A/N - This is the first time I've ever shared anything I've written, and I haven't really written that much. So any feedback/constructive criticism would be really appreciated. This story evolved from a dream that I had a little while back. So I've taken it, modified and embellished it a little. I hope you like!

Chapter 1

Average. It was the only word that could really be used to describe me. There was nothing particularly outstanding about me. I was 23 years old, 5’6”, average weight and build. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. Even my hair was just average. I’d just gone to the hair salon recently and had it cut and highlighted. It was shoulder-length, and light brown in colour, with caramel and dark blonde streaks throughout it. I heard my mother yell at me to hurry up and finish getting ready or we were going to miss our flight.

“Okay! I’ll be out in one minute,” I called back to her. Sighing, I stepped back from the mirror. I finished getting ready, choosing out a black polo t-shirt as I quickly pulled on a pair of faded jeans. I ran a hairbrush through my hair, before pulling it back into a ponytail. I hurried into the bathroom to brush my teeth and then gathered the last items from around the rented room and placed them into my suitcase. By the time I was finished my family had completed packing up their belongings and were standing by the door looking at me.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I just wanted to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything. I’m ready now though. Are you sure we have to leave?” My whole immediate family had decided to take one of our infamous family vacations. My mother feared it would be one of our last ones together before I went off to graduate school and ‘forgot about my family’. My mother had meticulously planned everything, right down to the tiniest detail. We’d flown down to the Virgin Islands, and had spent the past 2 weeks hopping between different islands, never staying in the same spot for too long. We’d gone scuba diving, hiking, ridden horses on the beach, and visited some ancient runes. It had been a wonderful vacation, no matter how busy it had been. This morning my sister Stephanie and I had gone down to the beach to soak up the last few rays of sun, before we headed back to the snowy north. And now it was time to go.

“Yes Alexia. Some of us have a job that we need to get back to,” said my father, always the voice of reason. “We’ll be lucky if we haven’t missed the bus taking us to the airport.” He turned around and walked out the door with his bag, leading the family to the elevator. We all piled in and when we reached the ground floor, the doors opened and I sighed. Unfortunately the bus was still there. I had sort of hoped that we’d missed it and our flight so that we could spend just one more night here in paradise. No such luck though. Our luggage was packed into the back of the bus, and we all took our seats. The doors closed and as the bus pulled away I took one last look at the beach. I relaxed into the seat, and took out my iPod from my purse. I knew it was a 2 hour drive to the airport, and I didn’t want to listen to my sister trying to decide which of her new outfits she was going to wear to school first.

I must have nodded off to sleep, because I jerked awake as I felt the bus applying the breaks and come to a stop. Frowning I sat up and looked at my watch. We’d only left the hotel about 45 minutes ago. We couldn’t be there yet. I looked out the window and saw nothing that even resembled an airport. Outside the bus I could see a handful of men wearing camouflage fatigues and holding automatic rifles. They looked like they were part of the army, but I couldn’t understand why they were stopping a bus full of tourists. It didn’t make any sense to me.

At that point, the bus doors creaked open and one of the men climbed up the stairs. He motioned with the rifle for the bus driver to get out of his seat and find a spot in the back. No one on the bus moved, or made a sound once the driver had sat back down. We all watched the man with the rifle closely, fearing what was going to happen next. Finally he stopped staring at us and spoke.

“I want everyone that is sitting by a window to reach over and close it. NOW!” he yelled roughly at us. His voice held an accent but I couldn’t place it. As others moved slowly from their seats, as to not alarm him, I too stood up and reached towards the window beside me. As I sat back down, I looked over at my mother and father in fear. They looked at Stephanie and I, tight lipped with a look of alarm on their face. While it didn’t take much for my mother to overreact, my father was usually pretty calm and relaxed. To see him frightened like this sent a wave of horror through me.

Movement at the front of the bus caught my attention again. Someone from outside the bus had passed something to the man at the front of the bus. He reached up to slip it over his head and I recognized it as a gas mask. I’d only ever seen these masks in the movies, but whenever they were present, it never foretold anything good. A few passengers at the front of the bus must have had similar thoughts to mine, because they jumped up from their seats to rush at the man. As valiant as their efforts were, they didn’t stand a chance. The man seemed to have been expecting this and quickly turned the rifle to aim at them, and swiftly shot down and killed the three men. Screams and shouts rang out from many of the other passengers on the bus. Beside me, Stephanie began to cry. I grabbed her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. Not that I was really able to reassure her. I had no idea what was going on and what was going to happen.

More of the men wearing fatigues came up onto the bus and dragged the three dead bodies off the bus and rolled them into a ditch by the side of the road. I felt nauseous as I dragged my eyes from the horrifying scene outside the bus. This can’t really be happening. This shouldn’t happen to normal, average families like mine, I thought to myself.

