Character Visuals for Your Fav OCs:
Staff Sergent Haynes: Brian White
Major Burkett: Jeffrey Dean Morgan
Staff Sergent Losey: Jai Courtney
Staff Sergent Wyler: Jake Gyllenhaal
Sergent Romero: Cauã Reymond
(Entering) Majid: Alexander Farsi
This story has no hidden political agenda of any sort. It's just an introduction to a fic that will soon turn very filthy. And frankly, that's all I care about.
Prologue II – Afghanistan, 2011
Italics means thoughts, emphasized word or action. Bolded is a flashback (….) is an indication that time has passed.
Emily grits her teeth and tries once more to move out of her seat when she lets out a long growl, resting right back into her position. Something was stabbing her on her side. She yells out again but silence surrounded her. At that moment, absolute panic seeps in. She's deaf. This accident they found themselves in shattered her hearing. If Emily's heart wasn't already clawing their way out of her chest, it certainly was now.
"I cannot hear! Somebody please tap me if you're still alive!"
A few aching seconds later, Emily feels a hard jab against her thigh. The momentarily relief she felt was astounding because for a glint of a second, she thought she was the only survivor on board. Romero groggily reaches for his seatbelt, coughing and waving the dust out of his face. The release out of his seat, however, was the only thing keeping him together as he slips out and lands on top of Emily. Emily yelps out in pain as the stabbing in her side worsens with the extra body weight. Quickly, Romero tries his best to roll off Emily and land onto the floor of the Humvee due to the truck rolling on its side. He pulls his upper body up to a struggled crawl as he works himself into Emily's line of sight.
Squinting through the dust, Emily sees her crewmember and couldn't be anymore happier to see his square face. He mouths out something to her, using all his strength to gesture with hand movements.
"Shaking...? Arms…? Guns?" Emily guesses out his message through this urgent game of charades. Romero switches from trying to act out the situation to another way of alerting her. Emily's eyes dart to his gloved hands as he starts spelling out in sign language.
A...m...b...u...s...h...
"We're being ambushed?!"
Romero vigorously nods his head. He stretches out to her and takes several long, deep breaths before he mustered up all his energy to push off a piece of hardware equipment that fell onto her. It crashes to the floor of the truck as Emily sucks in a great deal of air. She didn't realize how much she was limited breathing until she was freed. Just then, her ears popped and all the sounds she was absent from came rushing in at an intense volume as if someone turned on a TV at 100% volume in a quiet room. The bursts of the rapid shooting taking place right outside the truck startled her. Not knowing who was shooting or where they're located, the whole crew was placed in the middle of a firefight with an extreme disadvantage, right off the bat.
"4-2! 4-2! OUR POSITION HAS BEEN INFILTRATED! MK19 IS DOWN! WE ARE SURROUNDED! I REPEAT: WE! ARE! SURROUNDED!" Losey screams into the radio with his head ducked from the windshield window. While they were driving, an IED detonated two seconds too early before them. If Burkett drove a hair bit faster or the bomb would have waited a few seconds more, the entire Humvee and everyone inside would have been obliterated. The blast, still, sent shock waves through the truck and caused a massive accident as the ground lifted beneath them.
"RPG-RPG-RPG!" the absolute panic in Wyler's shriek warns everyone as he dropped his body from outside and crouched down by Emily, holding his head.
"RPG!" Losey mimics into the radio while the others shield themselves. Emily ducks into a fetal position as she thinks her last thoughts. She knew she was going to be vaporized within the next second and all that flashed in her mind was Paige. Like a flip book, all the memories of her and Paige rushed in an animated fashion from their first date to their last night together. She told her she was going to come back. She promised her. She can't die.
She can't die like this.
The sharp, piercing sound of a canon-like ejection jets through the air.
ShitshitshitshitSHIT!
The ground rumbles under them, blasting Emily's ear again when a roar of an explosion ignites a few yards from them and hurls all the hard cemented ground into the already broken windshield. Her skin instantly goes cold as more dirt collects inside the truck.
The truck stays silent for a total of ten, long seconds.
She can feel the dirt on her face...
Her ears are ringing but she can hear the crisps of a fire…
She's not dead.
She slowly opens her eyes, keeping them tight, and sees Wyler shifting from his crouched position.
He's not dead. They're still alive.
She begins her rounds of coughing once more and gradually rises her head up from her knees. Her body trembled immensely almost as if she had an outer body experience.
"Romero, Wyler, Fields, you guys okay?" Burkett calls roll as he extends an arm to shake Losey. "You okay over there?"
Losey groans in response, shaking his head as Wyler and Emily sound off their presence.
Romero gathers his bearings as he feels a bit unsteady. He swallows down hard before he finally speaks up. "I'm go-" His passenger side door swings opens, shedding in a burst of sunlight inside the dark and dusty Humvee. An unidentified man leans in, grabs a hold of Romero's armored vest, and yanks with such an unanticipated force that he was too caught off guard to react.
Before Emily could think to secure her weapon, shouts from the outside overpowers in numbers as they watch Romero get pulled out of the truck and into the bubble of bright light. Burkett's door opens and before they knew it, they're being screamed at in a foreign language with guns drawn and surrounded. One by one, each member was forcibly removed from the wreck until Emily was left in the furthermost part of the truck.
Loud, threatening yells frightens her as a man reaches all the way in and swings a grab. The anger behind his covered face from Emily not complying immediately grew with every attempt he made. With her back against the interior, she takes notice of her weapon beside her. If she was quick enough, maybe, just maybe, she would be able to outdraw him and shoot right there. Yet, the chances of her body being riddled with bullets was a far more guaranteed death than her option to obey. She surrenders her hands and cautiously inches towards the man when he snatches her by her arm, dragging her out. In no regard, she is pulled right into the dirt ground where she sees a defeated Burkett, Losey, Romeo, and Wyler on their knees with their hands up, surrounded by men who looked nothing like the US military. Behind them her eyes land on a mountain of fire and black thick smoke ruminating from it. It clicked.
The Humvee in front of them was the target for the earlier rocket launcher.
Emily's head jerks forward from a firm push against her helmet. The man began barking, walking around to the front of her as he aimed his brown AK47 at her forehead. She had not the slightest idea of what he was saying but after catching Losey's eyes, he silently glanced up several times. Everyone was stripped of their helmets along with their radios and guns tossed to the side. The man's voice got more impatient by the time Emily finally got the clue to start unarming herself.
Another man called out something, signaling an additional person to approach them. Extra voices are heard from a distance which made the group encircling them move their attention temporarily. The four soldiers had their backs against the rebels while Emily faced them. Burkett took this opportunity and used it to get her attention. It takes a few tries of scrunching his face in hopes of Emily seeing but when she did, he gave his first order.
She intently stares at him without being too obvious and computes the letters he was communicating through his eyes.
Stay calm.
In a simultaneous speed, a pair of clammy hands grip Emily's wrists and force them behind her back while a burlap bag that smelled like potatoes was thrown over her head. Her hands were tied with a tight zip-tie as she was forced to stand. She was directed from behind, shoved every time she stumbled over her feet until she bumps into a hard barricade. She stopped in her tracks briefly when her back was thrusted against hard, making her body fall onto some kind metal. The voices yelled at her and she quickly realized that they were most likely being loaded into the back of a truck. She lifts up her feet and hops in, not knowing exactly what to do from there until her arm was grabbed again and was forced to sit down. She hears the scuffle of feet beside her and feels weight being added as the rest of her crew members were placed around her.
At that moment, Emily mentally kicks herself, wishing she took the shot when she had the chance. Death would be much easier than becoming an American soldier being held hostage by the Taliban.
...
"Do your thing and come back...you and I have a Tekken rematch that I refuse to lose again to."
Emily laughs as she tilts her head to the side with a shrug. "I really don't know what I'm doing. I'm just clicking buttons."
"Lies every girl says!" Haynes throws his hand in the air and takes a small spin as they stand outside the Humvee Emily has to board for her mission today. "Like when they tell you "I've never done this before" in that cute and innocent voice and then proceed to go all Emily Rose and suck the Holy Ghost out of you. I don't want to hear it!" Emily rolls her eyes purposely leaving them at the top to exaggerate the sass. Haynes mocks her gesture with a lip smack and eye roll of his own before he pulls her in for a hug.
"Just hurry up. And don't flake on me."
"Alright, alright, alriiight…" Emily whines as they separate. Their hands automatically find each other for their swift and personal handshake that they've created recently. He pats Emily on the back one last time before she hops herself into the truck. Durkett starts the engine and waits for clearance to drive out of the base's gate as Emily rolls down her window, flashing out a brief peace sign before they roll out to do the duty of the day.
"My little baby, off to destroy people..." Hayne admires on, holding onto his dog tags with a quivering lip.
"Dude!" A soldier laughs, pushing Haynes to the side.
"I've dedicated my time to watch that shit just to quote lines at her all day. Let's see how long it'll take before she notices."
The truck comes to a hard halt, making Emily lurch forward from the lack of resistance to hold her back. She didn't even notice that she had nodded off. It's a possibility that her body's reaction to the overload of fear, stress, and the rhythmic hum of the ride made her shut down and drift away. Unfortunately, she didn't drift far enough.
A voice starts commanding the soldiers as the opening and slamming of doors put them back on edge. Each of them were herded out the back like prisoners with their hands tied. They stand still, waiting for some kind of ball to drop when the secured burlap was ripped off Emily's face.
…What the fuck...?
Everyone was unmasked and had a chance to look at each other but Emily was in a state of confusion. She couldn't get understand how dark it was. While they were driving in their Humvee, it wasn't even 3pm. Now it looked like it was about 7-8pm. Where the hell are they?
Through what they could see, the men huddled around the driver's side of their vehicle, discussing something of some sort. With the advantage of being so close together in the dark, it was utilized immediately.
