No Greater Love

by Kathi Macias

  She pulled away from the wall and sat up straight, determined not to show fear or weakness. “I was resting my eyes for a short time,” she said, looking up at the giant who stood over her. “The prisoners are secure.”

  Kefentse grunted, casting a disgusted look at the now-stirring captives, whom Chioma had wisely left bound, though she had wanted to release them from their uncomfortable ties. Not knowing when someone would walk in on them, however, she had realized she must leave things as they were.

  Stomping toward the corner that served as a kitchen for the tiny home, Kefentse cursed when he discovered there was no coffee. Before he could turn on her to complain, Chioma jumped up and hurried to get the hot beverage going. She hoped the offensive man would then take his brew and go back to his post outside.

  Sipho’s first cry of the morning pierced the uncomfortable silence, as Kefentse glared at Chioma, watching her every move. As the baby’s cries escalated, Chioma heard Mandisa’s comforting coos, vainly attempting to quiet her tiny charge. It wasn’t long before the anxious mother and wailing baby joined them in the main room.

  “He’s hungry,” Mandisa said apologetically, ducking her eyes when she spotted Kefentse, even as she continued to walk the baby, who had finally stopped crying long enough to recognize and receive the nourishment his mother urged upon him from the makeshift bottle.

  By the time the coffee was hot, it seemed Kefentse couldn’t escape quickly enough. Steaming mug in hand, he hurried from the house, grumbling that there wasn’t enough sugar for his drink. Chioma breathed a sigh of relief, grateful for Mandisa and Sipho’s presence, which seemed to unnerve the otherwise fearless man.

  “Did you sleep well?” Chioma asked her friend.

  Mandisa nodded. “Yes, thank you. And you?”

  Chioma dared a peek at her three friends, and then looked back at Mandisa and smiled. “Very well. It was a wonderful night.”

  Mandisa raised her eyebrows at the somewhat overly enthusiastic statement, but said nothing. Sipho was once again demanding her attention, having finished his meal and now fussing over a gas bubble or two. The dutiful mother placed him over her shoulder and began to pat his back before returning to the other room to remove his wet diaper.

  When Mandisa had closed the door behind her, Chioma moved quickly to sit down beside Emma. “I’ll prepare something for you to eat soon. And when Mandisa is finished with the baby, I’ll release you one by one to use the facilities. But then we must think about what to do before Themba returns. With Kefentse outside, it won’t be easy to escape. Even if you get past him, how will you get to safety before he discovers you’re missing and tracks you down? And Mandisa … I don’t know if she’ll help us, or … make it worse.”

  Emma nodded. “I understand, Chioma. And I’ve been praying most of the night. I believe God will provide the way of escape, and that He’ll show us what to do when the time comes.”

  “I, too, have been praying,” Paul added, “and I have a peace that God has a plan. We must be patient.”

  Chioma frowned. Did these people not realize how bad things could get once Themba returned? “We haven’t much time,” Chioma cautioned. “Themba and the others could return at any moment, though it may be as late as tomorrow.”

  Emma nodded again. “God knows that, my dear. Don’t worry. Just pray … and wait. He’ll show us when the time is right.”

  When Chioma opened her mouth to protest again, Emma held up her bound hands, palms open toward Chioma. “Don’t worry. God is never late.”

  In spite of her inner turmoil, Chioma felt herself relax. If God could reach her by speaking through one spot in the entire holy book, He could certainly deliver them all from this situation.

  He can … but will He? That was the question that still echoed in her mind. She laid her hand against the bulge in her front pocket that now contained not only her Bible but her father’s journal as well. She would simply have to wait to see what God would do.

  As the sun rose to its full height, stretching hot over the land, Chioma waited … and prayed. No answer came. The only words she heard, wending their way through her thoughts and emotions, were “no greater love.”

  She knew, of course, what the words meant. The woman called Emma, Andrew’s aunt, had read to her from the holy book about the greatest gift ever given, the greatest love ever shown, when Jesus, the only Son of the true God, willingly gave His life for others. She knew that now—but how was that to help any of them when it came to escaping the certain death that drew closer with each passing hour?

