Everyone wants to make a difference in the world. Everyone wants to put his or her best skills to work to provide some form of impact on the world as we see it or at least change the way people look at certain things. Ever since a young age, I’ve dreamed of doing good for the world, of using all the resources I could learn and putting them towards an effective action that would help people around the country. With this goal in mind, I’ve worked hard over the years to achieve where I’ve ended up now. As a hardworking war correspondent, I’ve put my best writing skills to use, something I’ve loved ever since I was merely ten years old, in order to help inform the world of the important actions occurring across the ocean.

Growing up with two older brothers, I was often exposed to war movies that kept me on the edge of my seat just as much as it did them, engrossed in the films and reflecting every feeling the characters felt on screen. I developed a sense of passion for the soldiers that put their lives on the line, and as I grew older, I looked into the war movies more carefully. Such as Black Hawk Down or Act of Valor, I researched the true stories behind the Hollywood produced movies.

The more I read about the brave lives of the Navy SEALs that rescued the kidnapped CIA agent in Act of Valor and the courageous actions that had to be taken by the stranded soldiers after crashing into one of the most violent cities in the world in Black Hawk Down, I progressively became more and more attached.

By the time I graduated from high school, I had it all figured out. I knew I loved writing more than anything else in the world, and I also knew I didn’t want to let go of the passion I developed for the brave hearts in the military. So how would I balance the two?

After the continuous research I did on the connection between these two subjects, I had my future planned out by my sophomore year in college. My highest goal was to work towards being a war correspondent, but I settled with the job of being a journalist studying the war up until that position. I knew it wasn’t an easy position to achieve, but my mind and heart drove me towards executing my job as a journalist as effectively as possible. The fact that I was striving for this job, being a girl, shocked many people I shared it with. Even my brothers were a bit cynical when I first brought it up with them, but now they issue more respect towards me than ever before. Funny the way that worked out.

I also had to be aware of the danger I was going to be exposed to. Journalists writing on the war did not just watch from afar, in a safe glass box that prevented any harm from reaching them. Especially with the intentions I had, I knew I had to get close with the soldiers. Meaning I’d have to accompany them on their travels. In the middle of completely active war zones. With the risk of being blown by a landmine or shot by an enemy.

With this in mind, I had to go through intense training to be prepared for the risky situations I was putting myself in. Weapon training, simulations, classes where I learned about the dangers in war zones, and basic preparations were all important activities I had to be serious about if I wanted to stay alive doing what I loved.

Surprisingly enough, after getting experience in different journalism jobs located in small, trivial news stations, I was able to accumulate a sophisticated resume to apply to places such as CNN and NBC. I knew they were big ambitions, applying to such enormous headquarters at merely the age of twenty four, but I had a feeling that the years of experience I had acquired were going to pay off.

And they did. Years later, by the time I was twenty nine with a husband and baby boy, I assumed the position of a war correspondent for CNN, and I knew I had reached my ultimate goal I had set as a young adult. I have already made two trips to Iraq and one to Afghanistan, and I am now preparing to return to Afghanistan within a few weeks.
My husband, Dave, and I discussed and argued for months over the challenges of my job. But he knew it was my passion, so he reluctantly accepted it. My biggest worry was the day my son was born. I knew it would be hard to tear myself away from him to put my life on the line in another country. I knew it could end with Colby not having a mother. But with careful thought and much waiting, I knew I couldn’t stop there. I was trained, educated, and responsible enough to continue my job without ripping myself up over the guilt of leaving my family. Although when it came down to it, my trips were no longer than five days, and so far they have been spaced out at least ten months at a time. It wasn’t as if I was leaving for weeks at a time. That’s what I tell myself every time I leave my loving family to come tend to the other passion I love in my life.

The horrors of war are exactly as people describe them. But the main focus I have in my field is the effect on the soldiers. I have made a point to give soldiers the recognition and respect that they need because there is no one else in the world that deserves it more than they do.


“Is here good?”

“Eh, move a little to the left.”