"Is this Al-Qaeda?" Romero whispers anxiously with his wide eyes darting wildly between everyone. "Are we hostages for Al-Qaeda?! Oh God," he starts panting, bowing and shaking his head as he feels like he's about to cry. "Oh God, oh God, oh God! Dios ayude, por favor-"
"Romero, keep it together!" Losey hisses harshly in his direction.
A sudden shout makes all of their head turn towards the truck where one of the men were pointing at them. They just stood in despair as their capturers angrily walked towards them with some kind of ripped fabrics and flashlights pointed like police raiding a house late at night. From being bagged to confuse their sense of location, they were all gagged to keep from talking to each other. Emily gets her mouth forcibly opened and stuffed with a torn piece of a cotton shirt and then sealed over with a slab of duct tape. The man firmly pats her dirty cheek for good measure, making Emily flinch from the sting as he smiled. She raises her head to look at the young man and immediately gets locked in his large brown eyes. They weren't light or honeyed or anything else you'd see in a magazine. They were dark. Even with the flashlights, you could hardly see his pupils.
He walks away from her and moves back to his men when Emily catches a glimpse of Romero. They both stare at each other with tape over their mouths, hopeless. If only they were able to talk via thoughts…
Emily starts blinking at him, creating a code to communicate with but not even past her third letter, a tear falls out of his eye, rolling down his face before he bows his head away from her.
Nononono, Isaac look at me. Look at me, please.
An unexpected shove from behind sends Emily's jolting forward, falling onto her stomach with her face landing on the hard dirt floor with the lack of hands to break her fall. She groans out in pain when two pairs of hands grab each arm and lift her back onto her wobbling feet.
"Go!" a simple command from a thick accent is spoken as they are again pushed and forced to walk into a seemingly never ending amount of land and dirt.
...
A poke against Emily's forehead causes her eyes to fly open and heart to pound when she sees herself looking down the barrel of a rifle. The veiled man motions with a jerk of his head for Emily to chin up. She does as she's silently instructed and the gunman slowly walks back to a table and chair. He takes a seat and continues taking a bite of his sandwich, resting his weapon on his lap with the nozzle pointing at the soldiers.
After tirelessly walking a few miles with no knowledge of where they were or where they were going, they finally approach this cave-like entrance. Immediately, Emily and the others were hesitant and started slowing down their pace when the shoving began. You don't have to watch the news - a simple viewing of any movie where people are taken to an unknown and hidden location against their will would give you an idea of where this was going. However, when walked inside, it appeared to be more man-made than natural. There were rooms closed off by wooden doors made from hand, just enough to fit into the entry space. All five of them were tossed into one of the candlelit dens, with one sole man made to watch them.
And that's where they've been ever since. Sitting on the ground with their hands bounded, humid inside their uniforms with no food, no water, and no sleeping. They're not sure how long it's been since they originally arrived but with the guard switching shifts three times already, one could figure that they've been forced awake for over 24 hours.
At least their mouths weren't taped anymore.
The sounds of the guard chewing loudly made Emily realize how dry her own throat was and how the last thing she had consumed was a Pop-Tart her and Losey shared in the truck. Cookies and cream. How much she would give to have that right now…
The abrupt, rough opening of the door snaps everyone's attention to the far right when a number of flashlights are waved into the room, followed by large men holding them. Each man grabbed a solider and hauled them out of the room, one by one, until the last standing man remained. Emily's pores began opening up with nervous sweat releasing in waterfalls as she watched this man wink at her with a side smile and nod the guard out of the room. He wasn't as heavy set as the other men but he wasn't skinny, he was fairly fit. Another thing drastically different about him was that he wasn't one of the guys that picked them up from the crash. He was dressed completely different.
Casual? Expensive, even?
The guard closes the door behinds him, leaving the stranger and Emily by themselves.
Emily keeps her eyes on the man to watch his every movement and see the surprises come before they come, however, the male has his eyes on the ground. Standing sideways from Emily, the room is quiet for a long, excruciating 20 seconds of no movement, except from Emily's ever-growing heart pace that she's sure he can hear now.
The man sucks his teeth and turns to the chair, the buckles of his boots clink as he drags his feet against the ground, walking towards it, and tugs it away from the table. Emily watches him places it towards the center of the room before he then turns towards her. Resting his hand on the back of the chair, he waves Emily over to him.
Her brain processes 15 different emotions all in .639 seconds before she sluggishly rolls up from her side to get up on her feet. Within doing so, her joints groaned and cracked like an elderly woman who hasn't done any exercises in 20 years. The lack of vitamin and water, along with the restraints, made the simple task of standing impossible, causing Emily to become lightheaded. The man quickly rushes to Emily's side as she tries to find her footing and assists her to the chair himself. Emily's reflexes are to thank him for helping but she keeps her mouth shut and eyes forward, she already screwed up by showing him that she's weakened.
The man stands behind her for a few more seconds before he drags his way to the front of her view. He seemed in no real rush to announce his presence as he stroked his thick goatee. At this time, Emily took a real good observation of him while he paced. His slim, heart shaped face gave way to his age a bit, showing that he wasn't a fully grown man. If Emily had to guess, with his facial hair, he looked to be less than 30 years old. His dark hair was slicked back in a pompadour-like style to match his flair of luxury apparel which was light and comfortable with a side of jewelry.
Emily internally scoffed to herself. This guy was a real pretty boy.
He stopped one foot dramatically after another with the boot buckles jingling before he slowly spun to face Emily. Front and center.
Emily lets out a silent, deep breath as she braces herself for whatever is next to come.
"Fields, right?" the young man asks politely as he places his hands behind his back, rocking on the soles on his feet. Unconsciously, Emily's eyes narrow and head subtly tilts like puppy who is trying to understand something. For who knows how long, Emily has not heard any English being spoken by anyone from the opposite camp so hearing not only English but damn near perfect English with a hint of the native accent took her for a bit of shock.
"Your name tape….it says Fields." he points at her uniform to show her where he got her name from since she seemed confused. Emily keeps looking at him, unmoving. The man bows his head, putting his hand behind his back again at her silence.
"Right…Well, my name is Majid and I tell you this because I think we're going to become good friends." he begins pacing in front of her. "But the only way we can become good friends is through trust. Without trust, there is no friendship." he stops and turns his head to Emily. "Just enemies."
Walking over and bending down to her level, Emily locks eyes with him, showing no fear even though her insides were rattling.
"This question is going to let us know if we are friends or enemies, Fields." Majid's face stretches up in a smile. Emily glances down at the light freckles painted across the bridge of his nose and at the rest of his face before she looks back up into his brown eyes. The lines of his facial hair where sharp and crisp as if he just got a touch up just yesterday. His skin was smooth and rich, nearly flawless with no blemish in sight. His bright teethed smile holds for a few seconds before it fell down into a serious, hard grimace with clench of his jaw.
"You and your little group," he pokes Emily's chest with slight pressure behind it, "have something that belong to us…Where is it?"
Blink…Blink…
Emily stays silent.
Majid takes a great, large inhale before he breathes it out with a loud groan, backing out of Emily's face as he rubs his tumbles. In the many months of training Emily had to endure, one of them was exactly this scenario. Hostage. If the situation was to ever occur where you are being held hostage and interrogated, there are two rules one must remember if all else fails: never admit anything to the enemy and never accept anything from the enemy.
"I am a man that has no patience whatsoever, Fields. So, me asking you politely," Majid stresses the word with his eyes closed and fingers clasped together by his face, "is unheard of! So, I'm going to ask you one last time. And it will be the very last time!" he carefully brushes his hand through the top of his hair before he folds his hands in a prayer in front of his nose, walking back in front of Emily. He takes another breath and looks at her through his glare.
"Where is our shit?"
"I don't know what-"
Emily's vision blurs midsentence as the sting of a hard landing smack settles onto her face. The loud and blunt echo of the sound bounces around the den as the pain of not only of the power behind Majid's hand but his rings cause a temporarily daze.
"You want to run that by me again?" Majid crosses his hands behind his back and leans into Emily, waiting for an answer. He raises a brow with his mouth hung open and listens to Emily cough. "You…Don't have an answer for me? Again? Alright. Enemy it is."
Majid grabs Emily by the roots of her hair and yanks her to her feet, creating a noisy scuffle as he kicks the chair across to the other side. Emily flexes against her restraints in agony as he forcibly walks her with her face turned up. As she breathes through her mouth, Majid goes from gripping to palming the back of Emily's head in one fluid motion and slams Emily's face into the cold surface of the metal table. Shock radiated throughout her entire body like lightning speed as she gasped for air she couldn't find. Majid's fingers burrow themselves nice and snug in Emily's warm hair as she resisted underneath him but he presses his whole weight against her so she wasn't able to go anywhere.
"You want to make an enemy out of me, hm? That's your final answer?" Majid lowers himself into Emily's ear as she her pants came out shaky and unsteady, eyes enlarged to full extent. She stutters out incoherent words in the midst of her hyper gasping. With her face squished against the table, she feels her nose running and glances down to see a rapid growing of dark red liquid pooling onto the table and getting closer and closer to her face until it soaked into her skin. Majid grips her hair and hurls her off the table into the blackness of the cave where she plummets hard onto the floor. He turns around to face her and Emily scurries backwards with tears filling the brims of her eyes until her backs hits a wall.
"It's going to be fun to break you." he laughs to himself as he adjusts the watch on his wrist. "Yes, it will…"
Emily's chest heaves in and out heavily as she witnesses him fix himself, walk towards the door, and leave before she starts to panic. The mixture of hot tears and blood rushes down her face as she tries to collect all of her thoughts. She has no idea what's about to happen in the next 30 seconds but she needs to be prepared somehow. But with her hands tied, she's completely helpless.
