Polaroid

"I don't know what you want, but I don't have anything," I whispered to the man standing behind me.

"Do you want to die, bitch? (That had to be a rhetorical question) Then shut up and stand still. My crew is on their way and I'm sure they'll be interested in what you've got," he hissed back at me.

I looked out into the field in front of me. Where was Cam? Was he okay? Had they hurt him?

I don't know when I started crying, but at some point the raindrops started tasting salty. I couldn't let this guy just take me. After all that I had been through, was it going to end with rape and murder?

"Who are you?" I demanded. "Or who were you before all of this? Did you hurt people or were you a good person once?"

"Shut up," he shouted. "It doesn't matter who any of us used to be before this war. Killing changes people. Especially when you do it over and over again and they tell you it's the right thing!"

"Who told you that?" I asked desperate to keep him talking. He was not in the mood to have a heart to heart though...

I felt him hit me hard in the back and I went down on my knees hard into the mud. I couldn't prevent the scream that came out, but what did I matter? If he shot me it would be quick and painless.

I shivered, soaked in the rain and waiting for the bang.

It was a crash instead. The hard sound of wood against flesh and bone. Then another thud of a body falling to the ground.

I turned, prepared to run and saw Cam standing with a plank in his hand. A young man lay prone at his feet. His face was bloodied, but his eyes were fixed open.

They were blue and his hair was dark. The jacket he wore was dark green. It looked like it was a military style.

"Lena, we have to go," Cam shouted reaching his hand out.

I saw it.

I saw him.

I saw the young man in the Army jacket holding a girl with a cigarette in her hand.

"Lena," Cam screamed again. "There are are probably more of them! Are you coming?"

Finally I said the word that had been waiting patiently on the tip of my tongue, "Yes."