Wind on the Sand (The Winds of God)

by Felicia Mires

  Where was Senor Jack, anyway? Had they locked him inside the house or the warehouse? Maybe. But he might be on the opposite side of the house, out of Juan's view. There was nothing to be done from here. He would have to walk around the base again and find another tree to climb. Perhaps Senor Jack would be on the other side.

  Juan always found it easier going down a tree than going up. He slid to the bottom and traipsed around the fence to the back of the compound. The trees on this side were not as accommodating, but eventually, he found one that would fill his purpose. It took longer to climb. When he reached the proper height, he shinnied out on a limb. It swayed uncomfortably with his weight, but it would hold.

  Juan scanned the compound. He spied Senor Jack up against the house near the water spigot. These pigs had a water well and running water. What the people in his village wouldn't give for such luxury.

  Senor Jack was fast asleep. He didn't look well either. His face was swollen and discolored with several bloody gashes. His hands were tied to his feet, and he was sleeping at an uncomfortable looking angle. His clothes were filthy.

  Juan bet Senor Jack didn't like that much. He was always so neat and clean at the school, and he expected the children to clean themselves as best they could before they came. If they didn't, he cleaned their faces and hands for them.

  Juan looked around again. The soldiers were still sleeping. What could he do to attract the attention of Senor Jack without waking anyone else? He felt in his pocket. He had some string, a pen that Senor Jack had given him, his pocketknife, and a piece of candy...also from Senor Jack.

  He unrolled the piece of string. Would it be long enough to attract the attention of Senor Jack? He climbed out even further on the trembling branch. This branch was so small, if the soldiers looked up, they were sure to see him.

  Juan tied the string around the pen and began to lower it over Senor Jack. It wouldn't exactly reach straight down to him because Juan couldn't get far enough out. He would have to swing the string until it bumped into Senor Jack.

  It was a slow process. The pen weighted at the bottom was not quite large enough to increase the arc of his swing. He also had to watch the soldiers for signs they were waking.

  In time, he managed just enough stress against the string to send it in front of Senor Jack. Perhaps the next swing…Bam! The pen landed squarely against Jack's face. He jerked awake but couldn't manage much movement with his hands tied to his legs.

  Jack looked around. What had jarred against his face?

  When Jack noticed the pen suspended in the air, his head jerked back. The pen he had given Juan. His eyes followed the pen up the string into the tree. It was shaded up in the tree so he could barely make out the figure of a person. An arm came out from the branch and waved.

  Juan had followed him. He didn't see what help the boy could be, but he didn't feel so alone anymore.

  Could Juan have come to help him escape? He hoped so. If they waited until tonight out in the jungle, they had a chance. Jack looked around the compound. There was no one moving about. He nodded at Juan, and the boy pulled in the string and shrank back along the branch until he disappeared completely from sight.

  Jack had some real praying to do. He couldn't allow anything to happen to Juan. Juan had never made a commitment for the Lord. And it mattered to Jack that Juan have that chance. He couldn't stand the thought that anything would happen to Juan because of him. When they started walking, should he make himself appear more weakened, or would they just kill him? As long as he could move, they probably wouldn't kill him.

  He rocked himself over to the water faucet. He wanted to have the strength to run when the time came. He needed more hydration or he would simply pass out during strenuous exertion.

  It wasn't easy getting water to his mouth when he was hog-tied but he didn't mind the soaking his clothes got either. It felt refreshing until the water trickled across his wrists.

  He jerked with the intensity of the fire that stung the raw flesh. His wrists were cut and bleeding from the tight, rough bindings. He took a few deep breaths and bent once more with his mouth to the spigot.

  Juan came down from the tree with a warm feeling in his heart. Senor Jack had looked happy to see him. Juan would think of a way to save Senor Jack. But where were the missionary gringos? They should have been here by now.

  Juan skulked away from the fence to find a place to watch the gate. He hid himself as best he could then took a siesta of his own. He would hear the gate open when they left, and then he would follow.

