Emily woke up to gunfire. Blinking she turned her head to see what looked like hell on earth. There was a bunch of small fires everywhere with one big fire off to her right. She was laying on the ground and the first thought that popped into her head was “Where’s my seat.”

Looking around she saw the wreckage of the helicopter spread out in a large area. She spotted someone walking around in the wreckage. She took a deep breath to call out for help when the figure stopped and fired his rifle at something on the ground. It was then she noticed that he was carrying an AK.

“That was a good guy he just shot!” Emily thought to herself suddenly scared. She froze on the ground too afraid to move. She watched the guy walk closer. After a few steps, he paused. He raised his gun again and fired at something on the ground. “No!” Emily thought angrily.

Before she knew what she was doing she was up and running towards the man with the machine gun. She drove her fist towards his head and to her horror, her hand went right through his head. Sickened she watched the man fall off her fist.

She was still looking down at what was left of the man she just killed when she heard someone yell in Arabic. “There, that's her. Do it now.”

Emily looked toward the voice and saw a flash of blue light.

At first, she thought the really bad music of people chanting was just a dream but when she opened her eyes it was still there. “Ah excellent she's awake we can begin.” A very prim and proper British accented voice said.

Emily tried to move but something was holding her down. She could move her fingers but something was pinning her hand down palm up. She tried to lift her head and the rest of her body but nothing move. A feeling of panic spread throughout her body as she struggled to move. She could move her eyes but her head was slightly tilted back so all she could see was the ceiling which looked like rough brownish gray stone. She tried to look down her nose to see if she could spot the person who had talked to her but all she could see was more of the stone.

She struggled for a few seconds before a face appeared above her. “Very good the spell is holding.” The man said above her. He looked like an upper-class Afghani with his black hair slicked back and his small black-rimmed glasses. He slapped her across the face with a big smile on his face.

Emily went from terror to rage in a split second as he slapped her again. She pushed against whatever was holding her with all her strength and for a split second, she felt something give a little.

“Sir, let's get this done. I don't think it's wise to waste time with a super like her. She has a habit of surviving when she shouldn't.” Another British accent voice said. This voice had a lower class accent it sounded similar to Rag's accent but slightly different.

“I've measured her strength she is not going to break out of my spell. She's just a Brute. A powerful and heavy one at that but still a Brute. She's not getting any stronger.” The man with an upper-class British accent said looking away from her for a second before turning back to her. He slapped her across the face one more time and smiled.

“I'm gonna kill you,” Emily said in a rage-filled voice.

“No dear your not.” The upper class accented voice said in mock sadness.

He stepped away for a few seconds out of her field of view before she heard him step back to her left side. She watched as he arm came in to view with a long wicked looking knife. She felt him grab her shirt and then she felt the biting cold as the knife slide behind the shirt on her bare chest. She heard the sound of her shirt being cut.

Emily exploded in fear as she struggled to move. She strained against her bonds feeling them give slightly on her right arm again. She renewed her struggle focusing on her right arm. All sort of fear inspired evil thoughts ran through her head. She kept coming up with scenarios. Each scenario was worse than the one before it.

“You know I thought all American woman were bigger than that. Her chest is flatter than my third wife.” Mused the lower class British accented voice giving her greatest fear more strength.

“Americans are into bigger butts now.” The Upper accented voice said as he finished cutting her shirt. “Please, if you're would, pass the bird and my athame to me.” Emily heard a squawk from a bird then felt something with a lot of feathers on her left breast. She frantically tried to move but her bonds were too strong. “Right just hold the bird over her heart. You know after this I should keep her instead of selling her. She would make a great concubine.”

“If you bring home another slave you first wife is going to kill her. Even if she's an American.” The lower class accented voice sounded amused.

“Your right, my wife would kill her but it would be fun to watch.” The upper accented voice said sounding amused making Emily even madder. The other man chuckled. “Just hold the bird steady. You know if I called it training my wife would see the financial advantage and won't kill her right away. You ready?”

“Yes.” The other man replied.

“If she survives this I will take her. I will make sure she knows her place then sell her. A young trained American slave would make a lot of money.” The upper-class accent man said.

“It's your household.” The other man said unconcernedly.

“Let's begin.”

