Lennot and I rang in the new year by singing a couple of verses of For Auld Lang Syne.  They like to tell us when it’s Christmas in this place, when it’s New Years.  Lennot says it’s a way for them to gain more control over our emotions.  The more time passes, the more desperate we become here, and the less likely we are to think of escaping.  We’ve sang it for the past six years, and when we were back at the old place, and there were more of us, it seemed a hell of a lot more festive.  It was so hollow this year, so sad, so empty.  It made my heart sink to the lowest point inside of me, knowing it would probably be one of the last times I would get to sing it with him.

It’s been three months since we were brought to this place.  Once we were sold, we traveled for days tied up in the back of that truck, given little to no food or water for the duration of the trip.  When we arrived, we were forced to walk into another building, and only then were the blindfolds, gags, and ropes removed.  It took a while for my eyes to adjust to the light.  I squinted harshly as I was pushed around and made to kneel on the ground with my hands on top of my head.  I knew Lennot was next to me.  He was groaning, exhausted from the trip and dying to get something to eat or drink.  The men in charge of us were standing before us, studying our actions, daring us to make a move.  When we didn’t though...when all we did was remain in front of them on our knees, waiting for our first order, they smiled.  They liked that we were powerless.  They even gave us some water, and a hot meal right there on the floor.  I would have been shocked if I wasn’t so hungry.  I couldn’t even think about the gesture as I devoured everything.  The water was good, the food was something other than stale bread.

It was a miracle.

They let us “shower” after we ate.  Meaning, they took each of us outside, one by on, stripped off our clothes, and hosed us down.  I didn’t even care how barbaric it was, because I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been allowed to bathe.  I felt the layers and layers of caked on dirt and sweat melt off me.  The water felt amazing.  I didn’t even care that I had be naked in front of the bastards.  When they were done, one of them pinned my arms behind me, while the other one pulled out a razor.  That’s when I started to freak out.  I thought that was it.  I thought my throat was going to be sliced open, and that they had only fed and showered us to give us a false sense of hope.  I even started to sob in front of them, something I hated to do...

Then they laughed at me.

“Relax, cow,” the man with the razor said to me in Arabic.  “We need to get rid of the lice.”

My beard had grown out considerably in the six years we were imprisoned at the old place.  I tried not to think about how nasty it was...a tangled mess of matted hair that had grown down past my neck.  I was so anxious to be rid of it, that, for the first time, I decided to trust an insurgent.  I let him shave all that hair off of my face.  He held a mirror up for me when he was done.  I felt faint, dizzy.

It was the first time I’d seen my own reflection in six years.

I looked like a zombie.  My eyes were sunken in, and the light in them had been gone for some time.  I was dead emotionally.  I had no soul.  I lived to be a slave, and that was all.  I started to lose it again, sob openly in front of the two men.  They were silent.  I think they knew what they’d purchased then.  One older gentleman that wasn’t going to be able to hold out much longer, and me...an emotional fucking mess.

I started to place bets with myself on how long it would take them to kill the two of us and toss our bodies into a ravine somewhere.  

They shaved our heads after that, and gave us some new clothes.  The fabric is thin, scratchy, and the outfit itself is all one piece.  It’s not a robe, it more like a gown, a peasant outfit...good for working in the fields because the air is allowed to flow through it more easily.  Most American men would be embarrassed to wear it, but not me.  I don’t care, and I never did.  I was just thankful to have something else to wear besides ripped up linen pants and a bloody shirt.  I was good as new after that...they’d fixed me up, like you would fix up an animal that had been denied proper care.  I realized they needed us for labor, and it was the only reason why they’d put a little effort into us at all.

It was the last time they would ever treat us so well.

I realized we’d been brought to the North, quickly.  There’s no sand here, just miles and miles of rugged mountains that I know we would have a minimal chance of surviving if we were to escape.  They grow Opium, the key ingredient to cocaine, in a small field out back.  As soon as the sun rises each day, I’m forced to wake up, given a measly crust of bread, and brought out to the field to harvest their crops.  If I don’t have three buckets filled with seeds by the end of the day, they whip me until I pass out.  At first I wasn’t the best at the peeling and picking process, but the other man they have here, Holtoy, taught me how to become fast at it.  Good thing, because that first week...I was whipped so hard and so often that I thought I was going to be dead by the end of the month.