I shuffled my high lace-up boots in the dusty sand and squinted at the small camera in front of me. Jack’s face peered out behind it, his sunglasses reflecting the blinding sun that beat down on us from above.

“How about now?” I asked him as I adjusted my thick, suffocating jacket that covered the body armour I had strapped on underneath. We heard shots in the distance, most likely coming from the active war zone not too many miles from here. We were located in the abandoned neighborhood that an Army task force had just fought through. The poorly-built, crumbling brick buildings stood ominously in the distance, providing a great background for our shot.

“Ready when you are,” Jack called out over the sound of an explosion in the distance, putting his thumb up.

I took a deep breath, looked down at the chicken scratch in my worn-out notebook one more time, and nodded my head.

Reporting from active war zones has become so common for me that the danger of violence has slowly become less of a worry. I’ve had my fair share of confronting death throughout my past trips, but it never stopped me from doing what I love. I’ve been able to communicate with the soldiers and develop connections with them, something that has been my goal in this job ever since I started. I alternated between taking specific notes and communicating with those partaking in the war in order to write articles back home and then report live from war zones for special reports on CNN.

Some people label the job of war correspondents as “thrill-seekers” or “adrenaline junkies.” That’s the farthest from the truth that anyone can get. Sure, spending time on the front lines or standing only a mile away from an active zone gets the adrenaline pumping, but it’s more than that. I’ve never been one for doing things for the thrill of it. Believe me, going to amusement parks was not my favorite thing growing up.

“Alright, that’s a wrap.” Jack began folding up his equipment and stuffing it into the van after I finished my quick report. Luckily, the shots and explosions continued to persist the entire time the camera was rolling, so headquarters would for sure consider this for public showing.

I put on my sunglasses and reached for the water bottle at my feet. “Damn, could it get any hotter out here?”

“Yeah, yeah, whine some more,” Jack teased as he tossed the last of his bags into the trunk of our white van. We weren’t able to label our vehicles with anything related to a news station, as it brought too much attention and, in turn, danger to our presence. The issue with that is that terrorist groups such as Al-Qaeda target any news station or anything related to journalists reporting news in their territory. They don’t like the idea of us spreading the word on the war and possibly disclosing information about their whereabouts and such.

That’s a risk that we have to live with every minute we stand on their ground, whether it be in Afghanistan or any other area flooded with its members. Everything we do has to be executed with serious planning and caution. The amount of violence towards previous journalists in these areas is positively off the charts.

After the van was packed, Jack and I sat on the edge of the trunk, gulping down our waters as we tried to stay out of the violent rays of the sun.

As we chatted, I spotted a Humvee driving towards us in the distance, the dust billowing up into thick, brown clouds behind it.
Recognizing it, I nudged Jack. “Here they are.”
We had been traveling with a couple of soldiers that were escorting us through the violent areas to issue the most safety for us. Normally, we would drive to the active territories and be dropped off in the areas surrounding the zones for a short time just to get a few good shots before hopping back in and driving a safe distance away again. After that, we would wait until the US forces sealed the area so we could make our way back in and do a couple more reports. I always traveled with my cameraman, Jack, and in addition to the different soldiers that accompanied us, a former SEAL was always with Jack and me to escort and protect us on our trip.
Bear was our escort, a man in his forties who had spent four tours in Afghanistan and other hostile areas as a prestigious member of his platoon. Looking at the thick, burly stature of Bear was all enough reason for his nickname. He was with us every minute as we made our way around the outside of the active zones, providing us with a sense of guaranteed protection. Believe me, when I was with him, I felt safer than ever.
“You ready for some action?” Bear shouted at us over the faint firing exchange in the background as he jumped out of the passenger door of the vehicle and walked towards us. The dark green combat suit he wore only added to his large stature. His biceps were so big that when he walked, he held his arms out at his sides, looking like a cowboy toying with his revolvers at his belt in the middle of a dual.
Jack turned around and grabbed the mini camcorder from his pile of equipment before jumping into the dirt. “I’m ready to see what all the fuss is about over there,” he agreed, walking towards the vehicle. He opened the door and climbed in with Charlie and Dunn, two of the soldiers that were also escorting us. The other soldier, Spragg, was driving the Humvee.
I looked at Bear one last time before standing up and shutting the doors of the truck. “Let’s go.”
Bear smiled, his face wrinkling in several places from being in the sun so much, and followed me to the armoured vehicle. “Hey, you got what you need?” he asked, catching my arm before I climbed up into the backseat.
Instinctively, I felt for my belt, handling the pistol tucked inconspicuously underneath my jacket. For journalists, we weren’t to carry big weapons of any sort while out on the job with the risk of being mistaken for a soldier. We had a choice of whether to carry a weapon or not, and most choose not to, but after the stories I’ve been warned about, I decided I should carry at least something just in case. With the protection CNN was able to hire for Jack and me, we probably shouldn’t have the least bit of worry for our safety, but we truly never know.
“Always,” I told Bear, nodding at him.
He patted me once on the back. “That’s my girl. You don’t even need me.”
I smirked at him, noticing the tease in his voice, before climbing into the backseat.

