Where Tomorrow Leads

by DiAnn Mills

  “David will want to see you.” She caressed his cheek.

  “Where is he?”

  “With his goats. He reminds me of my father with his cows.”

  “Those cows are what bought your mother, and let me remind you that you cost me one hundred of them.”

  “And my father is grateful. He has more cows than anyone else in the cattle camp. But I’m worth it.”

  Yes, you are. “I’d have paid twice that amount.” He meant it. “I’ll go find David. Is he east of the village?”

  She nodded. “I’ll prepare food for you while you’re gone.”

  The walk through the tall grass reminded Ben of when he’d searched out David to convince him that marrying his mother was a good idea. Ben had lied to his son then and lied to all those present when he took his marriage vows, but his heart had softened. As time passed, Daruka meant more and more to him.

  Perhaps life might settle down here in the South. He watched the new government for signs of treachery—Arab Muslims were as trustworthy as a pit of snakes. He was skeptical and argued against cooperating with the new Government of National Unity, or GNU, but peace of sorts had come to his people. As expected, fighting still broke out here and there, but not like before. He’d referred to Khartoum as the GOS for so long the new name sounded foreign. The concept of southern Sudan voting to be a separate nation in six years sounded optimistic, and much work needed to be done before the election. Self-rule for his people offered a fragile optimism, and then there was the issue of the South’s being paid for its oil according to its population. Not everyone on both sides agreed with the peace treaty. Even so, Ben chose to honor the agreement until someone else broke it—or until someone he loved or respected was in trouble. He’d been a warlord for too many years to just sit back and watch things happen.

  All his greatest aspirations had gone up in smoke when John Garang was killed in the helicopter accident. And the uncertain future clung to Ben like the smell of cow dung.

  Once his men found Muti and whoever had fed him information and helped him escape, the battalion could relax. But was Muti a matter of southern security or a personal vendetta between Paul and his family?

  Ben heard the sounds of angry men. He bent down in the grass and moved closer. His fingers wrapped around his pistol while the pain in his back nearly blinded him. Slowly he drew his weapon from his belt and listened again.

  “These goats are ours. You stole them,” a man said.

  “No, I didn’t. My uncle gave them to me in payment for work.”

  David. Ben had seen these kind of men before—steal what wasn’t theirs and kill anyone who got in their way. His son would not be a victim.

  He made his way through the grass, allowing his eyes and ears to guide him until he saw two men in a clearing. One had David’s arms pulled behind his back, and another stood in front of him.

  “We’ve had enough.” The man in front of David shoved him to his knees and held a rifle to his head.

  “My father will hunt you down for this.” David’s voice sounded amazingly confident. Could it be his son wasn’t afraid to die?

  “We’ll do the same to him as we will to you.”

  Ben stood and fired repeatedly. Blood spurted from the men’s chests, and they fell. David fell facedown into the grass. With his senses pounding in his brain, Ben raced toward the scene. His son had to be all right. He had to.

  “David. David, are you okay?”

  His son rolled over onto his back, clearly shaken. “Yes. Father, I prayed you would come.”

  Trembling, the boy moved away from the bodies, and Ben helped him to his feet. Tears rolled down Ben’s face, the first in years. He made certain the men were dead and pulled his son into his arms. Blood dripped from David’s mouth, and the left side of his face would carry a few bruises.

  “I didn’t steal those goats.” David pulled himself from Ben. “Uncle Reuben gave them in payment for work I’d done for him.”

  “I know, Son. This world is full of men just like these. They don’t deserve to live. Were there any more?”

  “No, sir.” David stared at the dead men, then shook his head. “They would have killed me if not for you. God sent you here.”

  “I’m sure He did.” The thought of God using him to rescue David was a joke. Too soon his son would learn the truth about God, but Ben didn’t intend to start that lesson now. “Let’s get your goats and go home.”

  David called each one by name and herded them toward Yar. He walked alongside Ben.

  “David, I’m getting you a rifle, and I’ll show you how to use it and keep it clean. There are two things a man needs to learn. You protect those you love, and you fight to keep what is yours.”

  “I’ll remember. I’ve seen fighting before. People killed. Women and girls raped. I wanted to be a soldier, but Mother said she’d die of a broken heart if I left her.” David shrugged. “So I stayed. What good is peace if men like these try to hurt us?”

  “In every country there are men and women who care only about themselves. They are motivated by selfishness and misguided reasoning. Best you learn that now. There is no perfect place in the world. Beware of who you trust.” Ben recalled the man or men among his soldiers who had sold out to Muti. “Make sure those you call friend are worthy of your loyalty.”

  David walked a few feet more. “I miss you when you’re gone. I’m glad you’re my father, and I’m sorry for the things I said to you before you married my mother. I can tell you love her and me.”

  Ben hated all he’d done to deceive his wife and son. More so, he despised his worthless soul. If he believed in God, he’d pray they never discovered the truth.

  Ben couldn’t seem to shake his anger after the attack upon David. He itched to slit the throats of the two prisoners whom he believed had betrayed him to Muti. He’d ordered his men to take the prisoners and any family members outside of Yar. The villagers would find out what happened to traitors, but they didn’t need to listen to the screams of the tortured.

