She was telling all this to the velvet pattern on the back of the seat, terrified to look at Noah and see his disgust. He wasn’t looking at the girl he thought he knew, and now he realized the truth about her.
“Wara,” he started, but she cut him off, laughing breathlessly.
“And that’s not everything! The morning after it happened, we were supposed to fly to Puerto Rico together for his brother’s wedding. He made such a big deal about it, because he said he’d never had a ‘nice’ girlfriend before to take home to meet his family and he knew his mom was going to be all proud of him. Lázaro’s parents even paid for our tickets.”
Wara felt dizzy, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Had she really done all this? She’d spent so long trying not to think about it, pretending she was the kind of person who would never act this way. But it was all true. She licked her lips, determined to finish the story.
“So, the last night I saw Lázaro, he gave me five thousand dollars for the trip, just to keep for him because in the morning he had to stop in the market and get a present for his mom and he didn’t want to get robbed there on the way to the airport. And…he also gave me the diamond wedding ring for his brother’s wife. She had him buy it in Bolivia, because it was cheaper than in Puerto Rico. That was at dinner. But later, I felt so horrible about everything that I never showed up to go to Puerto Rico in the morning. I just stood Lázaro up at the airport. I went to Montana for four months and never talked to him again. When I came back to Cochabamba he was gone. I just ran away from him, because it was easier to just not think about it. Never gave him back the money and the ring. He definitely hates me now.”
There, she’d told him everything. There was a giant split somewhere inside her heart: this adventurous girl who loved languages and Jesus and living here in Bolivia. And then, on the dark side, this liar who had slept with a guy while working as a missionary and never had the guts to face him afterwards.
She felt like she had just turned herself inside out, here on this bus in front of Noah: the rotten inside she always kept hidden from the world was now revealed, stinking up this bus, her entire life. Noah was speaking, but focusing on his voice was a struggle.
“But you repented.” The tone was a statement, not a question. “And God forgave you.”
“Yes.” Wara shrugged weakly. “But it doesn’t feel like it.”
Noah pulled Wara’s chin up with one finger, until her face was tilted towards his. “C’mon, look at me!” he insisted. Wara tried, but abject humiliation wouldn’t let her eyes connect with his.
“In that story Jesus told,” he said, “the Father took his son back after he spent everything in wild living, like we all do.” Noah took both of Wara’s hands in his and leaned in closer. “But when the son came back, the Father didn’t just let him slave away as a servant. He threw a party. He loves you, Wara. You’re back.”
Noah’s Adam’s apple bobbed and he paused, gazing out the window behind Wara, seemingly lost in thought. A moment later his eyes rounded and he jerked his gaze back to her. His grip on her hands tightened. And he was staring at her. Wide-eyed and staring.
“I have something to give you,” he finally said, releasing her hands hastily and digging around in his pocket. Wara’s gaze spiraled to the floor, still dizzy with shame in spite of Noah’s reminder that she was forgiven. Nice words, yeah. God could forgive, but how could he ever feel same about her, seeing what she had done? It was one thing to not punish her for her sins, and quite another to still like her, to want to spend time with her.
The same for Noah. He was witness to her worst moment. Maybe several worst moments. He could still be nice, but he would never look at her without thinking about…that.
Her heart was aching when she felt Noah slide closer, wrapping one long arm around her shoulder. Wara inhaled sharply and met his eyes, completely confused.
Noah was touching her? He was supposed to be repulsed. He sat like that in silence for a full minute, eyes flickering, obviously running through something in his head. Then he slid his arm from her shoulder and scooted back to his own seat, fist tightly closed around something in his left hand.
“I have something to…to ask you,” he announced, and the goofy grin that began to spread across his face caused Wara to blink. “Now might not be a good time. In fact, you just might kill me. But we’ve known each other for a really long time now, so I just…” Noah’s voice faltered and Wara sniffed, completely mystified.
He better not be about to ask me advice about some sin problem he has, now that we’re on the subject and he happens to have a friend here who is quite familiar with sinfulness!