A woman in one of the front seats started banging on the window, tears running down her face, screaming for her husband. The man carrying the rifle took a step toward her and grabbed her by the hair and dragged her back to her seat. “Unless you want to end up dead like him, I suggest you sit down and stay there.” He looked around at the rest of us on the bus. He wore a small smile on his face. It was clear that he was enjoying the power he currently had over us. He loved tormenting us, making each of us wonder if we were to be the next one killed. He moved the rifle to one hand, and with the other reached down to the utility belt he was wearing, and removed a canister. His fingers rapidly twisted the top, and I heard a pop and a faint hiss as the contents of the canister were released. He set the canister down on the ground and let it roll to the back of the bus.

He watched us as one by one, the gas took control of our bodies. People were closing their eyes, and slumping forward in their seats. I let out a choked cough, and looked over at my parents one last time. They were unconscious, but still breathing. I tried to fight the urge to breathe in the gas. I held my breath for as long as I could. My lungs were burning, screaming for air. When I couldn’t take it any more, I dragged in a ragged breath and my body stopped fighting what it couldn’t. My eyes closed and I slipped into the blackness.

I floated up slowly from the darkness. I was lying facedown, on a cold stone floor. My throat was dry and scratchy. Each breath hurt it more. I tried to swallow to wet it, but my mouth was bone dry. I slowly opened my eyes, to take a look at my surroundings. From my position on the floor I could see a small cot in a corner of the room with one wool blanket thrown across it.

I needed to get up. I pushed myself up into a sitting position. My arms and legs felt so heavy as if they were weighted down with lead. I drew my knees up despite the pain, and wrapped my arms around them, trying to curl up to get warm. My head even seemed too heavy for my neck now. I let it slump forward and rested it on my knees. I don’t know how long I sat there for, but I couldn’t find any more energy in me to move any further.

As I sat there taking in what I could, I heard men talking nearby in a foreign language that I couldn’t understand. They were talking in hushed voices; their tone sounded angry. The voices grew louder, and I could hear their boots hitting the hard stone, as they came closer to me. I heard the jingling of keys, and the sound of a lock clicking open. I raised my eyes and watched as one of the guards walk towards me, and stop a few feet away. He placed a bowl and a cup on the ground and turned to walk away. I didn’t move until I couldn’t hear their footsteps anymore.

I lifted my head and took a look at where I was. It looked like a jail cell. The room was square and couldn’t have been bigger than 12’ x 12’. In one corner was the cot I had noticed earlier, in the other corner was a toilet, that didn’t look like it would work. The walls were cement, and there was no window to let in any light. The only light source was from the dim fluorescent lights in the ceiling. The only way out was through the door the guard had come through.

I forced my limbs to work, ignoring their protests of stiffness. I gingerly walked over to the door, and leaned against the wall. My hand wrapped around the doorknob and tried to turn it. It was locked. I jiggled it a bit more, but the lock held. I was not escaping today.

My gaze looked over to the dish and cup that the guard had left inside the cell. There was plain rice in the bowl, while the cup held some of the dirtiest water I’d ever seen. But my throat was so parched that I gulped the water down regardless. My stomach grumbled as I looked at the rice. I thought twice about eating it. Who knew what these people had put into it. Then again, if I’m going to stand any chance in fighting them I need energy, I thought to myself. I slowly picked up the bowl and sniffed at it. The rice smelled normal, so I lifted the spoon to my lips and took a bite. I carefully chewed it before swallowing. It tasted bland, but I didn’t think there was anything at all that had been added to it. Relief washed through me.

I polished off the bowl and stood up again, and moved to the cot, where I let myself sink down onto it. It wasn’t overly comfortable but at least I wouldn’t have to sleep on the floor. I looked down at what I was wearing, and realized I was no longer in my own clothing. Someone had put me into what looked like a set doctor’s scrubs. They were the sage green that you learned to hate when you spent any time in a hospital. I was barefoot, with no socks or shoes in sight. At least I had a pedicure two days ago, I thought as I looked at my toes.

I closed my eyes and sighed. My family. Our vacation. Had this really happened? Was I dreaming? What a horrible dream this was, if it was at all. I wondered where the rest of my family was, and if they were still alive. A tear trickled down my cheek, followed by another. I gave into my tears as I thought about my family. I hoped they were still alive. We’d find a way to get out of this place; as soon as I found them that is.

I swung my legs up onto the cot, and as I moved to lie down, I noticed a silver cuff on my left wrist. I held my hand out in front of me so I could take a closer look at it. There was a serial number on it and a barcode. 5401-2408F. I frowned as I read the numbers. They meant nothing to me. I tried to remove the cuff, but it was on tight. It could barely move on my wrist let alone be taken off.

Exhaustion set in. I was barely able to get the scratchy, wool blanket over me before my eyes closed and sleep set in. It was a dreamless sleep. I tossed and turned constantly, but was unable to drag myself from the disturbed sleep.