Now I was the one moaning as the gamey flavor exploded on my tongue. I stuffed the rest of the piece into my mouth and pulled out a second. “This better not be something weird.” My steps faltered as my brain provided an option for what weird could be.
Like camel.
“Oh God,” I whispered and looked down at the package in my hand. There were no markings on it. I swallowed the meat past the lump in my throat and forced it to stay down despite the churning in my belly. I loved camels. They were so damn cute. The thought of eating one was making me nauseous.
“Knock it off, Colby,” I berated myself. “You can’t afford to throw up and you don’t have the option of being picky. If it’s…if it’s camel, then too bad. You’re eating it,” I muttered.
Talking to myself had always been a habit of mine. Chas used to hassle me endlessly about it. Shoving thoughts of my friend—there wasn’t time to break down and that’s exactly what I’d do—and camels from my mind, I unscrewed the lid to the canteen and took a long swallow.
The cool, clear water was heavenly. I’d been on the road—yeah right, what road—for approximately an hour, if the way I was tracking the sun was accurate. I stopped and spun in a circle. There was nothing. Literally nothing as far as I could see.
Unease prickled along my spine.Where the hell am I?Iraq has some desolate areas, but there always seems to be a village on the horizon. But here it was an…endless nothing. I’d never been in such an isolated area alone before. I was completely vulnerable. I had very little food, even less water, and a flipping steak knife. Things weren’t looking great for me. I actually began to wonder if I should’ve just stayed in the shack.
“No,” I said stubbornly. “Better to die out here of heat stroke than let those guys kill me.” It was bad enough that I’d been captured by an enemy. They were the enemy, right? I mean, they did kidnap me and all. But they definitely weren't locals. Mercenaries maybe? The Russians were always up to no good. Wherever we deployed to, Afghanistan, Syria, Iraq, there were always Russians there selling weapons and generally being a problem. Were these guys hired by them?
It would’ve been a mistake to stick around to see what their plans for me were. Even if I wanted to go back to the shack, I couldn’t. With no compass, no landmarks, and no clue where I’d even started from, I was completely lost.
All I could do was keep walking and hope I happened upon some village. Hopefully a peaceful one where I could get some help.
One foot in front of the other.
It became a mantra in my head as I walked. No wonder the Army constantly made us do ruck marches. It was for times like these.
The desert around me heated up as the sun climbed higher in the sky. I’d lost track of time and direction. The only reason I knew I wasn’t wandering in circles is because I hadn’t come across my indents in the sand.
“This is so stupid,” I grumbled. “Stuck out in a never ending sand pit.” I was hungry, thirsty, and starting to get seriously worried that I might die out here.
Sweat had my t-shirt clinging like a second skin. I hadn’t bothered to put my top layer on, instead opting to leave it in the shack. With my arms getting redder I wondered if I should have opted for the long sleeves. The locals all wore long sleeves, and I knew theoretically that it would keep me cooler, but I hadn’t been thinking clearly. My mind had been insisting I get out of there as quickly as I could, so I’d left it behind. There wasn’t much I could do about it now, but push forward.
My eyes narrowed against the bright sun and I shaded them with my hand so I could peer off into the distance. An excited gasp left my parched lips. Up ahead I could see buildings. They were far off, but there.
I started walking faster toward it. “I swear to God if this is a mirage I’m going to lose my shit,” I promised myself.
By the time I got there, sweat was coursing down over my brow and into my eyes. I used the hem of my shirt to wipe it as I walked into the large village. There were stands out front of most of the buildings, with cloth awnings providing shade for the wares that the vendors sold. It was some kind of market.
I looked around in awe as I moved down the main aisle that’d been created. People were watching me with curiosity, and some with anger, but I kept moving as quickly as I could.
Americans weren’t looked on favorably by some in this country and my camo pants were easily recognizable. Add to that that I was a woman, in a t-shirt, and showing way too much skin, I was bound to draw some negative attention. If my brain hadn’t been sun-fried I might have considered that before casually strolling in. I was overheated, though and needed water, so there wasn’t much choice.
Stopping at a stand, I pointed at some kind of meat on a stick and asked in halting Arabic, “How much?”
I knew very little of the language—only what the Army had required we learn. The nature of my job had us interacting with locals occasionally, so we had to know some basic phrases to be able to communicate. Usually, we had an interpreter with us, but I managed to fumble my way through the transaction for the food and more water. Pulling my wallet from my cargo pocket, I pulled out the Dinars—the local currency—that Chas had insisted we keep on us for emergencies.
Taking a huge mouthful of the steaming meat, I kept my steps brisk. I needed to find somewhere to rest, out of sight, then I needed to track down someone who could help me get back to my base. It wasn’t safe for me to be in this village. The locals are okay with Americans, that is to say they won’t kill one on sight, but there were many insurgent groups that hated us. The Holy Order of Qaltala, the newest American hate group, made up of leftovers from ISIS, Al Qaeda, and Taliban, topped that list. If they found me here, I was as good as dead. Then again, wandering out in the desert was a death sentence as well.
I found a back alley and made my way down it, sitting down beside a wooden crate. That would mostly block me from the street and allow me to catch my breath. My stomach finally stopped hounding me as I finished my meal and downed half the water I’d purchased. With food and water I might be able to think straight and get out of this alive. Hunching down against the wall of the building, I shut my eyes, letting the events of the last twenty-four hours fade from my mind.
I’ll just rest for a minute.
* * *
A scream torefrom my lips as I woke to someone yanking me to my feet by my hair. The cut on my scalp throbbed in pain as I scrambled up to avoid my hair being pulled out.
Four men stood around me in a semicircle, the one holding on to me was shouting in my face. He was speaking too fast for me to pick up much, but I didn’t need to understand the words. His tone of voice plus the menacing looks on their faces let me know I was in serious trouble.
“Please,” I said in their language. “I’m trying to get home.”
The looks that spread over their faces made my heart drop. If they had any say in the matter, I’d never leave this place. My muscles tensed as I prepared myself to fight. If I was going to die, I’d go down swinging.