Nobody said a word for the entire trip. Sugar’s body was placed on the seats beside them. Allen laid back and tried to ignore the pain he was in. He was at least helped by a powerful dosage of painkillers. But Taylor could see that Jones’ pain could not be numbed. Taylor wanted to ask the Captain questions. So many questions he had rolled over in his mind. Now he didn’t have the heart to ask them. His exhausted and beleaguered friend lay back in his seat next to Walker’s body. Taylor no doubt realised that the two men must have forged a bond as strong as his and Charlie during their captivity, perhaps even more so. Charlie Jones had been missing for just a matter of weeks, but he looked like a man who had spent years in the worst of conditions. His uniform was ripped and pierced. Taylor could make out slashes from bladed instruments and fresh scars beneath. He did nothing to hide the needle marks on his arms. The Captain was a proud man. He was a man who considered his image and steadfastness to be paramount in being a leader.