Holtoy lost count of how many years he’s been here.  He’s a few years younger than Lennot and came from the reserves, just like me.  When they grabbed him, he’d only been in country for a month, and it was only his first time being deployed.  Needless to say, he has a pretty harsh view of our military now.  He’s strong though.  So damn strong.  He’s learned how to make himself invaluable to these people, so they’ll never try to sell or kill him.  He can pick five buckets of seeds a day.  I’m assuming this is the only reason why he’s still alive, and he tells me that he’ll make sure I can pick five a day eventually too.  He says he likes me, because I’m easy to talk to.  He says that the last person they had helping him wasn’t a survivor like I am...

But he also says that Lennot needs to go.  That he’s a liability.  

I try not to hate him for that.  He doesn’t know what we’ve been through.  I haven’t expanded on details with him, how we watched our friends being marched to their deaths until it was just the two of us left in that place.  It’s just too fucking painful to look back on all of that now.  I have to keep my focus on the future, learn to pick my seeds quicker and hope to God that we get a break...that we can get out of here one day.

They don’t shackle us while we work, which is nice.  I can move a little easier, but that doesn’t mean I can run off.  They have a couple of guards stationed at the entrance to the field.  Holtoy tells me they’ve been ordered to kill us on the spot if we’re caught trying to sneak past them.  I don’t dare.  I still remember what happened to Ericson and that’s not the way I want to go.  We’re still caged at night, but there’s more room in the ones here, and they give us hay to sleep on.  There is a barn that has been reconstructed to house us, and it could probably hold more than a dozen people, but there are only three of us.  I asked Holtoy if there have ever been more prisoners here, but he said as long as he’s been here, he’s only had one other person out in the fields with him.  That’s why he doesn’t understand Lennot, why they bothered to bring him.  I don’t either.

It’s like, a higher power saved his life.  That’s the only conclusion I can come up with.  I don’t see him as much.  They make him working in the house all day, cleaning and serving them food.  The only time we can talk is at night when we’re locked in the barn cages.  He told me some time ago that he’d asked for my release, that he would take my work load on top of his.  They laughed at him of course.  I would have too, if I wasn’t so angry.  I told him I would never leave him behind, ever.  That’s not what you do in the military.  No one gets left behind...  

But, Lennot is sick now, and I don’t know what I’m going to do if he dies and they cart his body off someplace, like his life never mattered.

I hear him cough all night long.  I know it’s in his chest and going into his lungs.  He’s weak, needs more food, water, and some medicine too, but I doubt they care.  I think they’re waiting for him to die.  For some reason they’re a little more humane here.  Meaning, whoever bought us didn’t want to see Lennot shot in the head.  I doubt they paid for him.  I think they just overpaid for me a little bit.  It shows.  My hands are blistered and bloody every night when I come back from the field.  I think they’re getting their investment back, considering when they sell the Opium, they get an obscene amount of money for it.

As for me, I barely sleep anymore.  The moment my eyes closed my dreams are plagued with the painful memories of the last six years.  I can feel them whipping me in my sleep, and it makes me jolt awake, crying.  It’s easier to just lie awake in the comfort of the hay, filling my mind with positivity until day break.  I don’t know how I manage to get through my days anymore.  Lennot says I have a strong will to survive and that’s why.

I think it’s a crock.

Lately, I’ve been trying to think of a way to make them slit my throat.

I think of Abbey as I sit here, wide awake at night.  I think about the first time I ever kissed her, the first place I ever took her out on a date...burgers and shakes...the movies.  I think about the first time we made love, and I think about the way she looked at me the last time I ever saw her.  She wore a blue and white floral dress, her shoulders covered by a white cardigan.  She had a pair of those silly flip flops on too. The kind with the jewels plastered along the strappy things that attached them to her feet.

She always hated heels.  Said they hurt her feet.

I was never a real formal guy anyway.  She never needed heels when I was around.

I wonder if the rich guy she found makes her wear heels.

She’d never conform though.  She’s strong, independent, her own person through and through.