Shots echoed from all around, sending hard vibrations through my ears as we drove street to street. Occasional explosions caused our vehicle to shake, and each time I heard one, I gripped the notebook in my lap reflexively. When I first entered an active zone at the beginning of my career, I jumped at every shot that sounded in my ear, whether it was near or far. After my several trips, I had gotten used to the threatening fires being shot around me.

“We’re going to drive you a little outside this area,” Bear shouted at the top of his lungs, turning around in his seat to look at Jack and me, “and drop you off. We’ll be nearby, but if we stay close to you, it’s too dangerous to risk getting targeted from a skinny with an RPG. So we’ll be a few blocks down.”

Jack and I nodded as he gave us our directions, and I couldn’t help control the increasing beat of my heart.

“You can reach us on my radio,” Bear continued to shout, pulling his out. “You’ve got yours, right Jack?”

Jack pulled his thick black device from his bag, showing it to Bear.

“Good,” Bear shouted back. “Now in about three minutes, we’ll be where you need to be. Anything happens, contact me immediately. Understood?”

We both nodded again.

“We’ll come get you in ten minutes.” Bear looked at us seriously, eyeing our sweaty faces. “Are you okay?”

Once again, we both nodded. “We got this,” Jack shouted, giving his signature thumbs up.

Bear smiled at him and then looked at me. “Erin? You sure you’re okay?”

I immediately nodded, giving a calm smile. “I’ve had enough experience.”

He smiled one final time at me before turning around and directing Spragg to our drop-off site.

The response I had given Bear may have looked completely relaxed to him, just as I intended, but no matter what, I was never completely calm. I could feel my ponytail sticking to the sweat on the back of my neck, and my heart was racing five times faster per minute, giving me a pulsing adrenaline rush. No matter how much experience I get, I will never lose this feeling. I assume this is what soldiers feel like minutes before going into combat. But they’re going directly into danger, whereas I just hang around on the edge and take notes on it.

I can’t imagine how they feel.

The action outside the vehicle slowly faded into the background as we made our way to a safer area on the outskirts of the combat.
“Erin? Jack? You both ready?” Bear said as we came to a quick stop in a nearly abandoned street with the destroyed buildings towering on each side.
“Ready,” I spoke out clearly. Dunn was sitting on the opposite end of the back seat, so he opened the door and jumped out. Jack and I followed, running to the wall of the nearest building the instant our boots hit the ground.
Dunn watched, waiting for us to signal them before they left us. Once my back was to the brick behind me, I nodded at him, allowing them to go. He jumped back in and Spragg took off, driving down the street a block before taking a right and disappearing. I watched the dust rise into the thick, dry air after they had gone, squinting my eyes. It was significantly quieter in this area, although the faint sounds of gunshots were still in earshot from a few streets over.
I looked at Jack, who was holding his small digital camcorder, getting the entire scene around us, from the large brown buildings on the verge of completely collapsing to the scattered items lying abandoned on the street. A broken bike was lying on its side on the sidewalk, its back wheel still spinning, and the amount of garbage lining the streets was overwhelming.
“Should we start?” I asked Jack. “We only have ten minutes.”
He continued filming for another couple seconds before pausing it and turning towards me. “Alright, ready when you are.”
I took a deep breath, trying to steady my breathing, and lifted my leather notebook to take a peek at what I had written down. I hadn’t written anything on our way here, so whatever I was going to say had to come directly from my head.

