“We’re gonna die, both of us,” Billy said in a wavering voice. “Just like Madame Loiseau told us.”
Matt grimaced. They were both suffering from the hunger, thirst, blisters, ticks, and mosquitoes that had plagued them ever since they got off the boat and walked across the border from Uganda into Sudan. It was hard to see Billy in such bad shape. His best friend looked saggy and sick and totally defeated. The excitement of their adventure had ended long ago, and in only two days in the African bush, life had become a matter of survival.
That’s all either of them could think about. The USB key and the mission to save the hungry paled in the face of this all-consuming thirst and hunger. Matt laid his hand over the small hard lump in his jeans pocket. God had brought him so far. The refugee camp at Rumbek lay only twenty miles from this village. But they wouldn’t make it. They couldn’t. It was impossible.
“You honestly don’t think that guy will bring a bicycle, Mattman?” Billy mumbled in disbelief. “We paid him thirty bucks! That was the last of our American dollars.”
“I think we got stiffed.”
“How hard can it be to get a bike?” Billy groused. “I have three old bikes in my garage. Just sitting around getting dusty!”
“Do you see any bicycles in Sudan?” Matt asked. “Do you see any cars? Any trucks? Do you see food or crops or livestock or shops or any normal things? No! Nothing! This place is a desert.”
“Mellow out,” Billy snapped at him.
“Yeah, right. Like you haven’t been griping ever since we got to Africa.”
Billy leaned his head back on the wall of the hut. “Aw, Mattman, just try to relax. Just try to stay alive, like you promised Madame Loiseau, okay?”
Matt looked across at Billy, who was swallowing hard, obviously trying not to cry. His parched lips were trembling. Matt patted him on the back. “It’s okay, Billy,” he said. “We’ll be all right.”
“I’m never gonna see my house again. Or my mom. I even miss my little sister. And my dad. I don’t know why I did such a dumb thing. I don’t know why I came with you. Stupid!”
“Hey, man, don’t freak out, okay?” Matt patted him on the back some more, this time a little harder. “You came because you wanted to help me find Josiah Karume, remember? And that’s what you’re doing. You’re helping me, just like you always have. You found the guy who sold us those peanuts. You tried to buy a bicycle. And now, we’re both just going to have to figure out how to take the next step.”
“I can’t take another step,” Billy said. “You saw my feet, dude. The blisters have popped, and my skin is all raw and bloody.”
Matt studied his best friend’s tick-bitten legs, blistered feet and sunburned nose. A tear had escaped his eye and started down his cheek. What was Matt going to do if Billy really did die? He couldn’t even think about it.
“Look, Billy,” he said, giving his friend’s shoulder a shove, “stop moaning. You’re a really strong guy, and you can’t let this stuff get you down.”
“I’m not strong,” Billy mumbled, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “I’m weak.”
“No, you’re not. You’re the person I’ve always counted on, right?”
“Yeah, so what? You can’t count on me now. I can’t even stand up.”
“Yes, you can. You know why? Because you’re like my mom.”
“Your mom?” Billy frowned. “What do you mean by that?”
“She was really strong down inside. But when she first found out she had cancer, she cried all the time and got depressed. I remember it—it was awful. She said she didn’t want to die and leave my dad and me. She wanted to see me grow up—she wanted to hold her grandbabies. All that. Later on, though, after she got used to the idea of having cancer, her strength came back. She had a lot of faith in God, see. Not faith that she’d get well, but she believed He was with her through all the pain and sadness. And she knew He was going to be with my dad and me after she was gone. That was really important for me to see—how she got through it all because of the strength inside her.”
“Is that how come you wear this dirty old tie?” Billy picked up the end of Matt’s tie and studied it sadly. “To remind you of how strong she was?”
“Partly.”
“I don’t have that kind of strength, Matt. Strength from God. I’m too hungry.”
