Page 3 of Rescuing Baylee

The Taliban guards jerked him off the table and marched him out. Baylee cringed, praying she would see her friend again.

A little while later, they brought Trent in. Baylee barely recognized the man. He’d been shot through the thigh and the abdomen, and he had the pallor of death. He’d been beaten with something, his face a mask of blood, and she thought he had a concussion.

“We need a doctor for him,” Baylee said, turning to face the man who spoke such perfect English. The man’s brown eyes were hard and cold. “He has a concussion probably and we aren’t able to stop the bleeding in his leg. We need a surgeon for that.”

“Put a bandage on it. He doesn’t have to live long.”

“Why are you doing this,” Olivia asked. “We’re trying to help your people.”

The man’s face closed down and fury darkened his eyes as he towered over diminutive Olivia. “No, you are trying to undermine a culture that has been in place for thousands of years. You have no business being here. You have no business bringing your ways to our country.”

“And yet, you have obviously benefitted from our ways,” Olivia said, lifting her chin. “I can’t even hear an accent in your voice. Obviously, you’ve been educated by…”

The man snarled into Olivia’s face. The fist came from out of nowhere and slammed into Olivia’s face. Baylee watched her crumple to the floor, unconscious. The man turned and stalked away.

Baylee half-carried Olivia back to the side of the room, where they’d been sitting. There was a growing swath of purple on her cheek. Baylee grabbed an ice pack, activated it, and propped Liv’s head on the floor on a bundled towel. Then she sat with her, waiting for her to wake.

Several times, the Taliban brought in injured. Baylee did as much as she could for them on her own, but she knew everything she did was for naught. As soon as they left the room, the men were tortured again, and it made her sick.

The terrorists at the door watched her every move, speaking softly between themselves in Pashtun, and she didn’t like the feeling of their gazes on her. It creeped her out, and she knew, without a doubt, that she was in danger. At one point, she asked if she could go down the hallway to the bathroom, but the men laughed and motioned for her to go in the corner. Then they laughed again when they saw how uncomfortable the thought made her.

Her face flaming, Baylee went back to Olivia. She didn’t want to pee her pants, but she would wait as long as possible.

Then Olivia began to rouse. Baylee brushed her short blond hair away from her face. “Oh, thank God you’re awake. You’ve been out for hours.”

“Trent,” Olivia asked.

Baylee shook her head. “They carried him out. I doubt he’s still alive.”

The way the bullets had been flying, she doubted very many of the men they worked on would survive. Olivia must have seen how much that hurt, because she gripped Baylee’s arm as a tear slipped down her cheek.

“We did what we could for him. For them.”

“I know,” she said, swiping the tears away.

Olivia moved to sit up, and Baylee gave her a hand. “I have to pee,” Olivia said.

“I already asked. We have to go in the corner.”

She watched Olivia sway as she pushed to her feet. “Remind me not to piss him off again. I have a concussion.”

Yeah, she’d thought so. “I’ll try.”

Olivia asked about the other prisoners, but Baylee shook her head. “I can’t think about it,” she said firmly. “They might just be in another room.”

Olivia crossed the room to the corner. She motioned for Baylee to grab a metal trash can. “I can grab a sheet and hold it up while you go.”

Olivia nodded, and that’s what they did. Then they swapped places. Baylee had just sat on the can and started to relieve herself when the guards moved in, ripping the sheet from Olivia’s hands and shoving her to the floor. Baylee felt her face go hot, but she finished her business, then swept her pants up as quick as she could. How mortifying.

The men were leering at her, obviously letting her know she’d done something wrong. One man reached out and gripped her ass. Instinctively, Baylee slapped his hand away, and as soon asshe did it, she knew she was in trouble. Fury washed over his face, and he hit her in the mouth, in the same spot she’d been struck before. Her mind blanked out with blinding pain, but she didn’t go down. She staggered, trying to absorb the hit. Then she looked up at the man defiantly. He would not take her down.

Then he slapped her again, and it was hard enough that it spun her around. Quicker than she could respond to, he’d woven his arms through hers, pulling her elbows behind her back until they touched. Then he shoved her across the room to the gurney and flattened her across it. Baylee screamed and fought, kicking out with her legs, but the strong, wiry man had the leverage on her.

Olivia yelled out behind her, and she knew her friend had probably tried to help, but she was already injured. It would be up to Baylee to rescue herself.

Cold fear rippled down her spine as the man fumbled with her arms, then with his other hand, pushed her scrub pants down over her ass. She felt him fumbling behind her, knew he was unfastening his own pants, and she fought as hard as she could. Impotent fury hazed her vision. Rearing back, she smacked her head into his face, and she knew she dazed him for a second, but not long enough. He paused for a moment and laid over top of her, and suddenly the glint of a knife was in her peripheral vision. The terrorist reached around her neck to her left side, and she felt the point of the knife cut into her skin at her temple. Then it swept down her cheek and trailed down her neck.

Baylee had never felt that amount of pain before, and she screamed, and screamed again. Her vision dimmed. In the tiny, rational part of her brain that was unblinded by fear and pain, she knew he was cutting her to distract her from what he was doing behind her, and it worked. Her mind retreated into itself, too scared to register everything that was going on. All she feltwas pain and humiliation, and extreme, overwhelming futile, helpless, anger.

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