Page 95 of Fade (Fighting Fate)

He laughed quietly. “Isn’t that the million-dollar question? From the little Arabic I know, I’ve come to the conclusion they’re a rebel group fighting for their own side.”

That didn’t surprise me either. It seemed to be the way here. So many different beliefs. So many different opinions on who should be in charge. “What do they want us for?”

The man scoffed. “They trade us. To whoever has what they need. They don’t care. The Daesh. The FSA. The YPG. The Kurds. The UN. Anyone.”

“That include ransom?”

He laughed. “Why? You think you’re worth something? Don’t hold your breath. We all thought that coming in here. They get more of what they want from trading us to our enemies.”

“How long have you been here?” I asked, not sure I wanted to know the answer.

He sighed. “I lost count. Maybe three months?”

My stomach sank. Three months. By my rough calculations, it had already been over four months since I left Amy. If I hadn’t been hit, I would be on base counting down the last few weeks until I was going to see her again. I couldn’t let her down. I needed to get out of here.

The figure on the other side of the bars shifted suddenly, his body becoming tense and alert before quickly shuffling away from me. Clanking metal rang out across the room, and a door screeched slowly open.

I knew the instant the guy appeared in the doorway and looked at me that he was there for me. I just hoped it wasn’t for anything bad.

A girl with a black scarf around her head trailed in behind him, her head hung low as she carried a bucket to her chest. The guy barked orders at her and she rushed forward, pausing at the metal doorway that locked me in. I straightened, my mind working hard as I watched the guy unlock the latch to let her in.

She approached me slowly, her eyes scared and wary. Placing the bucket on the ground, she knelt and pointed to my head. “I

clean.”

Desperation flared. I nodded. “You speak English?” I asked, softly, just loud enough for her to hear.

Her eyes met mine as she raised the wet cloth. “Some.”

I sucked in a sharp breath as the sting took over my senses. Just how deep was the fucking gash?

The girl paused. “Sorry.”

Licking my lips, I tried to force my head to come up with a solution. A way she could help me out. “It’s okay. Do you know where I am?”

The confusion in her eyes told me she didn’t understand what I was saying. Frustration flared.

“Where am I?” I said, slowly.

Her eyes brightened, and she gave me a slight nod. “Raqqa.”

Okay, so I was still in Raqqa. How was I going to get a message to my team, though?

She lowered the cloth into the water again, swishing it around before squeezing it out again. Her eyes flickered to the badge on my uniform.

My pulse started picking up. Could she help me? “Can you get a message to someone for me?”

Her eyes turned confused again, causing my frustration to soar. The guard barked something at her, making her flinch before quickly resuming her cleaning job.

“Help me,” I said, forcing her to meet my gaze.

She continued to dab the wet cloth on my forehead, but her eyes held fast to mine. I had no idea what she was thinking, or even if she understood what I’d said. She gave me no clue at all.

“Please . . . ” I said, desperation clear. “Find—”

My words were cut short by a barrage of Arabic from the guard. The girl’s eyes widened, and she immediately dropped the cloth into the bucket and stood, scooping it up and scurrying out past the guard and out of sight.

He stared at me for a few seconds before spitting on the ground near my feet and slamming the door closed again.

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