Chapter five: the interrogation
McClellan and the remainder of his squad picked up Caleb's suit, along with his unconscious form, and carried it back to camp. Keeping several assault rifles trained on him in case he woke up, they pried the pieces of metal from his body and stored them until they could be sent back to command. McClellan ordered that Caleb have his hands bound, and be tied to a chair in the mess tent, all the while under armed guard. The other soldiers retired to the barracks and rested after the ordeal they had just faced. There would be no card games today.
After he had finished giving orders, the sergeant sat in the command tent, waiting for Caleb to wake up. He was very curious to find out who Caleb was, and how he had annihilated a good portion of his company. The whole thing made no sense to him. A young American boy in the Russian army? He had heard of communist sympathizers and American double agents, but never this young. It all confused him the more he thought about it.
Caleb opened his eyes to the inside of a tent, and as the canvas around him came into focus, so did the two armed guards standing at the only entrance. His immediate reaction was to run, but he could barely move under the tightly tied ropes binding him. After about ten seconds of frantic struggling, one of the soldiers noticed that he was awake, and went to tell the sergeant.
Caleb was sweating profusely now, and could not think of anything but the fact that he was probably about to be tortured. Midway through his panic attack, a new man entered the tent, along with the second guard. Caleb recognized him as the commanding officer from his uniform, and from the way he held himself. Thinking up a plan on the spot, Caleb devised a way to commit suicide. Anything, he though, would be preferable to what the Americans would do to him.
"let's start this simple. Who exactly are you?" McClellan said, staring down at the squirming boy before him.
"I'll die before I tell you bastards anything!" shouted Caleb in English, having decided that the quickest way to end his life was to antagonize his captors.
"Strong words for a twelve year old," said the sergeant calmly.
"I'm fourteen," announced Caleb, instantly regretting have done so. "So much for not telling them anything," he thought to himself.
"so tell me something boy, how is it that a fourteen year old managed to kill more men by himself than an entire platoon of spetsnaz?"
"We Russians are built like that," said Caleb proudly, hoping to at least inspire fear in his enemy before he died. McClellan laughed quietly.
"But see, that's the interesting thing. You're not Russian. How does a boy like you end up running around in a metal suit with the soviet flag painted on the side?"
"Torture me all you want, I'm not telling you anything," said Caleb defiantly, subsequently realizing that telling them to torture him might not have been a good idea.
"relax boy, I don't know what the soviets do to prisoners of war, but no one's going to torture you." He paused a moment and then said, "but don't expect any meals until I figure out who you are and why you work for the Russians." The sergeant then walked out of the tent, ordering his men to stand guard until the next two soldiers relieved them.
McClellan didn't know what to think. The boy spoke perfect English, and was clearly American, but showed more soviet patriotism than most Russian officers. It was all very puzzling, and McClellan's feelings about him were certainly mixed. On one hand, He was afraid, because if the soviets could make soldiers like this, who knows how many men the next one would kill? On the other hand, in a weird sort of way, he felt sorry for the boy. He didn't like to see people so young get caught up in the horrors of war, and wondered where his parents were. However, If he knew one thing for sure, it was that this boy was dangerous. He could shoot better than anyone McClellan had ever seen, and moved like quicksilver. This boy, however innocent he looked, was a weapon.
Caleb began to calm down. While he didn't trust the Americans not to harm him, he knew that he wasn't in immediate danger as long as he made his escape fairly soon. It was about four hours after he had talked with the sergeant, and he had had plenty of time to survey his surroundings. The rope he was tied with was sturdy hemp rope that was tied with multiple knots. His body was tied to the back of the chair by several separate ropes, and his hands were tied to the back chair legs with only one rope each. If he could just get his hand free, he could probably untie the knots on his back because he was facing toward his guards. With four hours of nothing to do but plot escape, Caleb made a discovery that filled him with hope. With a feeling of happiness pulsing through his very veins, Caleb noted that a portion of the metal folding chair's back leg was slightly rough. It was rough enough that when Caleb pressed his hand against it with enough force, it almost cut him.
After a good hour and a half of rubbing one of the ropes that bound his hand against the rough piece of metal, the hemp finally broke, freeing his left hand. Being very careful not to let the guards notice that he was free, Caleb began to untie the other knots. When he was finished, it had to be night time, because the temperature dropped, and no more light was shining through the minuscule holes of the canvas. Now all he had to do was wait for the right moment.
"I'm going to take a piss," one of the guards announced.
"alright, he's not going anywhere," responded the other, motioning towards Caleb.
"think again," thought Caleb, grinning slightly. As soon as the one guard left, Caleb sprung into action. Wasting no time, he charged the lone guard, and hit him with the metal chair so hard that he crumpled onto the cold earth. Taking his assault rifle and all of his spare ammo, Caleb moved stealthily out of the tent and into the frigid night.
All he was wearing was what he had had on under the armor, which included a pair of loose cloth pants, some wool socks, and a short sleeve shirt. While he had been cold in the tent, he had not really noticed the severity of it until he stepped outside. The warmth of his feet quickly melted the snow around him, soaking his socks entirely. Shivering bitterly, Caleb subordinated his need for warmth for his need to be safe. As soon as he was out of hearing distance of the camp, Caleb began to run. It occurred to him after about ten minutes of walking that he had absolutely no idea where he was or what direction he was going.
"great," he thought to himself miserably, "I went through all that trouble just to freeze to death." The cold invaded every muscle and tendon in his body, making him weak, and slowing his pace. He steadily began to lose hope for survival, and after what must have been forty five minutes more of walking, he collapsed in the snow, resigning himself to a fate of death by hypothermia.
. I think what you're missing out on are strengths and weaknesses, I mean sure Caleb's strength is he will not give into others however, what is his MAIN weakness that is going to stop him from getting what he wants? What are McClellan's strengths and weaknesses that could be picked on more. Something to think about. Eva and Caleb's relationship, I hope will rejoin, I mean, someone has to find Caleb... I hope. Remember, if Eva and Caleb ever meet again, it's going to take more than one long talk to resolve their problems. Right now, their romantic relationship isn't working with the plot, well, we know it isn't. The conflict with the Protangonist and Antagonist is definately very strong, well done 
I'm reviewing this chapter and the last one in one review. Is that alright? Mind you, by the look of it, Inbetweener has already given you a great review. I'll hopefully have something to add. As always, if you have any questions about this review after I'm done, just let me know.
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