God, I miss her.

I try to remember her exact smell.  Baby powder and fresh linens...that it.  That’s what she always smelled like.  She was never one to wear fancy perfumes or use fruity smelling body wash.  That was great because I’m not a huge fan of potent aromas.  I think they take away the natural elegance of a woman.  Abbey...she had a peaceful smell, an inviting one.  It made me want to crawl inside of her forever and never come back out again.

I wrap my arms around my knees, close my eyes, try to envision her here with me, wrapped in my arms.

“It’s okay Braeden.”  She flashes me her soft, gentle smile, and reaches up to touch my face.  “You’re going to be okay.  You can pull through this.  I want you to come home to me.”

“I love you,” I whimper.  “Abbey, I love you.”

“I know, baby.”

She disappears.  My eyes snap open again.  I reach up to wipe the tears away, listen to the sound of Lennot hacking in the cell next door.  It’s really bad tonight.  He’s getting worse, running out of time.  I can’t let him die.  Not now.  We’ve survived worse, we have.  He’s my brother.  I have to protect him.  “Holtoy,” I whisper.  

I hear him snore, and mutter something.

“Holtoy.”

Lennot coughs even more harshly.  I cringe.  “Holtoy!”  I yell it.  I know it’s risky.  I don’t know how they are about that sort of thing yet, but fuck, I have to try to help Lennot.

“Wha...Sampson?”

“We need to talk,” I whisper.

“Talk to me in the field.”  I hear him shifting around, as if he’s getting back to sleep.

“No,” I persist.  “Now.”

“What could you possibly need right now?” He seethes.  “I can’t walk through iron bars to cuddle with you.”

I crawl up to the door, and place my hands around the bars, peering across the way so I can make out Holtoy in the darkness.  “Have you been listening to Lennot?”

“Yeah, he’s sick.  So?”

“We have to get him out of here.”

“That’s your dream, not mine.”

I sigh harshly.  “I’m serious.”

“They have guns.  We don’t.  That means I’ll be forgetting this conversation and falling back to sleep.”

He’s such an asshole, locked up and all.  I know...it’s probably some kind of psychological defense mechanism he’s conjured up to survive, but I just don’t care right now.  “Do you really want to spend the rest of your life picking apart Opium plants?” I persist.

“It beats dying.”

“We can get out of here,” I tell him.  “You’re smart, and so am I.”r32;r32;“If you’re so damn smart, why are you here?” He mutters.  “You should have figured a way out of this when you were being transported.”

“You know it’s not that easy,” I tell him.  “C’mon, Holtoy.  Help me.”

“Forget it,” he grits.  “I’m not getting caught in a death trap for your friends sake.”

“It’s not a death trap...”

“Leave me alone, Braeden,” he says sadly.

I know he means it, so I back away from the bars and crawl back into my corner again.  I’m alone in my fight, but I can’t give up, even if he’s not going to support me.  I want to get home too.  I...I promised Abbey.  I can’t break my promise.  I have to fight.  I have to.  I know if Lennot was well, it’s what he would tell me.  He’d tell me to take a stand this morning, fight back, get a gun, get us out.  

I think I have more of a chance in this place.  They won’t expect it.  They think I’ve conformed to their way of life, and that Lennot is too weak to try and fight back.  But I’ll be ready today.  When they come for me, I won’t go willingly.  Not at all.

I stay in my corner for hours, my eyes wide, waiting...just waiting for my chance.  Lennot coughs, gasps for a breath.  It only makes me want freedom more.  Then the sunlight begins to seep into the tiny window in the back of my caged off room.  I know they’ll be here any moment, ready to put us all to work like any other day.  

I brace myself as the barn doors are opened.  I take even breaths, in and out, out and in, preparing myself.  

They go right to Lennot.  He’s still coughing.  They whisper to each other so I can’t hear what they’re saying.  I don’t hear them opening his door.  It means they’re going to leave him in his cell for the day.  Good.  I’ll get him out later.  Next is Holtoy.  They open his door and he crawls out of his cell willingly, stealing a small, annoyed glance in my direction as he eats his crust of bread.  

Then it’s me.  

