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trip on them all the time when I had gone camping with my family.
    I pulled on the line, eventually ripping it from the ground and grabbing onto the anchor, a long, metal, pointy spike. I tested it against the palm of my hand and carefully watched the tip press in on my skin. Any harder and it would puncture. It would definitely work.
    Satisfied, I threw the extra slack of rope back onto my tent before cleaning off the improvised weapon on my thigh and tucked it into the back of my pants, underneath my shirt. If I did everything right, then I wouldn’t even have to use it.
    If I did everything right.
    I wasn't even sure where my feet were taking me as I placed one in front of the other, but it didn't matter, because it didn't last long. One look at the outside fence and I quickly learned that I wouldn’t be getting out that way. It was at least ten feet high with another foot and a half of barbed wire that faced outward at a forty-five degree angle. I grabbed onto the thick chain links and let my fingers poke through while I looked off into the distance. I was in the middle of nowhere. Even if I managed to make it out and somehow found Zach in time, where the hell were we supposed to go?
    I pulled on the fence and was surprised to feel it shake. A sudden vibration rattled my hands and the sound of rusted metal hit my ears from a few ways down. I let go and could hear voices in the same direction. I started walking towards the commotion and checked to make sure that the spike was still tucked in the back of my pants. It shouldn’t have made me feel safer, but the sound of hearing someone shout again was putting me on edge. I stopped once I reached an opening.
    Two armed guards rushed to swing a gate open as a third man covered in dirt dragged another across the ground and into the camp.
    He dropped the motionless body and tried to catch his breath. “Hey!”
    A wave of guards ran past me and stopped just short, the first with his weapon raised.               “He needs help—“
    “Drop the gun!”
    He glanced at the rifle slung on his shoulder and was knocked across the face before he could even move. His falling body knocked up dirt that immediately caught itself in the air and his ribs received another butt stock for good measure.
    “What the hell do you think you’re trying to do?” The one in charge disarmed him and pointed at the wounded man, ordering his crew. “Get him to Martha.” They quickly did as they were told and ran past me again. The leader followed from behind and took a second to finally notice me.
    I couldn’t look away. I swallowed hard and could feel my muscles tense up along my arms and down into the balls of my fists as he walked towards me, but he let it go and passed without incident. Witnesses weren’t anything anymore. I was nothing. I watched the poor guy that had been left behind push himself back onto his hands and knees.
    He spat on the ground and a crimson line of liquid stretched from his lips. His reward, no doubt, for helping one of the men that had taken us hostage.
    I surprised myself and stretched out a hand. “Are you okay?”
    He slowly glanced up at me and I could see his red stained teeth. They stuck out in the middle of his dirty face and matted, brown hair. The old me might have looked away, maybe even made a face, but now all I could think about was how tired he must have been.
    “Yeah…” He grabbed my hand and I tried pulling him up, only to have both of us stumble over the combined weight. “Where'd you come from?”
    “It's a long story.” I let him lean against my good shoulder as he grabbed his side and winced. I didn’t think he would do any better on his own. “I think you need help.”
    He grunted at that and spat on the ground again, almost pulling me over.
    I could feel the added strain tug on my bandage and a sharp pain shot up through my neck towards my collar bone. There was no way we could both stay standing like that.
    “Got any