Free Necessary Heartbreak by Michael J. Sullivan Page B

friend.”
    The soldier bolted to his feet and ran off, leaving the suddenly quiet dice game. Marcus got to his feet, stretched, and took a deep breath. “Are you fine in there?” he asked Michael conversationally.
    Michael felt a sense of foreboding. There was no reason for Marcus’ sudden concern. Michael studied the soldier’s face, noticing several small, thin scars that stretched a couple of inches down the sides of his cheeks. His black hair was plastered to his head from the heat, and his teeth were dirty and chipped. The warrior didn’t hide his battle tattoos either. Several fresh gashes lined his muscular biceps.
    Marcus ignored his silence and continued, “You have nothing to fear, my friend. I’ll make sure you stay out of harm’s way while you are here with us.”
    He opened the cell door and pulled at Michael’s arm. The rusty clamp had pierced his wrist, leaving a line of dried blood along his hand.
    â€œMy friend, are you in pain?”
    Frozen in fear, Michael tried to respond but couldn’t. Marcus didn’t wait for the answer. He unlocked the clamp and tossed it to the ground, removing the chain. The two other soldiers remained sitting, watching in utter confusion. The third soldier returned with a cup of water.
    Marcus took the cup and offered it to Michael. “Take this.”
    Michael looked at him. But overwhelming thirst destroyed any caution. He reached up and took it, not caring how muddy the water looked. He downed it quickly, never taking his eyes off Marcus.
    â€œTastes good now, doesn’t it?” Marcus smiled.
    Michael nodded.
    â€œHow about another?”
    â€œYes,” Michael said weakly. He was surprised at how calm he sounded.
    Marcus took the cup, spun around, and tossed it in the middle of the soldiers, scattering several pieces of silver. “Get my friend another drink!”
    None of the soldiers moved. They looked uncertainly at the cup. “Get it now!” Marcus roared.
    Together as one, all three lunged for the cup, banging heads as they reached for it. If the situation had been different, Michael might have found it comical. He watched in fear as one man grabbed it and ran off. Marcus let his body settle against the wall, scraping the cement with his armor, much like the sound Michael’s sixth-grade teacher, Miss Pavotti, made with her fingernails grazing the blackboard to awaken a sleeping classroom. Marcus was now shoulder to shoulder with Michael, whose body twitched.
    The soldier laughed. “You needn’t be afraid. I’m your only friend here.”
    Michael was silent.
    â€œWhere are you from?”
    â€œA place far away,” he mumbled.
    â€œHow far?” Marcus demanded.
    â€œI’m not sure.”
    Marcus laughed again. It was unlike the previous times he had done so. This time it actually sounded friendly, and for a moment Michael felt reassured.
    â€œI believe you,” Marcus said, nodding. “Your clothes are odd. I haven’t seen such.”
    Michael looked down at his sandals.
    â€œDo you know how to get home?” Marcus asked.
    Michael’s spirits lifted slightly. Perhaps Marcus did want to help him after all. He straightened up and spoke more forcefully. “Yes, I think I do.”
    Marcus grinned and slapped him on the shoulder. Michael nearly fell over. “Good! I think I can help you.”
    â€œGreat!”
    Marcus put his hand to Michael’s mouth. “Quiet,” he said in a soft, reassuring tone. He pointed at the group of soldiers. They had moved their game of dice farther away and appeared to be completely engrossed.
    The soldier came back with the cup of water and handed it to Michael. Marcus waved him away. He leaned closer to Michael’s ear.“Stay awake. I’ll come by later and free you. But you must go directly to where you came from. You remember the place, right?”
    â€œYes, yes, I do!” Michael said