Hello fanfictioners! While I did only have one chapter of my other story, I REALLY wanted to write this one. So here it is. Yes, it's people falling into ME but give it a chance! It's most serious, I promise you!

Thanks to daisymall13 for being my beta despite the fact I put this up before you said anything because I'm too impatient like that. My apologies.

Thanks to Gwenneth Tinuiel for reading a bit of it (and not tearing my head off over our little discussion :D)!

Chapter One

There always exists those days when something feels…off.

Sergeant Valerie Hansen had a sour look on her face, one that Specialist Matthew Novak was used to seeing, but not before he did something stupid.

"Something wrong, Sarge?" He asked, hopping in the driver's seat, glancing over.

She did not stop looking out the window. "Bad day."

Novak nodded. "Yeah, I heard. Told you the Packers were nothing without Brett Favre." He could hear Valerie's eyes rolling in her skull. That would do for now.

The morning is different, almost wrong, and the inevitability cannot be shaken.

It had been a simple mission: get from point A to point B with, hopefully, little contact, while keeping the one tons intact. It hardly seemed qualified for the military police but she had gotten used to things like this. Someone always had to fill in. They were at war, or so she heard. Frankly it was a little quiet in her opinion, though that was the way everyone preferred it.

They had gotten the front of the column, the best position in Novak's opinion. 'No one ever takes out the first vehicle.' he liked to say, 'The enemy likes to lure us all in first.' He was full of what he liked to call 'war knowledge,' handed down from generations of fighting men. It was this and his ever present cocky smile that made her question ever going to NCO school.

There is a sickness inside and food tastes like nothing, is not worth it.

Since the mission was fairly easy, assessed as risk free as one could get, the First Sergeant decided to be bold. Valerie did not care too much about having the man tag along with them, though it managed to scare the daylights out of Private First Class David Winchester, a relative newcomer to the unit. It might have entertained her if the day had not felt so wrong.

The only problem came when the First Sergeant tried to point out all of the code violations of the vehicle and tried to explain new battle tactics. Maybe he was right, maybe he was not. Valerie hardly cared.

All one wishes to do is pass the day by and hope it is gone the next, but that is never the case. Something always happens to take one away from the monotonous schedules, the relative safety, to what the feeling is warning about.

Maybe she should have suspected something when someone strange in the crowd caught her eye, or should have taken more caution when they neared a pile of trash. The only problem was that everyone was strange to them and there was trash everywhere. How could they possibly tell which one would spell their doom?

The First Sergeant had been talking about football with Novak, the two making fun of Winchester at the same time for abhorring the sport. Valerie continued her stare at the crowded alleyways, wishing to get everything over with. It was when her presence was finally noticed, when the First Sergeant asked her if she was as un-American as Winchester, that it happened.

She could have sworn there was a click before the light engulfed her, the searing heat so unbearable it practically numbed her body. One second she was on a hot, dusty street, the next she was flying, falling, nonexistent. Her life did not pass before her eyes, there were no voices calling out from her childhood. There was complete amazement and then everything went blank.

Today was one of those days.

There was a fire on the outskirts of her memory, screams echoing in the blackness. For a moment she came back to herself, watching various newspaper clippings pass before her eyes. Stories of IEDs, sudden attacks on U.S. convoys, ambushes, slaughters, death. She could picture her father sobbing over the news he had received about her, cursing the media world for only presenting her death on the fifth page of the newspaper behind some baseball player on steroids and a politician no one cared for until they slept with the wrong woman.

It disappeared in a bright flash. Suddenly the falling ceased, abrupt and painfully. Her body lied on some cool surface, soft, wet; her hand moved across it, feeling the blades of grass tickle its palm, the dew rubbing off onto her skin.

She was home again, lying in the green sea that her father liked to call the backyard, a thing seen in commercials but never in reality. It contrasted the white fence in the background. The paint had begun to peel. Every weekend he promised to fix it; every weekend another chip came off.

Her eyes opened in a flash, slowly focusing on a duller but still very green foreground. Valerie brought her hand forward, its paleness reflecting too brightly for her. Squinting, she made out its trembling features, all present, unscathed. She tried to move her other arm, finding herself on her back shortly thereafter. She coughed and blinked, new, brighter light coming from between the branches of the trees.

Trees?

Grass?

Caught in a moment of uncontrollable fear, Valerie bolted upright, causing the unfamiliar world to blur and spin, her arm catching the ground before the rest of her body returned to it. Her head was heavy, aching, longing for the helmet to be removed, but she refused. It had saved her life, somehow. There was no need to return that gift by taking it off now. The vest felt heavier than it ever had. Her hip was sore, the canteen at its side crushed. At least the mystery of her landing was solved, however reassuring that fact was.