I squinted at the page I opened to, my hands shaking slightly. I tried to form what I was going to say in my head, organizing my thoughts and constructing a strong line of detailed events.

Suddenly, an unexpected noise filled my ears, coming from behind us in the street. I whipped around, heart racing, expecting to find an insurgent poised to shoot us. But when I turned, I saw nothing.

“Aw, look,” Jack said quietly, pointing to where the noise came from.

I followed his direction with my eyes, taking another look at the threat. Then I noticed it. All it was was a small goat with a wooden carriage attached to its body. The carriage was empty and broken in half, its one wheel dragging in the dirt while the other rolled on. Tin cans tied to a string were dragging from the end, causing the odd sound I had heard.

“Jesus,” I breathed, letting out a relieved breath.

Jack looked at me after the goat had passed and patted me on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’re not in a hostile area.”

I nodded, trying to regain my composure before having to stand in front of the camera. “Okay, I’m ready,” I told Jack, positioning my stance towards the building behind him so the street was in full view behind me.

“Reporting from the very streets of Kandahar, Afghanistan, this is CNN,” I spoke clearly into the camera. “As you can see, the U.S. Troops have--”

Suddenly, a bullet flew past my face, hitting the brick wall on my right. I stopped mid-sentence, recoiling from the close call.

What the...

More shots began firing at us, and I ducked onto the ground, my training reflexes kicking in. “Jack!” I screamed as I hit the dirt, crawling towards the building against us.

“Go, go, go!” he shouted back. “I’m right behind you!”

I kept my head down as more gunshots flew past my body, hitting the ground around me and lodging into the brick above. I worked my arms and knees, crawling as fast as possible until I could turn the nearest corner into a narrow alleyway. As I moved, I lifted my head slightly to take a look at where the shots were coming from. I scanned the street, but oddly, it was empty. Then I realized. I turned my gaze upward, and there they were. Three insurgents with automatic weapons poised in their arms were launching fire on us from a rooftop, the magazines slung over their shoulders shaking with each shot.
Immediately, I crawled faster, amazed that we hadn’t been hit yet. Then I noticed someone settling an RPG on his shoulder, eyeing us.
“Jack, he’s got an RPG!” I warned. Once I turned the corner, I got up and began running for my life.

“Run!” I heard Jack call out as we sprinted down the alley, away from the gunshots, and turned onto another street.

“Where?” I managed to get out through my rapid breathing as I whipped my head right and left. Suddenly, the alleyway we had just run through exploded, sending bits of flying brick and burning remnants everywhere. Jack and I immediately dove for the ground, shielding our heads. We were far enough from the explosion that nothing hit us, but the force of it reached us full-on. I crumpled into the dirt, my head pressed into the ground, as I heard the ear-piercing boom.

After a couple of seconds, I lifted my head and turned around, spying Jack already on his feet.

Ears ringing, I could barely hear Jack when he yelled, “There, that building!”

Before even thinking, I jumped to my feet and ran straight ahead into a gray brick building, pushing the wooden door open upon contact. Jack was close behind, running through the threshold and then slamming the door after him.

I collapsed onto the ground and broke into a coughing fit, having inhaled so much dust from the explosion. My hair was drenched in sweat, and my arms felt like jello at my sides from crawling across the ground.

“What the hell just happened?” I said to Jack, who had dropped onto the ground opposite me.

He was breathing hard and shook his head, looking down. His teeth were clenched, and I noticed how he was clutching his lower leg.

