by Ann Walker
"It'll be long-distance," he said with a sigh, "but that doesn't bother me." There was a slight pause wherein he tightened his hold on me. "Does it bother you?"
"No." I answered without a beat of hesitation. Long-distance relationships came with a bad reputation, but if I was speaking honestly, from my heart of hearts, I'd given my most truthful answer. In fact, I'd actually already considered moving to his home town. There was nothing keeping me in my city except for my friends, and if those friends couldn't handle the commute, maybe they weren't real friends. Of course, I kept that to myself—no need to look overly eager or anything. "It'll be tough sometimes… I'm not naïve to think it won't be, but we'll make it work."
"That's what people do when they're in love."
So much for not looking overeager…
We both stilled at the word, neither of us ever uttering it out loud to one another. It was more of an unspoken reality, something we'd both undoubtedly acknowledged alone, but never together. I tried to bite back the huge smile spreading across my face, but I couldn't. Thrilled to hear him say it, I pressed a kiss to his temple and nodded.
"Yes… Yes they do," I murmured, breaking the silence, shattering the norm. Grant grasped me by the chin, his eyes rife with a familiar heat, and pulled me down for another desperate kiss. Eyes closed, I fell into him, mind, body, and soul, knowing that this was the beginning of perfection.
Chapter Nine
I glanced over toward Grant; the car bouncing as I attempted to maintain control of the steering wheel in the rough terrain, and smirked when I found him slumped down, his arms crossed over his chest, fast asleep. I could have let him snooze, of course. Healing was done best while one slept. But given the performance of our two rounds behind the waterfall, I had a sinking suspicion there were other reasons why he was dozing on me.
"Hey," I laughed, reaching over and swatting at him. He inhaled sharply, sitting up and blinking fast. "Don't fall asleep on me here."
"Sorry," he mumbled as he rubbed his face. I almost felt bad, given how red his eyes were and how heavy with sleep his voice was, but he couldn't have been out for more than five minutes. "I didn't even realize I'd nodded off."
"Stay with me." I went for the air conditioning, turning it up a little to get the drowsy warmness out of the air. "It's boring to drive alone, even out here."
"Merciless woman," he grumbled. I smiled when he stroked my leg, his hand wandering dangerously high on my thigh. "Can't give me a moment's peace, can you?"
"That's not what I was hinting at," I told him, "but I'd be up for another round if you are."
"I'm always up for you."
We exchanged looks, my eyebrows shooting up, and I rolled my eyes dramatically enough to make him laugh. In all actuality, I'd probably pull the car off the uneven road in a heartbeat if he told me he wanted to get another round in before we made it back to the village. Out here, we could be as loud as we wanted—the volunteer huts weren't even remotely soundproof.
"It's a tempting offer," I insisted, scanning the dry savannah scenery, "but I think I'll pass."
He folded his arms behind his head, stretched out and relaxed. "Your loss."
It'd be getting close to dinnertime at the village, and I didn't see a reason to stay out unnecessarily late. I mean, sure, we'd probably only come back in a half-hour later, but seeing as this was my first trip so far from the village, I wasn't without my nerves. What if the car broke down? What if something happened to us? What if we ran out of gas?
They were all irrational concerns, I knew that, but whenever I had a few quiet moments to think, sometimes they clawed their way back in. Maybe that was one of the reasons I needed Grant to keep talking to me. Since he'd hurt himself, I found my thoughts more stressful than usual, and it was nice to finally have him back in a place where he could help calm me down if the need ever arose. I'd been so worried about him, so concerned about us and our future, and there were times when the stress of it all really got me down. Of course I kept it to myself, but it was nice to share just a smidgen of the burden sometimes.
"What do you think they'll be cooking for dinner tonight?"
"I'm hoping that beef stew we had last week," I replied, my stomach rumbling at the thought. "I'd eat that all day if I could."
"Agreed," Grant said with a nod. He then leaned forward and fiddled with the radio, attempting to find a good station once more. He'd failed on the drive out, so I wasn't exactly sure what made him think he'd be successful on the way back.
In the distance, beyond the dried grass and the sparsely scattered trees, a cloud of red dirt tumbled across the scenery. I frowned when it caught my eye, slowly the car a little in response. Were there animals running? I hadn't seen many herds of hooved creatures near the village aside from the villagers' cattle, but it probably wasn't unheard of that something around here would make such a commotion.
I, for one, didn't want us to get stuck in whatever it was. So, I slowed the beast I was driving even more, and each dip in the path—as it was more of a well-worn path than an actual road—felt exaggerated. Grant didn't seem to notice; when I glanced his way, he was still fighting with the radio, his eyebrows furrowed as he turned the tuning button, jumping between static-filled stations with a scowl.
The dust cloud didn't stop, however. In fact, it seemed to be moving toward us almost deliberately, and my hands slipped on the steering wheel, my palms suddenly coated in sweat. It wasn't until I paid the cloud more attention that I realized it wasn't an animal.
There were three SUVs headed toward us, gunning it across the uneven terrain, mowing down anything, plant or small animal, that crossed their paths.