  Jack attempted to find a position that was slightly comfortable. Any wriggling or stretching only added to the discomfort of his shoulder. He leaned against the side of the house.

  How much longer would he have to wait until they started walking again? It was late in the afternoon and they had not given him anything to eat all day. Jack prayed he would be allowed to eat before his escape. He needed the added energy.

  Oh, God, thank you for the encouragement of Juan. Don't let anything happen to him. Father, You are so faithful! Just seeing Juan has given me hope. We need intercessors, Lord. Make sure there are people praying for us at the right time. And give us wisdom. Show us where to put our hands and feet to protect us from danger. Thank You, Lord.

  From that point, Jack felt as if he had adrenalin coursing through his veins. He was so ready to get started.

  When the drug-runners woke, they searched for food. Someone even thought to check on Jack. He was allowed to eat a few bites of food and then relieve himself before he was tied up again. When the guard tied only his wrists, Jack suspected they would be leaving soon. He looked through the trees at the sky. It was late afternoon. After such a long siesta, how long would it take the drug-runners to fall asleep that night?

  When Jack saw them pull out heavier artillery, his stomach sank. What chance had they against that much firepower? He listened carefully to snatches of conversation when anyone walked past him. They were expecting some resistance when they reached the border of El Salvador. It seemed they weren't the only terrorists around. The heavy artillery was for the border.

  The locks were removed and the gate opened for them to leave. Jack was placed somewhere in the middle of the line of men. His eyes constantly scanned the jungle around him as he walked or stumbled along. There was no sign of Juan, but he hadn't thought there would be. He just had to hope that Juan was smart enough not to get caught before they could escape.

  The further down the slopes they traveled, the worse the underbrush became. Before long, the drug-runners were slashing their way through with machetes. Jack was glad. They would be tired and more prone to sleep that night. It also kept them from making much progress.

  What direction should he and Juan run when they left? He had no idea where they were. But Juan did. The boy surely knew another way home than the way they had come. Jack wanted to throw off the drug-runners by traveling in another direction.

  Juan had waited all afternoon in vain for help to show up. Though it only took one person to untie Senor Jack, he was disheartened by all the guns the terrorists carried with them. He had hoped that someone would come to help them after he had gotten Jack loose. No matter, they would just have to hide.

  It was easy to follow the terrorists. They were tearing their way across the jungle like they didn't care who followed. Juan lingered behind to make sure they weren't watching for him. When he did follow, he was certain they were unaware they were being watched.

  Jack thought surely these were the most foolish drug-runners ever. Did they really think they were that far ahead of the federal police? What about helicopters? They were crashing through the undergrowth with little regard for the path they were leaving behind.

  It soon became apparent why they didn't care. There was a village not far away. They didn't get close enough to the village to be seen, but any path they left would be accredited to the village, not to drug-runners crossing the jungle.

  They began to climb another hi
ll that was more like a small mountain to Jack. The underbrush faded away to more twisting vines. The climbing was much harder work, especially when you could constantly trip. At one particular vantage, Jack could see down to the village. He saw why they had chosen to go through the underbrush rather than around it. There was a marshy section of land that would have slowed them down considerably. The other side of the village was set against the side of another hill. The drug-runners had actually taken the path of least resistance.

  Jack's stomach protested its lack of sufficient food. The twinge that had started as a dull ache was now a stabbing pain. He tried to focus on placing one foot in front of another. If Juan was in as bad a shape as him, they were in trouble. His day became nothing but step, climb, reach over a vine, trip, get kicked in the back. Over and over they pulled, yanked, and pushed him back on his feet. He didn't have to act weak and helpless. He was.

  When darkness fell, he was nearly delirious. He couldn't understand it. Why did he feel so bad? This was more than hunger; he was ill. The drug-runners set up a camp without bothering to tie Jack's hands to his feet. He was in a bad way. They dropped him on the side and left him.

