by D.I. Telbat
"Annette!" Noah called. "Look who it is!"
She turned to see a small boy who held a short stick in one hand and a muddy t-shirt in the other.
"Meikles?" Annette's mouth couldn't function to say more than that.
"He survived!" Noah stood proudly next to his son, his free hand on the lad's shoulder. "God saved him."
"Meikles!" Annette lifted the boy's chin in her hand so his eyes met hers. "Where's Titus? Did he . . .? Is he . . .?"
"He's in the wadi." He held up the dirty shirt. "He's hurt, so I was getting him water."
"Water?" Annette's breath came in gasps. Her knees felt weak. "He's alive? He's hurt?"
*~*
Chapter Sixteen
Titus didn't lay back down when the hyena left the wadi rim above him. He guessed it was just a matter of time before the crafty creature devised some other sinister plan to knock him down the slope.
Then the noise of the explosion washed over the savanna, and Titus knew his rescue was imminent. With his good leg trembling and near exhaustion, he eased down to a seated position.
"You might want to run along, girl," he said to the nervous female. Sulfuric smoke from the explosion wafted into the wadi. "I don't think your mate is coming back."
But the instinct to kill and eat was too great, and Titus was too close to her blood-stained muzzle for her to abandon him. He closed his eyes, imagining all that might follow—a bone-jarring truck ride to a landing strip. The painful setting of bones in a hospital. Recovery in the States—though secretly, since the civilized world still knew him as the Serval, an exiled criminal. All the while, he would grow from the experience. One thing for sure, he'd never again think that a job caring for people was below him! And it was probable he'd wear a parachute during the next airdrop mission!
"I see you made a new girlfriend in my absence!"
Titus looked up the slope as Annette grinned down from the rim. She was geared in an African commando outfit. He had expected a rescue team . . . but led by Annette?
"Meikles is up there somewhere," he said. "He went to get me water."
"He's with Noah. He's safe."
"In that case, you can tranq my carnivorous girlfriend here, and take me home."
He watched proudly as she aimed the NL-3 rifle and peppered the hyena's face with stinging pellets. The infuriated beast snapped at Titus once more, then, drunk on the toxin, lay down to sleep.
Noah and Meikles appeared at Annette's side.
"No time to talk," the pilot said. "We have company. Wovits!"
"How strong?" Titus' stomach did flip-flops. He was in no condition for armed conflict. "Babe, slide that phone down to me. Noah, how many are they?"
"Ten or so, with a whole convoy behind." Noah drew his son closer. The boy sucked on a canteen. "We might have two minutes."
Annette didn’t slide the sat-phone to Titus; she slid down the slope herself. She overshot Titus, then Titus slid off his perch into her arms at the bottom of the wadi, though groaning in pain. She rested his head on the sleeping hyena, and held her canteen to his mouth.
Titus plucked the phone from her belt and punched redial. Corban Dowler's welcoming voice was clear.
"We've got danger close, Boss."
"I'm tracking you by the low-orbit Gabriels. There are eight vehicles about ten minutes from your location."
"There are more on foot a lot closer." Titus gazed up at the blue sky. "If you've got those UAVs up and flying, how about some offensive measures?"
"We've got nothing like that yet, but I'm ahead of you. I took the liberty of calling in a few rangers from Malilangwe. They're about five minutes from you."
"We have only one minute."
"Better get off the phone with me then. We're praying here."
Titus chuckled and turned the phone off. Corban was all business and no waste. He clipped the device to Annette's hip, then waved at Noah.
"You two, come on down. We'll have to stay alive until the rangers get here in a few minutes."
Noah and Meikles slid on their seats down the slope.
"Titus, you need a hospital." Annette cringed at his blackened torso. "We shouldn't even be moving you. You should see yourself!"
"No choice, babe." He lifted his good arm toward Noah. "Give me a hand. Get me up to stand against that baobab tree. Hurry!"