The question he asked her was completely baffling, nevertheless. She has truly no idea what "his shit" is or why her people would have it. It's no secret she has done a few missions where they had to retrieve things from the enemy but that can't possibly be it….can it? Those are generic missions, most of the time!
Breathe in…
Breathe out…
Breathe in…
Breathe out…
A sharp, electric sting fires off in her nose and Emily whines out in pain, making her curl her toes inside her boots in reaction.
He broke my nose - he broke my nose - he broke my nose…Emily keeps repeating to herself mentally. Just by feeling the amount of blood running and how much intense agony she's in, she's 100% certain in the way he smashed her face into the table, he broke her nose.
She spits out a wad of blood that trickled from the back of her nose to her throat and tried to get herself together. It was about a matter of time before "Majid" or someone else came back for some more interrogation and Emily had to be ready to endure as much as they were going to throw at her.
…..Hopefully.
"God, don't let them kill me. God, don't let them kill me. God, don't let them kill me. God, don't let them kill me. God, please, don't let them ki-"
The door is kicked open hard enough to almost put a whole foot through the middle of the wooden door when Majid makes his appearance again. Emily immediately straightens up on sight, her fingers shaking uncontrollably behind her as he walks into the den. Behind him, the rest of her crewmen were pushed inside, still bounded. Majid keeps his eyes on the walls and one hand rubbing the back of his neck when he snaps and points to the floor, making the direct order of having the men shoved onto the ground next to Emily. Romero falls particularly hard, landing on his bruised side as Burkett's bulkier body accidentally lands nearly on top of him. Everyone adjusts themselves and shifts into a more comfortable sitting position when Romero glances over in Emily's direction. His mouth drops in absolute horror when he sees the bloodied mess of her face and the crooked tilt of her nose. There was blood everywhere - on the side of her face, her mouth, her uniform, her hair was tussled…in the few minutes they were separated, it looked like they couldn't wait to go to town on her. She stares back at him with long, sorrowful eyes and it burned him within. He wanted to kill whoever did this to her.
Majid speaks out in his native language to one of the guys, prompting the man to reply back with a short response and a head shake. He goes to the next man who repeats the same as the other man. He does this action two more times to the two other men who both answer back in the same responses and head shake the prior men gave. Majid bowed his head with a chuckle. You didn't need a translator or Rosetta Stone to know that he asked if the others gave up information.
"What are you all trying to prove here? Huh?" Majid asks his prisoners as he stands in front of them. "Trying to prove that you're tough? That you're unbreakable? That you are certified United Stated military soldiers and we cannot be destroyed, sir!" he stands at attention and yells out in a mock chant as a soldier would before smiling shortly after. He starts pacing, dragging his boots along the cold, hard ground.
"I am a simple man. I ask for simple things. You took something that belongs to me and you have the audacity to not tell me where it is?! I mean! Where is the respect in that? Where is the honor in that, solider?" Majid looms over Losey for a second, holding strict eye contact with him. The room becomes silent and everyone stares at them, Emily silently hoping he won't attack him the way he attacked her. After a couple seconds, Majid turns his face and continues to walk back and forth in his line, Losey letting out his breath he didn't realize he was holding.
"You're in my house now, therefore, you listen to my rules if….you want to live. That's just how things work around here. Because how I see it…you all are following after a leader that's. not. me." he taps his chest emphasizing every word. His eyes slowly cascades on each soldier. "I am your leader now. I am your captain, I am your major, I am your general, I am your father." his sights end on Emily who stares up at him, withering in strength. She doesn't want to portray that she's frail because it's already a standard ideology that out of a group of people, the women would be the easiest to break but with the blunt trauma she just endured, she can't fully maintain her Wonder Woman mask as much as she would like.
"I should be everything. But you all? You're taking orders from someone who isn't me! And I can see how confusing that is! Because you don't know who to listen to!" Majid smooths his hair back and shuffles his feet, fixing his stance as he puts both his hands up to his face like mock hand puppets.
"I'm saying to do this but you have that other person in your ear, saying to do that. I say tell me the location of my possessions that you guys took from me, the other voice says 'Don't say anything. Stay quiet'. I want you all to be allies! They want you to be my enemy! I don't want trouble! He wants me become an unstable man! WELL, GUESS WHAT?!" In one swift, blink of an eye motion, Majid reaches behind his back, draws his handgun, and shoots Burkett three times at point blank range. His unsuspecting body jerks backwards from the hit as the thunder clap of the bullets leaving the chamber rips into his neck and face. His hot blood splatters all over Losey and Romero as he goes limp and falls backwards with a thud.
"YOU CAN'T SERVE TWO GODS! You have to serve just one!" Majid points. Unaffected by his brutal kill, he looks over at Burkett that was wedged in-between Romero and Losey and walks over to him. Romero scoots over and leans towards Emily when Majid nears closer out of fear.
"…And it looks like yours is dead. So….by default….you will listen to me and do as I say unless you want to be like your friend…." Majid trails off his sentence and scrunches up his face. He glances down at Burkett's body and inspects his uniform briefly. "Burkett over here. Did I say it right? Was it Burkett?"
Majid looks over at Romero and Emily huddled together, trembling in shock then turns towards Losey and Wyler who both looked like someone pressed pause on them. The room was so eerily quiet, the sound of blood leaking out of Burkett's body and spilling onto the floor was magnified as if someone had a microphone hooked up to surround sound speakers. Majid pats the now dead body and hops up, tucking his gun back under his purple dress shirt.
"I'll give you some time to soak all that in." he takes a glimpse at the group for a moment and proceeds to walk out before he stops himself, shaking his head. He turns and points to Losey and Romero. "But you two, with me."
The guards move to action to grab the men when Romero instinctively turns to Emily, not wanting to separate. Seeing this man kill Burkett and probably was the one to order an attack on Emily, he couldn't leave knowing that this could be the last time he sees her. Whether it's by Majid killing her or him.
"It's okay." Emily whispers to him before the guard yanks Romero up from behind and drags him away until he was able to stand up. Majid mumbles something to the other two men standing in the corner and they nod, also making their way towards Emily and Wyler. As a guard got closer, Emily flinches and turns her head away when he pulls out a knife on her, however, he turns her around and cuts her from her restraints.
"While you two think about your new-found life choices, here's something to sustain on just so you won't willingly die on me before I get what I need." Majid kicks a small rusty bucket towards Burkett's body that held a few bottles of water and crackers. "Be careful, though. Keep up the no talking act and the next time you get food and water will be in a week." Majid closes the door on them and alone they were in the candlelight.
No men.
No guards.
Just Wyler, Emily, and Burkett.
Wyler sighs, rubbing his wrists after all these hours that he's been tied up until he heard the sound of Velcro ripping. With no sight, he continues to listen to Emily moving since there is a shade of darkness in between them where the light doesn't reach. He hears her lightly counting to herself from 10, not sure exactly what she was doing.
"5…4…3…2…" Emily squeezes down with all her might and realigns her nose with the push of both thumbs. A truckload of pain runs down her face again as she could slightly hear the bone crack as she pushed.
"Fuck! Ah…Fuck!" her eyes watered and teared immediately as she grabbed the mini cloths she had in her leg pocket and stuffed her nose. Although the pain was tough to handle, emotional distress was mixed in those tears as well. Seconds later, low sobbing came from the far left corner of the den where Emily held her head up yet brought her knees to her chest and began to finally release the emotions she's been feeling inside since the crash.
...
Day after day passes by with the segregated interrogations and two things have been noted.
1: Burkett's decaying body is started to release a smell into the den that has nowhere to go but linger due to the lack of ventilation.
2: The day the soldiers met Majid was the easiest day. Ever since then, it's been raining hell from that point on. If it wasn't the starvation or dehydration that started to wear on them, it might be the two bathroom trips a day that they are giving. One at 8am and one at 8pm. There isn't a standard bathroom where they could walk in and have privacy for at least two minutes to relieve themselves.
No. That's too humanizing.
It's a time where, one by one, they are brought to another private den where a bucket is placed in the corner. No matter how quick or how long, whether it's something as simple as urine or as difficult as diarrhea, they all must go in that same bucket in front of the guards until finished. Whoever is the last person to use it when it fills up has the pleasant responsibility of being walked to a secluded outside location and discard it for reuse.
If it's the not humiliation that's breaking them down, the constant abuse might possibly one of the factors. Due to them not giving viable answers to Majid the way he wants it, every day like clockwork, each person is grabbed, isolated, and used as training workout by one of the men assigned to them that day to have the answers beaten out. Although they try to fight back, with their already deteriorating system, their reaction time is slower than usual which makes it more fun of an ass kicking for the guards. That's why they leave their hands untied during this procedure. What good use are they anyway at this point?
While the other guys get different men every day to use them as punching bags, Majid assigned the weakest man on his team to Emily, who was still nearly three times stronger than her. After the second day of beatings, if Emily had any information, she would have gave something up by then but the fact of the matter is, she truly has no idea what Majid or his people are talking about. She even offered as much as saying maybe they killed the wrong people. Maybe the truck in front of them were the people who stole from them. But that theory didn't reach very far before she got punched directly in her gut, knocking the complete wind out of her.
Day after day of this torture, the thoughts if help was coming for them started circulating.
Day 7….
"Em….I don't want you to see me as a bitch or nothin' but….I can't do this anymore." Wyler's low, rough voice filled with defeat catches Emily's attention as they sit in the warm and dark den. The candle has been out for a couple days now and nobody has ever came to light it again. It gets silent for a few seconds before he speaks again.
"I'm dyin', Em."
Using her jacket scrunched up as a pillow, Emily takes deep, careful breaths. The bruising on her stomach from the recent blow made it difficult to breathe.