  Mandisa and the baby had joined them in the main room for most of the day so far, and Chioma had made good on her promise to feed the captives and take each one to use the facilities before retying them. As the afternoon sun baked the house, making them all drowsy, Chioma pulled her holy book from her front pocket and tried to read.

  If only Mandisa weren’t here, I could ask Emma and the others to explain these words, to help me understand. But I can’t let Mandisa see me being too friendly with them—not until I know what we’re supposed to do to escape … and whether or not I’m to go with them.

  She closed the book, and then her eyes, as Emma had instructed her to do. Soon, God, she prayed. Can You please show us soon what we’re to do? Emma says You’re never late … but could You perhaps be just a little early this time? I’m afraid my faith is very weak …

  No greater love was all she heard in return. No greater love …—

  No, it was suicide even to think about it. But then … it could be suicide not to, she reminded herself. Perhaps after dark. Surely he had to sleep sometime. Yes, that was it. She would wait until he was asleep and then steal his gun, or at least try to get the drop on him with hers. As darkness once again began to spread across the land, it seemed their only chance.

  Chioma’s heart beat so hard it felt as if it would burst from her chest. She had considered trying to sneak up on Kefentse, but there was no way she could know until she got close to him whether he was awake or asleep. If he was awake and spotted someone trying to approach him without warning, he would certainly shoot first and ask questions later. She would have to call out to him and approach him openly, getting as close as possible and then using the excuse that she didn’t feel well and needed him to watch the captives for a while. He would no doubt ask why Mandisa couldn’t cover for her, but by that time Chioma hoped to have her rifle in Kefentse’s face.

  Stepping from the house and taking her first tentative steps toward the tree under which she knew Kefentse sat, she sent up a silent prayer, glad the others had promised to do the same while she was gone. Then she called out to the surly guard, immediately evoking an angry bellow in response.

  “What do you want?” he demanded, as she continued to approach his post.

  “I need to speak with you,” she said, forcing her feet to move as quickly as she dared without alerting him to her intentions.

  She was within a few feet of him when he ordered, “Stop. You can talk to me from there. What do you want?”

  Pulse racing and mouth dry, Chioma answered, “I’m not feeling well. Is it possible for you to come inside to watch the prisoners while I rest?”

  The snarl coming from the dark space beneath the tree exhibited the contempt Kefentse felt for such a sign of weakness. “You wish to abandon your duties so soon? Themba won’t be pleased.”

  He was right, of course. Chioma knew that, so she could offer no argument to the contrary. “I just need some air. I’ve been in the house since we got here. I’m sure I’ll feel better if I can remain outside for a while.”

  Kefentse was silent for a moment, and then suddenly he emerged from the shadows, his weapon over his shoulder and his scowl deeper than usual. Less than five feet away from her, he loomed in the moonlight as a terrifying specter. Fear of what she was about to do nearly buckled her knees beneath her, and then she heard the words once again: no greater love.

  She swallowed. “Thank you, Kefentse. I won’
t be long. Just a little air, and I’ll be fine.”

  The man grunted and pushed past her, just as the lingering promise of the words she had heard in her heart catapulted her into action. “Stop,” she ordered, even as she jammed the barrel of her rifle into his back. “Don’t take another step. Slowly drop your weapon and kick it away.” When he stood, unresponsive, she demanded, “Do it now!”

  Slowly the muscles in Kefentse’s back began to ripple as he slipped the AK-47 from his shoulder and lowered it to the ground. Chioma, her own muscles tense and her eyes fixed on Kefentse’s weapon, was not prepared for the man’s sudden spin and lunge, as he simultaneously snatched his knife from his waistband, kicked at her, and knocked her to the ground. The next thing she knew she was lying on her back, watching this crazed giant of a man leap toward her, his knife blade gleaming in the darkness. With her rifle still in hand, she jerked it up to meet his chest and fired just as his body began to fall toward her. The only thing she saw after that, as the rifle recoiled against her, both from the shot and from Kefentse’s weight, was the wide-eyed shock of the man’s dark eyes. And then he was upon her, landing with a nearly bone-crushing blow … heavy, but motionless, his knife plunged into the ground beside her.