He groaned as Annette and Noah half dragged him up the more gradual bank on the west side. They leaned him against the tree, his breath shallow, his bad leg throbbing.
"Now what?" Annette asked. "You can't fight. You can barely stand!"
"Noah, give me your bush jacket. Put it on me. Quickly! I need to look semi-normal. Do you have more grenades?"
They forced his arms into Noah's dark green jacket, then Annette handed him a flash-and-bang grenade.
"Now, listen. My injuries are bad. I may not even make it out the way things are."
"Titus, we can—"
"Listen!" His eyes pleaded with Annette. "Game rangers are on their way. We can't fight these wovits like this. Take Meikles down the wadi. Go!"
Noah drew his son into the bottom of the ravine.
"Titus, you can't fight them alone!" Annette wiped at angry tears. "Not alone!"
"I'm not going to fight them." He smiled, a strange peace inside him. "What are you always telling me? My tongue must be good for something, right? Go, babe. I love you. God has this already sorted out. Wait and see."
"I'm not leaving you. I just found you!"
"These wovits are no joke. I've crossed them in the north. I'm just going to buy us a little time. Now, get!"
Reluctantly, she backed away.
"Don't say anything stupid and get yourself killed, Titus Caspertein!"
As soon as they were out of sight to the south, Titus noticed movement across the wadi and northward, on his side of the gulch.
"All right, Lord," he mumbled, trying to stand up straighter, even through the agony. "It's just You and me. Again. Please keep my wits in order for a little longer. Then, I wouldn't mind passing out. Amen."
Titus pocketed the grenade in Noah's jacket, then hooked his thumb casually in a tear in his trousers. He took a deep breath, shut out the pain, and steadied his glare on the fierce soldiers prowling closer.
*~*
Chapter Seventeen
Gezahgne remained in the grass while his men surrounded the white man against the baobab tree. He approached once the American was adequately guarded.
"Where are your friends?" Geza asked as he shouldered between two of his men. "We know you're not alone."
"Oh, you mean my girlfriend?" The American nodded toward the wadi. "She's down there."
Geza glanced down the eroded slope at a dead hyena.
"Funny. You make jokes, but now you're my prisoner. Not so funny now, maybe."
"A lot of men have made me their prisoner." The foreigner raised his eyebrows. "It never worked out too well for them. It's like God has me in His protective hand."
Geza did his best to control the surprise on his face. Even his own men shriveled in the man's presence. This American needed to be taught some manners! And yet, American or not, this was no ordinary man. His face appeared bruised, and his leg was in a splint. Had he been dragged behind a charging rhino? And the look in his eyes—almost like boredom, or fearlessness.
"I have sixty men with me. You think God will save you?"
"He could. Or maybe He wants me to exercise a little faith. Who's your leader? You?"
"Of course!" Geza hitched up his pants and squared his shoulders. How could anyone doubt he was the commander? "I am Colonel Gezahgne Wolde, expert marksman and trophy hunter of the mightiest African beasts. I am Geza!"
The American sighed slowly as he surveyed the other soldiers.
"I don't know." The man shook his head. "You can't be too tough if you need all these men to surround me."
"I don't need all these men!" Geza removed his rifle from his shoulder and aimed it at the mouthy American's
chest. "I can kill you myself. Now, tell me, why are you here?"
"Sightseeing."
"You? A tourist? I don't believe you."
"Yeah, I didn't think you'd buy that." He gestured at Geza's rifle. "Nice .30-06. Good rhino gun, huh? I sold five cases of those to a friend in Ethiopia about six years ago."
"Ethiopia?" Geza looked down at his weapon. "My brother bought this in Ethiopia for me three years ago. It's the best gun I've ever owned."
"Should be. It's American made. Classic finish. Bolt action. You use custom rounds? You must with that silencer. How many rhinos you drop this year?"
Geza examined the stranger with caution. This wasn't the conversation he'd imagined he'd have with a foreigner. The man spoke like he knew the African black market.