  It was fever. Jack could feel it burning through his clothes. He saw people moving around, but he couldn't focus on what they were doing. What was he waiting for? He couldn't remember. He tried to pray. God, help me.

  When Jack passed out, the drug-runners kicked him but got no response. They threw water on him, but that didn't wake him. Finally, they propped him against a tree and tied him up.

  Juan was breathing hard. He hadn't brought much water so his throat was becoming parched. He wished the missionary gringos would catch up with him. He was tired of climbing, and Senor Jack looked bad. If they didn't get away from these terrorists soon, Senor Jack was going to die. Either they would tire of his inability to move and kill him, or he would become too ill to escape.

  Juan drank the last bit of water he had and waited for the terrorists to go to sleep. He spied several canteens lying around the camp. Hopefully, he would be able to grab one when they ran away.

  Lauren awoke with a start. Something was dreadfully wrong. She knew it had to be Jack. The clock showed nine. What could be happening at night? Were they trying to get Jack out now? She reached for the phone and called the Jamiesons. When they answered, she told them of her unease and asked them to start praying.

  Lauren went into the living room and walked back and forth, praying out loud. "What is it, Lord? Is he hurt, sick, wounded? Is he in danger? I don't know what to pray."

  She started at the top of his head and blessed every part of his body. She asked the Lord to make every part of him work together in a miraculous way beyond what mortal man could endure. "Send those angels to carry him around if he's too tired. Show him the way to escape; show him where to hide. Show him where to put his feet. Bring rescue at the perfect time. Whatever it takes to deliver him out of the hands of the enemy, I ask you to bring right now. Blind the enemy. Confuse them, so they don't know where to turn. Cause them to turn against one another."

  Jack blinked his eyes several times to make sure they were open. He could barely see. When he looked toward the sky, he saw no moon or stars twinkling through the trees. The sky must be overcast.

  What had awakened him? He peered into the darkness. Nothing was moving. Oh, how his head hurt! He must have a migraine. He'd never felt pain this severe. He couldn't move his arms at all. They were stretched behind him again, and he was tied to a tree.

  Juan saw Jack open his eyes and move his head. He crept closer to inspect the terrorists. No one had moved for a very long time. They were all asleep so he tiptoed over and grabbed two canteens. He could feel the slosh of water inside.

  Creeping one step at a time, Juan reached the tree where Jack was bound. Jack had closed his eyes again, so Juan gently placed his hand over Jack's mouth.

  Jack opened his eyes then nodded in recognition. Juan went behind the tree and cut the ropes holding Jack. The sudden release toppled Jack forward, but he quickly recovered by holding to the side of the tree. He tried to stand, but dizziness threatened to drop him to the ground. Juan caught him just as he toppled forward, and they shuffled away from camp.

  When they were out of sight, Juan stopped and cut the bindings around Jack's wrists. The resulting pain was beyond imagination. As the blood began to flow back into his hands, the cuts began to throb. It felt as if both of his wrists were broken.

  Juan took Jack's arm and draped it around his diminutive shoulders. They hobbled away arm-in-arm, but their freedom was short-lived. There was a shout, and screaming curses filled the air. Juan looked fearfully at Jack's eyes.

  "Run." Jack demanded forcefully.

  Juan shook his head no and held Jack even tighter.

  When they heard the terrorists crashing after them, Jack took Juan by the shoulders and threw him as far as he could behind a tree. He turned around with barely enough time to dodge a bullet.

  Jack dropped to the ground and rolled over to see a terrorist standing over him with a gun pointed at his head. Then the guy's arm jerked, dropping the gun on the ground. Juan had hit his arm with a stick and stood his ground, beating the terrorist repeatedly. The terrorist turned around in a fury. He slapped Juan, and Juan flew backward.

  Jack rose, throwing his entire weight against the terrorist. They fell to the ground entwined, fists flying, feet kicking. Jack ended up on the bottom with the terrorist choking the life out of him. He felt himself blacking out. The terrorist swung his rifle off his back.