“…I just have this…for you,” Noah was going on. “Feel free to laugh at me, as long as it makes you feel better.”
Wara’s eyes focused blankly on a silver ring engraved with Arabic letters that Noah was holding out towards her, glimmering in the faint light from the front of the bus.
“Wara, I…” Noah shot her a lopsided smile and murmured to himself, “You’re doing this all wrong.” He leaped to his feet, almost banging his head on the bus’s dark ceiling, and managed to get down on one knee in the aisle. Wara’s eyes popped and flashed between the silver ring and Noah.
What? Had he gone crazy?
“Ok, now I’m sweating,” Noah said, rubbing a hand across his face and sucking in a deep breath. “I’m kind of messing this up. This ring is something I got in Egypt when I studied there for a semester when I was twenty. I kept it for a while, to give to the unlucky girl I will attempt to trick into dating and then marrying me. It says,” Noah held the ring out towards Wara again, on one shaking palm, “’My beloved is mine and I am his’. I wanted to ask you if you would consider thinking of me like that…if you would like to be with me…get to know me…think about marrying me someday! If you didn’t get sick of me while we’re dating, you know.”
Noah’s hands were shaking, though he tried to smile, and he actually seemed on the verge of tears. Wara’s jaw went slack as Noah quickly added, “I mean, you don’t have to decide right now, but I would like us to get to know each other. I want to be with you, Wara!”
“What? You can’t. How could you…” Wara tried in vain to think of something to say, jerking around in her seat as scattered applause broke out from the back of the bus.
They were watching! Why was Noah on his knees?
He’s crazy!
He said he wanted to be with me…
Is this a joke?
It’s not a joke—he’s sweating and waiting for me to answer! He looks like he really…still likes me?
In reality, Noah’s eyes said that he still loved her.
“Of course, I love you,” Wara blurted. “But how could you…”
“Ssshhh…” Noah hauled himself out of his scrunched up position in the aisle, laughing but looking stricken. “Are you serious? You actually love me?” Noah sat down next to her again, and Wara gaped at him, dumbstruck. She nodded.
“Ok then,” he said nervously. For a moment no one spoke, and Wara’s heart pounded in her ears like a tom-tom. “We, my dear, have a lot to talk about. But not now. Let’s just rest, ok. Come here…just rest.”
Noah put his arm around her tentatively, watching her to make sure it as ok. As he pulled her close, he slid the silver ring on her finger and squeezed her hand. All Wara could do was lean against him in an amazed stupor, thinking this could not be real.
“Everyone in the world is desperate for grace.” The quote from a book Wara had read this year exploded in her mind like sparkling firecrackers. “This is what’s unique about Christianity: grace. No other religion has a god who gives grace.”
Her heart was thudding against her ribs, but her eyelids drooped. Wara leaned back against the seat, Noah’s arm around her, and her heart slowed until she finally fell asleep.
She came to consciousness as if in a dream. A roaring heat swallowed her and something solid and icy smacked her in the head. Wara’s eyes flew open as wi
de as they had ever opened in her life, and what she saw was a mountain of writhing silver flames. And then it was gone.
She tried to grab on to something, but it was like a nightmare catapult flung her into space. The flames spiraled overhead again and she opened her mouth to scream, hearing only a sickening crunch of metal and glass shattering around her like crystal rain. The flaming bus lifted off the ground over her head and hurdled away with a whoosh of fire and Wara realized she had fallen out of the window of the bus onto her back.
Just like that, there was nothing but the star-studded sky overhead and the most awful sound Wara had ever heard in her life: metal punching against boulders as the bus rolled down the ravine. Screams echoed for a few seconds, and then another explosion battered the ground and all was deathly quiet.
Wara began to shake. She didn’t know if she was dying, but this had to be what dying felt like. There had been an accident, and…where was Noah?
She had to see if she could get up, because Noah had been right beside her, and he had to be right beside her still.
She tried to roll onto one side and was terrified to feel her head weighed about a hundred pounds. She could barely move. Gasping for breath, Wara forced her eyes to the drop-off where the entire bus had disappeared. To her left was an expanse of flat ground and spiky, clumped grass.