There are two guards that come to get us every morning.  One is short and fat, and the other one is slightly taller, slim, but muscular, and they both carry military grade guns over their shoulders.  They’ve never raised them to us.  They like to use their whips instead.  It makes me wonder if they would even know what to do with one if they needed to use it.  Normally, I wouldn’t be so bold to play around with the idea, but I’m just so fired up right now...so fucking ready to get out of here and go home before I end up lost for ten years instead of nearly seven.  

“Let’s go,” the short, fat one says in Arabic, as he puts the key in the lock and turns it.  I slowly approach the opening, as if I’m groggy as hell, before climbing out into the open.

Lennot coughs.

He hands me my bread.  I go to take it.

Then I punch him in the face and kick him in the nuts.  He falls to his knees.  His partner is baffled for a moment.  My eyes float to Holtoy.  Something seems to click inside of him immediately.  Half a second later he’s doing the same thing to the other guy.  It surprises me so much that I can hardly get my bearings.

“Sampson!” He yells, continuing to struggle with our friend.  He’s not as weak as his partner, won’t go down so easily.

I kick the fat one in the head, ensuring he won’t be waking up anytime soon, and grab his gun.  The whole process takes about five seconds, and then I’m pressing the gun into the side of the skinny bastards head, wanting to blow it off for all the fucking torture he’s put me through so far.  He likes to whip me more than the other one.  I feel my finger on the trigger, squeezing it.

I pull it.

“Jesus Christ!” Holtoy yells, letting go of the guy as he falls over.  His blood is everywhere, on me, on Holtoy.

I smile.

“What the hell, Sampson!” Holtoy screams at me.

“He deserved it,” I say, in a queer sort of voice.  

“Fuck...fuck...” He holds his head in his hands and walks in a circle.  “Just help me get the other one in the cage.”

I get his legs and Holtoy gets the chubby bastards neck and we toss him into my cell, making sure to lock him inside.  

“Did you ever stop to think about how many more insurgents there are in the big house?” Holtoy seethes.  “You...you don’t think do you?  I told you not to fuck around!  They’ll hang us by our dicks until they break off!”

“I don’t want to...FUCKING. DIE!” I point at my chest angrily and whimper slightly.  “I want to go the fuck home!”

It’s silent.  We’re standing across from each other, newly won guns in our arms, glaring at each other.  We shouldn’t be.  We should be canvasing the area, recollecting our military training the best we can so we can get to safety.  But Holtoy hates me.  I’ve ruined his perfect little world of Opium seed picking and playing prisoner to these sick bastards.  “They stole your freedom too,” I finally say.  “Don’t you want to go home?”

He hangs his head low.  “I don’t know...I don’t know anything else but this.  I’m good at this.  I can survive it.”

He’s just as fucked up as I am.  “C’mon,” I whisper.  “Just...help me, and we’ll be okay.  We don’t have to do this anymore.”

He looks back up at me moments later.  This time, his expression has changed.  For the first time since I’ve known him, I see hope in his eyes.  Like he really believes we can get out of this terrible country and go home.  “Do you really think we’ll get home,” he whispers.

“Yeah,” I nod.  “I do.”

He smirks.  “Then...I’m with you.”

We sneak out of the barn, cautiously.  I look around, and there is nobody else outside yet.  It’s too early for the bastards.  They’re still asleep in their plush king size beds, dreaming about the next Opium batch that will be getting picked.  Only, after today, they’ll never sell another batch.  “We have to go in there and kill them all,” I whisper back to him.  “That’s the only way out.  They’ll hunt us down otherwise.”

He presses his lips together for a moment.  “A-all right.”

He’s not as tough as he pretends to be.  He’s fucking scared.  I know I’ve sort of stepped up as leader.  It’s funny, because when it was just Lennot and I, he was always the one who had all the answers.  I’ve had to take his place because he’s too sick to help us, and I’ll hold my head up...do this for him and for Holtoy, so we can get the hell back to our lives.  

We creep across the grounds, and silently enter the home.  I slink along the walls, Holtoy right behind me, until we finally reach the stairs.  Confident there is nobody on the lower level, we head up to the second floor.  There are several bedrooms, all with their doors open part way.  One room has three men sleeping in cots, another has a man and woman sleeping soundly together, and...and the next one...

