by Bobby Adair
“No.” Austin didn’t remember much from his Sunday school classes.
“It’s true. Caesar did it to the Germanic tribes. Europeans did it to the Indians—smallpox helped a lot. Stalin did it to everybody who disagreed with him and a lot more. It is the only way to win.”
Austin shrugged. He really didn’t care. “Okay.”
“It is why your America will lose its war with Islam. America is too weak to do that which is necessary.”
“Kill all the Muslims?” Austin asked trying to keep the scorn out of his voice.
“Yes,” said The General. “The Muslims want to kill Christians.”
“Just the extremists,” Austin argued, as he recalled his experience in Kapchorwa, trying to figure out how he’d been backed into a conversation in which he was defending Muslims. He reminded himself that the men in Kapchorwa—the men he was truly angry with—were terrorists who just happened to be Muslims.
“That’s why God put me here,” said The General. “I understand what must be done.” The General pounded his chest with one fist. “I am strong enough to do it.”
One of the other hunters signaled and pointed. Half a dozen of the Colobus monkeys were up ahead, sitting on the branches of a tree without enough leaves to conceal them. The hunters raised the AK-47s. One shot; more followed in rapid succession. Monkeys tumbled through the branches.
The General turned back to Austin. “Fetch.”
Chapter 84
Sander and Austin were the only two hostages left. Two of the Chinese were dead. The third, Wei, was sent as a consolation to the company that paid the ransom for Tian. That put Austin on double duty for cooking and cleanup, as well as being The General’s houseboy. Austin didn’t mind. Being The General’s houseboy was mostly a boring job of doing nothing. Cooking for the rebels and cleaning up after them was tiring work, but it kept him busy. It also held a secret benefit that Sander shared as the reason he’d stayed healthy during his eight-month internment. Cooking gave him the opportunity to pilfer extra food. Austin followed Sanders’ example, grabbing nibbles when there were no watchful eyes around.
With the increased rations, Austin’s health fully returned, and his spirit grew strong. He spent a good deal of time thinking about his ransom. No word had ever come back from Kampala. Austin worried what would happen when The General concluded that kidnapping Austin had been a waste of time, because Austin had no monetary value. Despite Sander’s insistence that The General was a businessman, it didn’t bother The General to beat his hostages, and he appeared to suffer no qualms about killing them.
Escape was at the center of Austin’s thoughts as he watched six monkey carcasses lying across a grate of rusty metal, with the cooking fire’s coals beneath. His job was to turn the monkey carcasses from time to time and to keep the fire hot enough to cook.
The process disgusted Austin, not for the fact that he was cooking skinned monkeys to be dined on by rebels; Austin had seen too much brutality for much to affect him anymore. It was when the monkey carcasses lay on the fire too long on one side, the flesh blackened on the edges and produced a pungent smell that reminded him of Kapchorwa with all of its burned human bodies. It made him nauseous.
“How are those monkeys coming?” Sander asked from under the pavilion, where he was preparing yams.
“About done,” Austin answered standing from his perch on the same log where Min had lost his head and Tian his foot. With a sharp stick, he poked the wiry flesh on one of the monkey’s arms and peered inside. The meat was ready. Austin lifted it off the grill with a stick and leaned the roasted carcass against the log he’d been sitting on. He checked another monkey. Its meat was still bloody and red. None of the other four monkeys was finished cooking. Austin turned the monkeys over and sat down on the log beside the one that was cooling off.
He thought about his dilemma, the beatings to come, and the brutality of The General and his men. Austin couldn’t help but think he was a depreciating asset. He started to believe he was going to die and never see anything but jungle and unwashed men for the rest of his life. He grated at his captivity. His mouth sometimes said things that his brain wished it hadn’t. He was sure a day would come when The General would put an end to it.
