Miller Time - The Fall of Man

Left to die, face down in the sand and the sun going down fast. Miller could hear the sound of his enemies' vehicles moving away. He tried to summon strength enough to get up but his body was beaten and maybe broken. There was no fight left in him.

How had it come to this? Did it matter? Not much. He was going to die here, face down, ass up, naked to the elements and whatever animals were brave enough to come close and find out he was helpless. At least he did not beg for his life or say anything to compromise anyone else in the operation.

Time drew long and longer. The sun drew closer to the horizon and the sounds of the earth began to still. He felt his arms cramping behind his back and his bindings were digging into his wrists. He could not move his legs and suspected they were both broken.

Something with wings was nearby. Above him perhaps. It was too far to make out and he was still breathing sand. He coughed bloody clumps of sand and squinted hard focusing his mind on the sounds around him so as not to slip into unconsciousness and die. His mind still held the hope that he would find a way out of this despite the obviousness of his plight.

A rustle in the wind. Something paper left behind. Food? That was not good. It would draw attention of the wrong kind.

He coughed again and more blood came up with the sand that was in his nose and throat. A sharp pain pierced his side where they'd struck him repeatedly with the butt of a rifle and a baseball bat. Perhaps there was something broken in there after all. His side and his back were all pain and fire. His face was swollen, contorted and badly injured. Bone protruded from where his cheeks were and his lips were missing pieces.

His tongue found empty places where his teeth should be. "Ah, shit," he thought to himself, "there goes my smile." He'd always been a very vain animal. His smile and his hair were his strength and weakness. They were the source of much of his pride and bravado. He looked like someone you would not want to cross but at the same time, he could charm men and women with equal ease. Well, that was before this.

His head was still sizzling from where they'd lit him on fire. Dipped him in gasoline so it would soak into his hair and drip down his sides. Lit him on fire and let him burn until he passed out. They would revive him and rake his skin with a rock or some tool or put salt on his burnt flesh and rub it in. There were three rounds of this. Finally they would put his head in the sand and asphyxiate him in it. He could hold his breath but they would kick him and punch him and force things into his body and he would be howling.

He never wished for his end. He enjoyed it on some level. Still, they did their best to break his spirit. In the end, it proved too much for his body.

All the faces he did see were unfamiliar but they'd started this party with him hooded and bound. Eventually, the hood was taken off but Miller was still bound even now that the goons had left. How much time had passed since they left? Hard to tell. Maybe 2 hours. The sun was still not down. He fell over and felt some relief from his abdomen. The was warmth growing in his belly and between his legs. He felt lightheaded and started to pass out.

"No!" His mind raged and he managed a sort of grunt. His eyes rolled in their sockets and he succumbed. Unconsciousness overcame him and his body was grateful not to have to feel and work with the pain and the damage.

"n\No!" His mind raged and he pleaded with himself not to pass out but it was to no avail. His body was resting and his mind was beginning to wander. Soon, he would be completely unconscious and he would slip into shock and die. The sand in his throat hurt his breathing but he was too weak to cough or care anymore. Sweet oblivion overcame him completely and he slipped into the black, still pleading with his body not to betray him or give up.