  Jack stretched his arm out striving to get a grip, but the man pulled back the rifle and flung it across Jack's arm. The bones in his arm shattered.

  Juan had gained a hold on the rifle as it swung past and yanked it out of the man's hands. The man was crazy now. He threw Juan to the ground, sat on top of him and began to beat him. When he jerked out a knife and held it poised to kill, Jack felt hatred rise up from deep within. He wanted to kill this man. Adrenalin burst through his veins as he jumped up, arm dangling and…Boom!

  A shot went off...then another. Jack expected to feel the bullets when they tore through him, but nothing ever happened. Instead, the terrorist fell to the ground, landing practically on top of Juan.

  Shots went off all around Jack. He wobbled back and forth, fighting to gain his balance. After one look toward Juan, he plummeted to the ground.

  Lauren's phone rang about two in the morning. "Hello?"

  "It's Chris. They found him...alive. That's all I know."

  "Is he safe?" She nearly screamed at him.

  "He's safe. It's over."

  Lauren began to sob. "Oh, God, thank you, thank you."

  "Lauren, you shouldn't be alone. I wish there was someone with you."

  "No, no, I'm fine." She hiccoughed through the sobs. "Where is he?"

  "I don't know…really."

  "Who found him?"

  "The kid. Juan got there first. The federales pulled them both out before they got shot. But that's all I know. I don't know where he is, or when he'll be back, or in what condition he was found."

  "I've got to find him."

  "Why don't you fly here? Even if you are able to meet him in Honduras, you could fly out of Houston. And I think my parents would like to meet you."

  "Yes. That's a good idea. I'll have to get a ticket. I can leave on the first flight out." Lauren was rambling as she thought of all the things she needed to accomplish before catching a plane.

  "Lauren, are you listening?"

  "Um, yes, what is it?"

  "We'll pick you up. Call me at this number as soon as you have your flight number."

  "Call me the second you hear anything else."

  "I will."

  Lauren went to get a phone book so she could call the airlines. "I want the first flight out of the Pensacola airport to Houston, Texas. I don't care what airline."

  "Are you flying into Hobby or George Bush?"

  "George Bush, uh…I d
on't care, just get me there as fast as you can."

  "Yes, ma'am. There's a 5:30 flight arriving at 7:15 this morning, George Bush International."

  "Thank you."

  Lauren called Chris back in less than five minutes. He told her that someone would be there to pick her up. They'd carry a sign.

  There were two other calls Lauren needed to make now. Both were brief because of her lack of details. Lauren promised to call the Jamiesons and Ryan and Sue as soon as she knew anything.

  She threw clothes into a suitcase, but when she looked back through the pile, she didn't have anything that matched. She started over. This time she chose several outfits. Her make-up was already in a case which she added to the suitcase. Then she realized she was still in her pajamas.

  She went to take a shower and get ready. It took a long time for her hair to dry, but she wanted to be fresh and she had the time to kill. She was careful with her make-up. This was the first time she would meet Jack's family, and she already looked bad enough from lack of sleep.

  What should she wear? Should she wear a dress as befitting the first time she met her future in-laws or should she wear pants because she didn't know if she would turn right around and get on another plane? She chose a black pantsuit. Black was always basic. When she realized how ridiculous her thoughts were, she almost cried. Jack was alive. Jack was safe. That's all that mattered.

  Lauren arrived at the Pensacola airport with time to spare. She made it through security and waited for the plane to board. Now that she wasn't moving, she had time to think. "Lord, I am so grateful for what You've done. If there's any way You can bring us together, I would really appreciate it. I know that's what You want, and I'm ready. Work out the details in Your perfect plan. Continue to take care of him. Let Jack feel Your love.

  Lauren stepped off the plane a mass of nerves. She'd had no access to a phone for over two hours. Everything could have changed in that amount of time. As soon as she left the gate, she began to look for a sign. How many people would be carrying a sign at seven o'clock in the morning?