sometimes, the dead lean

the sweltering heat was begining to make frank sick. about the only thing still holding up his gaunt frame was his pride and the need to make a statement to "the rabbit," we would not be broken so easily. the rabbit was a nickname the men had given to the vicious japanese guard who had single handedly killed several of fank's men already. there was private martin, jennings, carlson, and of course oscar. he had come to know oscar like a brother during the six days of the marching hell. oscar was a pilot in the british royal air force and had daringly flown a supermarine spitfire over bataan before fate had intervened and brought him here. dizzy from thirst, oscar had dropped to his knees one evening to sip from a small puddle when the rabbit jumped on his chance to prove his bloodlust, lopping off his head with his menuki sword. frank tried to put it out of his mind, it was war. adam and bowdin were marching a few yards in front of him. they had come up with the idea to lean on each other so that one could sleep and the other could guide him. although it was really never sleep, it was more like a dazed dream. he reached out to touch adam on the cheek to see if he was still alive... "franklin stop it! you do not touch your brother's face while he's sleeping! now we're almost there so just settle down!" franklin crossed his arms and looked out the window of the car and watched the blur of the speeding houses go by. "the rabbit's intimidation would not work on me" he thought. franklin took a straw from his pocket and slowly put it in his sleeping brother's ear.