“I don’t think God takes hunger and suffering away,” Matt said. He had thought about this a lot. “Not always. My mom didn’t get well. That’s not the deal God promised. It’s like the Twenty-third Psalm, you know? We don’t get to avoid the valley of the shadow of death. But while we’re walking through it, we don’t have to be afraid because He stays close beside us. His rod and His staff protect and comfort us.”
“Mattman, you’re gonna be a preacher one of these days,” Billy said. “All I can think about is that feast He’s prepared for me in the presence of my enemies. Where’s the food? I’m ready to eat! Lord, send down the manna!”
Matt couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “You idiot.”
“Hey, here comes that kid who keeps asking us to play soccer. Why don’t you see if we can get some more peanuts?”
“Hello, Santino,” Matt said as the boy approached. Earlier that day, Santino had told them he was fifteen, but he looked about ten. He had narrow eyes and very white teeth, and he seemed to think these two white boys sitting on the ground in his village were pretty hilarious.
“Why you cannot play football with us?” Santino asked. “Come!”
“We can’t.” Matt had already told him this, but it wasn’t getting through. “We’re too weak. Our feet hurt, and we’re hungry. Besides, we need to go to Rumbek.”
Santino grinned, his teeth gleaming in his ebony face. “You gave your money to Aken Amuon for a bicycle!”
At this, he bent over and laughed as though this was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. His pals had edged closer by this time, and they all joined in, yukking it up—ha ha ha.
Matt looked over at Billy, who was scowling, then back at the boys. “If you give us peanuts,” Matt suggested, “we’ll play football with you. American football.”
“American football?” Santino’s dark eyes widened. “Can you teach baseball?”
“Yeah, and basketball. But—” Matt thought for a moment “—but we don’t have time for that because we need to get to Rumbek. Do you know the way to Rumbek?”
“Of course!” Santino chuckled. “It is there.” He pointed off in the direction of the same nothingness that surrounded the whole village.
“We don’t know the way. And we can’t walk that far because of our sore feet. So I guess we’ll just sit here and not teach you how to play American baseball or football or basketball.”
Santino spoke to his buddies, and they all chattered for a while. They pointed one direction and then another. They yelled at each other, shoving back and forth. And finally Santino stepped out of the group.
“Why do you tell us a lie, American boy?” he asked Matt. “You say you come to Sudan to feed us, but you have no peanuts even for yourselves.”
This was a logical question, and Matt realized how dumb he and his companion must look to these natives. “I don’t have food, but I have this,” he said, taking the USB key from his pocket. “This is a machine with secrets inside it. And this machine may help bring food to Sudan. I have to take it to Rumbek and give it to Josiah Karume, the director of I-FEED.”
“This is a machine?” Santino peered at the key. “It is a gun?”
“No, it’s part of a computer.”
“Computer? I do not know this machine.”
“It’s very powerful.”
“Ah.” Santino explained this to his comrades. Then he nodded at Matt. “You may teach us to play American football, and then we shall take you to Rumbek.”
“No way. You take us to Rumbek, and then we’ll teach you how to play football.”
“Eh!” Santino smacked him on the back. “Good! You come now.”
> He and the other boys filed off toward one of the huts in the distance. Matt helped Billy to his feet, and they stepped out of the shade and into the blazing sunlight.
“Do you think they’ve got a car in that hut?” Billy asked.
“I don’t know.” Matt stepped gingerly, trying not to injure his feet further. “I hope it’s—”
“Oh, boy. Oh, great.” Billy stopped in his tracks. “What is that thing?”
“A horse.” Matt laughed. “I think it’s a horse!”
Santino proudly led the bony animal across the clearing. The other boys wheeled out a small cart made of tree branches and bare bicycle tire rims. They hitched the horse to the cart with ropes and pointed for the boys to climb in.
“This horse I capture from the mujahideen,” Santino explained. “After my village was attacked and my parents were killed, I was taken by the mujahideen to be a slave.”
“A slave?” Billy turned to Matt. “I thought slavery was abolished.”
“In America, dude.”