"Oh my god," I whispered, unsure of whether I ought to speed up or slow down. "Grant… Grant!"
"What?" he demanded, sitting up and scratching at the back of his neck. "What's wrong?"
I nodded toward the dust cloud, and the SUVs were almost too obvious now. Black and bold, they certainly didn't belong out here. But then again, neither did we. "Should I stop?"
He studied the scene for a long moment, leaving me desperate for him to speak, and then finally shook his head.
"No, keep driving," Grant told me, his voice eerily calm—not a good sign. "Don't floor it or we might screw up the car, but… you can go a little faster."
It took everything in me not to slam my foot down on the gas and whizz out of there.
"They might be tourists," I offered, though it was obvious neither of us believed that.
"They'd hopefully be on this path," Grant said, but I didn't want it to be true. "Just keep going. Don't stop unless it's absolutely necessary."
"Grant?"
"It'll be fine," he told me, though his words sounded hollower and hollower as the SUVs closed in on us. "Just don't panic."
"Easier said than done," I mumbled, easing off the gas when one of the black vehicles cut free from the group and cut across the path. It stopped directly in front of me, and it was either swerve and risk catching the wheels in a groove somewhere, or stop. "Grant?"
"Just keep going." He seemed less sure this time, and I drew in a shaky breath when another of the black SUVs raced around behind us, falling into the view of my rear-facing mirror. "Maybe they'll move if they realize we won't…"
He trailed off, facing the window at the third SUV.
"We won't what?" I demanded, my voice cracking. My foot went to the brake pedal, years of safe driving compelling me to not hit or recklessly swerve around another driver.
"Stop the car."
"What?"
"I'll talk to them—"
"Don't be ridiculous," I snapped, my voice's pitch clinging ever higher. "Obviously these guys want something. Are we on private property? Park rangers? Border patrol? Did we go into Ghana and not realize it?"
"I seriously doubt that." Our car rolled to a smooth stop, the dust and dirt settling around us, and Grant placed his warm, large hand on my arm. I looked to him, my foot pressed so hard against the brake th
at it hurt. He held my stare, my alarmed expression meeting his unnervingly calm one. "Clara… Just don't panic. Let me handle this."
I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to breathe evenly. I didn't want him to "handle this". I wanted to be back under the waterfall, my clothes in a damp pile, our naked bodies pressed together for the first time in weeks. If I tried really hard, maybe I could make it all go away.
No luck. When I opened my eyes, we were of course still surrounded by three SUVs, and the dust around us continued to settle. Grant rooted through the compartment in front of him, withdrawing our volunteer papers and passports.
"If it's border control, we should be fine," he told me, holding up the papers for me to see. I tried to nod, but my head barely moved a fraction of an inch in each direction. "Don't look so terrified… It'll all be okay."
He cupped my cheek briefly, his thumb stroking my skin. I probably looked exceptionally pale, and I plucked at my skin to bring some color back to it. No point in looking traumatized if this was just a standard procedure. Grant shot me a smile, and as he climbed out of the vehicle, I wished he'd kissed me.
As he left our car, so too did a group of men from the surrounding SUVs. Much to my surprise, they were a mixed bag of races: Caucasian, African, Asian to some extent… I had a sinking suspicion that Togolese border patrol was probably made up strictly of Togo locals.
This was… something else. If Grant noticed it, he gave no indication to show he shared my suspicions. His smile was as bright and cheerful as ever, and he held out our paperwork to the closest man.
And that was when he had a gun pulled on him. I gasped, tears springing to my eyes, as he held his hands up defenselessly. As I looked between the new arrivals, I realized all of them had guns, some bigger, some mere handguns resting in holsters on belts.
Oh my God. I closed my eyes again, thinking of the waterfall. Grant wanted us to be together when we went home—and we would go home. We had to. I was ready to start our lives together, and our lives did not involve being held up at gunpoint by a group of bandits in the Togolese savannah.
Tears rolled down my cheeks when my eyes opened, and although I couldn't make out what he was saying, Grant seemed to be trying to negotiate with them. His arms gestured, the discussion heated, and I yelped when the man nearest to Grant slammed a pistol into his stomach. Hands clamped over my mouth, I watched him double over, but then straighten back up fairly fast.
I almost called his name. The first few letters slipped out, but I pressed my lips together when several men looked my way. One moment they were studying me, the atmosphere outside tense, and then the next two were making their way toward me. It was only then that Grant seemed to lose him cool demeanor. As one of the men yanked my door open, I heard him shouting for them to stop, to leave me alone.
A firm hand clamped down on my arm, and I was soon dragged from the car, falling to my knees with a whimper. This couldn't be happening. This… This wasn't real. I wasn't strong enough to handle something like this.
"Please don't hurt me," I half-whispered, my hands up in an attempt to look as submissive as possible.
"Get your hands off her! Take me! Take me and leave her alone!"
Grant pleas fell on deaf ears, and I heard him grunt when I assumed someone started pummeling him.
