Chapter 6

Kayla staggered to the washroom with some assistance then back to her cot again. While in the washroom she contemplated her situation. She was in a bad spot. No supplies, no transportation, and a largish hole in her leg. She could barely hobble with assistance; she was unlikely to make it far without assistance. Her best hope was to get on one of the planes the boss man was signaling and get the hell out of Dodge, with our without the women around her. Her conscious wouldn't allow her to leave them but they were a burden either way.

"Bitches!" The boss man's voice seemed to indicate the three of them, "either you hide yourselves or make yourselves presentable, we've got company coming." He eyed Kayla and the blood seeping through her pant leg. He grimaced, "Hide her." Turning, he left the room.

The ditzy twins gave her one look and started hauling her to a back room in the hangar.

"Wait! Stop!" Kayla tried to tell them in a whisper. "If you let me talk to them I can get us out of here." They looked at her with pity and shoved her into a small closet.

Kayla heard the lock snick shut as she heard a jet engine whine followed by the roar of a prop plane. She felt around for the walls of the room. It was a bare closet, no deeper than a few feet. Fear drove Kayla's heart rate higher as she heard the engines shutting down. They'd talk, the pilots and the boss man, then leave without her if she didn't breakout.

Kayla grimaced, knowing what was to come, and threw herself at the door. Pain lanced from thigh to shoulder, an electric current through her body as she hit the door.

She felt it give slightly.

Heartened, but with tear streaming silently down her face she braced herself against the back wall again. Throwing herself violently forward, she was able to force the flimsy door off its hinges but felt the barely healed wound open. She felt a warm trickle of blood run down her leg as she staggered forward.

With a brief glance at her surroundings she saw that the ditz twins, assured that she was locked up tight, had left her alone in the cavernous hangar. She staggered towards the hangar's opening. Her plan was to interrupt whatever meeting was going on, declare herself a prisoner, trapped against her will, and catch a ride with the crew of whatever jet was there. She only hoped that they were friendlier than her current situation.

Kayla crashed into the small door at the side of the hangar opening it a crack. She saw a large-ish cargo plane, probably a C-130, next to a small pointy nosed jet. She glanced around for the pilots, hoping for a direction to stagger in once she opened the door fully. Kayla knew that once she was in the open she had better make it to them on the first try or not at all.

Spotting a small group of men in green flightsuits next to the boss man she made her decision. Her choice was to face him and hope they took her with them or not at all. Make or break time. There were a scant two hundred feet between her hangar door and the men but, with an injured leg, it looked like a mile. Kayla took a deep breath and looked more closely at the military men. They looked like they were in deep consultation with the boss man. No humor reached the men's eyes and Kayla had doubts. Was she leaping out of the fat into the fire? Taking another deep breath she pushed her hand onto her wound to stem the flow of blood down her leg.

No. Her father always spoke warmly of the military men he met. He spoke to their pride, courage, and professionalism. No matter what, they had to be better than a sick, twisted man who cared nothing for an injured young woman.

With another deep breath, Kayla pushed the door all the way open and started towards the men. In her mind she ran fluidly to the group, unimpeded. In reality, she limped awkwardly forward, groaning in pain with every step. Before she could get more than fifty feet another group of men intercepted her. Seeing her escape route fleeing before her eyes Kayla started screaming at the top of her lungs.

"Help me! Please, help me!" She flailed in the men's grasp, trying to attract their attention but with no luck.

"Shut up girl!" The men hissed. Kayla wriggled free of their grasp and hobbled forward only to be tackled to the ground. The commotion finally caught the attention of the taller of the two men.

"What's this about, Dave?" He asked the boss man.

He shot her a furtive glance, "My niece. I'm sorry, she's been mentally disturbed since the exchange." Both men nodded sagely, they'd seen it before.

"No!" Kayla shrieked from underneath the pile of men. "I'm not his niece, I'm not his ANYTHING!" She shoved and kicked and flailed with every ounce of strength she could muster.

The taller of the two men started towards her.

"Lieutenant!" Dave, the boss man called to him sharply, "We aren't done here!"

"Dave, my job is to find survivors and fuel. If the woman is in distress, it's my job to help her," he said coolly, looking down at the smaller man. His compatriot gave the two planes a quick glance.

"She's not in distress, she's mentally unstable!" Dave insisted. Kayla squirmed, ignoring the almost blinding pain in her leg and screamed again.

"He's not related to me! He's lying! He's trying to rape me!" The men trying to cover her shoved a hand over her mouth and she was silent.

The tall lieutenant strode up to the tableau, wading into the pile and extracted Kayla. He drew her up off the tarmac to her feet where she collapsed at his boots, clutching them for dear life.

"Please, I'm not disturbed. They caught me on the hill there," she pointed vaguely west, "shot me in the leg, and took me here." She indicated her leg where the blood was flowing freely, staining through her thick camouflage pants. She worked herself into a standing position, still looking up into his eyes, "Please, I'm not anything but a prisoner, don't believe them."

"Bran?" The other pilot and Dave had joined them; eyeing Kayla's disheveled appearance speculatively. The lieutenant looked down at her and then to Dave.

"Sir, she's my niece and very ill." He made a grab for her but Kayla limped to the other side the tall pilot.

"Brandon!" The other pilot nodded to his C-130. "If we take all the cargo we don't have space." He was trying to give the taller pilot, Brandon, an out by insisting they couldn't take her and the "locals" could sort it out. They'd seen this before, local disputes, with the worst of the lot trying to forcibly board their planes. 'It's just a milk run, ' he thought, 'I just need to get the coal and go back.'