Austin stared at the fire and tried to come up with a solution that didn’t involve his running through the forest, without a direction or a plan, in hopes of escaping sixty men with rifles, all of whom knew the trails and hiding places on this side of the mountain better than he ever would. They were all in fine, lean shape, looking like marathon runners with weapons. Austin had no idea how long he could elude them in the forest. It was an uncertainty that kept Austin from trying.
On the far side of the camp, two rebels came running out of the forest, yelling, alarmed, and a little frightened. Suddenly, the whole camp was scampering, weapons in hand. The General strode through the chaos. All of the rebels formed in a huddle around the two who’d just come into camp.
Austin was on his feet, looking at the huddle, and glancing back toward Sander, who’d also stopped working to watch. “What’s going on?”
“Not sure.”
Austin was hoping a regiment of government troops was on its way to save him, although he had no realistic expectation that it would happen.
The rebels hushed. The General spoke. Then, as suddenly as they’d all gathered, they burst into a run, disappearing into the forest. Only three rebels remained, disappointment clear in the way they frowned and sulked. Two of them started talking. The third crossed the camp toward Sander and Austin.
“Did you understand anything that was said?” Austin asked.
“I think they spotted somebody.” Sander replied. “Maybe a rival faction? The army? I don’t know.”
“They’re going out to fight them?” Austin smiled. A firefight should kill some of the rebels. It might wipe them all out. Not likely, but possible.
That was something to hope for.
The two guards on the far side of the camp seemed content to stay where they were. The guard who’d come toward Austin walked up to the fire and looked at the monkeys. He spotted the one leaning on the log and tore a piece of meat away. He turned and headed off to make himself comfortable at the base of a tree a short distance away. He absently watched Sander and Austin as he gnawed on his piece of monkey thigh.
Austin checked his remaining monkeys. They were ready. He removed them from the grill one at a time, and leaned each against the log, he remembered something Dr. Littlefield had said to him before he left Kapchorwa. He smiled as an evil and disgusting—but workable—inspiration came to him.
Austin was as alone as he’d been since arriving in the rebel camp. If he was going to do anything, ever, then now was his chance.
Austin glanced at the guard who was bored and staring. He looked at Sander who’d gone back to his work. He started walking toward the latrine pit that lay in the trees a short distance behind the hostage hut.
When Austin had walked just a few paces, the guard said some words that Austin didn’t know but he understood. He stopped, turned to the guard, put on a pained face and put a hand to his belly. He groaned to sell the act.
The guard said a few harsh, undecipherable sentences and then laughed.
Austin looked to Sander for an interpretation.
Sander said, “Don’t run away. It’s too obvious if you go now. He’s expecting it. Indeed, he says he hopes you run. He says you’re the ugliest mzungu he’s ever seen and he’d like to take a machete to you before The General returns.”
Austin looked at the guard, repeated the act and said, “Thanks.” To Sander, he called, “I’m not going to run.” He headed for the latrine.
Once there, Austin dropped his pants and leaned on a tree. The smell was a problem but he did his best to ignore it. He looked over his shoulder. The guard hadn’t followed him. The last thing he thought before he went to work conjuring up a pornographic fantasy was what Dr. Littlefield had told him about how contagious
he was after he’d recovered from his fight with Ebola. The bottom line was that Austin wasn’t contagious, except for one possibility: the Ebola virus might live in his semen for another few months.
Austin had a secret weapon.
Chapter 85
Getting his zipper up and his belt tightened with one hand presented a problem that Austin hadn’t anticipated. At the moment, Austin only had one hand available for doing things. In his other he held a gift for The General. After some struggling with the zipper to get it partially up, he cinched his belt snug and tucked the end back inside his pants to hold it secure enough so that he could return to the kitchen pavilion.
Surprised that he’d even managed to get a result, given the conditions, Austin walked back through the trees and came out by the hostage hut. In the clearing, the guard was no longer eating. He was no longer sitting. He was staring angrily. Austin smiled, covered his loaded hand with his empty one, and pushed them against his belly. “I’m okay now. I’m okay. No problems.”
