Cannon

RYVER The sun beat down on Ryver, making her body sweat heavily, but that wasn’t going to stop her from doing her due diligence. She had been sent to the Central African Republic with Adam and Luke McKay, two of the most renowned doctors from the Ivory Institute. It was an honor even to be asked to join these men, and she wasn’t going to make a mockery of it. She was the only woman on the trip, and she was going to make other female doctors like her proud. Thousands of children within the republic had been orphaned by an overarching disease that was capable of quickly penetrating the lives of those living in poverty. It was a crisis that very few within the Western world probably cared to know about. Ryver and the McKays moved from village to village giving the children medical attention and distributing vaccines as quickly as possible. They weren’t exactly welcome within every region, so they had to be efficient and discreet. As the sun dipped below the jungle canopy, Ryver sat in her hut, breathing deeply. Her anxiety had been high during the day due to armed men attacking the village they were in. The men weren’t freedom fighters. They were marauders who stole what resources they needed to survive. Focusing on the children and their medical needs, Ryver had been able to keep her blinders on until that point. Someone had alerted them, and they had to escape through a back alley, leap over a fence, and get into the vehicles or have all of their medicine and supplies taken. Ryver breathed out hard, sitting on her cot. She thought about her dad. Perhaps her father would be satisfied by this turn of events, having to tap into the military genetics she had forgone ages ago. He had wanted her to go into the military just like him and her mother before she had died. But she couldn’t leave her father for so long. If she were on her own, at least she could visit him whenever she needed. It was late and she should try to rest. She lay down and practiced a few breathing methods that often helped when she was restless. She had just dozed off when four men stormed into the hut. She rose from her bed, confused and dizzy. “What the f**k is going on?” Wordlessly, one of the men grabbed her by the hair. She sliced him away with a chop to the forearm, then pushed away another man who tried to grab her by the waist. She stumbled toward the hut door, only wearing her pajama pants and T-shirt. Another man came at her. She punched him, then two came at her. One grabbed her around the waist while the other took her into a headlock. The man with his arm wrapped around her neck whispered into her ear. “Behave, then you will survive.” Naturally, Ryver did not believe this claim. She kicked the man’s toes who had her by the waist while punching the man in the gut who had just spoken to her. He did not move and instead twisted her around by one arm and brought a knife to her throat. Her fear had returned, and she swore she could feel her heart slamming into her ribs. “Do as I say,” the man whispered. “If you behave, you will not die. Listen to me.” She was outnumbered. If she even tried to fight, which she’d trained for so she wouldn’t be scared in a war-torn country, they had weapons and would likely kill her before she could get any help. She complied, sliding her hands behind her back for them to cuff. They forced her quietly into the back of a truck with a blindfold over her face. She wondered what had happened to the McKay’s and tried not to panic. She sat in darkness for hours, bouncing up and down on the road, not saying a word, but planning, wondering, worrying. Her mind had been frantically rattling when they finally stopped. The men roughly removed her from the truck, taking her into a small, enclosed area. Ryver could smell rust and s**t. One of the men removed her blindfold, then threw her down to her knees. It took her a second to adjust to the tiny lightbulb one of the men was holding in the corner. She looked around, trying to study her surroundings quickly. It was a shed or a shack of sorts, not particularly distinguishable. There were chains behind her and a pile of what was probably the source of the s**t smell. Christ, if her father could see her now. Why did she do this again? Oh, yeah, because she really wanted to help those in need. Her dad would encourage her to help somewhere in the U.S. but she knew the entire world needed help. f**k, what a situation to be in. As if reading her thoughts, one of the men took out a handheld video camera. Another forced her to sit up straight by pulling at her hair. The man who pointed to the camera bellowed instructions. “Tell your government you’ve been kidnapped, and we will only let you go if they send ten million dollars to this bank account.” Another man held up a sheet of paper with a row of letters and numbers scribbled out. She blinked heavily, trying to read the letters as she recited her pleas multiple times. Ryver could not believe the situation she was in. She did not cry in the video, despite the men’s encouragement to be more emotional. She simply wasn’t able to – she was too busy trying to survive. Somehow, she’d been able to close up emotionally. She didn’t know how, but her survival instincts took control. Stay alive. Stay alive. “That’s good enough,” the man holding the camera said as he closed the viewfinder and packed it away. “You stay here, and we will be back. Remember to behave.” “Wait,” she hollered. “Where are the two doctors who were with me?” The leader turned to her, face stoic. “Dead.” Her knees nearly buckled. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This part of the African republic was supposed to be relatively safe. No rebel forces fighting for control of the government and no ruling drug lords.