“My work was to tend the horses of the mujahideen who raid the villages,” Santino continued. “One night, I steal this horse and escape. This is now my horse.”
He looked so proud of the broken-down old animal that Matt wanted to laugh. But he knew this was serious business. “Are you guys going to walk?” he asked.
“We walk.” Smiling, Santino dug around in his pocket and pulled out a handful of roasted peanuts. He offered them to Matt and Billy, and then he beckoned his friends. “Let us go to Rumbek and learn to play American football!”
SEVENTEEN
“A helicopter?” Vince gripped the telephone. “Is it reliable?
“My men will check it out as soon as it arrives in Khartoum, sir, although we’ll have to use the native pilot.” Mack Harwood sounded weary. Agrimax’s security chief had stayed at the airport well into Friday night, trying without success to get Sudan’s visa and inoculation requirements waived and to arrange a flight to the refugee camp in Rumbek. Saturday had proven equally futile. Finally, early this Sunday morning, he was calling from the airport to say he had received clearance and found transportation.
“And you tell me Josiah Karume authorized the use of this helicopter?” Vince asked.
“His office staff here in Khartoum gave us permission, sir. It’s an old Soviet-made chopper that I-FEED uses to transport food to remote areas. It’s been over near the border with Chad, which is…uh…west of here. It’s supposed to arrive back here around noon, and we’re trying to find fuel—”
“Trying to find fuel?”
“Basic supplies and parts are scarce, Mr. Grant, and the bureaucracy is a nightmare.”
“Have you talked to Karume himself?”
“No, sir. Evidently, he’s down at the refugee camp in Rumbek, but we’re not getting a phone connection. They tell me the camp does have service off and on, but Karume usually stays in touch with his staff by computer, using a wireless modem with satellite—”
“So is Karume answering your e-mail messages?”
“Not yet, sir. We weren’t able to find his office until yesterday morning, and then it took us most of the day to locate his secretary and the other staff. Businesses shut down early on Fridays for religious reasons, and you also have to work around their prayer times. We’ve just now managed to get permission to use the helicopter, and we’ll keep trying to connect with Karume in Rumbek.”
“Does the office staff know anything about the boy? Has he made it to Rumbek?”
“No one has heard from Karume. He flew into Khartoum from Paris last week and immediately took the train down to the camp.”
“Get me out of this hotel, Harwood.” Vince tossed his wet towel on the bed. He’d been swimming that morning, trying without success to distract himself from the fact that the merger meeting was now forty-eight hours away. “Send a limo for me. I’ll be bringing Ali along. He’s a good bodyguard.”
“Well, sir, about the limo—”
“I want to be at the airport when the chopper arrives, Harwood. And keep trying with Karume. E-mail him. Tell him the boy is coming his way, and warn him not to do anything until I get to Rumbek. Make sure he understands the seriousness of this, Harwood.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You work on patching me through to the refugee camp by phone. I want to talk to Karume.”
“I’ll do my best, sir.” Harwood paused. “Mr. Grant, I won’t be able to send a limo for you. There aren’t any in Sudan. It’ll be another taxi.”
“A taxi?” Vince raked his fingers back through his damp hair. “Just get me out of here, Harwood.”
Jill leaned against the metal window frame of the old bus and stared out at the African grassland beyond the dirt road. Despite Daniel’s dire warnings, she and Cole had changed back into their regular clothes, boarded the humanitarian train and made it safely to Wau. After baking for several hours in the extreme heat, they boarded this bus bound for Sudan’s southern capital city of Juba. It would stop in Rumbek that afternoon—providing its bald tires didn’t burst, it didn’t bottom out in a pothole, and its radiator didn’t explode. Every two or three miles, the driver stopped the bus and added fluid. Engine coolant? Water, more likely, Jill surmised. As they rolled along, steam and smoke drifted steadily from under the hood.
“What are you thinking about?” Cole asked when she let out a sigh. He was wedged up against her, because two other passengers had decided the three-person seat had plenty of room for all. In fact, humans and livestock all competed for space in this packed menagerie on wheels.
