CAPTURED

Chapter 7

Videos of the raid at Tanbough's International Hotel circulated on every media broadcasting platform across the globe. It was recorded as one of the most disturbing tragedies in recent years, and the first major attack on Karan's capital. Hundreds were injured and about seventy-eight were shot dead. The figures rose once authorities accounted for the many people who had gone missing - abducted without a trace.

As usual, the Prime Minister came out with a long speech and many promises. This did not sit well with the international community, as other nationals were affected. Rashed Kameel’s hand was forced to declare a state of emergency, and every security agency under his scope was tasked with finding those responsible and rescuing the civilians taken.

Back in New York, at the Revolutionary International News Network (RIC), all staff and board members were uneasy. Five of their people had been at the site of the bombing, and for days there was no news of their whereabouts. The public was angry, families were distraught, wives demanded their husbands, yet none had answers.

Mrs. Door went straight to the church to pray, consoling herself with faith. Darius and her husband stayed by the phone for news of her daughter - any news at all.

**********

Out in the desert, it was hell. One wrong move and someone would be gone from the world. Arsalan and some of his men took shelter in tents, while the hostages slept on the bare ground. At night it was chilly with nothing to manage the cold, and in the day, it felt like their skin was cooking under the raw sun.

The rebels tossed around pieces of bread as food. Each prisoner was given half a cup of water for an entire day. Stephanie flinched each time someone was shot and kept going no matter how many times she fell while helping others. The desert sand seemed endless, with no buildings in sight. She could only tend to her sore foot and chapped lips at night when it was bearable. Steph had always preferred the cold. Sometimes at night, when she couldn’t sleep, she kept her ears low for the odd cry of desert foxes. That lulled her to sleep.

One evening, while some rebels stood watch, a disturbing cry rose from the bunch lying on the ground. This startled the women awake. "No, please!" They shuffled in piles like hens in a coop, each trying to escape the grasp of three men. It was clear what would happen. Their despicable captors wanted s****l gratification - to be amused by suffering. The first three to be snatched were yanked and manhandled ferociously. Thin clothes were ripped and thrown off right before the others, with nothing but the night shading their bodies. One woman who fought too hard was stabbed in the neck out of rage. That was her end. She lay there, staring into the eyes of the man on top of her as she bled to death.

"s**t, she just killed my boner... ptoy!" her murderer spat on the corpse, ranting in his mother tongue.

"Hahaha, there are more where that came from. The night is too young to be this dull, my friend," his counterpart said while tying his pants.

By morning, the higher-ups heard what had happened. Labin said nothing, only scolding his men for leaving their post. When night fell the next day, the women lost the will to sleep, fearing what could happen. It wasn’t long before another group of men came for their turn. One even looked at a child indecently.

The mother tried to shield her at the expense of her own life.

"She’s only ten, I beg of you... She’s weak and has a fever. Please, take me instead. I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t hurt my baby." She was shoved aside, leaving the girl vulnerable. The others dared not intervene, fearing a fate far worse than r**e.

Just as the assailant reached for the girl, a hand slapped his away. "What kind of sick f**k are you, lusting after a ten-year-old whose life is already hanging by a thread?" Stephanie damned the odds and crawled in front of the girl.

"The f**k is this one? Haha, I think she wants to die tonight," the men mocked.

Stephanie was slapped for speaking. "You also want me to f**k you too, you black goat?" the man spat at her. But after bearing the pain, Stephanie straightened, glaring daggers at him.

"I pity the woman who gave birth to trash like you, thinking you’d grow into a productive member of society. If she knew the kind of life you live, you’d have been drowned in the toilet." She spat the words, as vulgar as she could.

The soldier froze, eyes widening as the insult sank in. "How dare you!" He struck the defiant prisoner again and again. "I’ll enjoy killing you after I turn your insides into mush!" Stephanie was thrown to the ground. Accepting her fate, she fought back - one steady kick and the man was on the floor holding his crotch.

"What are you waiting for, shoot this b***h!" he yelled at his comrades, who were too busy laughing. Irked by the embarrassment, he snatched a gun from one of them and lifted it high.

"I wouldn’t do that if I were you," a superior cut in at the last moment. Murad Malheen was by far a better character than Labin, and another close ally of the General.

"Major," the men accorded him the same respect as Labin.

"Take the girl and her mother to my tent. This one here will warm the General’s bed tonight. Do you understand what that means?" he inclined his head.

"Yes, Major." That meant none of them was allowed to touch the dark-skinned girl who had just insulted them. But they worried not, for the General was no respecter of women.

And just like that, Stephanie survived another near-death experience. She was bound by the hands and ankles and hurled over a man’s shoulder, courtesy of how feisty she had been. The men dumped her on the floor of the General’s tent, leaving her with a short message: "Count yourself unlucky if you’re not dead by morning."

Minutes after they left, Stephanie struggled to sit up. "Auch!" She winced. Her nose was healing all wrong, painfully crooked. When she recovered, her eyes swept over the enclosure: a radio device, some bottles of wine, cases, books, and water... a bowl full of water.

"Water..." She hopped to the small table at the far end. Carefully, she lowered her head to take a sip, but spilled everything when that gravelly voice startled her.

"Did my men say you could make yourself comfortable?" Arsalan hung his outer robe on a hook. Stephanie panted heavily, recovering from the splash. She was wet and dirty, sitting in the devil’s tent.

They say Arsalan Nagi, the feared General of the Kaboos, never showed his face. And now Stephanie was going to find out if that was true or not...