  Leaving David with Daruka, Ben approached the tent where the prisoners were held. First he wanted to interrogate a man who had four children to raise by himself.

  “Why did you spy on my men and report to Muti?”

  The man shook so that he had to swallow several times before he could speak. He glanced at his young children. “He promised me money, but I never got it.”

  “Did you help him escape from my camp?”

  “No. No, sir. I did not. All I did was tell him when you were in the village.”

  Ben pointed to his children. They were frightened, crying. The oldest boy looked to be around ten years old. “You’re lying to me. I want some answers, or I’ll kill your children one at a time, beginning with the oldest.”

  Tears streamed down the man’s face. “Please, I know nothing. Kill me, but let my children live.”

  “What else did you tell Muti?”

  The man’s eyes widened. “I did not know him long enough to tell him anything other than what I said. He approached me after the first time you came to the village some weeks ago.”

  Ben doubted the man could read or write. “How were you to tell him?”

  “I was to make a mark on a tree outside the village near the river. He took me to the tree so I’d know for sure. I can show you where.”

  Ben believed him, but he had to be sure. “Knowing Muti was a part of the North, you sold out your people for money?”

  “I know I was wrong. I didn’t think about it. All I wanted was money to feed my children.”

  “Are you Muslim?”

  “I’m a Christian. And I should have trusted God to provide, but my children are hungry.”

  Ben had already learned the man was poor, and his men had found nothing of value in searching his meager belongings.

  “Please, Colonel Alier. Let my children go.”

  Ben ordered the oldest son brought to him. “Where is the money Muti gave your father?”

 
“I haven’t seen any money.” The boy’s arms and legs were the size of sticks.

  “When did you last eat?” Ben took a glance at the other three children and saw they were all too thin.

  “Two days ago,” the boy said. “Your wife gave us some bread.”

  Ben glanced at the prisoner. Not so long ago, he’d have killed the man for what he’d done. But David . . . the hungry children . . . cancer . . . “Take these children back to the village and make sure someone gives them something to eat.”

  “Thank you.” Tears rolled down the man’s face. “Kill me now. I’m ready.”

  Ben studied him. Pathetic. “Once your children have eaten, you find someone to care for them. Then leave Yar. Don’t ever show your face here again.”

  The man nodded but said nothing.

  “Bring me the other prisoner.” Ben didn’t like the arrogant look on the second man’s face. “Where is his family?”

  One of the soldiers stepped forward. “He has none, sir.”

  Ben narrowed his gaze on the man. “What did Muti ask you to do?”

  “To serve Allah.”

  One of the soldiers slammed his rifle into the prisoner’s stomach.

  “I asked, what did Muti ask you to do?”

  “I have nothing to say to you. Do what you want to me.”

  Ben laughed. “You sound so brave, but we have ways to make you talk.” He turned to the soldier in charge of guarding the prisoners. “Build a fire for me. I’ll be back in a while to interrogate this man. If he does not cooperate, then we’ll kill him.”

  The prisoner said nothing, but he might change his mind.

  * * *

  Paul stood outside the Warkou clinic and waved at Ben exiting his truck. He looked even thinner than the last time, his face gaunt and pale. The man held the record for stubbornness. Why had Ben found it so important to keep his health a secret? Didn’t he understand his friends would want to help? Now Paul comprehended Dr. Khamati’s evasiveness. Ben had most likely told his doctor to keep his records a secret. And why had Ben married if he knew he was dying? Paul didn’t plan to ask him. Some men’s motives were best kept to themselves.

  As soon as the plane was in the air, Paul glanced over at his friend.

  “Do I tear into you now or later about keeping your medical condition a secret?”

  “Later. I plan to sleep.”

  “Unplan it. I want to help, Ben. There are all kinds of cancer treatments out there.”

  Ben leaned back against the seat. “I can’t afford it.”

  “Now that makes me mad enough to land this baby and fight it out with you.”

  Ben laughed. “I’d have you flat in thirty seconds, with one hand behind my back.”

  “No arguments there. But I’m going with you to see your doctor, and we’re going to see about treatment—the best we can find.”

  “The treatments will kill me.”

  “I thought you were an old fighting machine.”

  “I am, but I’m not stupid.”

  “Let me look into it. If it means flying you somewhere else in this crazy world, then I’ll take care of it.”

  “Why?”

  “Why not?”

  Ben cursed, his normal manner of handling matters out of his warlord dominion. “I remember nearly choking you to death once.”

  “Kid stuff.”

  “Three years ago does not constitute kid stuff.”

  Paul sobered. All the demons plaguing his mind seemed to surface at once. “Look at what I’d done before meeting up with you. We’re friends, and I want—no, I need—to do what I can to help you lick this thing. Larson would never forgive me if I didn’t do all I could to make you more comfortable or lead you to a cure.”

  “And how do you expect me to pay you back?”

  “By doing all you can to help southern Sudan—or by protecting me from my family so my wife doesn’t end up a widow.”

