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It's 3 p.m. on October 25th, 2011.

31-year-old Jessica Buchanan grips the handle of a land cruiser's passenger door as the car bumps over the reddit path.

Here, there are no real roads, just rocks and dirt. There aren't any red lights either.

People here know you don't stop a car for anything. A stopped car is an instant target.

Jessica's in a no-man's land, south of the small city of Galkaiow in the Somali desert, beyond what's called the Green Line.

The Green Line is the last stop or the Somali government has any sway. Below it is a wild world of land pirates, warlords and Islamic mercenaries.

Jessica is an American humanitarian aid worker. She works for a Danish non-governmental organization or NGO.

She's a teacher. Her job is to educate locals about landmine risks and gun safety. Every household here has at least one automatic weapon. Most have more, and kids are paying the price.

She has dedicated her life to helping children in war-ravid places in Africa, but she had a bad feeling about this trip.

Twice, she called in sick, but her colleague Paul Fistid told her if she didn't come in today, he would report her. So, here she is.

Paul sits in the front seat next to the driver, which gives her comfort. He knows what he's doing.

He's a small Danish man in his late 50s who is a die-hard pacifist and has spent his entire career in dangerous parts of the world.

Plus, there's a group of armed guards traveling with them. There's one next to her and one in the back.

She's going over the laundry list of things to do when she gets back to the north. Paperwork, dinner, calling Eric to find out about his day.

When suddenly the SUV comes to a jarring halt. A wave of mud splashes violently against the windshield. Jessica looks out the side window.

Another SUV is blocking the road in front. Car doors slam open. People scream at each other in Somali.

She jumps at the sound of the butt of an AK-47 slamming the hood of the car.

Her driver is frozen in place, hands on the wheel, like he's waiting for something to happen.

Before anyone can say anything, the car is surrounded by several screaming Somali men wearing special protection unit uniforms.

Normally, these uniforms are worn by men hired to protect expats like her. But these men have AK-47s pointed directly at Jessica and Paul.

Jessica looks at Paul, but he looks as confused and panicked as she feels.

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