The next one has two children sleeping in it.  I stare at them.  I never counted on it, because I never saw them before.  Then again, I’ve never seen that man and his wife either.  I realize he’s probably the one who put up the money for Lennot, Holtoy, and I.  He’s an evil son of a bitch, and he’s teaching his children that it’s okay to treat a human being like a dog.

But I can’t kill one kid, let alone two of them.

My plan is failing.

“Sampson,” Holtoy hisses, nearly inaudibly.  

I motion him to look in the bedroom.  The hope on his face fades into nothing. I can tell he wasn’t counting on the kids being here either.  I consider shooting up everybody else, but then...those kids will be orphans.

I don’t know what to do.

And then...

Holtoy shoots them both, without a thought.  They don’t even have time to react.  They’re dead before they know what’s happened.  I don’t have time to think about how horrible it is, seeing them there in bed covered in their own blood.  I know my next move has to be shooting into the other two bedrooms before we both get killed.  I do it.  It takes ten minutes more, with Holtoy’s help.

Then...silence.

I sink down to the floor, and drop the gun at my side.  It’s over.  We can leave, get Lennot, and try to find help.  But I can’t...I can’t get it out of my head.  Kids.  We just killed two little kids asleep in their bed.

“Braeden.”

I can’t stop crying.

“Braeden come on.”

He’s tugging on my arm.  I tug away harshly.  “Why the...fuck...did you do that!” I scream.

“It had to be done.” He states, robotically.  “If we didn’t do it, the Taliban would have when they came to clean this mess up.”

“No,” I whimper.  “No!”

“Lets go!” He yells.  “Come on!”

I barely hear him.  All I can focus on is those kids.  It’s my fault they’re dead.  I pick up the gun, put its mouth under my chin...

“Braeden.”  

Abbey is standing there now, her hands on her hips.  “Braeden Alexander Sampson! Get that gun away from your face!”

I listen.  

“You’ve lost it,” Holtoy tells me, as he yanks the gun away from me, and slings it over his shoulder.  “Get it together.” He slaps my face a little bit.  “Come on, man.”

He’s reaching out for my hand, and this time...this time I take it.  I suddenly remember that I made a promise to my Abbey.  I can’t break it, no matter who is dead.  I didn’t pull the trigger. I walked away...

The death of those little kids shouldn’t be blamed on me.

We race back to the barn, and get Lennot out of his cage with the keys that were on the skinny guys body.  The short fat guard is awake now, screaming at us in Arabic to let him out.  Holtoy shoots him dead before I can stop him.  I can’t deny that the guy has gone just as crazy as I have...probably more, since he had it in him to kill two kids.  I can’t even look at him.  All I can do is drape Lennot’s arm over my shoulder, and walk him out of the barn.  He’s coughing, and weak, half asleep.

I don’t know how we’re supposed to get him out of here.  We need a truck, but there is no truck in sight.  

“Leave me here.”

Lennot’s voice is raspy and weak, and his body begins to give out.  I have to sink down to the ground with him, and prop him up against the barn.  “No.  We...we did it,” I cry.  “They’re dead.”

“All of them?”

He looks into my eyes and I know what he means.  “All of them,” I whisper.

He nods.  “I’m too sick to go on,” he tells me.  “Get yourself and Holtoy out.”

“I’m not leaving you,” I whimper.  “Not now.”

“You have to,” he tells me, his voice full of regret.  “I’ll slow you down, and there might be more insurgents around...” He trails off and coughs harshly for several moments.  

“James,” I say tenderly.

“Go home to your family,” he whispers.  “You’re a fighter, Sampson.  You’ve always been one.  I know you’ll make it.”

The fact that he might be dying hits me hard.  I fall back against the barn.  No.  Too much has happened.  Two kids are dead for a senseless reason, and Lennot doesn’t deserve to die too.  “I’ll carry you,” I sob.  “Holtoy can help.  We’ll get you out...”

“No.” He rasps.  “You won’t.”

“Come on.”  I force myself to get up and pull on his hand.  “Come on and get up!”

