hear anything, actually—but she could feel it. It seemed like an ominous warning, as if this deluge wasn’t a simple passing thunderstorm but something much more dangerous.
The claps of thunder continued, gaining in strength and frequency as the sound waves rippled through her body. Rain fell harder and faster, and she cursed the idiots who decided to build the camp at the bottom of a valley between two rows of high, sharp mountains. Her worried gaze drifted to the murky water rushing through the camp and across her outdoor cell. In a flash of lightning, she could see the shoddily built cells where the rest of the prisoners were kept. All of the prisoners inside—a mix of men, women and even young children—were standing on whatever they could find, desperately trying to get out of the quickly rising water.
She couldn’t hear them crying out for help, but she could see the panic in their eyes as the lightning flashed and thunder rumbled through the valley. A pair of headlights drew her attention away from the cells to the cinderblock building where the guards lived. Men in uniforms, most hastily dressed, were fleeing the building and piling into the vehicles parked nearby.
They’re abandoning us to die here.
Realizing this was about to get really bad, she tucked the makeshift knife into the back pocket of her dirty and ripped pants. Her worst fear was happening. It was a flash flood. All that rain was flushing down the mountains into the valley. She had seen floods like this before and knew how destructive they could be. There was a good chance the camp would be wiped off the map before it was over.
The storm raged, growing stronger and more violent with each passing minute. She kept a wary eye on the rising water level and tried to estimate how much time she had before the water was high enough to drown her. Frantic, she tugged on her chains, but it was futile. She couldn’t get loose.
The wind kicked up, swirling around the camp and flinging water and trash. She covered her face with her arm, shielding herself from the stinging water and garbage flying through the air. The water was over her ankles now, inching up her calves, and she started to shake with adrenaline and fear. The temperature of the water didn’t help matters any. She hissed as the frigid water soaked through her pants.
A pair of headlights suddenly beamed right in her direction. She peeked out from the cover of her arm to see the last two guards at the camp outside the fence. They seemed to be arguing, shouting and gesturing angrily. It became clear that one of them wanted to take her, probably because she was worth more alive than dead, and the other one wanted to get the hell out of the valley as quickly as possible. The one who wanted to take her won the argument, and he unlocked the gate and ran toward her, his boots sloshing water and mud in his wake.
When he got close, she tried to evade him. He was taller and stronger, better fed and rested, and he made quick work of snatching her by the arm and shoving her against the pole. He pressed his forearm to her throat, daring her to move, and she relented. While he fumbled with a keychain, she slipped her right hand into the back of her pants and gripped the shiv. Once she was unchained from the pole, she had to strike. It was the only chance she would get, and one against two were the best odds she could face.
He unshackled her cuffs from the longer chain attached to the pole and threw the chain aside. With a burst of energy, she struck, driving the sharpened tip of the shiv into his chest. By some miracle, she missed his ribs and slid straight into his heart. She felt the muscular organ give, and the shiv kicked back into her palm as his heart began to beat frantically. As flash of lightning revealed his shocked face, and she felt a small pang of guilt for taking his life.
But only a small one.
Taking his weapon from his hip holster, she kicked him in the gut with her bare foot and sent him tumbling backward into the filthy water to die. Without a second of hesitation, she turned toward the guard now rushing into the pen, flicked off the safety and fired four rounds, burying each one