"Why are you in Zimbabwe?"
"Have you ever read the Bible?"
"Answer my question!"
"Jesus Christ is in here." The American touched his chest. "He compels me through His Word to care for the hungry."
"The airdrop. I know. Then why are you out here if you fed the hungry from the air?"
"Well, you're witnessing the conclusion of a recovery operation."
"A recovery of what?"
"Is that why you're out here instead of hunting rhinos?" He smiled at Geza. "Sorry, but you'll be disappointed."
"Then disappoint me. I'm growing impatient." Geza stepped closer and jabbed the rifle silencer into the ribs of the American. "What did you recover? Where is it?"
"Two people fell out of the plane yesterday. They've been found. Now we're going home."
"More lies. It was something valuable."
"Exactly. Two people. They're valuable."
Geza tilted his head to the sound of several engines. His men in the trucks had made good time.
"If you don't want to talk now, you'll talk back at camp. I'm taking you with me. The rest of my men are here now."
"No, I don't think I'm going with you." The American smiled again—that cursed grin! "Those aren't your men. Those are my men. Tell me, Geza, if you're really a great hunter and killer, there must be a price on your own head, right?"
Geza spun around as he realized the sound of approaching vehicles had indeed been distorted by the deep wadi next to them. The vehicles were coming from the east! An instant later, they came into sight—four Jeeps laden with crack rangers.
"You knew they were coming!" Geza spat at the American. "You were stalling!"
"You're right. I was. Maybe you won't mind if I stall you a little bit longer.
Geza tore his eyes from the foreigner's face and noticed his hand as a grenade rolled out of it. His men saw it as well. They dove for cover, scrambling over one another to get away from the coming detonation.
Before the explosion, Geza wondered if he'd lost his edge. A foreigner had gotten the jump on him. Was it possible God had helped him? He wished he would've continued poaching for rhinos that morning.
*~*
Chapter Eighteen
Annette was outraged. Titus had sent her away without him. Even worse, she'd actually gone!
"Noah, I can't leave him like this." Annette held her rifle, ready for action. She looked back toward the tree where she'd left Titus, fifty yards away. "I'm going back."
She thought the man would continue down the wadi without her, but Noah set his hand on Meikles' shoulder. The boy was surprisingly alert and energetic.
"I'll cover you, Annette. Meikles, stay behind me."
Annette hadn't taken ten steps when she jumped from the grenade explosion.
"Titus!" She rushed back up the wadi.
The smoke lingered above the ravine, but she scrambled into it regardless. Men coughed from the stinging fumes, but she ran through them to the tree where she'd left Titus. She found him on his face on the ground.
"I'll never leave a grenade with you again!" She shoved her rifle sling across her back, then hooked her arms under Titus' armpits. "You'll just insist on using it!"
He was gagging and blind, but he stood on his good leg long enough for Annette to kneel in front of him. She wasn't strong enough to carry his heavy frame over her shoulders, but she guessed she could drag him a short distance out of harm's way.
Titus submitted to her as she drew his arms over her shoulders, draping him over her back. She took a step, kicked a rifle out of a poacher's reach, then managed another step. Her breath was labored, but the smoke was clearing now.
The gunfire behind her started sporadically, then became more steady as the poachers exchanged fire with the rangers. Once out of the smoke, and in the cover of waist-high grass, Annette eased Titus to rest on the ground. She turned to watch the battle. Its outcome would affect them. If the poachers won, Annette would have to consider a hasty escape to one of the ranger Jeeps.
Rangers crossed the wadi before the poachers had fully recovered from the grenade. Several poachers surrendered around the tree. Others fired blindly as they ran away, then dropped their rifles when they clicked on empty.
Farther away, the grass parted in thirty places where wild dogs emerged in front of the fleeing soldiers. Now unarmed, the poachers reversed and begged the rangers for protection from the dogs.
"That's poetic," Titus mumbled. "Poachers are about to be poached by wild animals."