Above her, Emily saw an odd looking gray knife come into her field of vision then fall. The knife was pointed downwards towards her chest. She strained with all her might against the bonds holding her as she saw the knife fall towards her chest. She heard a high pitched keening come from the bird right before she felt a sharp pain above her left breast. Pain and panic gave her strength as she strained against her bonds on her left arm.

“Wow her Brute shield goes deep into her.” said the upper class accented voice sounding strained as he struggled to push the knife deeper into her chest. “I can't wait to have it.”

Emily screamed in pain and anger and struggled to break her bonds. She felt the bonds around her right arm break as the knife slid deeper into her chest. She reached over and grabbed the top of the knife around a man's fist and squeezed. For the first time in her life, she knew what it was to hate someone. She had never felt so much anger in her life as she did now. She wanted to cause him pain and make him suffer. Emily felt the bones in his hand shatter. In her rage, she squeezed harder feeling the bones in his hand pulverize. A part of her was horrified but another deeper part was still so angry so filled with hate that she was wanted to do more to the man. She wanted to hear him scream.

The upper class accented voice man screamed in agony. Emily felt all her bonds break. Sitting up she ripped the knife out of her chest and pulled the dead bird off the knife. Shaking in rage, she plunged the knife into the hateful man's forehead. The man's screaming stopped forever.

Beside her, she heard a wordless cry of anger. She turned to see the second man screaming wordlessly at her in rage. He was huge. He was at least six foot tall and maybe half that wide. He turned around and grabbing something from a table behind him. When he turned around he was smiling and in his hands was Righteous. He raised her tomahawk with both his hands over his head and took a step towards her.

For a split second, she saw her death. There was no time to move out of the way. No time to do anything else. She froze as he took a second step forward and tripped. He fell forward and Righteous landed in her lap. Blinking in surprise Emily picked it up and slid off the stone table. She smiled as the man looked up in fear. He brought his hands up to protect himself as Emily quickly raised Righteous over her hand and brought it down on his head in retribution. Righteous cut right through his forearm and into his head sinking deep into his skull.

“You can't use the Cat Lady's weapon against its owner.” She told the dead man breathing deeply. She flinched as the cut on her chest flared up in pain. Looking down she saw a small cut over her left breast. The knife had not gone all that deep into her chest even though it felt like it. She had about an inch wide cut and maybe about a half inch deep. It wasn't bleeding too much but it hurt a lot. There was a small trickle of blood running down her chest. She shrugged out of her torn shirt and used it as a bandage. A part of her worried that her healing ability had not kicked in yet.

“Not like I can use the shirt again.” She thought to herself covering herself up with her arm.

Emily paused to take stock. She was half naked with just her BDU pants. Her feet were bare. Both her boots and her socks were missing. “Hope the bastards like smelling my stinky feet.” She thought angrily.

She was in some kind of cave with a couple of propane camping lanterns lighting the space up. The music was coming from an old eighties style boombox. There was a poorly constructed wood door at one end of the room. She was leaning on a stone table. There was an old toolbox with rusted out tools next to where the big man had grabbed her tomahawk from.

She headed towards the big dead guy and pulled Righteous free from the dead body. She bent down looking for a gun but she didn't find any. She did find her little black knife. It was on the dead guy's waist and it was silver. She didn't recognize it until she touched the knife and it turned black.

Smiling she slide the knife between her belt and her pants. She grabbed his wallet from his pants but there was nothing in it but his Pakistan driver's license and a few Pakistan rupees. She put both into her pants pocket. His feet were too big so Emily left his shoes alone. His shirt was too bloody to wear so she abandoned it and went to check out the other dead guy.

He was laying on the other side of the stone table. Emily paused to check out the knife that was buried in his forehead because it looked strange. Touching it with her finger she noticed that it was made out of stone. Shaking her head she pulled her finger back she looked him over. He had no weapons on him but he did have a wallet and driver's license like his friend but it was from Yemen. He also had some business cards, a free sandwich card from a food store she had never heard of before, and a credit card. She put everything into her pants pocket.

She paused by the dead pink and white bird by the table. “Sorry little guy.” She whispered to it.