Dizziness unwilling to subside, Valerie promptly turned over and got sick, crawling away from the scene on all fours towards a small creek, collapsing on its bank, struggling to maintain her fleeting consciousness. Splashing the cool water in her face, both refreshing and awakening, Valerie gazed up again to look at her surroundings. It was a forest, trees going as far as her diminished sight could gather. It was dead silent as well, save for the running water before her. There were no birds, dogs, people, no sounds of anything that would indicate that the city she was once in was still nearby.

In some vain attempt to bring the world back into focus, Valerie splashed more water in her face, only managing to make her face wetter as a result. The forest remained, as did the silence, until something caught her attention. It was low, muffled, a shuffling sound followed by the breaking of the stick. Afraid to see what else fate had in store for her, Valerie took her time in turning to the noise. When she did finally confront it, she was not sure what to think. Not forty feet away, playing with what appeared to be her rifle, was what she could only describe as the most grotesque being she had ever come across. Its skin was pale, grimy, as were its clothes, its movements ever chaotic and twitching. Its ear appeared to be pointed; its eyes maybe larger than what they should have been.

What happened next, Valerie could not control. It was a reaction spurred by the rising fear within, the strangeness of the entire situation only aiding its existence. She gasped suddenly, deeply, as though she could not catch her breath, backing up against a tree. Pulling her pistol out of its holster as fast as she could, Valerie pointed it at the creature, switching the safety off with a click.

It looked at her, tossing her rifle away as if nothing, tilting its head out of curiosity. She could have sworn it smiled at her as it began to step forward, its stride uneven and shaky. As light breaking through the trees hit it, she saw more disturbing details, including the sword its left hand possessed.

"Jesus," Valerie whispered under her breath, the beginning of a prayer she would never finish. Her grip on the pistol was looser, shakier. Her finger wavered near the trigger, pausing as her mind grasped for the memories of the rules of engagement.

It was closer now, smile black and haunting. "What have we here?" It asked, voice filled with a hiss and other unnatural things. "A lone soldier? Looks like yer friends left yeh to me." The desire in his voice sent a chill up her spine.

"Stay…stay away from me you…" God, what could she call it? Her mind wished to avoid monster because those things did not exist. They were nothing more than creations for children's fairytales and box office earnings. She refused to accept that she was in anything other than reality, even if fantasy was staring her down.

Somewhere in the forest, a bow was strung, but a hand stayed its action, wishing to see what the new, strange being would do.

Its laughter sounded more like an old man's cough. "A youngling too. All the tastier." Backing further into the tree, Valerie watched as the creature lifted the sword in preparation to end her life, heard his continued laughter as she raised her pistol higher.

The sound of gunshots used to scare her. She had woken up to the sound of them outside her house one night, red and blue lights dancing about her room. Through the window, she saw a man lying on the ground. Her father said he was fine but she knew, even back then she knew. Her brother played a movie too loud one night. She ran into her father's room crying, thinking of the man on the street again. Then one day, the fear vanished, as unexplainable as its appearance.

It fell backwards, surprise still etched upon its face, a black liquid pouring from its neck. Her hand shot upward from the kick of the pistol, blood getting on it as well as on her face. She blinked but other than that hardly reacted as the creature hit the ground. Somehow through its gurgling breaths and dying struggles, it managed to laugh. A grimace crossed her face. More disturbing than its appearance or foul intentions was its ability to laugh at death, even its own. Eventually it quieted down too, leaving Valerie alone with the sounds of the creek once more.

After a long while of senseless staring at the body, Valerie suddenly remembered what it had been handling earlier. Standing slowly, as though afraid the creature would jump again, she flicked the safety on the pistol again and made her way to where she thought it had tossed her rifle, limping slight from the pain in her hip. The silence of the forest was deafening. She longed for just one bird to call out, though at this point it might just give her heart that extra jump it needed to stop.

She found her rifle stuck in a bush, seemingly intact, much to her relief. If instinct told her anything, it was that that creature was not alone. There were more out there, she could only hope that she was just as lucky with her comrades.

As though reading her mind, a voice called out in the distance. The sound was muffled but it seemed to sound like something along the lines of 'soldier.' Suspicious of the place already, Valerie would have most likely gone the other way if it were not for the fact that the voice sounded awfully familiar.

Noting the broken strap on her rifle, Valerie quickly took it off before heading in the direction of the voice. The pain in her hip was aggravating but it would wear down with time. She continued for some distance, hearing the voice call a couple more times. She even replied with a meager 'here' before stumbling upon the source.