Austin looked away from the guard and headed toward his monkeys, still by the cook fire. The Guard didn’t follow, but he didn’t sit either.
“Are you okay?” Sander asked.
“Yes,” Austin answered.
Sander cocked his head and furrowed his brow.
“Something in the water, I think.” Austin stepped over the log on which his cooked monkeys were leaning. He glanced up at the guard who had just sat back down, going back to whatever thoughts kept him occupied when he was guarding the mzungu hostages.
Austin heard the sounds of men moving through the forest on the other side of the camp. The two guards over there half-raised their weapons and watched the trees. The guard who’d been keeping an eye on Austin stood back up. They were concerned, but not alarmed. No guns had been fired. The General was probably returning.
Austin took the opportunity to kneel down by the monkeys. He laid a hand on a plump one, still warm from the fire and moist with its own cooked fats. He rubbed his hands together then rubbed them up and down on the warm monkey’s legs, arms, and torso. He moved to the next monkey, not sure if the slippery mess on his hands was monkey fat or not. He rubbed the second monkey.
“You.”
Austin nearly fell over as he jerked around to look at the source of the voice. The guard was standing over him, irritated again. He spat a string of syllables.
Austin looked to Sander. “What’d he say?”
Sander said, “He wants to know what you’re doing.”
Austin looked at the monkeys. He looked at the guard. He looked back at the monkeys and rubbed a hand across a third monkey’s back. “Tell him I’m brushing off the burned pieces so the monkeys will taste better.” Austin yanked a small flake of burned crust, grimaced at it, and threw it on the ground.
Sander said something to the guard.
The guard pointed at Austin and said something back.
Sander said, “Stop.”
Austin took his hands away from the monkey. Was he busted?
Sander said, “He says he likes the burnt bits. Leave them.”
Austin looked up at the guard, smiled widely, and said, “Okay. Okay.” He picked up the two monkeys he hoped he’d infected and carried them to the pavilion. The guard went back to stand by his tree.
When Austin stepped up into the pavilion, Sander pointed at a table. “Lay them there.”
Austin nodded toward the noise coming from the far side of the camp. “I guess everything is cool.”
Nodding, and pointing at the forest behind them, Sander said, “If it wasn’t, these guys would already be running into the woods that way.”
Austin took two more trips down to the fire to bring the remaining monkeys under the pavilion.
“Help me with these yams,” Sander said.
Austin looked over at the guard to make sure that his attention lay in the other direction. Austin whispered, “Don’t eat the monkey tonight.”
“What?” Sander asked.
Austin caught Sander with a serious look. “Don’t eat the monkey. Not a bit. Okay?”
With a look of confusion, Sander nodded, and said, “Okay. No monkey. Help me with these yams.”
Chapter 86
When all the rebels were back in camp, Austin had trouble hiding his giddiness. He didn’t know if his plan was going to work. He only knew that he felt a sense of power at attempting to retake control of his life. The monkey meat had a thin layer of Ebola virus. If enough of those virions were viable, then one of the rebels might get infected. Austin only needed one. One victim would spread it to the others. It would be Kapchorwa all over again only with sick people who deserved their fate. Austin might be walking out of the rebel camp by the end of the week, maybe next week, free.
Austin prepared a plate for The General. That part of his houseboy duties didn’t disappear after The General killed Min and ransomed Wei. Austin tore pieces of meat off the first monkey he’d infected, spooned some yams onto the plate, and carried it out of the pavilion.
The General sat on his execution log, watching the fire, laughing with those who sat beside him or stood around nearby. No one had yet eaten. The General always ate first. That was the rule.
Austin stopped in front of The General and presented the plate.
The General looked it over, smelled it, smiled, and accepted. He then looked over Austin’s shoulder with a question on his face.
Austin looked back to his left. Inexplicably, Sander stood there, not back in the pavilion with the food where he should have been, but right behind Austin with a pained expression on his face.
