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“Do you have a bottle?” I asked.
He tilted his head and stared at me.
“This water is clean. Look.”
After taking a sip, he offered me the cup.
“I believe you, but I have a sensitive stomach,” I lied. “I need bottled water.”
Outside, I heard an angry male yelling in Pashto.
“They’re looking for you!” the old man said, standing up. “Come with me. I’ll hide you.”
I stared further into his booth as he held out his hand.
“Come, come. We must go.”
“I don’t know…”
“Everything in Afghanistan is not as it seems. I can help you.”
If you were to measure my panic in that moment, it would have been off the charts.
“No thanks,” I said, stepping outside the booth.
He frowned, looking hurt. I scanned the market for any signs of the Taliban faithful.
Where did they go?
“Come, come,” the man said urgently. “Trust me.”
“Sorry, I trust no one.”
I stepped away from his booth, trying to blend in with the locals. If I made it to the edge of the market, I could find a taxi driver to take me back to FOB Cobra. It was one of the older forward operating bases still in operation in Afghanistan.
A man’s voice yelled out. I walked faster, hoping to get away before they caught up with me. When I reached the only exit from the market, I saw two other men with long beards and guns looking at the crowds.
Act calm. You’ve got this.
The rest of the people around me scattered, leaving me exposed. One of the two men with guns pointed in my direction. Fuck, fuck, fuck! I rushed toward a battered, barely-yellow taxi a few hundred feet away. Go, go, go! I saw one of the men rush forward out of the corner of my eye.
Before I reached my means of escape, a rough hand grabbed my shoulder. I whirled around and kneed the man in the nuts. He cried out, bending over in pain. I rushed forward. The other man grabbed me around the waist from behind and lifted me into the air.
“Let me go!” I screamed. “I’m American!”
Foul smells hit my nose as the man laughed. As I struggled to get out of his grasp, the other man walked over, a serious scowl etched on his face. I thought he would hit me. Another man ran up behind him and threw a bag over my head.
The darkness scared the hell out of me. I screamed again, kicking and wiggling to get away. All the men were yelling, but I had no way to know what about. Were they Taliban or henchman of some local warlord? Not knowing terrified me even more.
I stopped struggling as I realized it wasn’t getting me anywhere. One of the men moved my hands behind my back, tying them tightly. Panic spread through my mind as someone pushed me from behind and yelled.
“I’m going,” I yelled as I took a step forward.
What the hell is going on?
My pulse quickened as I walked blind. The sounds of the market were clearer with my vision cut off. The men who had grabbed me continued talking, but I didn’t understand what they were saying.
This is it. My life is over. I’ll never see my family or friends again. I never even had the chance to say goodbye.!
