Brooke and Debbie slide down the wooden bench until Debbie sits next to a hot, dirty, sweaty soldier. Two more soldiers fitting the same description sit next to him. Brooke has two more soldiers sitting beside her, including the man that had so inappropriately slapped her on the ass. Turning towards him she gives him her best withering stare. He laughs, and blows her a kiss, and then says something to the man sitting beside him, and they laugh even louder.
As the truck starts up, and moves down the bumpy unpaved road, the two women adjust their eyes to the darkness. Debbie gasps loudly when she sees two white women in western style clothing, sitting across from them. They too, are between leering, dirty soldiers. They are disheveled and dirty. The woman on the right sits with her head hanging down, her hair is dark brown, and pinned hastily on her head; strands hang down in front of her face. She’s dressed in a khaki brown skirt and jacket with a dirty white blouse. The blouse is open, untucked and unbuttoned; in fact Debbie thinks the buttons are missing.
As it is unable to be buttoned, a clear view of the woman’s ample cleavage is available. The skirt is cut just above her knee. She’s missing her shoes, and is wearing nylon stockings or pantyhose with large runs that ladder up both her legs. Her knees are scrapped and cut. When she looks up at Debbie, it’s apparent that she’s very pretty, and Debbie judges her to be in her mid twenties. The woman has been crying, and mascara stains run down her cheeks.
Sitting next to her is a blonde woman with pale blue eyes of about the same age. She smiles faintly at Debbie, and Debbie smiles back at her. The blonde wears a light blue cotton blouse that, like her companion’s has been torn open and is without buttons. Underneath the blouse she’s wearing a silky, white bra. She tries to hold her shirt closed with one hand. She’s wearing a dusty navy skirt cut a bit shorter than the other woman, at about mid-thigh. And she too wears nylon stockings or pantyhose covered in runs of all sizes. Her knees are skinned as well. Lastly, more fortunately that her friend she’s wearing shoes. Somewhat ridiculously in present circumstance, they’re two inch navy colored pumps.
The Blonde introduces herself as Marie Ebert, and says her companion's name is Julia Foche. They're French. She says that they were kidnapped as they were on their way to meet with goverment officals about a new water purification plant. Suddenly, one of the soldiers hits her with the back of his hand across her face, and she falls silent.
The men talk loudly among themselves, laughing and leering at the four women. The ride is bumpy, dusty and uncomfortable. When the women are jostled into the soldiers after running over a rut in the road, they take advantage, and grab their breasts, or pinch their behinds. When Debbie and Brooke attempt to make conversation with the women seated across from them they are told to keep silent, and the sergeant in charge point his AK-47 at them to emphasize his point. Brooke looks at Debbie with fear in her eyes.
“What’s going to happen to us?” she whispers
“I don’t know. Just stick close to me, I’ll protect you as best I can, ok?” Debbie answers, and Brooke nods.
They ride for several hours over the bumpy roads, miserable and thirsty from the dusty ride, when they truck pulls to a stop and the woman are ordered out.
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