  The problem of Kefentse’s presence was no longer an issue … but now Chioma bore the added burden of having killed once again.

  Chapter 28

  FOR A FEW MOMENTS, CHIOMA LAY MOTIONLESS, stunned and terrified, beneath the dead weight of the man she was certain would have killed her if she hadn’t managed to kill him first. Telling herself she’d had no choice helped a little, but her heart still grieved for the necessity of what she had done. At the same time, the realization that she had indeed stopped her assailant with a bullet from the hard rifle that now lay uncomfortably between herself and Kefentse’s body finally spurred her to struggle against her entrapment, pushing with all her strength in an attempt to roll him off of her. When at last she succeeded and Kefentse fell to the ground beside her, she gasped for air, sucking in the welcome oxygen and trying to regain her senses.

  Now what? It was obvious she had killed yet another man in self-defense, but would that explanation work with Themba? How would she justify being outside with him when she was supposed to stay inside and watch the prisoners?

  Would he believe Chioma had come outside to ask Kefentse to relieve her, and that she had left Mandisa in charge for the few minutes she was gone? Would Mandisa go along with that story?

  Even if she did, Chioma decided, Themba would not likely believe her explanation of the events—or her reasons for doing what she did. Therefore, she had little choice left but to help the three captives escape, and to leave with them. But again, the question of Mandisa and the baby weighed on her heart. Would her friend leave with them and return to the farm where they used to work, not knowing what the consequences or outcome might be, particularly for little Sipho? And if Mandisa refused to accompany them, what would they do then? Chioma couldn’t leave the young mother and her child behind to face the wrath of Themba alone.

  Sitting up slowly, she heard Mandisa’s voice, frantic and trembling, calling to her from the house, unaware of the dangerous plan that had sent Chioma out into the night.

  “Are you well, Chioma? What happened? Where are you?”

  “I’m here,” Chioma called back. “I’m fine, Mandisa. Don’t worry.”

  Then, using her rifle to support her still shaky legs, she managed to rise to her feet. “I’m coming,” she called into the darkness. Then she began to make her way back to the little house, where Mandisa and her baby, as well as the missionary couple and the woman called Emma, no doubt waited anxiously for her return.

  By the time Chioma had related her story, with Emma, Paul, and Jeannie nodding in understanding and compassion as she talked, Mandisa was nearly hysterical.

  “What have you done?” she cried. “You’ve betrayed Themba! He’ll kill us all! Why, Chioma? Why would you do such a thing?”

  Chioma watched her friend through eyes of compassion, knowing it would be nearly impossible to make her understand, but praying somehow she would. The future of each one of them might very well depend on it.

  With the baby asleep in the other room, Mandisa paced, tears flowing down her cheeks, flailing her arms as she spoke. Chioma had never seen the girl so distraught, not even when they had run away from the farm to escape the men who killed Andrew.

  Approaching her gently but firmly, Chioma attempted to gather her friend into her arms, but Mandisa pushed her away. “No, no,” she sobbed, still pacing as she spoke. “I can’t go along with this. What you’ve done is wrong, Chioma. You’ve killed one of our own people!”

  Chioma’s voice was low but determined. “It was self-defense, Mandisa. If I hadn’t killed him first, he would have killed me.”

  Mandisa stopped for a moment, fixing her tear-filled eyes on Chioma. “He wouldn’t have tried to kill you if you hadn’t left your post and stuck a rifle in his back.” She shook her head slowly as she spoke. “No, Chioma. You’ve betrayed the cause, and you’ve betrayed your husband.” Her dark eyes flashed before they softened, along with her voice. “He’ll kill you. You know that. Themba won’t let you live when he knows what you’ve done.” She glanced at the three captives and then back at Chioma. “He’ll kill us all—every one of us, including my son.” Her momentary composure crumpled once again. “Oh, Chioma, what have you done?”