"You're not dying. And you're not a bitch neither." she responds with a slight voice crack. She coughs to clear her throat and immediately regrets it as her stomach flexed and made her pulse in ache. She tries to lightly soothe herself with light massages but that hardly did of any use. "We just need to hold out a bit longer. I know the base is going on a manhunt for us right now so we just gotta….we just gotta hold on through this." she tells him….and herself.
"No one knows where we are, man." Wyler whines out as he shakes his head, looking out into the darkness in front of him. "The last thing that was put out was a RPG warning and that's it. So, when they get there, all they're gonna see is an overturned humvee and a pile of ash that used to be humvee with people in it. These fuckers took us all the way out to yakland where not even we know where we are on the map. They're not gonna find us. Nobody is."
"They're going to find us we just-"
"Emily! Have you ever watched the news?! Or politics for that matter?!" the combination between irritation, desperation, and suffering rolls up into a ball of aggression as Wyler snaps at Emily who laid on the other side of the den. "Do you know how long it takes for the U.S. to rescue just one journalist? A journalist! You had that one dude who was locked up for years before he was picked up! The other got killed because we took too long to get him! We're dealing with hotheads in the middle of the desert. We're screwed, man, we are fucking screwed." Wyler's breathing starts turning into faint wheezes as he desperately looks around.
Emily has no kind of response back to his statement. For the most part, she's been trying to ignore the negatives and hold onto the small shavings of positivity before they turn to powder and melt into the ground. But he's right. What are the possibilities that they'll be found at this rate?
"Fuck my dad!" Wyler randomly yells, making Emily's heart jump up and attach itself to her skin. The silence and her thoughts were not a place for a pop-up scare.
"Fuck that wrinkled piece of shit bastard! I only joined the military for him. To make him proud of me because everything I've ever done, to him in his eyes, is a disappointment. A failure to his name. I didn't grow up saying I wanted to join the army. I want to fucking… dance!" spit flies out on the word as Wyler works himself up at the thought of his father. A father Emily has only heard him mention once since she's met him. She listens on as his breathing starts getting harsher.
"Ever since I was young, I had a nack for dancing. That was my passion, my outlet, that was what I was known for. I was never patriotic. I couldn't care less about that - this hoorah shit. Back then, my only worries was polishing my moves and getting better just in case someone tried to challenge me in a battle." the room gets quiet again and Emily's not sure whether she should stay silent or say something. This news was mind-blowing to her. The thought of Wyler dancing, let alone being good at it was something she couldn't imagine. If anything, he appears as the typical army jock that probably made the decision to join when he was a kid.
But dancing? Seriously? Why has he never mentioned this before?
Wyler chuckles to himself, a drastic change from the explosive attitude he had 20 seconds ago.
"You'd never guess what my nickname was."
"What?"
"Heh…M&H. Milk & Honey." Wyler beamed proudly as he recalled some of the best moments of his life pre-military. "I moved like milk and I attracted the honeys."
Both Wyler and Emily start snickering at the same time from the corny yet funny motto he went by before they became full giggles.
"Moved like milk and attracted the honeys. You were that good, huh?"
"I was better than good, I was awesome. I did all kinds of different styles. From breakdancing to contemporary to salsa – I even took ballet once upon a time." Wyler excitedly tells her, almost like a child telling a story. "There were once auditions being held in the city. Chicago. Chitown. Usher had two shows there but some kind of accident happened and they were short three dancers. So the auditions were set as an emergency. They needed three great dancers who can pick up choreo really fast for the show that was the day after tomorrow. I went on a Hail Mary whim by going to audition and landed a spot. Usher's backup dancer for two days. That news…..that news was better than sex, let me tell you." Wyler laughs, rubbing his chest as Emily smiled.
"I thought I finally did it. I can dance, put my name out there, make some connections, and then fly to Cali to start my life as a dancer. Do backup for artists, start doing my own choreo, I mean the whole nine. I was geeked as shit and ran and told my father." his smile slowly fades from that once cheery mood he was just in unbeknownst to Emily. "You know what he said to me? 'Only faggots dance. And he didn't raise a faggot for a son'."
Emily's smile was wiped off her face in such a distasteful way. It was almost a plot twist from the story she was enjoying. What kind of person says that? About dancing of all things?
"All I want is for him to be proud of me. To smile, to hug me, to be a fucking dad." Tears run down Wyler's face and he doesn't wipe them away. All he can do is ball his hands into tight fists. "Did you know that prick didn't even go to the show? It was free for him and he didn't go. Nah, probably too busy shoving his head up his ass to support me. He said I wasn't a real man until I did something useful for society. I lived for that man's approval. It was only me and him. So…" he pushes out a laugh. "So I joined the fucking Army! Just to be a real man! Went a step further, stuck my cock out, and joined the Rangers! Just to be a real man! So, fuck you, Phillips Wyler! I shouldn't even be here!" Wyler shouts as if his father was standing right in front of him. Emily instantly gets anxious, afraid the guards will hear and burst in if he doesn't pipe down.
"Why aren't you here instead, you pussy?! Why is your bitch ass sitting comfortably at home while your faggot son is being held prisoner somewhere in the desert, you dumb fuck! You pathetic attempt of a father! I hate you so much!" Wyler swings his arms out in front of him and roars out a war cry like holler before he grabs his head, bringing his chin to his chest.
"Why do I have to fucking die before him?"
Emily groans as she forces herself to sit up but no matter how many times she tried, she was unable to move from where she laid. "You're not dying, Matthew." she sighs before she turned her head in his direction. "We're not dying, okay?"
"I am dying."
"No, you're not." Emily reiterates stronger this time as she hears him softly repeating it over and over to himself. "Matt. Listen to me. You're going to survive this. You are not alone in this. You have to keep your head up!"
Emily waits for a reply from him but only hears various movements coming from his end before silence sits between them for a while.
"…Then grant me the permission for a 6-8, Lieutenant."
Emily's eyes widened immediately.
"Whatever you're doing….don't, Wyler."
"Grant me permission to take a break, Lieutenant."
Through the pain that sidelined her earlier, Emily compels herself to sit up. The air in the den suddenly went extremely cold. If there were candles lit, the change in aura certainly would have blown it out. Emily's mental math was put together in Barry Allen speed. His attitude, the sudden change from informal to formal acknowledgment, the numbers. 6-8 refers to when a solider goes off-duty so Wyler specifically asking for permission didn't tell Emily he wanted to get out of his uniform and walk into a mall in his civilian clothing.
He was demanding something else of her…..but how?
"Wyler, what are you doing?" Emily uses a more firm voice since she can't see him.
"Burkett…." Wyler swallows down hard on a dry throat that hasn't felt water in days, "he always carried a secret pistol in one of the hidden pockets of his uniform. Since we all weren't searched that well, I figured it would still be there. And it was."
Wyler cocks the barrel of the gun and Emily starts to internally panic.
"Sergent Wyler, this is not a suggestion, this is an order. I do not give you permission for a break." Emily informs him in her authoritative voice now. They had hit the gas and were way past friends reminiscing about the past. They have went straight into the land of rank and superiority. "As my subordinate, you will listen to my demand, do you understand me?"
"I've let people control me all my life. But this? This is one thing I'm finally going to control. I'm not going to let some bullies and a dick walking around in designer shirts kill me. I rather take myself out than to let them to get that satisfaction."
Emily drags herself across the ground with one arm wrapped around her stomach and the other supporting all of her body weight. "So, you're just going to abandon your brothers, huh?" she inches towards Wyler, using the sliver of light underneath the crack of the door to guide her. "You're going to abandon people who are counting on you?"
"Look at Burkett! He's been laying here, decaying for days!" he fires back angrily as he begins to choke on his tears. "If we had light in here, I'm pretty sure we'd see bugs feeding off his flesh! And it stinks like rotten death in here! They did that to him and he didn't even do anything!"
"So, you're just going to leave me here?! By myself?!" Emily finally reaches him, using all her energy to punch his shin.
"Ow! What the hell!"
"You don't think I'm scared SHITLESS?! You don't think that I'm praying that none of us is next to go?! You don't think FOR A SECOND that I'm not terrified that Majid or whatever the fuck his name is doesn't get bored and tries to rape me?! Or sends his men to do it?! Just because?!"
Although he can't see her that well, his eyes adjust to her silhouette in front of him just using the dim light on the floor. He stares at her, listening to her heavy panting after that bombshell of a revelation. That was something he tended to think about but always ended up blocking it.
"And we don't have the slightest clue what's going on with Romero or fucking Losey! They could be dead for all we know! You're not the only one going through the shit, Matthew, please!" Emily takes a grab of the fabric of Wyler's pants in encouragement, shaking his leg. "We took an oath. We made a pact. We are supposed to protect each other through everything! We are our brother's keeper!"
Wyler closes his eyes and exhales through his mouth. He moves his trembling fingers onto his left wrist where he pulls off his black and white wristband. He leans forward and reaches for Emily, trying to find a body part before he grabs her shoulder. Trailing his hands down until he finds her hand, he rolls the wristband on her wrist and then fumbles his hand back up to hold the back of her neck.
"I love you, Emily." he weeps out, digging his fingers into her skin.
Emily throws her arm and holds the side of Wyler's hot cheek, bringing them face to face. "We're right here, Matt. We need to be strong!"
"Even though I only known you for three months…I'm glad I met you. I'm…I love you, Em."
"I love you too." Tears escape Emily's eyes as Wyler places his forehead against hers, shaking his head while he silently sobbed.
"…I really did try to protect you…"
"Matthew, don't do this-"
Wyler shoves Emily backwards with such unanticipated strength that makes her tumble backwards onto the ground, landing on her hands. Her fatigue makes her slow to recover when she hears the clanking of metal.
"Matthew-MATTHEW, PLEASE!"
The firearm explodes with an ear-splitting crack that raised Emily's heart at least three tempos faster as she hears the gun fall to the floor.
"FUUUUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!" she shrieks out at high volume, pounding her fist onto the floor knuckles first. This was evolving into another level of a nightmarish hell every day and she couldn't believe that she allowed to let her friend slip right through her fingers like sand. Now two people were dead and she was alone with no idea what to do or how to handle the clusterfuck of a disaster spiraling out of control.
"MATTHEW, WHAT THE FUCK! WHY?! WHY DID YOU DO THIS?!"
She felt herself about to dive into hysterics. She felt herself losing it. She started to feel everything all at once and it was suffocating her. The door bursts open with flashlights and Emily instantly shields her eyes. The two guards look on in disbelief at the scene they just walked into. Emily laid on her side, dirty, with her face stained with tears across from Wyler –dead from a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head, slumped on the side of the wall his fresh blood painted. Both their eyes dart to Emily who locks sights with them.
Her heart stops.
"No…Nonononono! I didn't do anything!"
The men don't hesitant a second more and lunge for her, one grabbing each arm. Emily starts crying out and resists as much as she physically could before they drag her out of the den, kicking and screaming.
Day 12…
"How do you feel about adopting?"
"Adoption?"
"Granted they won't biologically be ours but…they are so many kids out there, wishing and waiting for someone to love them. And it sucks because they have them set up like the pound in there." Emily sits between Paige's legs on the floor of their living room as Paige sat on the couch and brushed her hair. "I dunno. It's been something I've been thinking about, lately.
"So, you want kids…?" Paige asks. They've touched on this conversation before in the past but now she wanted to be clear if this was an idea Emily really wanted to venture out into.
"Why not? I'm getting old."
"You're not even in your mid-twenties yet!"
"So!" Emily leans her head back, looking at Paige upside with a smile. "But I want a family. I want to have my own family." she turns around mid-hair stroke and hops onto the couch next to her girlfriend, holding her hand.
"There's this thought I've been playing over and over in my head. Me coming home from a long day of work, I open the door, and then here this…rumble. This rumble of small patter against the floor. And out from around the corner, a little boy or little girl rushes down the hall and into my arms, soooo excited to see me." Emily smiles brightly at just the still imagine she had in her head. "Then you come, beautiful as ever, and welcome me home with one of my favorite meals." Emily laughs before it faded to a hopefully smirk, massaging Paige's hand in hers as she gazed into her eyes. "I want that for us."
"Gah-" Majid gasps and covers his nose as he walks into the den with one other man. He disgustedly commented something in his language before he glances over at Emily sitting in the furthermost part of the corner.
"It reeks in here, shit!" he waves his hand at Emily and the man begins walking over to her. She had no energy to fight, to resist, or to even look up for that matter. She keeps her face to the wall when she feels the tight grip around her arm. She's raised to her feet and walked towards the door, passing by Burkett's and Wyler's rotting bodies.
Her bare feet tapping against the ground while being pushed along a long, dim lighted hallway, Emily stays calm as she knows the predicament that she possibly could be in. They've been slowing up on the beatings, doing it every other day instead of daily, so Emily assumes this is just the run of the mill since she hasn't been hit in two days. A harsh grip on the back of Emily's neck replaced the other as she was shoved through a doorway into another room that had a little more light then hers.
"If I were to let you sit in your filth any longer, you might grow fungi out of your asses."
Lifting her head up from the neck thrust, Emily sees Romero and Losey standing inside of the den as well. A part of her soul was rested at that very second realizing they were still alive, however, the silent looks between them all when they noticed it was just Emily by herself, made the spirits in the room fall.
"So, me being the courteous man I am, I'm only going to say this once." Majid keeps his nose and mouth covered as several of familiar yet not pleasant faces moves in and out the room with various objects. "You all are going to strip out of those uniforms, right now. Any hesitations and you will regret it."
Everyone looks at each other, not sure what "strip" means. Strip out of the shirt and pants? Strip down to underwear? Strip naked?
Before Majid can count lack of movement hesitation, the remaining crew members keep their eyes to themselves as they slowly start removing their clothing. Emily keeps her back towards everyone and starts to remove her shirt. After all those days of sitting in isolation, she felt her body fuming all kinds of odors past her control. Never in her life has she not taken care of her hygiene nor went a day without showering so ruminating in grime for nearly two weeks was dehumanizing to say the least. She didn't feel like a person. She still had the dirt from the accident on her face because nowhere in hell was she going to waste her small drinking water to clean herself.
Emily, Losey, and Romero wait helpless in their undergarments, anticipating for the next command. At that moment, Romero's mind flashes to The Passion of The Christ where Jesus was stripped half-naked and brutality whipped with no defenses and he cannot help but shake at the thought of them being attacked in a similar way.
Majid cocks his head at the three who stood in front of him. "Is my English not clear enough for you? I SAID STRIP."
Emily's eyes flickered up to the celling as she felt herself about to cry. Losey and Romero briefly glance at each other before they reached down and pulled off their briefs, covering themselves with their hands. Out of respect, they keep their eyes away from Emily and all Losey can do is curse to himself. This wasn't fair. This was cruel punishment and it made his stomach churn that Emily had to endure this with them.
She drops her sports bra and panties to the floor as she also covered herself. She didn't even want to turn around to face anyone. Emily thought she couldn't be broken down any more from everything she's went through so far but the humiliation she felt was beyond words. The brisk air hitting her naked skin raises goosebumps as she feels a rushed yet warm trickle running down her thighs.
If this couldn't get any worse…
"Ms. Fields, your attention belongs on me not that wall."
Emily sluggishly turns around, keeping her head bowed when a tear fell out of her eye. Romero told himself not to look up but he couldn't help but scan his eyes quickly in Emily's direction when he saw blood trailing down her leg along with all kinds of bruises and welts left on her body. He drops his eyes again and clenches his jaw so tight that he felt himself unconsciously squeezing his manhood in his grasp.
Majid gives a signal and one of the men holding a large bottle steps up to Losey and starts pouring some kind of cold, thick liquid on his skin. He bites his tongue because if he had no regard for his life or the others, he would have uppercutted the jaw of the guard just for the last beating he got.
"We're going to make this as brief as possible." Majid informs the soldiers as the guard moves to Romero and then Emily, pouring the liquid onto both of them. Someone hands him a tied hose that came from the hallway and then it all clicked for all three of them.
"Can't say it will be enjoyable but I don't think you all would mind." Majid smiles then unties the hose, shooting out water at a high blast. The ice cold water pierces Emily's body first, making her yelp out as she tightly held onto herself.
"You two get in close! I'm not going to waste water going back and forth!" Majid orders over the roar of the water. Losey and Romero shuffle towards Emily, not getting a chance to brace themselves before they are blasted with cold water as well. "Wash yourselves, dumbasses!"
Losey is the first to let go of his genitals and begins vigorously lathering the assumed soap all over his body. He wasn't going to throw away this time to clean himself. The others follow after him and begin to do their best to wash but keeping their defenses up in case someone decides to add a surprise.
...
After their embarrassing shower show in front of everyone, each is handed a grey perahan tunban, a loose top that falls right at the knees and matching bottoms worn by the male locals, as they watched the guards burn their uniforms. They were then tossed into the same den Romero and Losey where being held. It felt like a breath of fresh air for Emily to not be surrounded by the death of her comrades. They kept silent until they were sure the coast was clear from lurking ears. The first thing, before anyone spoke, was Romero running up to Emily, holding her in a tight embrace as if she was the love of his life he hasn't seen in years. He holds the back of her head and whispering to himself in relief after over a week of separation. After what feels like a lifetime, Romero finally lets go, allowing Losey standing by to get his turn. The emotions felt truly overwhelming by the time Losey wrapped his buff arms around Emily. She couldn't help the tear that left her eye but she wiped it just as fast as it came.
They both pull apart and are left standing there. The elephant in the room was large and suffocating every moment they tried to ignore it but nobody wanted to bring it up because nobody truly wanted to hear the details.
But someone has to ask.
"What happened?" Losey questions quietly.
Emily nodded her head before her eyes had fell to the ground. Another moment of relieving something she has relieved every minute since it happened. "Wyler didn't make it. He, uhm….he…" she slides her foot against the hard ground as she tried to find the simplest way to describe such a gruesome act. "He took himself out."
Losey and Romero's eyes bulge at the same time, jaws nearly disconnected and smacked onto the floor. "What?! How?" they pressed on in unison.
"Burkett had a concealed handgun in his uniform and…" the words get caught up in Emily's throat, sending Romero to walk off, shaking and holding his head. Losey can't believe he lost two of his right hand men. Especially Wyler - not him. This didn't sound right at all.
"Please tell me he took out one of those bitches before doing it."
"No-" Emily's voice disappears and all she could do is look up at Losey in sadness. She was right there and if she would have done more, convinced harder, or even ripped the gun out of his hand, Wyler would still be alive and not used a torture prop.
Without thinking, Losey pulls Emily in for another hug just for strength and support. The hug was turned into a group hug when Romero comes from behind and leans into her. She's never felt so protected during her whole deployment until that second, even if they're surrounded by danger that is threatening to kill any one of them.
...
All three of them sit on the ground side by side instead of a circle as suggested earlier in case they get walked in on. Their lives right now were so unpredictable that they were just living minute to minute until something directs them to the next step.
Losey looks down at his clothing and sighs, tilting his head to the side. "I'm waiting for the part of the show where they force us to convert to Islam or else they chop our heads off."
Romero head pops up like a groundhog, his eyes fearful from the thought. "I-I can't do that. I can't. Jesus Christ is my lord and savior and I could never denounce him. If I turn from him, he'll turn from me, I can't convert. I-I-I-I can't even fathom putting the words together to do something like that." he spills out, stutters and all, like he only had a few seconds to speak with a garbled mind. Losey pats his shoulder, gesturing him to relax as it looked like he was about to have a panic attack. He then turns his head to Emily sitting on the other side of him.