"Some of that might be my fault." Annette said. "My first grenade kind of stirred them up."
She knelt and touched Titus' cheek as Noah stood guard nearby, facing the frenzy above the wadi.
"I thought you'd left me, Titus Caspertein." She smiled as a tear fell from her eye and landed on his neck. "I even brought a tarp for your body."
"We Casperteins don't die that easily. God was just correcting my attitude."
"I thought that was my job." She laughed.
"Maybe it’s a team effort to work on me." He started to laugh, but then held his torso an instant later. "Oh, don't make me laugh, babe. It ain't easy falling out of a plane."
"Don’t think you're going to milk this for too long. COIL has a long list of missions lined up for you."
"Okay, okay. Just let me catch my . . ."
Annette checked his pulse, then patted his cheek.
"It ain't easy being your girl, Titus Caspertein."
Noah moved closer.
"Here come a couple rangers, Annette. Let them see your hands. They're our ride back to the car."
Annette rose to her feet and held her hands over her head. Meikles did the same. The rangers approached warily, but not aggressively, as if they'd already been informed there were friendlies present.
"How far to the nearest hospital, Noah?" Annette asked.
"I'll borrow a plane from Singita Pamushana and fly us straight back to Harare by sundown." The pilot eyed the sky. "Of course, it's in God's hands. Anything could happen. This is Africa!"
*~*
Conclusion
Titus had been recuperating in the States for three weeks when Corban Dowler entered the screened-off porch using forearm crutches. He sat in a wicker chair across from Titus.
"Glad to see you're using your time wisely." Corban leaned forward to see what passage in the Bible Titus was studying. "First Corinthians. It's appropriate for the condition of most churches in America."
Closing the Bible, Titus set it aside. His leg itched somewhere around the knee, deep inside the cast.
"Would you mind?" Titus gestured to a willow stick on the nearby bench. Corban handed it to him. "A few more weeks, and I'll be ready to get back out there. I mean, for whatever you want me to do."
"Don't worry." Corban chuckled. "We have other field agents to help with airdrops in other countries. No, as soon as your strength returns, I'm sending you overseas to assist Christians under fire."
"I'll be praying about that." Titus picked up a laptop and tapped the screen. It came to life. "I've been experimenting with the Gabriels you launched while I was in Africa. The cameras and zoom lenses are phenomenal."
"Better than space satellite
s," Corban said. "No atmospheric distortion. They're seventy thousand feet above you. With their thermal imaging capabilities, you'll have a three dimensional view around you at all times."
"It feels like cheating, seeing the God-view all the time. Like this." He traced his finger across the screen, then turned it toward Corban. "Annette just pulled up in the driveway."
"I'm glad you're getting familiar with it, but just keep in mind that even with the view from the Gabriels, the enemies' bullets are real. And there are other things to think about."
"Like what?"
"You're still wanted all around the world. The Feds may have permitted a temporary reprieve, however secretly, but any civilized nation in the world will arrest you."
"I thought we could use that to our advantage."
"We will, in the right countries. But you have to have sanctuary somewhere. And there's the matter of your family."
"Don’t worry. They want nothing to do with me."
"Isn't that a problem?" Corban folded his hands. "It's not right for a man to be estranged from his family, not when you're all children of God."
"They'll never believe I'm a Christian now, not after how much I've hurt them. I wasn't even there for them when they buried my mom and dad."
"Well, God will guide you in that reconciliation. It's not about telling them you've changed; it's about showing them. And that'll take some time. And prayer."
"Hey, guys!" Annette walked into the porch, a soda in each hand. "Corban, you'd better not be sending him back out with those casts on him."
"Don't worry!" Corban chuckled. "I'm not quite finished designing the tranquilizer gun that fits up a leg cast!"
Titus accepted his soda, then he raised the can to Corban, who raised his as well. As peaceful as things had been for a few weeks, they both knew trials—as well as more tragedy—awaited them on the horizon.
###
*~*
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