“Jack?” I slowly stood up and walked over to him, getting a closer look at his leg. “What...” Before I could form a question, he removed his hand from his calf, causing me to gasp. His jeans were soaked in blood.

“Oh my God,” I said, getting onto my knees. “You were hit.”

He nodded, his teeth still clenched as he squeezed his eyes shut in pain. His hand moved back to his wound automatically to hold the pressure.

“Hold on.” I looked around me, hoping to find a towel or cloth of some sort that we could wrap his leg with. I stood up, taking in my surroundings. The place we had assumed for cover looked like it had been a typical family home before it was abandoned. The sink in the corner and broken wooden table in the center of the room suggested it had maybe been a kitchen before the place had been attacked.

Before going any further from Jack, I reached for the bag that had been slung across his body and found the radio. I tried working it and speaking into it, but all I received was static feedback. After several tries, I realized it was no use.

“Here, take this,” I told Jack as I handed him the radio. “Maybe you can make some sense out of it while I go find something to wrap that with.”

“Wait,” he said after taking the radio. “Be careful. Danger could be anywhere.”

I studied his face, noting the worry in it despite his obvious pain. “I will.”

My heart sped up once again as I began frantically searching every location in the room. I looked through drawers and cupboards only to find them either empty or filled with broken shards of glass.

“There’s nothing in here,” I hissed, slamming my elbows onto a counter and resting my head in my hands. “How are we going to get out of here? We don’t even know where we are and can’t get a hold of Bear or anyone on his team.”

Jack stirred from his position on the ground a couple feet away. “It’s okay, Erin, he’ll find us.”

I held my head a few seconds longer, trying to compose myself, before looking up at him. “How? How will he find us? That damn radio piece of--”

“Erin,” Jack interrupted. “That damn radio is what’s going to help him find us.”

“How, Jack?” I shot back. “It’s not working! That explosion that caused the buildings to fall blocked all of its signals. It barely was able to function before that even happened!”

Jack drew his knees into his chest and rested his forehead on them. He took a deep breath before looking back up. “They’ll get to us. They know what they’re doing, Erin, they’re professionals. That’s why they were hired.”

I groaned, pushing off from the counter before settling into a rhythmic pace. “You’re hurt, Jack, what are we going to do about that? We can’t sit and wait all day, you’ll lose too much blood.”

Jack sighed sharply. “We won’t sit and wait, Erin. It’ll be okay.”

But as I looked at his face, as I listened to his words, I noticed a slight tinge of hopelessness in it. His eyes had glazed over as he stared into space, and the expression he wore was blank.

“This isn’t supposed to happen,” I whispered to myself, looking out a small square window, which was simply a hole in the brick wall.

“Yeah, well, this was bound to happen at some point,” Jack said, his voice completely monotone. I looked at him quizzically, thinking he hadn’t heard me.

I shook my head. “But we never have gone into areas as dangerous as others,” I protested, slowly walking back to Jack.

“Erin,” he sighed, closing his eyes. “We’re in one of the most hostile war environments in the world right now. Right this moment.”

“I’m aware of that,” I retorted, insulted that he continued to pinpoint the obvious. “What I am trying to say is--”

Jack suddenly hissed a mouthful of air through his clenched teeth, shutting his eyes in pain as he leaned his head back against the wall. His hand clutched tighter to his calf.

My pulse began to race again, and I spotted a door across from us, most likely leading to another room. “I’m going to go find something to help with that wound,” I told Jack.

“Erin, no,” Jack whispered, unable to speak clearly from the pain. “It’s too dangerous. You don’t know what’s behind that door.”

“Jack, I can’t let you bleed out right in front of me,” I said as I made my way to the wooden door. My hand reached for the rusty doorknob despite Jack’s persistent protests. I ignored him, knowing that this was the only thing to do to try and help him.

Don’t do anything you aren’t sure about when in a risky situation.

One of the basic rules I had been taught in training echoed repeatedly in my mind, very appropriate for the situation at hand but very inconvenient for the thoughts it contradicted in my mind. Does the rule apply when your friend is slowly bleeding to death?