What the hell?
Panic rose in Austin’s blood. He smiled at The General and stepped away as though to go back to the pavilion, as he always did after serving The General.
Sander looked at Austin one more time and said, “In light of my ransom problems, General, I must beg you to hear an alternative deal.”
The General laughed. “I am intrigued.” He reached onto his plate and picked up a piece of meat.
Sander nearly jumped forward with an open palm.
That shot the tension right through the roof, and several of the rebels were immediately on their feet. Everybody froze.
“Please,” Sander begged, “don’t eat yet. Hear my proposal first.”
Austin couldn’t believe what he was hearing, what he was seeing. He inched toward the pavilion, hoping to sneak out of sight. He eyed the woods. How close would he have to be to the tree line before he made his sprint?
The General’s smile was gone. He was suspicious. “Why not eat?”
“Allow me, please,” Sander said. “I have information that I want to trade for my freedom.”
Austin took two more quick steps. He stopped when a hand grasped his shoulder. It was the guard, who’d been watching him and Sander cook. No surprise, he wasn’t happy.
“What information?” The General asked.
“I will trade it for my freedom,” said Sander.
“I will judge whether your freedom is worth this information,” said The General.
Sander looked around while he considered his position. He licked his lips. He wrung his hands. He delayed.
The General’s face showed his impatience, and just as he started to speak, Sander interrupted him, quickly blurting, “I trust The General’s judgment and fairness.” He gulped a big breath. “Don’t eat the meat. It’s been poisoned.” Sander slumped and took a half step back.
Shit.
The General jumped to his feet, his face twisted with rage but he said nothing. He poked Sander in the chest with his finger. He poked him a second time, but with his fist, knocking him back a step. He punched him hard in the chest again, knocking Sander back to the edge of the fire. In a venomous voice, The General said, “Tell me everything.”
In a flurry of frightened words, Sander pointed at Austin and told The General exactly what Austin had told him, and what he’d seen Austin doing, when he was for some odd reason ru
nning his hands over the cooked monkey carcasses. The guard, who’d seen Austin do it, confirmed.
The unhappy rebel dragged Austin over and pushed him down to his knees between The General and the fire pit.
Sander started to say something else, but a raised hand from The General silenced him. The General glared down at Austin and spat the words, “You would kill me after all the kindness I have shown you?”
“No he’s—”
The General cut Austin’s words short when his boot kicked Austin’s stomach. Austin fell and rolled perilously close to the flames. The General kicked him twice more and stomped on his back.
The kicking stopped, when Austin was struggling for breath and racked with pain.
The General knelt down beside Austin and put the barrel of his pistol to Austin’s head. “Tell me the truth and I’ll let you die without pain.”
Austin struggled for breath and said, “Sander lied.”
“Lied?” The General laughed. “Two lying hostages.” He jumped to his feet and theatrically asked the audience of his soldiers, “What am I to do?”
None of them responded. Everybody knew the question was rhetorical.
The General knelt down beside Austin again, used the barrel of the pistol to push Austin’s head against the ground and said, “Tell me more, Ransom.”
Having caught enough of his breath to speak, Austin said, “I lied to Sander. I told him the meat was poisoned so that he wouldn’t eat it. So there’d be more for me, after your men ate what they wanted.”
The General laughed again, “Is that so? Is that so?” He stood up.
Sander shouted, “He’s a liar. He poisoned it. I saw him do it. Don’t eat it!”
The General yanked Austin up to a sitting position and smiled wickedly down at him. He pointed to his plate, which lay on the ground nearby. One of his men jumped to retrieve it. He handed it to The General.
With the plate coming his way, Austin guessed The General’s intent. It wasn’t a Mensa test question. The General was going to make him eat the suspect meat. Any hesitation to do so would earn Austin a bullet in the brain. In that moment, Austin learned just how far he was willing to go to save his life.