"What about you, Em? Could you denounce the big JC?" Emily goes to open her mouth when he hits her with a different question to answer. "What's your view anyway? With the whole gay thing, do you follow it? Think it's horseshit? Don't really care?"
Emily strokes her hair back, exhaling a great deal as she thinks. "I mean, I was raised on that all my life. Plus, my girlfriend, Paige, and I actually go to church when we can. To me, I believe there is a higher power. There has to be. For anything to make sense, anyways." she glances down at her clothes and starts absent-mindedly picking at it. "It gives me a peace of mind, I guess, to let things go that I cannot control. But just because I'm gay doesn't change mean I don't have some kind of faith in something beyond us. Plus most people who claim to be religious don't even read their bibles so I learned to tune out the hypocrites long ago. They wouldn't know who God was if he was standing right in front of them."
Losey puts his face forward, chewing on his bottom lip. "Does God hate us enough to put us through this?"
The den was left silent. It's always a hard thing to answer or give some logical explanation behind what God does, yet, it was a question they all had to themselves. Why are they going through this? Why are they suffering for something they have no clue about? Why them?
"He says he doesn't give us more than we can carry. If he brings us to it, it'll bring us through it…" Romero offers.
"Tell that to Wyler and Burkett who got crushed under that weight, waiting for that help." Losey spins back a response which puts the den silent again. Emily flickers her eyes closed, trying to not recreate the blast in her head for the 200th time.
"We're going to carry our own weight. Luckily for you guys, I bench 275." Losey clears his throat as he stands, Emily and Romero glancing up at him. He walks towards the corner, darkest part of the den, disappearing for a moment before he comes back into sight with a black pocket knife, his army compass, and a light pointer.
"We're leaving tonight."
Emily and Romero both scramble to their feet, with Romero getting up much quicker than her. "Since when did you have that stuff?" he brings his voice all the way down to a hushed whisper. "You never mentioned you had weapons."
"They're not weapons. It's a standard things I packed with me every day." Losey walks them to the corner he came from to get as far away from the door as possible. He motions them to sit down since there was no point in standing.
"Ever since we've been here, I've been counting. Counting steps, counting seconds, and recounting. These guys here work by a schedule, and being here for so long, I think I cracked it. And then some." he slowly switches his gaze from Romero to Emily. "You guys might have been good at groundwork but there's a reason why I'm geospatial intelligence. I know some shit."
Emily never experienced the urge to kiss a guy like she wanted to do to Losey. Granted, it wouldn't be all that satisfying but when someone hands you a plate of hope, you start to feel all kinds of emotions. They're going to be able to finally escape this hell once and for all. Her stomach was fluttering with butterflies.
"There are guards that switch back and forth in shifts, they're not all here at the same time. It may look like it but that's what they want you to think, that we're surrounded, but there is only a couple of them at once. Never all of them like the day we got here. Now, that room where they take us on bathroom breaks. Have any of you had to throw out that shit bucket?"
Emily and Romero shake their heads.
"Well, I had to. Twice. Motherfuckers purposely used it in order to fill it up so we would have to touch that shit to throw it out. Jokes on them because it gave me two opportunities to see exactly what's going on. When you have to toss it, they take you outside. There's a pickup truck out there where I guess is their transportation. They don't stay here. We do and someone keeps watch but they don't stay here."
"How do you know when they switch?" Emily tosses in her question. "They don't sit and watch us anymore."
"Two things. Bathroom breaks," Losey points at an empty bucket in the corner. "And food. Everything and everyone is brought in by truck. If you notice the guy who takes you to piss in the beginning is someone different by the next. So, what we have to do is wait and intercept when they switch, right before the truck leaves. It's a long shot, might not even be successful but we have to try."
While all down for a plan, Romero still isn't fully understanding on the minor details in this big picture. "How are we going to do that? How would we know? We don't have eyes anywhere."
"We're gotdamn Army Rangers. We create eyes, bitch." Losey snaps with some old school Losey attitude. Romero laughs, putting his hands up in the air before Losey grabs his shoulder and shakes him. He then turns to Emily.
"What do you say, Lieutenant? Do we have permission to carry this operation out and defeat the Huns?"
In the first time in days, Emily smiles with all teeth. Romero and Losey grin at her glow they haven't seen since the accident. Through all her swollen features, purple bruising, and still slightly crooked nose, she was still able to brighten up a room.
"I've never been so excited to listen to military jargon in my life. I'm fucking ready."
...
Romero lays in the center of the den, Emily and Losey on either side of him, napping, when his foot is kicked. His eyes shoot open and above him is one of the guards, armed with his assault rifle, nodding him to get up. Romero groggily stands on his feet, yawning, before he was yanked towards the door for taking so long. It was their last bathroom break for the day and he was the first to go. He shuffles his way out as the guard walks behind him. Losey and Emily slink past the door, staying as silent as air as they trailed behind the man. They mocked his footsteps, inching up closer and closer…
Losey scoots forward and covers his hand around the guard's mouth, jabbing his sharp knife into the man's jugular. He struggles indefinitely before he succumbs to the violent attack, falling lifeless in Losey's arms as he bled out. Romero quickly swoops in and snatches the gun out of his hands as Losey drags the body into a random, nearby den. As soon as all three of them enter, Romero and Losey's faces scrunch up in utter disgust as a powerful stench rocks them off their feet. Losey holds his breath and pulls the guard further inside before he drops him on the ground, slipping the knife out of his neck. He quickly searched his body for anything that can benefit them in their escape. Unfortunately, he comes up empty. He internally groans as he stands up, wiping his forehead with the back of his bloody hand.
When he turns back to face Emily and Romero, he sees Romero, concealing his nose with his shirt, paralyzed with shock. His eyes follows his line of sight and comes across the body of Wyler and Burkett, something he didn't notice when he first came in.
A visual all three never wished to see was left right in front of them as some kind of sick display. All they needed was a spotlight and a blinking neon sign to exhibit their loss, at this point. They were his brothers and they were taken away from him. From all of them.
Losey shakes his head, getting out of his mind and at the mission at hand. He wipes the knife on his shirt and passes it to Emily as Romero does a head and chest cross.
"We gotta keep moving."
They acknowledge this with a slow head nod before Romero does a quick check of how many bullets he was working with. Once squared away, they head towards the door and get ready to execute their massive break. Losey moves to the front and leads the back with Emily in the middle and Romero in the back as they creep into the hallway. His main goal was to make it all the way to the outside exit and pray that there is some kind of vehicle there. If not, they're just going to have to make a run for it and hope they're somewhere nearby civilization.
Emily's heart was beating like a hummingbird as they were in full stealth mode.
Don't breathe. Don't breathe. Don't breathe. Don't breathe. Don't breathe.
A voice is heard in the distance straight ahead and their first instinct was to scramble. Romero slid himself in one of the dark corners of the hall while Losey and Emily push themselves in yet another cove to hide. Losey spins himself behind the door and closes it just enough for him to see through the crack. Emily recognized the room fairly quickly. It was the interrogation room they were thrown in every single day to defend their organs from failing due to blow after blow. She could still make out the lingering scent that Majid wore that smelled like pure aftershave.
Emily stays close behind Losey, waiting for his okay to move out. Her adrenaline was breaking the scale from all this. Although they've carried out similar missions before, at least they were fully armed with backup. Here, all they have is loose fabric draped over their bodies and whatever object they found to defend themselves. They didn't even have shoes on their feet.
Romero flashes a signal Losey's way and he alerts Emily over his shoulder that they were about to move again. Emily gives him the okay and he guardedly opens the door, watching Romero sneak out of hiding before he follows after him. Emily takes a step behind when a hand shields her mouth, placing a cold piece of metal by her temple.
"Shhh…." the voice whispers hotly into her ear as he pulls her back calmly into the darkness of the room. Emily's eyes gawk in horror as she feels a chest heaving against her back, the aroma of alcohol surrounding them both.
It wasn't a "lingering scent" she smelled when they came into the room…it was a current scent.
Emily holds the knife tightly at her side, hoping he doesn't notice it. So focused on leaving, she's not even sure if the guys realized she wasn't following behind them.
This was it. She was certain that this was it. The main objective was to not get caught and the first thing she does is wind up in the arms of a cold-blooded man who will not hesitate to put her down like a stray dog.
A few seconds later she hears scuffling of feet hitting the floor.
"Emily…" someone whispers out. "Emily!"
Emily doesn't move a muscle as Majid holds onto her mouth tighter, fully constricting any air for her to breathe.
"Em!"
A loud yell is heard followed by a rapid fire of bullets. Emily begins to tremble as the loud pops echo throughout the entire area. Not being able to see anything worsened her fears when the shooting stopped. So many outcomes where possible from just one sound and she doesn't think she can handle any more of her people being killed.
It gets silent again before the room door opens with Romero pushing through. "Emi-"
"Don't be a hero." Majid warns from behind as he positions himself parallel to Emily as soon as Romero immediately fell into an aiming stance so he couldn't have a clear shot. "One move and she dies."
Romero locks eyes with Majid, glaring at him with deadly vision, before he starts to lower his weapon. Losey rushes into the room with another stolen gun and stumbles right into one of the most nerve-racking scenes he has ever encountered.
"Don't move!" Majid barks out, now holding onto Emily tighter. Losey and Romero halt all sudden movements while they stare at Emily who looks back at them, petrified. Their plan went from smooth sailing to 30 feet waves, capsizing the boat into the chilling waters.
"I invite you into my home away from home and you start killing my men? And now you think you're going to escape scotch-free?" Majid gives a snarl of a smile, shaking his head. "You can go and try to run. You'll die out there before you'll ever see people. But this one….stays with me"
"No-" Romero denies the idea, only to get cut off with a boisterous shout.