She stripped the second dead guy of his belt and tired it around her chest to hold her torn shirt, that she was using as a bandage, to her chest. Sitting the dead body up she took it's shirt off and put it on. She was not going around naked. It was too dangerous. She looked at his shoes but they were too big as well. Sigh in frustration she walked to the door barefoot.

She stopped by the door to listen but aside for some very faint noise from either a radio or a TV she heard nothing. Gently she turned the doorknob, trying to be as quiet as possible, with her left hand while holding righteous with her right. Biting her lip she yanked the door opened and jumped out of the room with Righteous held high. She ended up in a dusty poorly lite dirt tunnel. To her right was a dead end with a rough rock wall. To her left was a tunnel that was about twenty feet long ending in another poorly constructed door. There was one other door on the right-hand side halfway up the hallway. Emily decided to check it out first.

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Leaning up against the right-hand wall she crept up to the door. The door was locked so she slapped the doorknob knocking it inwards and pushed the door open with her foot. The room was dark and with what light that shined into the room she saw only boxes and what looked like a broken down motorcycle. The motorcycle was dusty and in pieces, so she left it alone. Gently she closed the door and made her way towards the last door at the end of the hallway.

As she got closer she heard some noises from behind it. Pausing she listen for a few seconds before she was able to figure out what she heard was a soccer game. She tried the doorknob and found the door unlocked and gently she eased the door open with her foot. Weak afternoon sunlight flooded into the tunnel. Emily waited until her eyes were adjusted before looking through the door.

The door led to another hallway but this hallway was made from man-made stone. There was a red and black carpet on the floor. The hallway dead-ended into another hallway at a ninety-degree angle. There was one room to the right where the sunlight was coming from. The doorway was made up of some colorful beads. It was from that room that she heard the sounds of the soccer game being played on what sounded like a TV.

She was halfway down the hallway when she heard a bunch of people started cheering. Someone had scored a goal. She froze as she feared someone would leave the room for the commercial but no one did. There was a lot of talking and laughter but no one left the room. Emily eased herself right up to the edge of the door. She waited until the soccer game started up again before she risked a quick peek into the room.

The room had a bunch of guys sitting on a couch and a lazy boy chair watching a really old TV. She cursed to herself and raised her head to look upwards for a few seconds.

“To clear the room or not to clear the room.” Emily thought to herself weighing her options. “If I leave them alone and sneak out without anyone hearing me I might be able to hide from them until I figure out how to find my way back home. But, this is their home turf and I have no idea where I am. I might be able to hide for a little while but not forever. If I clear the room I have to be fast and keep it as quiet as possible. Any noise and I could bring an army down on me. Or that could be all of them and once they're all gone I could take my time escaping.”

A flash of the two dead men laughed at her and joking about making her into a slave flashed through her mind and felt a wave of anger. “Am I a mouse or am I a super soldier.” She asked herself squeezing Righteous in her hand. “Screw it.” She whispered out loud and spun into the room swinging Righteous in a deadly arch. Seconds later they were all dead and Emily was standing in the middle of the room pulling her little black knife from a dead body’s chest. She was breathing hard and shaking but she was still alive and unharmed.

She spun around in fear as someone pounded on the other side of the wall and yelled in Urdu. “Keep the noise down we are filming!”

She slid her little black knife and Righteous under her belt and grabbed an AK rifle from the corner of the room. She checked to make sure the safety was off and that the magazine was full before heading out of the room. Brazenly she made her way down the hallway to the other room. She stopped just outside of the room to listen as someone shouted about how it was ok to make slaves from inferior women. Women capture in the holy war were to be slaves to the victors. The man spoke about how as long as they kept the woman from getting pregnant they could sell her later on. Emily realized that the man was making a recruiting video. Join the OCS and capture some woman and keep them as slaves. If a soldier wants to use drugs its ok as long as he fights in the holy war.

Disgusted Emily spun into the room not caring anymore about keeping quiet in her anger. There were three men inside the room. One was standing in front of a huge OCS flag. He was the one doing the talking. Emily raised her rifle and pulled the trigger. His head snapped backward and blood from his skull sprayed on the flag. He dropped bonelessly to the ground.

The second was a man standing behind a cheap digital camera on a tripod. He whipped around knocking the camera around to point in her direction in shock. Emily put a bullet into his face. He dropped dead. The last was a man sitting behind a bunch of computer monitors. He was reaching for a pistol on the desk beside him when Emily's next bullet found him in the side of the head. He fell off his chair to land awkwardly on the ground. Emily put another bullet into his back but he didn't move.

