work in progress

No matter how hard I tried I could not keep my eyes open. If they succeeded in closing in death there would be no turning back because I did not have the energy to fight much longer. Maybe, just maybe, I would no longer feel any pain and would just sleep; only to continue as a distant memory in the hearts of my family. This was hard for me to accept; no matter how much I wanted to sleep I would have to fight harder. I am not a quitter and I had not told my family how much I loved them. Would they find me before the stink of death had passed and my bones had been bleached white? I was spending too much energy worrying about what might happen when there was nothing I could do about it. If it came down to it I hoped someone would make sure I was returned home and would be there for my family to help them through their pain. Right now survival had to be my focus and I had to get my mission back on track.

It was hot out here in the desert; I can't remember how I had gotten here so how am I supposed to get out? Ok, I vaguely remembered hearing music and the feel of my body swaying in rhythm to it. I really needed to remember more but that would have to come later, right now I had to survive so I could find the bastards who put me in this situation. I started sifting my hands through the sand looking for a couple of rocks to put in my mouth. I knew that moving the rocks around my mouth would keep the saliva going and keep my thirst down. The next thing I needed was shade so I could sleep because if I fell asleep before finding shade I would die for sure. If I could just sleep for a while then I could walk at night when the air was cooler and it would be easier to breath. I continued to sift the sand going deeper still trying to find a rock when my hand came up against something hard and cool. Moving the sand out of the way a handful at a time, desperately trying to uncover what I had found, and my hand came across nothing but hard surface. I soon realized that it was not a something but rather a concrete floor. There was a floor to my desert prison so that had to mean there was a way out. That also meant the sun would not be going down and had to be a really bright light. I decided to rest for awhile, on the cool concrete, and then move forward a little at a time until I got out from under the direct "sunlight" and closer to the side of the room.

"That is the stupidest story I have ever heard" Harry said while trying to keep the smile from his face.

"What do you mean stupid?, it's not stupid it could happen that way. Of course it would have to be a really big building if I can't see the walls, but it could happen."

Here I go, once again, defending my work to my brother who wouldn't know how to put two words together if they were given to him with instructions. My mother wanted all boys so when she had me she named me Charlotte and from day one referred to me as "my daughter, Charlee". Needless to say with a boys name and two brothers I had no choice but to be a tom boy. That is probably why I chose to join the Marines; I wanted to be just like my brothers. Harry, my oldest brother, died in battle during Desert Storm and I wanted to make him proud of me. My other brother was a marine also but he had been wounded during the war and was at home with mom. I was so proud of both my brothers and I had to make them proud of me too.

"Oh yeah, well how are you planning to get her out of there? Open the floor and have her fall through a trap door?"

"You know you might have something there", I said, "I'll have to think about it in my dreams though because I am just so tired".

"No", Harry continued, "You don't have time to sleep; you have to keep moving. Find your rock and forget about the floor."

"You sure are bossy for someone who is dead" I complained, knowing all along that he was right. Maybe if I listened to him I would survive this Hell I found myself in. I realized the voice I was hearing in my head was not really my brother so there might be some hope for me yet but I didn't want to loose contact with him. Keeping him alive in my thoughts could be the only thing that would get me out of here. "Hey, keep talking to me bro. so I can make it out of here alive."

"Ok, but you have to know this is not one of your stories. This is really happening to you and you have to keep a level head to survive" he said in my ear. "Come on now and repeat it for me, This Is Not A Story, It is Real"

"This Is Not A Story, It is Real" I whispered, my throat was so dry every sound I made hurt like hell.

"Louder" he shouted.

"This Is Not a Story, It is real" I said, a little louder this time.

"Louder" he shouted again.

"THIS IS NOT A STORY, IT IS REAL" I shouted before falling to the ground totally exhausted and feeling as if my tonsils had just been surgically removed.

"Now lift some sand and let it fall through your fingers", he instructed, "Follow the direction of the wind and you will find somewhere where you can rest".

to be cont....