  Hysterical again, she resumed her pacing and weeping, as Chioma wrestled with Mandisa’s words. She was right, of course. Chioma had, indeed, betrayed the cause, as well as her husband, and now they would all die—unless they escaped before Themba returned. Surely she could convince Mandisa to leave with them, if for no other reason than to save Sipho’s life.

  Yes, that would have to be the source of Chioma’s appeal to the young mother. They must all leave together—quickly—or remain where they were and die. There simply were no other options.

  As the hours of darkness crept by and Chioma continued to beg Mandisa to come with them for Sipho’s sake, Mandisa became more obstinate, more resolute to remain behind. “I’d rather die—both me and my son—at the hands of Themba than to return to the white man’s farm and betray our people. I can’t do that, Chioma! Don’t ask me.”

  And then she had stormed off to the back room to be with her child, refusing to discuss the matter again.

  Chioma was amazed to realize the level of loyalty that had developed within Mandisa during their short time with Themba and his group. She was also surprised to recognize the personal conviction that now complemented Mandisa’s otherwise sweet personality. Those changes, however, finally convinced Chioma that the rest of them would have to move ahead with a plan to escape, with or without Mandisa.

  The first thing she did was to untie Emma and the missionary couple, as the four of them began to explore ideas for the best way to put as much distance as possible between them and the compound before Themba returned. They knew, too, that even if they convinced Mandisa to accompany them, Themba would immediately come after them. But at least if he returned to an empty house, he wouldn’t realize Chioma had killed Kefentse and then escaped with the captives she was supposed to be guarding. He would, instead, believe someone else had come into the camp and killed the only guard, then kidnapped the others. At least then he would be pursuing them with rescue in mind. If Mandisa stayed behind, she would certainly tell Themba what had really happened, and he would set out to find Chioma—and the others—with vengeance in his heart. And there was little doubt he would find them before they could make it to safety.

  As Emma rubbed her now unbound wrists, she cleared her throat. “We need to pray before we do anything. It’s only the mercy of God that Themba and the others haven’t returned already. But as you said, Chioma, he’ll be here today for sure. Morning is fast approaching, and we need clear direction from God.”

  Paul and Jeannie murmured their agreement, and now that they were all untied
, Emma took one of Chioma’s hands in her own, while Jeannie took the other. With the four of them joined together in a small circle where they still sat on the floor, Paul began to pray.

  “Father God, You see us here, coming together to ask You for direction and for help. We believe You have a perfect plan for us, Lord, and we’re asking You to show us what it is. Whatever it is, God, we promise to follow it. But please, make it clear to us, and go ahead of us that we might execute Your plan faithfully. We know we can’t do anything without You, Lord, and we’d be foolish to try. So show us, Father, and give us the strength and courage to do what we must. We trust You, Lord, and we thank You that You’ve promised never to leave or forsake us. We’re Your children, and we’ll follow You wherever You lead—in life … or in death. We ask this in Jesus’s name, amen.”

  Chioma swallowed what felt like a lump of hot food stuck in her throat and then chimed in with an “amen,” as the others had done. There was much she didn’t yet know or understand about this God who had so recently invaded her life, but she sensed above all that she could trust Him.

  “I have an idea,” Paul said as he stood to his feet and then turned to help Jeannie and Emma do the same. Chioma had already risen to join them, and she felt her heart leap with his words of hope.

  Paul turned to Emma before continuing. “Didn’t you say your driver would be arriving today? Before noon, right?” When Emma nodded and affirmed his words, he said, “There’s always the chance he’ll get here before Themba, but we can’t count on that. We need to get out of here quickly—the sooner, the better—and find a safe place to hide where we can watch for the car and hail it before it passes. Though the children are on holiday and won’t be coming for school today, I’m sure one of their families who lives near the road would help us.” He shook his head. “But we can’t put anyone else at risk. If Themba discovered us in one of their homes, he might kill the entire family, and even their neighbors. At the same time, the homes of our students are probably the first places he’ll check. He has no idea a car is coming for you today, Emma, so he won’t necessarily think to watch near the road. In fact, if Mandisa comes with us and he thinks the guard was killed by intruders and the rest of us abducted, he might assume our captors would purposely keep us away from the road.”