She looked over at the room not seeing any more threats she tried to relax but her anger was still too strong. She closed her eyes but in her mind, all she saw was the man who tried to kill her in the cave. His words resonated loudly in her head. She clenched her fists but her anger was too overwhelmingly powerful.

Looking up she at the dead man shouted in Urdu. “We are your mothers. We are your sisters. We are your daughters. Why do you hurt us?” Emile said looking at the dead man in front of the OCS flag. In her mind, she saw the man with the upper-class British accent laughing at her. “We are all God's children. You mocked my body and tried to make me feel shame. I do not. I will not! You called me a slave. You wanted to barter my body, my freedom, and my very life away to the highest bidder. To steal what is not yours to take. I am here to tell you I am not for sale. I am not your slave. I am no one's slave! Know this, a woman you called a slave has killed you today. Burn. In. Hell!”

Seeing the camera in front of her still pointing at her Emily lashed out in rage shattering it with the butt of her rifle sending it crashing to the floor. She took a few calming breaths and turned towards the room again. She was no one's slave.

“That was stupid Em. If there is anyone left they have to know I am free. I need to find a way to get out of here.” Emily told herself. She looked around the room. The advice from the Chief in the Navy Seals came back to her when she found herself looking at the computers. She looked around and found a backpack in the corner. Walking over to it she picked it up and headed back towards the computers.

She pulled out one of the desktop computers and ripped the outer shell of the computer apart with her bare hands and yanked the hard drive out and dumped it into the backpack. There were two other desktop and one laptop computer. She ripped the desktops apart and pulled both of the hard drives. She looked at the laptop and froze for a few second an idea popping into her head.

“It can't be that simple. Can it?” She thought to herself pushing the dead body off the chair and righted the chair so she could sit down. The laptop was opened to a Pakistani news website. Looking down at the keyboard she was surprised to find the keys completely different than an English keyboard. All the keys were in Arabic. She slowly typed in the address to Warner airfield and to her delight she not only found the address she found the phone number. Grabbing a black marker she wrote the number on her arm. Looking around she went to the dead guy on the floor beside her. She went through his pockets and found a cell phone but it was locked. Cursing she went to the dead camera guy and went through his pockets.

“Yes.” She whispered as found an ancient flip phone. She flipped it up and to her delight, it did not have a password lock and there was a dial tone. She was typing the phone number into the phone when she heard a noise coming from the door.

Looking up she spotted someone standing in the doorway. She brought her rifle up but at the last second, she didn't shoot. There was a boy about the age of eight or so standing in the doorway looking scared. They both stood there frozen until the boy turned and ran away. Emily cursed and ran to the door but the boy was gone. She retreated back into the room cursing herself for not being able to shoot the child.

She looked down at her phone and quickly pressed the phone icon. “Come on. Come on.” Emily whispered as she paced back and forth as she waited on the other end to pick up.

“You have reached Warner airfield this call is being monitored. If you know your party's extension please dial it now. If you're are looking for ….” Emily listened to the recorded message while she placed the laptop into the backpack. “If you wish to speak to an operator please press zero.” She pressed zero.

“This is Sergeant Muller at Warner Airfield this call is being recorded. How may I direct your call.” The operator said on the other end of the line.

As he was talking Emily walked towards the window to look out. “My name is Private Emily Emerson. I am being held prisoner….” Emily's voice trailed off as she looked out the window. She was on the second floor of a building. Below, in a courtyard with high walls surround it, were several pickup trucks with heavy machine guns mounted on them. Parked next to the other pickup trucks was a pickup truck with an SK cannon in the back. They were a bunch of people running around arming the guns on the pickup trucks. As she watched they finished loading the SK cannon. Emily cursed and dove to the ground as all the guns opened up.

She held her head as the world exploded above her. She squeezed her eyes shut and held her hands over her ears. The barrage went on for a very long time before it tapped away. Emily opened her eyes and looked at her phone and cursed again. She had accidentally crushed it in her hand. She turned back towards the window. The window was a gigantic hole where she could see out.

