Plan B

I hear shots and I smile through split lips at my interrogator. “Sounds like you have bigger problems than me.”

My reward for having a smart mouth is to get backhanded hard enough to knock my chair over. I’ve always had an issue with keeping my mouth shut. I close my eyes and listen to the sharp bursts of gunfire. It’s getting closer.

My interrogator realizes the same thing. “You Americans and your no man left behind bullshit.”

I laugh outright from my positions sideways on the floor strapped to a chair. “That’s just the Marines I think. But I’ll be sure to check with whoever is out there.”

He kicks me in the stomach and I grunt as another rib gives way. He slashes my ties and drags me to my feet. As the door smashes open he pulls me in front to use me as a human shield. The men at the door look like they’ve had better days. Two are bleeding and one is favoring an arm. I curse under my breath. My plan just got shot to hell.

I ignore the orders being barked out by the men and adapt my plan. I let my knees buckle and my interrogator sags under the sudden drag on his arm. I twist and slam an uppercut into his stomach, smash my forehead into his nose, slide his knife free as he drops to the floor, and slash his throat. I turn to see the mouths of all three men wide open. “If you want out follow me. You stop, I leave you behind to die.”

“Mam, who the fuck are you?”

I grin as I stand there in tattered camo pants, a ripped and cut t-shirt stained with sweat and blood, no shoes, and a face spattered by arterial spray. “The guards here call me The Ghost. Now, unless you want to die here too, I suggest you get your asses in gear.”

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