Heart racing, I pushed the thought aside and turned the knob.

The loose hinges on the door squeaked ominously as I slowly pulled it towards me. There was nothing but darkness behind it. Nervous, I held my breath as my eyes attempted to adjust to the pitch black in front of me.

“Erin,” Jack hissed, cautioning me.

I didn’t budge, squinting hard into the emptiness. Is this a room? I guided my eyes downward, and after a few seconds, I recognized a set of unreliable-looking stairs descending down into the thick black.

“It’s a basement,” I whispered to Jack, not moving my gaze.

Jack began to respond, but I held up a finger to him, signaling him to be quiet. Leaning my head farther into the threshold, I perked my ears to try and listen to anything going on down there.

Nothing. Complete silence. My gaze turned to the side, hoping to find a light switch against the wall, but my common sense kicked in when I realized there wasn’t much electricity running through cities like these.

“Do you have your flashlight?” I asked Jack, finally tearing my eyes away from the basement to turn towards him.

He looked at me doubtfully for a few seconds before opening his bag. After rifling through it for a bit, he pulled out his small black flashlight and extended it towards me.

I quickly walked towards him and grabbed the light, turning it on.

“Erin, wait.” Jack grabbed my wrist once I took the flashlight. “This isn’t a good idea. I have a bad feeling about this.”

I stared into his pleading eyes before saying, “It’s okay. We’ve got to do something.”

Once I walked back to the door, I guided the small light into the darkness. All I could see was the long descending wooden stairs and then black. My instincts told me not to go down. The steps did not look like they had been walked on in years, and the odds of a simple cloth being down there were probably thin to none.

Still, there was no other place to look without going out in the open. I held the flashlight in its same position as my thoughts fought with each other in my mind.

Suddenly, my ears stood guard when a noise came from the darkness. Stiffening, my breath caught in my throat, sending my heart rate through the roof. I listened more and heard something like the sound of a metal chair scraping the floor. Then a few voices. Footsteps. More voices. . .speaking in arabic.

“Oh my God,” I whispered, backing away. I quickly snapped the flashlight off and began to ease the door back into place, but not without the squeaking of its hinges.

“What?” Jack said, sounding panicked. “What is it?”

I finally shut the door and slowly turned around. Jack’s expression turned from curiosity to fear in one instant once he saw my mouth hanging open in shock.

“There . . .” I couldn’t even speak at this point. “There are people. . . down there. What are we going to do? How are we going to get out?”

My heart felt like it was going to pound out of my chest as these questions formed in my head. I wrung my hands together and looked from side to side, trying to formulate an escape plan.

“Okay, okay,” Jack said, trying to calm me, but obviously failing as the fear broke through in his own voice. “Let’s . . . let’s think about this.”