He falls over on his side, coughing so hard that it starts to sound like a rattle.  I see the blood coming out of his mouth next.  Then he starts gasping again.  “Get me some water, Holtoy!” I scream.

He doesn’t even answer me.

“Holtoy!” I whirl around.  He’s standing there, staring, like he knows what’s happening.  “Don’t just stand there!”

He shakes his head.  “He’s dying.”

“Braeden,” Lennot croaks.

r32;I kneel back down beside him, and pull his body up so he can rest against me.  He reaches out for my hand, and I sob harder as I take it.  

“Make...make sure you tell my family...that...that I love them,” he whispers.  

“You’re going to tell them,” I whimper.  “You’re going home.”

He struggles for another breath.  “Tell...them.”

“I...I will,” I say, my voice trembling.  “I promise.”

His eyes close after that.  He stops coughing moments later, and then...his body is still.  

No...

I frantically put my fingers to his neck and feel for a pulse.

Nothing.

“No.” I whimper.  “No...”  I sob and lean down into his chest, crying harshly into it.  I feel a consoling hand on my shoulder seconds later, and I know it’s Holtoy.  

“We’ll send them back for his body,” he whispers.

I just cry.  I cry forever, and Holtoy lets me.  Then, when I finally get a little control over myself, he helps me to my feet.  We don’t talk as we walk away from Lennots body, and I can’t look anywhere else than the dirt covered ground as we walk.  We reach a fence, the gate to this compound that has to be climbed.  Holtoy finds some rope, and we help each over to the other side.

I pause for a moment.  Despite the fact that my head is fogged up with all kinds of sick shit, I can’t deny that I know...I know I’m free.  Free...after nearly seven years of slavery.

“You gonna shoot yourself in the face if I give this back to you?”

I turn to Holtoy, the only other person in this world I can trust right now.  He’s handing me my gun back.  The gun that just took the lives of all those people.  “No,” I say softly.

He hands it to me and I sling it over my shoulder.  “North,” he tells me.  “I found two canteens in the house.  That’s our water supply until we find help.”

I nod, and follow him.

We walk for hours.  It’s a lonely, desolate road, and I know these people intended to be in the middle of nowhere growing their Opium.  I start to wonder if it was worth it, escaping, killing those kids.  The image of them keeps replaying itself over and over in my mind.  The blood and their bodies are so real...I have to stop walking, and start crying into my hands again, overcome with emotion because of it all.

“Here.”

Holtoy hands me a capful of water.  I take it, drink it, and hand it back to him with a trembling hand.

“We have to keep going.”

I nod.  I know.  I know we do, and I have to live so we can go back for Lennots body...so I can tell his family what happened to him.  I promised.

Just like I promised Abbey I was coming home.

I think of her, and only her, as I force myself to start walking again.  I start to wonder what she’s doing, how she’ll react when she finds out I’m alive.  If we’ll be able to be the same couple we used to be.  But I know Abbey.  I know how strong she is and how she can overcome this whole thing.  

We’ll get married.

We’ll move on with our lives and build a family.

“Shit, get down.”

I hear it too.  A car motor rumbling in the distance.  Holtoy pulls me to the side of the road with him, and draws his gun.  I do the same.  It gets closer, closer...then it’s right there in front of us.  It’s green, a Humvee.  I see men in camouflage.  One is sticking out of the top of the Humvee, looking through binoculars, as two others sit inside the vehicle.  I would recognize them anywhere. They are Army Reserves.

Americans.

“Hey!” Holtoy runs out as the truck passes us and waves his gun side to side.  

I run out from my spot at the side of the road and do the same thing, desperate for them to notice us.  “HEY!”

It stops.

God, God...is this it...

Is this really it?

“Don’t move!” The solider sticking out of the top of the Humvee immediately draws his rifle, and points it at the two of us.  “Place your weapons on the ground and put your hands on your head!”

We don’t protest.  We do exactly as we’re told so we don’t wind up dead.  The three soldiers get out of the Humvee next, and approach us cautiously.  I close my eyes...I know after this has all been sorted out we’ll be okay.  We’re safe.  We’re going home.

I’m coming home, Abbey.  The tears glide down my face as the reality starts to hit me like a ton of bricks.

I’m coming home.