STRANDED

SEVEN

Cramped. That's all Amy felt hiding out in the crate that she just barely fit into. It felt like the flight went on ages, but she could feel them dropping in altitude. The plane landed and it seemed as if the whole cargo bay jumped.

Amy heard the metal door creak open. She could hear some men. "Okay, big ones first! Don't want to leave them for when we're tired and sweaty!"

After a while of lifting crates and voices appearing and disappearing, Amy was carried off. She felt like she was in a coffin. The men carrying her began talking.

"What's in this one?"

"Hell, I don't know. Guns, maybe?"

Amy looked underneath her. They were mainly just uniforms. After a bit of swinging around, Amy was dropped onto a concrete floor. She listened and waited... There was nothing. The men had left. Amy slowly pushed the crate open. She was in a dark room that could only be lit by the now closed door. There were not many crates in the room.

Amy snuck over to the door and peered out. There was nobody. They were all at the plane unloading cargo. Amy slowly stepped out and closed the door silently. She sprinted as fast as she could away from the warehouse. Away from the plane and the sound of workers calling to each other.

Amy sat on a hill that seemed out of anyone's reach. She pulled out her walkie-talkie and spoke into it. "Dave? Dave, do you read?"

"Amy!" called Dave's voice from the other side. "It's so good to hear your voice again! I assume you made it?"

"Yeah. Where are you?"

"I've been back at the village. We're all proud of you, Amy."

"Thanks. Problem is, I just don't know where to start looking," Amy looked around.

"I had an old friend there. German guy by the name of Jörg Braunstein. He may be able to help."

"Awesome," Amy stood up. "Where can I find him?"

"I've been told he lives in Vandersburg. It's to the northwest."

"Thanks. I'll head there right away," Amy paused for a moment. "I love you, Dave."

"I love you too," Dave responded. "Now go."

The town was like any other small town Amy had ever seen. Small markets, small houses, small town. Amy was not recognized by anyone, thank god... She walked over to a man leaning against a building.

"So," Amy leaned against the wall, "know where I can find a so-called 'Braunstein'?"

The man looked over. "Of course," he said. "But I gotta ask, why are you so eager to find him?"

"You don't need to know," Amy replied. "Just tell me, and it'll be like we never spoke."

The man observed her. "'Course, you should know I don't just give out information for free."

Amy frowned. She had no money. She planned on switching it out when she got to Italy. She only had American money. She pulled all she had out of her pocket. "Does this work?"

"American dollars?" the man scoffed. "Fine, someone'll take 'em." He snatched the money out of her hand and began counting. "Yeah, I know where he is." He looked up from the money and turned his head down the road. "The old pub. Neon sign sticking out of it. You can't miss it."

Amy turned to see the neon sign he mentioned. "Thanks." She ran off as the man sniggered to the money. Amy reached the door and pulled it open. A bell over the door rang as she walked in. The place had an awful smell, not Amy had expected anything more from it.