I ran to a window and looked down both ends of the street. No sound of Bear or anyone from his force. The street looked almost as if it was boiling as heat waves floated from the dust on the ground. I scanned the buildings, and at first my eyes passed it up, but I quickly recognized something sticking out of an alley a few blocks down.
I moved my eyes back, squinting to look harder. After a couple seconds, I noticed it was a person squatting on the ground. He was clothed in black and the more I looked, the more I could make out a large automatic weapon sitting in his lap.
I quickly backed away, my breathing increasing. “There’s people outside too,” I said to Jack as I ran back to him. “What now?”
We stared each other down, both at a complete loss of hope. There was nothing. Nothing more. We were trapped. Stranded. My simple pistol couldn’t hold off all of those people, and the voices in the basement for sure sounded like serious trouble.
But I think we both knew one thing. Staying in this building is probably worse than finding a different location.
“We have to move,” I said to Jack. “We can’t stay here. Not with those people down there. They’re bound to hear us at some point or come up here sometime.”
Jack looked at me, thinking. Before he could say anything, the radio sitting next to him on the floor suddenly emitted loud static feedback, with Bear’s voice speaking faintly in the background.
“It’s Bear!” I whispered as Jack picked up the radio. Bear continued to try and speak, but the feedback was overriding his voice. “What’s he saying?”
Jack shook his head, his eyes positioned on the radio. “Bear!” he said lightly into the radio. “Bear, we’re in trouble.”
Suddenly, his voice came through. “Get out . . .” static interrupted him. “. . . not safe.”
I kneeled onto the ground to get closer to the radio. “What’s he saying?”
“Now!” his voice all of the sudden was clear as day. “Get out of there now! You’re not safe! We’ll pick you up at . . .” Before he could finish his sentence, the static completely overcame his voice and then it was dead.
“What?” I said, frantic. I snatched the radio from Jack and held it up to my face, saying “Where? Where do we have to go?”
Jack attempted to get up, sliding his back up the wall slowly. “I don’t know, but we have to leave.”
I grabbed his arm, pulling it over my shoulders as I helped him up. “Can you walk?”
He clenched his teeth suddenly, but nodded. “Yeah,” he groaned. “I have to.”
I kept my arm around him as we slowly walked towards a back door, one that was on the opposite side of the street where the insurgent was keeping watch.
We were standing at the door when all of the sudden, right when I was about to turn the knob, a thud echoed behind us, sending the basement door flying open.
I turned quickly and almost fainted in shock. Three cloaked figures emerged from the dark, screaming in arabic, sounding furious. They all were armed and began running towards Jack and me. I tried to turn and open the door, but with the weight of Jack, I wasn’t as fast as usual. Right when I turned, I felt a hard object slam into the back of my head, sending wild jolts of pain throughout my entire body, and I fell to the ground.
Jack fell on top of me, but shortly after, his body was pulled into the air as one of the men grabbed him, holding his hands behind his back. I screamed, terrified of what they would do to him, but soon another man took his weapon and hit Jack violently in the temple with the blunt end of it.
Blood ran down Jack’s face as I screamed again, tears welling up in my eyes. His head hung, knocked unconscious. I could barely feel the hot blood flowing out of my head where I had been hit as I began to sob.
A man suddenly stood over me, pointing and yelling terrible things in his language. All I could see on his face were his dark eyes, as everything else was cloaked in black. Before I could think, I started for my last resource, reaching for my pistol on my belt, my arms weak.
But right as I felt the cold hard metal against my hand, one of them noticed what I was reaching for. Immediately, he came at me, yelling at me and lifted his gun. I screamed again, sobbing violently now, as the edge of his gun came down viciously on the side of my head. At the very moment of contact, I blacked out.