"This is NOT a bargain! You're going to leave." Majid lowers his voice to a breathy whisper as he glared at the men from behind Emily's hair. "Right now."
Neither guys move despite the demand. Romero subtly scans Emily and Majid's body positions as he grips his gun harder, going through multiple scenarios that could end this. They came this far, lost too much, and refuse to leave someone behind. Unfortunately, the bastard was smart enough to use her as a human shield with unattainable opportunities to take him out.
"Stop testing my patience!" Majid hikes backwards, further into the den, making Emily nearly trip over her own feet. Romero and Losey move forward out of reflex and Majid moves the gun from Emily's head and points it at them. His uncontainable anger causes his native accent to mix in profoundly with his English as he breathes in heavy pants. "Ever since you've came here, you've been testing! My patience! So, I tell you what….You have five seconds to disappear before I fire a bullet through her brain. And please do not try me because I will do it! GET THE FUCK OUT!"
Emily's nose burned as the fluids from both her nostrils and eyes rolled onto the back Majid's tanned hand with her anxiety turned into frantic. She couldn't believe this was actually happening. This wasn't a dream, a daydream thought that went bad, or a figment of her wicked imagination. She has dedicated years to the United States military, pushing her body beyond limits that she never thought she could reach and have done hundreds of drills on survival. She has trained and mastered various skill sets that the average person only dreams of accomplishing. She was so worthy that she was one of the first ever women to be inducted into the elite team of the 75th regiment…only to be completely helpless to man who's probably never subjected himself to a quarter of what she has. Even with this knife in her hand and two men who loaded guns, the fact that he would kill her before she was able to lift her arm not only horrified her but pissed her off, most of all.
"FIVE!" Majid jabs the barrel into Emily's temple. Both their bodies tremble against each other: hers with fear, his with rage.
"Let her go and you can have me." Romero raises a hand. Losey and Emily's eyes both snap to him as he tried to pitch his proposal. He saw the improvised plan play out perfectly in his head. He would convince Majid that he wouldn't be creating much of a message by killing a weak girl. He'd place the gun on the floor to put his defenses down and insist the switch. Once he gets into his head and accepts the switch, he'd probably push Emily in their direction while aiming his pistol at them. He'd hug Emily, secretly pulling the knife out of her hand, and then make his way towards Majid. And there is the advantage. He's taller, stronger, and quicker and before anything else could happen, he'll swiftly grab his arm and break it with a powerful snap so he'll drop his weapon. From there, he is at their mercy. Which is none.
"We don't need any more bloodshed. Let her go and you can keep me. She's weak, what are-"
"FOUR!" Majid cocks the gun. Romero clenches his jaw tightly as his face fell. That Mission Impossible action-like sequence that he thought he could get with was erased with just a sound. They were truly screwed. Nothing can stop this.
"THREE! TWO!"
"GO!" Emily urges with a muffled beg. She breathes shakily against Majid's palm as her wide eyes darted from Romero and Losey to the door. Her whole body shook with tears now flooding down her pale face. The cold sweats and numbness she was experiencing was so surreal that she felt she was about to push her soul out of her body. She watched this man shoot Burkett without a second thought just to prove a point and she knew he would have no problem killing again.
"GO! PLEASE!"
Losey starts backing up towards the door, pulling the back of Romero's shirt who refused to move. "Come on." he muttered regrettably. There was nothing they could do and if they continued to stand there, they were going to witness the death that will permanently imprint in their minds forever. Losey tugs on Romero once more, drawing him towards the door.
"Volveremos por ti." Romero tells Emily, through his quivering lips as he stepped backwards. The only solace he had was to communicate to her in a way that Majid couldn't understand. He repeats it once more with emphasis before Emily faintly nodded her head.
We'll come back for you.
Losey pulls Romero's arm and they both skip out of the room to head out to possibly hijack a truck if it's still there. The air in the den stood still as they listened to the fast, retreating footsteps being replaced by their breathing and the thumping of Emily's heart.
God, plea-
Majid withdraws the gun from Emily's head, took a chunk of her hair, and yanked back with such force, she thought he ripped out her hair. She sprawled backward from the jerk and fell on her back onto the hard floor. The clatter of the knife drops right next to her and there was her only defense revealed in the open. They both lurch, Emily throwing her hand out to grab it first when he points it at him, ready to kill. Majid stands motionless, almost amused as he watches Emily rush to her feet. Without giving him time to draw his gun again, Emily lunges at him, aiming straight for his face instead of wasting time hoping the blade penetrates through his clothes. She hurls her hand at him, only for him to bob out of the way within milliseconds and strike her in the face with a thrust of his elbow.
Romero and Losey race towards the outside with Losey leading when they bust through a door. The darkness of the night surrounds them as their sights dart around for any kind of getaway. The cool November breeze against Romero's face stuns him for a second. He hasn't been exposed to the outside in so long that he forgot what nature's air felt like.
"Over there!" Losey points a few yards out to a truck parked off to the side. Their feet slams against the dirt as they sprint in its direction while keeping their eyes peeled for any other people.
"You drive!" Losey calls out to Romero as they approached the vehicle. They both run up their respected sides and pull on the doors, finding relief to see that they were locked with the engine still running. Romero tossed his weapon onto Losey jumping in the passenger seat and immediately threw his hand on the gear to drive. He forced his foot on the pedal and sped off like a bat out of hell where they now start their next mission of getting back to the base.
"Fuck!" Romero shouts as he smacks the steering wheel in frustration. "Shit!"
...
After days of driving with no particular direction, stopping by nearby local communities and begging for help, Losey and Romero were taken care of by the kindness of complete strangers who could have easily took advantage of their vulnerability. It wasn't until day six when they were led right to the very military installation that they were seeking. However, when Losey and Romero advanced towards the security, they were instantly mistaken for brazen enemies because of their clothing and lack of recognition from others guarding. It wasn't until they identified themselves as fellow rangers that were kidnapped from their post when they were believed and taken straight to the Lieutenant General.
Inside their private meeting, the Lieutenant General sat beside the base's Command Sergent Major, and they listened to the horrific story of how they were ambushed, taken to a secluded location where they've been beaten and starved every day for information they had no clue about despite others saying they did. The explanation about the deaths and ultimately their escape was described, along with the fact that one of their own is still alive and was forced to be left behind.
"We did everything we could, sir, but we had no other choice. The cards were already dealt." Losey sadly informs his superiors with a heavy heart.
Romero pushes with more urgency, demanding without outright being disrespectful. "She's still there and we have to send out everyone on this base to rescue her. Who knows what they're doing to her while we sit here. It's already been almost a week! If he was smart, they would leave that area so we have to move quickly, sir!"
"I might not remember the coordinates or exact directions but I took mental snapshots of landmarks that we can use-"
"Who is this he?" The General buts in while Losey spoke. He folds his hands on top of his table and looked in between the two soldiers. "The one you assume directing all this? Did you get a name?"
Romero and Losey look at each other, unknowing. They hardly remember because they never knew it until Emily mentioned it a couple times.
"It…It started with an M?" Losey tries his best to recall.
"Are you asking me?" the General questions his punctuation. The unsureness wasn't going to help them with anything seeing there are thousands of people that could have done it.
"M…M…it sounded like an English word. Like…Magic?"
"Majid!" Romero abruptly yells out with a clap, startling everyone in the room. "His name is Majid. That's all we know but his name is Majid."
The General nods his head, stewing on that piece of information quietly for a few seconds before he stood up from his seat behind his desk. "Thank you, gentlemen, for everything. It is by a miracle that you made it out alive and were able to tell us this. I want you two to go back to your rooms and rest. Wash up, eat as much as you please from the chow hall, and relax."
"I'm sorry, sir, but there is no such thing as relaxing when one of our own still in the enemies grasp." Romero politely corrects the General as he slowly walked around to the front of the table, leaning his body against it. The Command Sergent Major sits silently on the side of the wall, digesting every brutal detail that the men went through for two weeks and their vicious facial bruises to prove it. He personally knew Losey prior to his disappearance and hardly recognized him now. His strong face now sagged and was as pale as his fingernails, not to mention he speaks a lot more slowly than he remembered.
"And we fully understand that, Sergent Romero. That's why you need to allow us to take over from here." the older man places his folded hands in front of him as he sat halfway on his desk. "Not by any circumstances are you allowed to discuss what you've revealed to us. Everyone is going to question what happened. Your responses will be short and generic. Any real information of any kind can jeopardize our entire operation. That means no details about anything to anyone. Understood?"
"Yes, sir." Romero and Losey nod their heads, affirming in unison. They were dismissed shortly after and both men in charge wait until the door was closed behind the soldiers, leaving them alone.
"Holy fuck…" The Command Sergant Major breathes out as he swipes his hand on the top of his buzz cut. "We're waddling in fucking shit creek right now."
The General pushes himself off his table and walks back towards behind his desk, this time to the window on his wall. He stares out at all his men doing various jobs for the day.
"We have to play our cards right with this one." The Command Sergent Major continues on. "We've been sitting for weeks. We got our men out there searching the sands all day and the families back at home don't even know about this despite protocol."
"This is what they want. They want to lure us. They want to get our attention." The General replied calmly without moving, still in front of the window.
"Well, they certainly got it. Lance, we gotta do something."
"How does the sound of federal prison sound to you, Jeff?" The General turns around, locking eyes with his right hand man who had quieted down. "Or what about the headline: U.S. Military Caught in Taliban Scandal: Deal Gone Wrong. There is no way in hell we can go public with this let alone anyone outside this room having knowledge of what's going on."
"What about Losey and Romero?"
"We gag them. Pay them whatever amount reasonable and then they're out of the way. Besides, death isn't hard to call with this one. With those thugs, Fields is probably already dead along with Wyler and Burkett."