They watched her run through the forest, blind to anything around her. She was so loud they could have followed blindfolded.

The First Sergeant was leaning against a fallen tree. Unfortunately he was not alone. In the clearing before him were a couple more of those creatures, even uglier than the first one if possible. They did not engage in mindless chatter like the other one but looked around cautiously, suspecting some kind of trap. Holding her breath, Valerie quietly switched her rifle to fire, sneaking into the clearing to surprise the two creatures who, like their predecessor, had only swords to defend themselves.

They seemed to notice her presence though, launching at her before she cleared the trees, but their swords did not have the reach of her rifle. The first one fell with two bullets in its gut. Two shots close range that was what they taught her in basic. All of those meaningless words that had been drilled into her mind started returned, instincts that she did not know existed were beginning to kick in. The remaining creature stared at its companion for a moment before falling as well when two small rounds entered his side.

"Who is that?" asked a feeble voice, one that hardly seemed to be possessed by the man that had chosen to ride with her. Frightened by this development, Valerie ran, or attempted to run, to his side.

"Sergeant Hansen," Valerie replied, looking him over. "Are you okay, Top?"

He moved slightly, showing the new alteration in his side. There was something sticking out of it, a piece of the hummer from what she could gather. Her hand moved toward it but was quickly swatted away.

"Don't touch it. You're no medic." Somehow the commanding tone still managed to echo in his fading voice.

"What do you want me to do, Top, scream for one until my lungs die?"

His eyes narrowed at her failure to maintain composure in the situation but he said nothing. This was hardly the time. "You can't do anything, not unless you can get that tourniquet of yours around my waist." He sensed Valerie's need to say something smart but she remained silent. "What's that on your face?"

Valerie touched her face briefly. "Blood…I think."

The First Sergeant motioned to the bodies. "From one of those things?"

"Yeah." The short silence was broken by the sounds of more movement, much more. Valerie spun around, resting an elbow on her extended knee, pointing her rifle in every direction that a noise came from, drawing a disheartening conclusion. "Oh God, we're surrounded…First Sergeant, you know where your weapon is?"

"Haven't…seen it." He was fading fast now, probably would be unconscious before any of the creatures arrived. Terrific.

Valerie continued to turn in every direction, waiting for the first one to appear, repeating the same four letter word under her breath. A scream pierced the air, abnormal and terrifying, causing her hair to rise and breath to fall short. It was from one of them, but what could have done it? For a moment she dared to hope that there was someone else here from her unit until she realized that there had been no sound of a gunshot. Whatever was attacking was something she did not know.

There were more screams and sounds of struggle from the forest. The sounds were haunting, reminding her of old Vietnam documentaries that her grandfather obsessed over. It surrounded them, the only thing to occupy her mind until it abruptly halted. The only things that filled the air now were her breath and rapidly pounding heart, each pump of it causing her eyesight to blur at the edges. She continued to search the edge of the forest for signs of anything alive at this point. She was not certain what to fear more: the creatures that attacked her or whatever slaughtered them so easily.

As her breathing slowed, Valerie began to notice something. A feeling of someone watching, of inevitability, of a mistake that she had made. A shadow appeared, hardly passing her own, but the movement was obvious. Her adrenaline should have told her that someone was coming behind her, its presence heightening her sense of hearing but it had not. There had been no sound behind her, no shuffling of feet, no hoarse breathing. Then it hit her.

Her breathing stopped altogether as she turned to meet inescapable doom. She had barely turned when it happened. A hooded figure tackled Valerie to the ground, turning her onto her back, pounding her arm into the dirt until she let loose the grip on the rifle. The rest was a blur. When she became aware of her surroundings once more, Valerie found herself staring into the eyes of her assailant, one wrist held down by a hand, the other by a boot, a knife to her neck, so close that the coolness the metal gave off could be felt upon her skin.

Raised in an all Protestant family, one of the first things Valerie had learned was the Lord's Prayer, and it was these words that flowed through her mind now, repeating over and over, moving so fast that if mumbled they would hardly be intelligible. Maybe that was why her mouth quivered, her voice long lost to the fear.

"Whom do you serve?" The stranger asked, his voice harsh but the most normal thing she had come across since waking up in this surreal world. Her silence forced the blade closer to her skin. "Twice I have saved your life this morn. Your debt is high but all I ask for is a simple word."

There was a click. Both looked over to see the First Sergeant pointing his pistol at the man's head, his arm shaking horribly under the strain. The man neither flinched nor hinted to any fear he may have possessed, which Valerie truly believed was none. Because of the movement, she caught a better glimpse of his face, it no longer hiding with the aid of the sun's glare. Long hair stuck out from under the hood, red and waved, the same color as the thin beard he wore on his face. His nose was hooked ever so slightly, his eyes a sort of gray color. He was human at least, a fact that brought more relief than she would have believed.

