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He made feeble protesting sounds as the guys rolled him onto his front. But all his strength had been sweated out of him, all the resistance gone. Quickly zip-ties on his wrists fastened his arms behind his back.
It was no effort to knot the plastic to the rope they had dangling over a branch in the tree, he wasn’t reacting. For all his muscled bulk .. for all his mouthing-off earlier .. this asshole didn’t put up any fight. He was fucked.
A bucket of water thrown over him got no reaction.
“Sit him up.”
The two guards turned Kwesi over on his back and together they dragged him up, holding him seated upright. The second bucket sprayed all over them too. The prisoner was startled by the shock this time.
Kuznetzov gave Kwesi a sharp slap across the back of his head.
Another stinging slap was accompanied by a third bucket of water thrown into Kwesi’s face. They were all drenched. But in this stinking heat who was going to object?
Too late Kwesi realised that he’d been dowsed in water. Precious fluids lost. Instincts reared like a wild animal. His head squirmed sideways, his tongue trying to reach his shoulder. But it was too far away. His tongue extended downwards .. desperate to lick up some liquid off his chest. But he got nothing.
“This what you’re looking for?”
Kwesi squinted into the light. With some effort eventually his blurred vision cleared enough. Spetznaz was extending his hand, holding up a bottle.
Kwesi eyed him suspiciously. He desperately needed to rehydrate. He was light-headed, he felt sick to the guts. His head was spinning, only staying upright because a goon had him by the scruff of his neck. But what was the price? What did he have to do to get his hands on that water bottle?
Spetznaz answered the unspoken question.
“Can’t have you passing out on me, asshole. How you gonna talk with a tongue made of leather?”
Still, when one of the goons held it up to his mouth, Kwesi was eyeing Spetznaz suspiciously. Wondering if it was drugged. But needs-must. He had to take the risk. His mouth grabbed at the water and he slugged it down in huge gulps. In no time, it was gone. But Spetznaz already had a second bottle in his hand.
He too took a giant slug of water out of the bottle. Demonstratively he smacked his lips. Wiped his mouth on a sweat-glistening forearm.
“Any more, motherfucker .. gonna have to pay for it.”
Kwesi scowled back at him. Best way he had right now. His tongue couldn’t form words. His grim looks told the sucker, On your bike. He’d not beg. He’d not talk.
Spetznaz shrugged. Nothing to him. Things ‘d change. Things always changed.
“Get the fucker on his feet.”