“They are reloading. It's now or never!” She thought, psyching herself up. She jumped up and raced towards the hole where the window used to be and jumped through. She sailed through the air and landed about ten feet from the first pickup truck. She raised her rifle and unloaded on anyone she saw.

Several people dropped before her rifle ran out of ammo. Dropping her rifle she pulled Righteous and her little black knife from her belt. Racing forward she ran to the truck with the SK cannon. They were rushing to reload the cannon as Emily ran into the truck knocking it over on its side sending the men on the back of the truck flying backward. She grabbed the underside another truck and flipped it over as well.

She felt the bee stings of bullets hitting her. She turned towards the other trucks and raised Righteous. It was a slaughter. None of the enemies were supers and they were nothing against her rage. Her tomahawk slice through metal as easily as it did through flesh and bones. One of the truck tried to leave but Emily raced after it tipping it over. In less than a minute they were all dead.

Emily cursed as she realized that all of the trucks were either shot up, slice apart, on their side, or in some other way completely useless. She inspected the dead looking for a cell phone but didn't find any that wasn’t locked. She did pick up another rifle which she slung over her shoulder. When she checked the last pickup truck she cursed again when she found nothing useful. She decided to check the small buildings that faced the courtyard. In the second building, she found a workshop that looked like it could be a bomb factory. Sitting on a table was a bunch of mortar shells tied together with copper wires. Sitting next to it was a burner phone with a phone number taped to it. The phone was plugged into a charger.

“Bingo,” Emily said smiling. She turned the phone on and typed in the number written on her forearm. She listened as the phone rang. When the recording started up again Emily turned back to the door. Leaning by the wall she peeked out. The courtyard was quiet and still.

“This is Sergeant McDouglas from Warner airfield. Your call is being recorded. How may I direct your call.” The operator asked over the phone.

“This is Private Emily Emerson. I was shot down in a helicopter with Seal Team four and I am now being held, prisoner.” Emily said into the phone. She heard a metal bang and she looked out the door again. She saw movement by the pickup truck with the SK Cannon mounted on the back. She couldn’t quite see the far end of the cannon because of the wall of another building was in the way. Frowning she leaned forward to get a better view. In the wreckage, she saw the boy who saw her before messing with the SK cannon. As she watched, the gun swung around to point towards her.

“Don't you dare.” She yelled out to the boy. He paused to look at her then fired the cannon. The round cut through the building in front of her before passing through the wall where she was hiding behind. Something slammed into her hip knocking her backward. She screamed in pain as she fell onto her back. She grabbed her hip and cried out in agony. She looked down at her hip and all she saw was a mess of bright angry red meat with shards of bright white bone fragments. Her left leg was barely attached to her body and lay at a funny angle.

She rocked back and forth on the ground crying holding what was left of her hip. She looked up and through the hole in the wall made by the cannon. She saw the boy load the cannon again. He looked at her again before he fired the cannon.

Emily felt the round wiz past above her to explode somewhere behind her. She looked around and saw her rifle lying just outside her reach. With a grunt of pain and pulled herself closer to her rifle. She was able to grasp the muzzle with the tips of her fingers and pull the rifle closer to her. Once it was close enough she spun the rifle around and forced her upper body upwards. The boy froze in the middle of rearming the cannon. He jumped down from the wrecked truck and turned to run.

Emily put two round into his retreat back. The boy fell forward to lay still. Emily lay back down and scream in anger and pain at what she had done. She slammed her rifle on the ground shattering it. She tossed the pieces of her rifle at the ruined wall. Some of the pieces broke right through the wall. She let her head fall back closing her eyes as she did so. She told herself to get up or she was going to die but she couldn’t find the strength to move anymore.

She must have fallen asleep because she woke up to the sounds of a helicopter hovering overhead. She felt really thirsty and dizzy. She looked out the door and saw several people repelling down a black rope. She raised her hand weakly and tried to cry out for help but no sound came out of her mouth. She coughed trying to clear her dry throat and tried again.

“Help.” She called out barely louder than a whisper.

It was loud enough to get the attention of one of the soldiers. “I got a live one over here!” He called out running over to Emily. “My name is Sergeant Powell. I am with the United States Air Force Pararescue. I am here to help.”

The End Of Book 1

Emily's adventures will continue in book 2