“I’m hoping this bus makes it to Rumbek,” she told Cole. “I’m thinking about Matt and Billy, too, wondering where they are. I pray they’re safe at the camp with Josiah Karume.”
He shook his head. “If they’re there, it’ll be a miracle. I don’t see how two kids from small-town America could survive this.”
“With God all things are possible.” She shrugged. “Sounds nice, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah. Got another one?”
“Probably. My brain is too tired to have an original thought. It’s reeling with verses I learned in Vacation Bible School and proverbs my grandpa used to say. ‘All’s well that ends well. The early bird gets the worm. Hate the sin but love the sinner. Be in the world but not of the world.’”
“You’re beautiful.”
She caught her breath, then tried to laugh. “That can go on my list.”
“Fine, but I’ve never meant it more.”
Stunned, Jill realized she was actually blushing. Thank goodness for the scarf. Not only did it hide unwashed and frizzled hair, but maybe it would shield her pink cheeks. This was the first time Cole had mentioned his feelings for her since they left Khartoum. Jill had tried to tell herself she didn’t care. On the train, they had been separated—men in one car and women in another. But Cole had had ample time to talk to her at station stops, and he’d said nothing. She decided she must have convinced him that the weirdness of this time and place had distorted his outlook. After all, they were a long way from his ranch and Penny Ames.
“Do you ever think what it will be like when we get home?” she asked him now. “You’ll be ranching, and I’ll be teaching. We never ran into each other before. So I guess I won’t see you. I’ve gotten…I’m used to us. Being together, you know.”
She could feel his eyes on her, the blue intensity. “I want it to be that way, Jill. Us together.”
“But Penny would—”
“Don’t talk about Penny, okay?” He let out a hot breath. “I know everything you want to say. Yes, I asked Penny to marry me. I know this is a strange time for you and me. And if I lose Matt…”
Unable to hold back, she took his hand and held it tightly. “Cole, you don’t have to—”
“No, let me say this. If I lose Matt, things will be hard for me. I didn’t believe I would ever get through the months after Anna’s death, but I did. Eventually, I made it to the place where it doesn’t hur
t every day. I don’t think about her constantly, not the way I once did. But a child…Matt…I don’t know how you could ever get over losing a child. I can’t see how I could live through one day after another knowing…knowing he was gone.”
Jill blinked back tears.
“Maybe if I lose Matt, or even if I don’t,” Cole continued, “maybe I’ll realize I ought to go ahead and marry Penny. I might stop thinking about you. I might go back to the man I was and be okay with letting you go. But I don’t think so, Jill.”
She took the end of her scarf and blotted the tear wandering down her cheek. “I hope not.”
“Really?” He took her hands. “Is that why you’ve been crying so much? Is it because you don’t want to let go of what we have here? Tell me, Jill.”
“I can’t talk about it. It feels wrong. Like adultery, or something.”
“I’m not married to her!”
“I know, but you are promised. If you promised to be my husband, and then you went off to Sudan and started wooing—”
“Wooing? I’m not wooing you, Jill. I never intended for this to happen with us. I’m an honorable man. God put us together to find Matt, and along the way, I realized I can’t imagine living without you.”
Tension rippled through his shoulder, pressed so hard against her own. The man was amazing, Jill thought once again. Maintain your integrity, her grandpa had advised. And integrity was Cole Strong’s guiding principle.
“I trust you,” she said. “I know you were loyal to your wife, and I believe you intended to marry Penny. And…and I do understand about how this experience has changed you. It has changed me, too.”
“In what ways?”
“I’ve always been so big on mission work. Doing my part, and all that. But all I do is go in and help—an outsider swooping in, doing good, and then winging her way back home again. I never stay and dig into relationships. I’ve been that way with everything. I help my students, try to influence them and then shuffle them out the door to their next class. My friends know I won’t really get involved in their lives. A lunch or a party, maybe. But nothing serious.”
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