She struggled to turn her head to the right and laid her cheek against the cold gravel. Shadowy trees bent over the ravine, dipping low in the wind towards death below.
There was no one there.
Wara sprawled on the edge of the cliff, eyes unseeing, until everything faded into darkness.
10
midnight blue
ALEJO WAS STRETCHED OUT ON THE FLOOR of the tent on his stomach, trying to ignore Stalin’s noisy snoring, eyes boring into the darkness and having absolutely no success at sleep. The sat phone’s glowing display said it was nearly midnight, and the clearing that held their tents buzzed with cicadas and singing frogs and the forest’s pulsating hum.
A snap cracked above the quiet chorus, and Alejo jerked his head up. He recognized the raucous voices that floated into the clearing as belonging to the Paraguayans and bolted to his feet. He unlatched the opening to the tent and jogged across the darkened clearing towards the group who was just exiting the forest.
Gabriel and some of the guys had made the hike down towards the spot where the bus should have gone over, anxious to see the results of the hastily-planned operation. It was too early for any news on the radio they had stashed with the supplies; the heavy tropical growth down the sides of the mountain was so thick that no one passing by would even notice the bus had crashed, unless the explosion had left a pile of debris next to the highway. Gabriel hadn’t wanted any tell-tale signs left over that the accident hadn’t really been accidental, and so had moved in to check the scene.
“Hey.” Alejo made out Gabriel’s pale face at the front of the line. He was relived to see that his friend seemed pleased. “Two questions: Is he dead, and does it look like an accident?”
“99.9% probability, and yes, check,” Gabriel said merrily. Some of the others, William and Marco, drew up next to Gabriel, laughing too loudly, and snickering something to the guys behind them. Alejo finally made out the dark forms of Christian, Daniel, and Osmar strolling casually out of the forest, hauling something between them.
Something that had the shape of a human.
Frowning sharply, Alejo opened his mouth just as they dropped their burden to the dewy grass. The person rolled over, moaning, and a head with long tresses turned to one side, revealing a white face streaked with blood.
Alejo swore, immediately understanding what was going on. He glared at all of them, including Gabriel. “What were you thinking, bringing her here? She survived?”
“Yeah, she was on the bus,” Gabriel explained, happiness slightly subdued. Alejo noticed Gabriel was carrying a purple backpack that obviously didn’t belong to him, which he carelessly slung to the ground.
The girl moaned again and then her eyes slit open. She thrashed one way and then the other, then flew up to a sitting position with a loud gasp and yelled, “Noah!”
Noah? Not a Bolivian name.
“She’s American,” Christian grinned, crooked teeth visible in the darkness. “Passport in her bag.” Alejo’s heart took a nose dive. Not one of Salazar’s staff.
How many others?
“Yeah, this is cool, huh?” William continued the jittery prattling from Alejo’s left. “We just thought you might want to share in the spoils of victory.” A few lewd comments rumbled from around the circle of men, and the American girl looked up sharply, terrified.
“I w-w-was in a bus accident,” she managed to say, in perfect Spanish. “Where am I? My friend was also on the bus—did you see anyone else?” She looked around frantically, trying to get up but obviously lightheaded.
“You weren’t in no bus accident, sweetheart,” William drawled, reaching out to touch her dark hair. “Your bus has been bombed…”
“Basta!” Alejo snapped, pushing William back hard. “Enough.”
“Bombed?” the girl’s voice faltered. Alejo clenched his fist and fought the urge to knock William out. They should have left any survivors on the road, so they could get to help. Now, instead, the girl was here, in the hands of some very unsafe men, himself included.
Alejo’s plans hadn’t included this possibility. How could anyone have survived the explosion? This girl didn’t even seem to be burned.
