You set off toward the sound of the voice, traveling as quickly as you can in the pitch black darkness. After stumbling around for a while you start to wonder if you should give up…when you reach a clearing illuminated by moonlight.

There, at the other end of the clearing, is a large net hanging from a tree. You can just make out the silhouette of a man struggling inside.

“Hey!” you shout. “Let me help you!” You rush over and take out your machete, ready to cut down the net.

“Thank you,” he says. “I thought I was going to be stuck in here all night!” Again, you find the man’s voice to be eerily familiar, and you shudder involuntarily. (It also seems like a strange coincidence that he’s speaking Arabic.) The man untangles himself enough to twist around and face you.

You recognize his face. It’s a face that you would know anywhere—a face that you know better than any other.

It’s YOUR face.

Turn to page 42.