"Jesus Christ." Jeff leans back in his chair, placing both his hands on his forehead with a sigh. Knowing what has been told to them, it wouldn't be far-fetched if they did end up killing her. Especially since two escaped.
"They should have never allowed women into combat." Lance looks down at the floor briefly, as if giving a moment of silence before glancing back up at the Major. "This has to be done exactly right. We cannot afford to slip up with this one. We have to cover our ass."
2 Weeks Later…
Ding Dong!
Knock! Knock! Knock!
Pam looks towards the front door as she swallow her hand-made fruit juice. She places her glass down on the kitchen counter and makes her way towards the entrance. Hopefully it's the UPS guy finally coming to deliver the cookbook she brought on Amazon earlier this month. She's ordered it some time ago and it still hasn't arrived.
I think I'm going to leave Amazon a nicely, written out, one star review for this nonsense. How long does it take to ship out a book to Texas?
Pam opens the door to two black and white older men, dressed in Class A military uniforms.
"Hello, Ma'am. I am Captain Adam-"
Pam slams the door on the man before he had the chance to acknowledge himself. Her chest caves as she leans her back against it. The dread in the pit of her stomach was so grand that she felt like she was going to throw up everything that's in her system.
"Go away! You're not wanted here!" Pam screams through the door, the words hitching in her throat as the air was sucked out of her. Her eyes began to water as she kept screaming for the men to leave.
"Pam, What's going on?!" Wayne rushes down this stars, nearly jumping down the steps when he hears Pam distressed yell. He sees her pressed against the front door, clutching onto her pastel blouse for dear life. If he had the right mind, he would have grabbed his gun because his wife just came across some kind of attacker.
"Who was it?" he approaches Pam concerned as she almost started hyperventilating.
"Tell…Tell them to leave, Wayne!" she begs of him, grabbing a hold of his black shirt. "Tell them to leave!"
"Them?" Wayne looks up at the door with a raised brow. He pulls Pam behind her and grips onto the knob, turning it to open his door to the two uniformed men.
A shiver ripples through his body.
"Can I help you?" he stands tall and asserts himself with a firm and strong voice.
"Yes, good afternoon, sir. My name is Captain Adam Perry from 4th Battalion at Fort Hood. This is Chaplin Clark." The officer introduced themselves. "Are you Mr. and Mrs. Fields, parents of Lieutenant Emily Fields?"
Pam audibly winces at just the mention of her name.
"Yes, I am. And this is my wife. How can we be of assistance to you, gentlemen?"
"I have an important message to deliver from the Secretary of the Army…May we come in?" The uniformed black Captain asks gently. Wayne stares at him with narrowed eyes while Pam clutches onto his arm as she tries to steady her breathing. He moves to the side with an approving head nod.
"Yes, you may."
The men thank him for the invitation and walk past the threshold, waiting for Wayne to close the door and walk them to an appropriate area to talk. Pam stays behind Wayne, fully guarded around these men with terror in her heart. She wanted them to leave not enter and ruin her home. They walk to their living room where Wayne sits Pam down onto the couch. He stands beside her but she tugs on his hand, staring up at him, wanting him to sit down next to her. She was barely keeping it together. The lid she had on was jittering, wanting for any kind of pressure to fly right off. The Captain and the Chaplin watch them sit next to each other when the Chaplin's eyes catches a large portrait of Emily smiling in a cap and gown hung up on their painted wall. There was no easy way to relay this.
"The Secretary of the Army has asked me to express his deep regret that your daughter, Lieutenant Emily Fields-"
"NO!" Pam jumps up, pointing a finger at the officer as the oxygen from her lungs gets trapped in her throat. "DON'T YOU DARE SAY HER NAME! GET OUT!"
"Your daughter-"
"I SAID GET OUT!"
"Lieutenant Emily Fields has been reported presumably dead, killed in action on November 10th, by Bagram Air Base in Afghanistan. Her truck had hit a roadside bom-"
Unable to get him to stop his sentence, Pam let's out a blood-curdling shriek, throwing her hands up into the air. All Wayne could do is stare at the men while Pam wailed at the top volume. He didn't process not a damn word they just said.
"What? What- I didn't hear….what?"
"Sir…I'm so sorry but your daughter Emily-"
"OH MY GOOOOOD!" Pam screeches out. She throws herself onto the floor on her knees, screaming. "MY BABY! THAT'S MY ONLY BABY, GOD, PLEASE NO!"
"What the fuck happened!" Wayne demanded the information. He hears Pam crying, he sees military officers in his house, but he still isn't processing what is going on.
The Captain solemnly nods his head. "At this time her body is missing-"
"WHAT?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN MISSING?!"
"OH MY GOD!"
"There is an ongoing investigation. Once the investigation is complete, you will have full access to the report. A causality assistance officer will contact you in four hours with more details. Is there a neighbor, or a friend, or a family that can come and help you in your trying time?"
"Do you know who the hell I am, Captain?!" Wayne raises to his feet with his voice roaring. The men's' eyes glanced up at him standing and did their best to stay calm. They were obviously dealing with two kinds of reactors: Grieving and hostility. Their job was to relay the information and then leave but it's always the relaying part that was the most difficult.
"Yes, sir."
"I am Lieutenant Colonel Wayne Fields! That means I am your superior! This is my fucking daughter you are talking about! MY ONLY DAUGHTER! So, you will explain to me what happened to MY DAUGHTER!" Wayne shakes with wrath as he went from level-headed to irate.
"THEY KILLED MY BABY, OH GOD!" Pam gasps crawling on the floor. She held onto Wayne's leg as she felt the room spinning out of control. "THEY TOOK MY BABY GIRL! PLEASE, GOD, DON'T DO THIS! DON'T DO THIS!"
...
Walking through a crowded mall, the ringtone of a phone rings inside of a tan and purple Coach handbag.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Hanna. This is Toby."
"Hey, Toby!" Hanna beams in surprise as she clicks her heels down the polished floor, in search of another shop. "Wow, long time with you. How are things?"
"Pretty much the same." Toby answers simply. The lack of pep in his voice was something Hanna didn't take notice of right away. "Where are you?"
"Right now I'm doing what I like to call "Shopping Research" with Caleb. Say hi." Hanna pulls the phone away and shoves it into Caleb's ear as they walked.
"Hey, Toby."
"Hi, Caleb." Toby takes a deep breath as he hears Hanna back on the phone, in her own little bubble.
"He doesn't believe it's a real thing but it totally is."
"Do you have anywhere to sit?"
"Sit? No, why?"
"Because I think you should for this one."
Hanna rolls her eyes as she approaches the window of a store. She crouches over to look at the mannequins and their outfits, observing every article of clothing before she walks into the establishment. "Oh, stop with the dramatics. What happened? Are you going to be a father or something, Tobs? Which, honestly, wouldn't be surprising. I always figured you'd be the first to hatch an egg. Well, not you of course but you know."
"Hanna, you need to sit." Toby reiterates strongly this time. This causes Hanna to stop everything with curiosity now as she slowly approaches a sales rack.
"No, I'm not going to sit, spit it out!"
Toby closed his eyes and silence sat between them for a long five seconds. "…Emily is dead."
Hanna's ears perked up and this wave of surrealism washed over her entire body like a hot-cold electric shock. Her hands became weak instantly at a snap and she was ready to drop her phone but she needed clarification. Surely, she didn't heard what she thought she heard. Surely.
"What did you say to me?" Hanna's voice hushed to a barely audible murmur that caught Caleb's attention. He turned from his phone and looked at Hanna staring off into the distance with wide eyes and her face drained of color.
"Emily died, Han. They told her parents and her dad told me today."
All Hanna could see is Emily's face. The glowing smile attached to her as she splashed water at her at the pool, flashing to the image of Emily cold and emotionless in a casket. She wanted to run but she couldn't move. She wanted to scream but she could talk. She wanted to cry but she couldn't breathe.
"Hanna?" Caleb gently called out to her. He watches her drop her phone, smashing screen first onto the floor before her hand started shaking uncontrollably. Caleb goes to reach for her but she staggers off to the side, tripping in her heels and falling onto a nearby wall shelf, bringing everything down with her with a loud clash.
"Hanna!"
R.I.P. Emily Fields….according to the US Army.
So many things in this chapter to digest that it might just take a second round to fully grip everything.
We are at a point where all kind of things are involved and lives have been sacrificed. This leaves us with what the hell is going to happen with Emily now?
Thank you guys for your overwhelming sense of support. Honestly, I say this all the time but I sincerely mean it. It's only been one chspter and already, you all pour me with love. I write every single day for you guys. On those days when you're dying for an update that it drives you mad, just know I am writing. With my stories, I see them as a piano compositions, if you will. It's art. But it also takes time to perfectly craft with just the right emotions needed to bring the art alive. As easy as it seems, anyone can write. But to be able to write well, is the true challenge. Everything I create, I feel. I must or else I can't write it. Whether its love or anger, I have to feel it within myself in order to bring it to life and for you, the reader, to feel it too.
It's like acting, almost. An actor has an emotional scene to do and they do it. They put their heart deep into their performance. Then, the director says cut and the actor come back to Earth. The director says take two and the actor goes again, putting all their emotions and feeling into this scene. Director yells cut and they have another break. Take three comes and the actor repeats the scene, putting everything into it, just as they have the first two takes. After a while of repeatedly doing that emotional scene, they are drained and have to take an actual rest. That's how I feel writing sometimes. Especially in this particular update, I had to project myself into these situations so I can somewhat accurately describe how one may feel. So it'll come out naturally. That takes time and while I'm not making excuses, I just wanted to show you guys a glimpse of what it's like to bring you my stories.
This wait brought you 18k words. Even if the wait seems unbearable, just know, I will always come through.
Leave a review on how you're feeling about everything, possible theories for the future, or just vent whatever is on your mind. There is no such thing as a long review.
Part 3, the ending, coming soon…
