced her voice; America seemed impossibly far from Afghanistan.

"I know a way, don't worry about it. For now, we just need a safe place to rest, a place to hide."

The thought of leaving all this behind filled Berezira with hope. No more being ordered around or subjected to cruel treatment. No more fear of men. She shuddered, trying to suppress painful memories.

He noticed her trembling and tightened his hold on her. No one would harm this young girl again, not on his watch. An hour or two later, they finally stumbled upon an old, abandoned-looking house. He fiddled with the lock of one of the sliding windows, and after a few seconds, he managed to open it.

"Come here," he whispered to the girl as he lifted her and guided her through the window into the house. He followed suit. Tonight, they would find rest here. He needed some time to clear his head and think.

It was five o'clock in the morning, and Jerald stared at the time, unable to sleep despite the sore muscles that ached. Berezira slept peacefully beside him, but sleep had become an elusive luxury for him lately.

His thoughts drifted to his family, and a deep ache settled in his chest. He missed them so profoundly—his strong father, who still managed to be present in their lives despite owning and running some of America's largest companies; his mother, the kindest woman he'd ever known; and most of all, his brother...

The pain in his chest was almost physical when he thought of Jake. These past few months without his brother had been the most agonizing of his life, and not just because of the torture he endured. He wondered how Jake was coping without him.

Everyone believed he was dead. The mere thought of the blow that his family would suffer tore at his heart, especially his mother...

He missed them deeply, but he knew he couldn't contact them. If Mostafa found out he was gone, the first place he'd look would be his family, and Jerald couldn't risk their safety, especially now that he was in no condition to protect them.

They all believed he was dead, and as painful as it was, he had to let them continue to believe that. He would distance himself from his family as much as possible, recuperate, and contemplate his next move.

When he could, he'd access one of his undisclosed bank accounts—one not even Jake knew about. With it, he would take Berezira to a quiet town, far from where Mostafa would think to look. The drug lord could go to hell as far as he was concerned; he wouldn't let him lay a finger on that little girl again.

They would go to Castle Lore, a small town in Los Angeles, where he could start anew, putting his old life on hold for a bit.

.