The Mission of the Heart Ch. 03

"I need to find someone," the voice said firmly. "And I you're going to help me.")

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The cold rain pierced my body, I can feel every drop no matter big or small. Faintly, I opened my eyes, a drop went in my right eye. Violently, I started breathing, my chest heaving up and down. I was shot, wasn't I? Grunting, I looked at my chest and came to the realization that I had my bulletproof vest on.

I couldn't think clearly, I couldn't hear clearly, I couldn't even see clearly.

All I know is that I...was moving. Everything was shaking, there were some various voices, and...music? Radio...I groaned. I was in the van, I was sure of it.

All the sudden, I felt some kind of cloth over my head.

Then blackness.

"You're awake," a voice said." What a shame you're not dead, because you're going to pay for my brother's death. You, my friend, are going to hell."

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("Ma'am!" a man, one of the members, said as they scattered throughout the underground prison. "I found it!"

The female figure stopped and sprinted to the man.)

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I woke up again, a little more coherent this time, but it wasn't until an hour or so later when the van stopped moving.

"Wake up sunshine!" a man's voice quirked. The cloth over my eyes was gone, and I was facing the van door. The door opened, brightness came rushing in, making me blink a couple of times. It was hot, like desert hot, my skin was burning.

My skin.

With horror, I realized I had nothing on except my bra and underwear. I closed my eyes, and opened them with anger. Moving my arms, I was still handcuffed, and I cussed in frustration. I looked at my arm, all the blood was dried up, but the messy injury was there. As I tried turning around, I saw a glimpse of Marco, grinning. Then he pushed me out of the van with full force, and I fell flat on the sandy surface.

Scrambling to stand up, I heard Marco say "hasta luego" and sped off. I looked around, coughing. Nothing. Just a land of...sand. And cactuses.

But just as I thought that there weren't any buildings nearby, I saw a tiny building about half a mile from where I was. I guess the sun was playing tricks on my eyes. And I also realized that a human figure was walking my way. Limping, I went to the figure, and we met halfway.

I looked at him, and caught my breath. He was a big man, around 250lbs. Scruffy, he looked like he hasn't shaved in years. But all in all, he looked ordinary: he had a plain white t-shirt on, ripped up jeans, and a pair of faded blue sneakers.

Then I saw his shotgun, slung across his back. He smiled menacingly, and spat on the ground

"The name's Andre," he said, his voice deep and monstrous. "Welcome home, amiga."

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( The members of the Agency crowded around the cell, unmoving. Stopping in front of the cell, the female figure was stopped by a nearby agent. She glared at him.

"Ms. Carrie, I don't think you want t-"

She shoved him aside and went in the cell, and the first thing she noticed was the horrible smell of blood. She can taste the iron even through her mask. She looked around and saw...the prisoner, barely without clothes on, only wearing a bra and underwear. Without hesitation, she went to the prisoner's side, and rolled the body over. What she saw made her gasp, almost cried to tears.

The body was thin, a sign of malnutrition.

The body was scarred and bloodied, a sign of abuse and torture.

The prisoner was passed out, and the female figure called out the medic and told one of the agents to get a helicopter to land near the facility right away.

Then, she began weeping, hugging the half-dead body near her chest.

"Oh, Pamela," she whispered, her voice shaking. "What did they do to you?"

One of the agents felt disgusted, and looked away from the bloodied body. He paid attention to the small white markings on the wall.

He counted 385.)

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To be continued...