Survivors of War

C H A P T E R T W O

I open my eyes to find myself in a darkened room. I jerk upright, only to have a throbbing pain rack my skull. I look down at my hand when I realise it’s tied to something with rope, wound tightly, painfully.

I yank on it, hoping for some leeway – but get none. I lean my head down and gnaw on it with my teeth. This continues for several minutes before the ache in my teeth becomes too much.

I throw myself back in frustration. I’m on something hard – most likely just the ground. I kick my legs out and they connect with something solid, a wall – wood maybe.

I kick out in all directions – I’m in a box-like room, tall enough to sit upright and stretched out my limbs but no bigger.

I let out a small sigh and close my eyes, trying not to allow the panic to sink in. It doesn’t matter, it hits me anyway. Wave after wave of it hits me, makes it hard to breathe. I turn from left to right.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

I kick out all around me, swing my fists – and when they connect it hurts like a bitch but I keep on going.

I let out a gut wrenching screams and it leaves me breathless, panting and gasping for oxygen that continues to elude me.

“Let me out!” I scream. “Let me out! Let me out! Let me out!”

It soon turns to one long scream – Lemmeoutlemmeoutlemmeout!

A sudden thump to the side has me swallowing my words and almost choking on them.

“Let me out!” I scream once I catch my breath.

“Shut up or we’ll feed you to the dogs!” A voice snarls viciously.

“Just try it! I’ll snap their fucking necks!” I shout back, my voice gasping.

Laughter echoes from outside and slowly fades away to nothing. I struggle to calm my panic. The darkness gets to me sometimes, makes it so I can barely breathe. The tight constricting space doesn’t help.

“Okay, okay, gotta breathe.” I whisper to myself and not only do I feel more soothed by talking out loud – but also because I’m talking in my tongue. “Think, think, think!”

But thinking doesn’t work. It just doesn’t – neither does breathing calmly. That panic begins escalate once more and I find myself gasping.

“Calm, calm, calm!” I repeat but my head feels light and full at the same time – like a balloon I can fly to the sky but pop and fall at any second.

I can’t stop myself from letting out another scream – of anger and fear, pure boiling rage. I kick out and swing with my fists – and then a sound of some kind of door opening and cool air hits my face.

“Shut up or I’ll knock you out.” The man snarls in perfect English.

“What? Have to tie a girl up to beat her? ‘Fraid I’ll beat you?” I snarl down at him fiercely, taking in sweet gulps of air.

I realise then that it’s almost like I’m in some kind of coffin – but a little larger, taller. I kick out and he mutters something to someone else.

“Sort her out!” Another man barks, in German this time.

He hesitates at the opening and then steps forward. I kick out again, connecting with his knee. He lets out a snarl of anger and leaps at me, landing on top of me.

I can’t keep up with all of it, all I know is that I’m fighting viciously, the best I can in such a small space with one of my hands tied. I give him a good few knocks – a good few painful knocks – but he somehow manages to cut the rope loose.

He drags me out and I twist and turn painfully, clawing at the ground. He jerks me out into the dim light anyway.

We’re at a camp of sort. I look around instantly, trying to take in our surroundings for future reference.

It’s a woodland area, nice and tucked away from the rest of the world. They have a fire burning but its low to keep their position hidden. There are several crate-like boxes... probably filled with people like myself.

“This one’s a little bitch. I say we feed her to the dog.” The man barks out whilst pointing in the direction of a small pen.

“Didn’t Barkley want her?” Another officer mutters, eyeing me up.

I count them, surprised when there’s only six. I expected more, but then... they’re just baby-sitting, right?

He drags me forward another step and I leap forward. I attack him, forcing him to the ground. He fights back – and reaches for his gun but I grab it first. I jump to my feet, relieved when I realise he no longer holds the rope connected to my wrist.

I find myself facing several guns pointed in my direction whilst the man in front of me climbs to his feet. My breathing ragged, I point the gun at each of them in turn.

“Put the gun down!” They scream at me, waving their guns in my face.

“No! Put yours down! Now!” I yell back.

This lasts for a few seconds and I can feel myself growing desperate. Then something hits me in the back, hard. I fall forward, the gun dropping uselessly to the ground. A boot is pressed into my back as I struggle beneath it.

“You men are useless.” A gruff voice mutters.

“Thank God you came back; I thought you were Barkley for a moment. I was worried.” The man who’d dragged me out of my box says, blood dripping from a wound across his cheek.

I try to turn and let out a scream when he grinds his boot into my back.

“You’re lucky I wasn’t Blakely.” The man mutters. “So what, you’re going to feed her to Boulder?”

“I say yeah, she’s too much bother.”

“Alright.” He reaches down and wraps a hand around my upper arm, jerking me up.

Despite the pain shooting through my body, I jerk around and slam my fist repeatedly against his padded armour. He just laughs at me, clearly amused at my attempts to be free.

He drags me in the direction of the pen and although I put up one hell of a fight, he still manages to lift me up and throw me in.

I hit the floor and roll a few times, the taste of dirt filling my mouth. I spit out mouthfuls as I climb to my knees and hands – and as a loud, threatening growl echoes around me.

My head shoots up and I’m faced with a snarling dog. I don’t have enough time to see what breed it is, all I know is that it’s huge and terrifying and leaping right at me.