"You would kill me after the service I have paid?" It was not a question but more of an invitation. Valerie felt another chill.

"You're…about ready…to kill her."

He had looked ready to counter the First Sergeant's obvious response until the last syllable of the sentence: her. The mask of calm slipped from his face at the sound of it, surprise etched in everything capable of expression. The man turned back to Valerie, giving what he could see of her face a good once over, looking for the lie.

"Remove your helmet," he commanded, the mask replaced. Valerie looked from him to his arm several times. She then turned to the First Sergeant, nodding as best as she could with the knife still against her throat. His arm practically dropped, the pistol hitting the ground with a dull thud. The man relaxed slightly, stepping back, leaving her arms free. He pulled back the knife, placing it back in his belt, watching her warily still.

Sitting up on one of her elbows, Valerie began to undo the strap on her helmet. Her head screamed with relief as it was pulled off, her hair still trying to cling to it, but the bun she had put in that morning was too strong. It still gave the man a message. He stood abruptly, backing away as though she had turned into some vile creature. Valerie watched him as his stare became discomforting, a mixture of confusion and slight hatred in her own.

He whistled then. Suddenly as far as her vision could take her, men in cloaks emerged from the forest. She could not get a good count of them but there had to be at least twenty if not more. One approached him, speaking in low whispers, the noise barely audible. Valerie turned back to the First Sergeant, who had finally lost his battle with consciousness. If he died, she would be alone. What then?

"What are we to do, Captain?" The man asked, glancing quickly over at Valerie, a loathsome look she did not miss.

He paused a moment. "We take her to Henneth Annûn. Bind her hands. Cover her eyes. Our enemy has become reckless if he believes that to be able to penetrate our ranks."

The other man nodded. "And what of her companion?" Perhaps it was because he turned toward her, or that his voice had grown louder, but something made certain that Valerie heard his last statement.

"Leave him."

This struck a chord in Valerie. No longer would she be silent or fearful of her supposed savior. She would not go quietly as they had assumed; she stood quickly, not going for her rifle which was closer than she assumed, but instead pulling out her pistol, leveling it on the center of the silver tree sewn onto his outfit.

He raised one hand, pausing the action that would have ended the foolish woman's life. If his men had not been better trained…

"We are not going to leave him."

The man began to laugh, something she figured would happen at this point. "You would force your captor's hand despite the situation in which you now find yourself?"

Valerie quickly glanced at the seemingly multiplying hooded men. "Yes."

His face became serious once more. "Your companion is dying. He will only slow us and they will track his scent with ease."

Her grip on the pistol tightened, her resistance to pulling the trigger fleeing. Through clinched teeth she shouted, "I will not leave him here to be eaten by those things like some dead animal!"

For a moment, Valerie thought she saw the man nod. It was subtle but she could have sworn it was there. To her surprise he began to step forward, coming closer without stopping, and she did not back away. While she hated to believe it, something told her that he meant to do no harm, though her pistol remained in place. If she was wrong at least she would have plenty of room for it.

"You are a stubborn creature," he murmured, halting a few paces before her. "And a loyal one. If a man could have admiration for things such as you, you would have it."

It threw her off for a moment, the thought of a man respecting what he considered to be the enemy. Those were fantasies that no longer existed in the world, ideals that her grandfather had only prayed for as he remembered the stories his father told him, stories of how the war would end for the night and of Christmases celebrated even between enemies.

Valerie quickly returned to reality. "That doesn't change what you said."

"No it does not." She knew it then that someone was behind her, ready to strike. Valerie tossed her pistol down before they grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to her knees. The last images she saw were of the First Sergeant, lying unconscious, unaware of his horrid fate. She could have chanced it, shot the man that would leave him for those creatures. It would have meant the end of her own life but at least then she would have been free of this place. Instead she chose life, however terrible it would be now with so much guilt upon her conscience.

The last time she had been blindfolded was at her birthday party. She had turned eight. They were playing pin the tail on the donkey. Her father had filmed her as she tried to get to the page the creature was on, nearly sticking the needle in the cat's face instead as it watched from the steps above the picture. She had watched the video before leaving, tears lining her eyes for a reason she could not remember. Perhaps she had known then what would befall her for now she wished this darkness was a simple game, where the only life at risk was that of a cartoon drawing instead of her own in a land so different and far away from anything she had ever witnessed.

What happened?

Well what do you think? Please give me some criticism! My only goal in life is to improve and I can't if I don't gets some tips!