"S-Stop," I stammered my eyes wide and imploring as I looked up at the impassive face of our attackers. "Please just… leave us alone."
Useless. There was no point in reasoning with them. I pressed my lips together tightly as they cuffed my hands in plastic zip-ties, and before I could get another word in, my world went black, blocked out by a burlap sack that smelled like death.
Chapter Ten
I don't think I'd ever heard my stomach growl so loudly in all my life. At this point, I was almost beyond hunger—beyond the pain of an empty gut, beyond the dizziness that came with plummeting blood sugar. There was no telling how long I'd been in this room, but it was long enough to feel like this—to feel the hope fading.
After we were taken from our car, Grant and I were transported somewhere in one of the SUVs, tied together in the back for what felt like hours. No one spoke English—at least not to us—but the dialect was unfamiliar to me. Unlike the local chatter, something I'd grown accustomed to, the language of our captors sounded harsh, but I guess that was probably the point. They weren't there to make us comfortable. Their laughter made my skin crawl.
Once we arrived at our destination, we were dragged from the car and separated. I was searched, hands running over my body for anything I might have concealed, all the while with a burlap sack obstructing my vision. All I knew was that we were somewhere warm, though I could occasionally feel the fluttering breeze of a rotating fan.
My pleas were ignored, though that didn't surprise me. I'd tried begging, bargaining, and demanding, but no one acknowledged me. The men around me spoke to one another, never to me, and my only interaction was the horrible way they dragged me from place to place. They took my shoes, but left me in my clothes, and when the sack was finally removed, I was in a room with no furnishings except for a thin mattress. My ankle was attached to a metal chain on a wall, and there I waited, alone, occasionally trying to see out the single window close to the ceiling, until Grant finally joined me.
While I appeared relatively untouched, his face was marked up. He said he'd earned it from defending me when we were first taken, and as the daylight dwindled, the two of us chained to opposite sides of the room, I watched the bruising grow darker.
After a restless night filled with no sleep, we were given water the following morning, plus a few pieces of bread, but that was hardly enough to keep either of us full. At the time, Grant had offered his entire portion to me, insisting I keep my strength up, but I wouldn't hear of it. We both needed to endure, to survive.
When they came back, they came for Grant—and I couldn't control myself. I cried. I screamed. I begged them not to take him. I pulled myself as far as my confines would allow, trying to reach out to him, but it was no use. Our captors took him, and they'd had him for the better part of the day. The heat continued to rise in the little box they'd put me in, my skin coated in sweat, my lungs thick with the sticky humidity.
I should have cried now. I wanted to curl up in a ball and weep, but I just… couldn't. While Grant was gone, I sat in a numb stupor, my mind as empty as my stomach. Thinking was impossible, probably because my brain couldn't wrap itself around what had happened. This kind of stuff… kidnapping… It only happened in movies. All of my mom's worries about coming over here flooded back to me, but I pushed them aside. This had to be an anomaly… Volunteers were usually safe out here.
We shouldn't have gone to the waterfall. We should have spent Grant's day off in bed until the evening meal beckoned us out.
And I had suggested the waterfall trip.
This was my fault.
I sat up suddenly when I heard voices on the other side of the door, only then did I let out a strangled breath……Grant was being marched into our prison cell. Neither of us said anything as our captors (unfamiliar men who weren't in the SUVs)chained Grant to the wall. In fact, I kept my lips pressed together tightly until the door was shut and bolted again, and then we both crawled toward one another.
We were just close enough to touch hands, and that was if we stretched.
"Are you okay?" I whispered, taking in his bruised features. His knuckles were a little bloody, and I couldn't help but wonder if he got a few good hits in himself. Grant nodded his eyes as weary as mine.
"We're being held for ransom," he told me, his voice thick and croaky. The word sent a jolt through my body, I let go of him with a shudder.
"What?"
"They're a militant group, not local," he explained, shaking his head, "and they need funding. So… They kidnap foreigners and ransom them back to their governments."
"B-But," I stammered, my mind finally kicking into gear, my hunger forgotten, "nobody negotiates with terro
rists back home."
We stared at one another, most likely thinking the same thing…. we were screwed.
"I asked them to bring more food," he told me, both of us ignoring the huge elephant in the room. I said “we wouldn't make good ransoms if we starved to death first."
I nodded, numb. "Good point."
"We won't be staying for long," he continued, licking his dry lips. "They told me we'd be moving to another compound by foot. I assume it's to throw off the people looking for us."
My head bobbed up and down again, but I found I couldn't say anything. My tongue felt heavy, useless. Grant reached forward and tightened his grip on my hand, forcing me to meet his gaze.
"I'm going to get us out of this," he said firmly. I stared at him for a moment, so desperately in love and yet so terrified that moments like this might be our last. My face screwed, my tears fell, and Grant's soothing voice fell on deaf ears. No matter what he said, it didn't matter. I was going to lose him—we were going to lose each other.
And this, the chains and prison blocks and men with harsh voices, was how it was all going to end.
I closed my eyes tight, my breath strangled, my heart was broken. This was where I was going to die.
To be continued...
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