“No, no.” Low, deep voices spoke to each other in thick, unrecognizable accents.
“Go.” The sound of a door opening and closing echoed in my head, but I wasn’t fully aware if I was dreaming or not. Someone’s feet shuffled across the floor, and a man’s voice whispered, quietly cursing to himself.
A sharp pain jolted a nerve in my left arm, causing me to wake. My eyes flashed open, and the moment I took a breath, I broke into violent coughing. After a minute, I recovered and began to try and take in my surroundings.
Where am I?
As my eyes darted back and forth, I noticed an enormous throbbing in my left eye, its vision damaged. I tried to bring my hand up to it to feel how swollen it was, but something stopped it. Looking down, I realized my wrists were tied together with thick, brown rope. My heart started to pound as panic took over. My cargo pants were covered in holes and tears, and as I tried to move my legs, I discovered why they were so torn apart. Multiple wounds had been inflicted, tearing my pants and my flesh.
I whimpered at the sight, seeing the dried blood on the exposed patches of skin of my legs. Tears welled in my eyes, but that only caused more pain to my bruised face, so I forced them back. Taking deep breaths, I looked around me.
The small room I was in only consisted of a steel square table and two chairs in the corner to the left. Both were empty, causing me anxiety.
When will they come back?
I was on the floor, but as I looked down, I noticed it wasn’t much of a floor. The entire area of the room was covered in dirt, and after thinking, I made the assumption that I was in a basement. My hands were bound tightly together, and I couldn’t move them away from the left side of my body, as they were tied to the leg of a large metal table bolted to the ground next to me. I tugged at the ropes in desperation, but that only caused my wrists to sting from the rope burn.
Sweating profusely, I whipped my head from side to side in search of something, anything, to use to escape this hell hole, but there was nothing. In no time, I was panting, my legs shaking as I tried again to tear my hands from the desk. My head began to throb from the blunt of the gun, probably having caused a concussion.
I began to sob as I repeatedly yanked my hands until my wrists began to bleed. At this point, I felt nothing as my tears flowed. Everything felt numb.
After minutes of attempting to break free, I finally gave up. I hung my head in defeat, sobbing violently as my entire body shuddered. Why did this happen? I thought for sure we were protected. There was no one I trusted more than Bear. Why did he let this happen?
I tried to recap what had occurred, how I got here, but nothing came up. I had been unconscious. How long have I been down here?
Suddenly, these thoughts triggered my brain into action. Jack. Where is he? Did they kill him? My heart dropped at the possibility of him being dead.
“No,” I moaned out loud, shaking my head. I squeezed my eyes shut as a throb of pain shuddered through my entire body, causing me to clench my teeth.
“Ah, she is awake.” A man’s voice spoke quietly, cloaked in a thick accent.
I jumped, thrusting my head up. The tears still in my eyes blurred my vision, and I squinted, trying to see whoever had spoken. My pulse quickened and I couldn’t control my breathing as fear and panic took over.
“Now, now,” he spoke again, his voice becoming louder. “Do not hurt yourself.”
I blinked rapidly, trying to clear my vision, and I finally spotted the man behind the voice. Like the others that had attacked us earlier, he was clothed in a long black cloak, but nothing covered his face. I squinted, trying to see his face, but he was hidden in the shadows across the room.
“Who are you?” I whispered, my voice hoarse. The second I spoke, I began coughing again, spitting up blood.
I heard him chuckle. “Now don’t wake up your little friend, Erin.”
Startled, I glared at him. “How . . . how do you know my name?”
He slowly walked towards me as he laughed again, obviously avoiding the question. I could vaguely make out his features as he came closer. The dark skin on his rough face almost blended into the black cloak he wore, and the full black beard covering half his face most definitely matched its darkness. His eyes were as dark as night, giving him more of an evil, terrifying aura.
The man smiled, showing yellowing, crooked teeth. I cringed as his appearance cast a wave of fear throughout my body. My pulse reached the roof again as my suspicions were now officially confirmed. We found ourselves in the hands of terrorists.
“Do you not want to see your friend again?” the man asked me, his low, icy voice poisoning my ears. The mention of Jack caused me to straighten a bit even though it brought with it a jolt of pain down my spine.
“Where is he?” I demanded, my voice weak.
Once again, a chuckle escaped his throat. “Do not worry. He is close.”
Just then, a hidden door that I had failed to notice earlier opened slowly to my right. I whipped my head toward the noise, but the instant I laid my eyes on the sight, it was not something I wanted to see.
There was Jack, chained to a cement wall, his arms attached to the wall above him. His head was hanging, making it hard for me to know if he was unconscious or . . . dead. All of his clothes except for his white undershirt and boxers had been torn off, and I noticed a large bloodstain on his shirt from a wound on his stomach. His feet were caked in mud and streaks of blood ran down his suspended arms.
“Jack,” I whispered, my throat tight, as tears began falling from my eyes. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him, trying to watch his body move with the rhythm of someone alive. I clenched my teeth, sobbing now as I couldn’t tell if he was breathing or not. Finally, I couldn’t look anymore, and my head fell against my chest as I unleashed more tears.
How did this happen? Why? Why us?
My tears quickly converted to heaving sobs as I thought back to those I left at home.
Colby...Dave...how could I do this to them?
I was still crying when I heard the door slam. Eyes blurry, I shot my head up to look at the closed door, and suddenly, Jack’s scream ripped through my ears.