Stalin, long hair fuzzy around his very sleepy face, had by now joined the rest of the guys, who stood leering and making savage jokes. He rubbed his eyes, then slowly grinned, offering a hand to help the girl up from the dirt. “Come on,” he said, helping her stand up by his side. “You guys shouldn’t talk that way around a lady. It’s not her fault she ended up here with all of us. Wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“Oh, cut it out, Stalin!” Christian grinned. “Always such a gentleman. She’s going to die anyway. She’s a witness. We thought we might as well bring her up to join us for the party in honor of our last night in Coroico.”
Alejo’s mind seemed full of sludge. There weren’t supposed to be other people on the bus. Only Salazar and his staff.
But you didn’t know that for sure, did you? an accusing voice bit back at him. There could have been children on that bus. Your own family could have been on there.
Acid scalded Alejo’s stomach and he took a deep breath. The girl was on the point of tears, looking all around, trying to find something. Or someone.
Alejo’s mind cleared and he decided what he was going to do. Marching over towards Stalin, Alejo motioned for him to move out of the way. He looped an arm under the girl’s arms and dragged her smoothly to her feet, anchoring her back against his chest. Her weight sagged against him, so weak she could barely protest. With his free hand, Alejo forced the girl’s face to tip backwards so he could see her. He could feel her lower jaw trembling in his palm, and large honey-colored eyes with thick lashes met his, runny with tears.
Alejo allowed himself to grin wolfishly. Then he glared at the guys who were still leering at their prisoner. “If anyone’s having any fun here tonight, it’s me. Sadly for all of you, I am in charge, and unless you want to have your salaries cut off by the Khan himself I need all of you to get your rears back to your tents and sleep—now. We’ll start tomorrow at six. Last session before it’s over.”
Alejo felt the girl’s rapid breathing as he set his jaw and pulled her back tighter against his chest. A chorus of complaints arose around him, which he ignored, turning towards Gabriel with a wink. “Good work everyone. Especially you, Gabo.”
Gabriel was staring at Alejo slack-jawed as the rest of the guys gave up and whirled around to head towards their tents, muttering bitterly. Alejo motioned towards the purple backpack with his chin, and said, “Pass me that, will you, Gabo? She and I are going to retire.”
Gabriel picked up the backpack and pass
ed it over. “Sorry,” Gabriel barely whispered as he leaned closer. “The other guys made me bring her. But she would have had to go anyway. She’s a witness.”
“Yeah, I know. Everything’s going to work out.” Alejo winked again and then said a little louder, “You did it. It worked.”
“Thanks,” Gabriel said, glowing expression admitting he enjoyed the praise.
The girl began to squirm feebly against Alejo. “What are you guys talking about? Please, my friend might still be around and I have to go back…!” Alejo plugged the girl’s mouth tightly with his hand and started towards his tent, dragging her in front of him and really hoping she wouldn’t bite.
“Good night!” he called to Gabriel, then raised his voice as he approached the tent. “Stalin! Get your butt out here with your sleeping bag. Bad news---you’re going over to bunk with Benjamin.”
Alejo ripped open the entrance to his large tent as he heard a low moan and “Awww, man! Alright.” Grumbling, Stalin gathered up his sleeping bag and pillow, then grabbed his bottle of antacids and the ridiculous stuffed Snoopy that he insisted on bringing along on every trip. Alejo and the girl ducked inside his tent, which was lit by a camping lantern perched on a box they always left up here in the clearing. Still keeping her tightly in his grip, he cautiously slid his hand off her mouth, waiting for Stalin to leave. She sucked in air with a shudder, still sagging against Alejo.
Stalin passed by them on his way to the door. He managed to free one hand from his mass of possessions and held it out to the surviving girl, rather sadly. “The guys say your passport says you’re a missionary, senorita. I admire the way you missionaries share what you believe, far away from home.” Stalin sighed dramatically and then ran a finger down the girl’s bloodied cheek, almost guiltily. “I don’t think you’ll be here much longer, but if anyone ever deserved to go through those heavenly gates, I think it would be you.”
“Wait! Please…?” Wara tried to reach after Stalin as he darted out the door. “Wait!” she screamed again, and Alejo clamped his hand over her mouth and growled lowly into her ear.
Prism (Story of CI Book 1) Page 8