Fear clawed away at Sara's insides, the pain that consumed her battered body temporarily forgotten at the sound of the gunshot. Her guard, the only person who had been kind to Sara during the torture of these few weeks, crumpled to the ground, blood spewing out of her chest. Instinctively, Sara sat motionless, watching the life drain out of the nameless woman, too terrified to move. This proved to be good because Gretchen turned her steely gaze to Sara, grinning wickedly.
"Don't worry, you'll have a new guard soon," she spat, walking out of the small wooden shack. Sara heard the click of the lock and then Gretchen's receding footsteps, waiting a full two minutes before moving. She rushed to the dead guard, fighting back the tears that were already starting to spill from her eyes as she checked for a pulse. When she grabbed the woman's hand, something fell out of her hand, clattering onto the wooden floor. Sara looked, seeing the silvery glint of a key.
She scrambled to grab it, rushing to her feet, the pain in her stiff limbs making it hard to move, but she scrambled to her feet, running purely on adrenaline. She fumbled the key, finally getting it into the lock and turned.
Click.
Sara turned the knob and pushed the door open, feeling the hot sun on her face as she stood outside for the first time in what felt like forever, but must have been about two weeks. Looking back at her prison, Sara's gaze fell on the lifeless woman once more. Saying a silent quick prayer and a quiet thank you, she turned her back and began running.
As she ran, her body screamed at her to stop, to just lie still. The stiffness of not having moved in days coupled with the whipping she had endured had left her in so much pain that she wasn't sure how she was moving at all, let alone running. But now she had a purpose - she had to find help. So she dragged herself further and further, the knowledge that Gretchen wasn't far keeping her from taking a break.
After over three hours of running/dragging herself through the isolated area, Sara saw a car driving towards her. She quickly started waving her hands in the air, trying to stop the driver. The headlights came on as the driver began slowing down and Sara was suddenly hit with a wave of dread. What if it was Gretchen? What if she had just waved down her captor and was about to be taken back to the shack and whipped again and again until her body finally took pity on her and she blacked out?
Sara froze, and then broke out in a sprint. She didn't get far; her legs were done, they couldn't carry her anymore, and she fell face-first into the dirt. She lay there, motionless, as every inch of her body screamed in agony. Her cuts and welts were stinging from the dust that sprayed into them when she fell and the rest of her body ached so badly she wasn't sure she could get up. She just hoped that, if it was Gretchen, she would just kill her now.
Right then, her brain flooded with images of Michael. She needed to be strong, to get back to him. If she didn't, he would live his life feeling guilty and she couldn't let that happen. She needed to find a way to get back to Michael, back into his strong yet gentle arms.
She thought of LJ too; if she died, what would happen to the poor boy? He was too young to be wrapped up in all this. She couldn't protect him from the worst of the torture anymore - they had been separated back when Lincoln had tried to rescue them. But she needed to figure out where he was being held and get back to him.
"Senorita? Are you okay?" a male voice with a thick Spanish accent spoke above her. She shifted slightly to look up, seeing an unfamiliar face, concern etched in his expression.
"Help. Please," Sara gasped out, groaning in pain. The man reached for her, trying to help her up. As soon as his hands made contact with Sara's back, she screamed, blacking out.
She awoke some time later, lying in the back seat of a moving car. She tried to sit up before a rush of pain coursed through her, causing her to gasp, the air completely knocked out of her lungs.
"Senora, are you okay?" the man said from the front seat.
Sara groaned. "What's going on?"
"We're going to hospital. You need help," the man replied.
"No," Sara gasped. "No hospital. Please."
The man pulled over on the shoulder and then turned around in his seat. "Senora, you need doctors. You're hurt."
Sara shook her head, regretting it as a wave of dizziness washed over her. She fought it, saying "No, no doctor. I-I need a phone. Do you have a phone?"
The man hesitated but then reached into his pocket, pulling out a cell phone and gently handing it to her. Sara carefully dialed Lincoln's number, but the number was no longer in service. She tried two more times, getting the same response both times. She then thought for a moment, wondering what to do.
"Senora, please. You need doctors," the Panamanian man insisted.
"No, please sir. I can't go to a hospital," Sara said. "I'm a doctor, sir. Can you please help me?"
The man nodded, clearly uncomfortable with the entire situation.
"Is there any general store nearby? One that sells bandages and rubbing alcohol?"
"Si, senora," the man said, nodding.
"Good, good. We need to go there. We need bandages, rubbing alcohol and the strongest painkillers you can find."
The man nodded, turning his car back on and pulling into traffic.
"Thank you," Sara said quietly. The man drove in silence.
Along the way, Sara pulled the cell phone out again, dialling a very familiar number that she hadn't called in what felt like a lifetime. The phone rang twice before a man's voice picked up.
"Hello?"
"Bruce?" Sara choked out.
"Sara? Is that you? Where the hell are you? I've been worried sick."
"Bruce," Sara sobbed. "I need your help. Please."
"Anything. Just say it," the older man said automatically. "Tell me where you are and I'll come get you."
"I-I can't. The phone might be tapped," Sara said.
Bruce paused. "Sara, I'm going to call you back from another number in a few minutes, okay? Then you can tell me where you are and I'll come and get you, okay?"
"Okay," Sara whispered. "Thank you,"
A short while later, Sara downed two extra-strength painkillers and somehow talked the man through treating some of her more serious wounds, Sara felt slightly better. She was still nowhere near fine, but she could at walk slowly without fainting.
The kind Panamanian man gave her a place to stay for the night until Bruce flew in from Chicago. Sara slept as soon as they arrived, turning down the man's kind offer for food. She was far too nauseous to eat right now. She had sipped water all the way to the man's house and, although she was suspicious of the man's kindness, she was in no position to turn him down. Thankfully, as it turned out, he was kind to her all the way until Bruce came and, even when he arrived to pick her up, the man had fed them both, although Sara had mostly just picked at her food. She would never forgive the stranger's kindness and hoped that one day, she would be able to repay him for his kindness and generosity.
But for now, she had bigger things to worry about. Like getting to a safe place and somehow letting Michael know she was safe.