  “You know where to hit hard.”

  “Good. Glad we settled it. I figure the doctors will want to run some tests. I have things to do, so it works out just fine.”

  “If I’m gone too long, Daruka and David will worry.”

  “How long do you plan to keep this from them?”

  Ben snorted. “If you find a cure, then they’ll never know.”

  “I love a bright outlook.”

  “Are you looking to move Larson and the baby to Nairobi?” Ben’s question came so softly Paul thought the man was drifting off to sleep. But the sad look on his face told it all.

  “I think it’s the safest thing to do with Muti and my family after me. We haven’t made a definite decision, but we do plan to look for housing in Nairobi.”

  “I don’t blame you. Larson and your children need to be safe.”

  Ben spoke her name reverently. Larson. Pity washed over Paul. His friend was dying. He was in love with a married woman, and she was pregnant. His entire life had been put on hold for too many years while he fought for Sudan’s freedom. Worst of all, Ben didn’t want a relationship with the Lord. What could Paul do for the man besides pray for his soul and be his friend?

  CHAPTER 26

  “We need to have a celebration before you leave.” Larson handed Santino a bottle of water. Unlike her and Paul, he didn’t drink coffee. “We’ll invite the whole village and the men from the Rhino Battalion. Have a soccer match and maybe play baseball.”

  Santino laughed. “All for me? What have I done to deserve this?”

  Larson wagged a finger in his face. “You’re heading off to college, which means another university-trained leader for southern Sudan. You’re Sarah’s nephew. You’re my bodyguard. And we all love you.”

  “Okay, a party. But under one condition.”

  “What’s that?” Larson eyed him skeptically.

  “I want to help with everything, even the cooking.”

  Sarah broke into laughter. “Not even my Santino will help with cooking. It’s women’s work.”

  Larson didn’t agree with Sarah’s statement. But some things about culture took longer than others to change. “Okay, Santino, you can organize the games. Paul and I will come up with some prizes. And Sarah and I will handle the food.”

  “I think I’d appreciate a celebration very much.” Santino took a long drink of his water. “Today has been easy at the clinic. Tomorrow we’ll probably be swarming with people.” He peered at Larson’s bowl. “What’s in there?”

  “Macaroni and cheese with a dash of hot sauce. I hated this stuff until I got pregnant. Do you want to try some?”

  Santino shook his head and dipped his fingers like a spoon into his cornmeal mush. “No thanks. I’ll stick with ugali. What exactly is hot sauce?”

  “Just what it says. Here, try some. You’ll probably like it since you like spicy food.” She picked up a saltine cracker and sprinkled a drop of Tabasco sauce on it, then handed him the cracker.

  Santino stuck the entire cracker into his mouth. Before he had time to breathe, he reached for his bottle of water. “I get it. Hot sauce. I would have preferred knowing ahead of time what you meant.”

  She laughed. “Paul feels the same way.”

  “I think I might do well to stay single.”

  “At least until you’ve finished your education,” Sarah said. “I’ve seen the way you look at the girls.”

  “Looking is not the same as getting married.” Santino reached for another cracker, minus the hot sauce, and popped it into his mouth.

  “And you could not afford the bride price,” Sarah said.

  Larson’s phone rang, and she quickly answered without taking a look at the caller ID. She was expecting a call from Paul. His trip to Nairobi had turned into four days—something about Ben needing to do a few things. She hoped Ben was switching from the SPLA to politics.

  “Good morning, Dr. Farid.”

  A chill rose inside her. The accent frightened her. “Who’s calling?”

  “Nizam Farid. Your brother-in-law.”r />
  “How did you get this number?”

  He chuckled, a deep-throated laugh that stirred apprehension in the pit of her stomach. “I have my ways.”

  She took a deep breath to steady her frenzied nerves. “What can I do for you?”

  “I want to meet with my brother, but he’s hesitant. Abdullah doesn’t believe my interest in Christianity is sincere.”

  “I’m aware of your conversations.” She willed her heart to cease its hammering against her chest. “He has to make the decision to see you.”

  “That is where I need your help.”

  “You want me to help you? I don’t think there is anything I can do, especially since you sent Muti after me and had him pursue my husband.”

  “I know nothing about your claim. If you were put in danger, then I am truly sorry.”

  She had no reason to believe him, but why argue? “What do you want me to do?”

  “Tell my brother I called, and I want to hear more about Jesus from him. I’ve been reading a Bible, and I’m beginning to understand why he chose to become a Christian.”

  Larson’s heart started to soften. “Are you ready to make a decision for Jesus?”

  “I think so, but talking with my brother about it is very important to me. Surely you understand. We have the same upbringing. My decision for this Jesus means our family will want me dead too. I would then be forced to leave the country for fear of my life.”

  “Paul could help you.”

  “And I would need his guidance. I’ve even been thinking of a name to take when I am baptized.”

  Larson smiled, trying to envision what Nizam looked like and if he and Paul shared features. Surely he meant what he said. “And what name appeals to you?”

  “Barnabas.”

  “That means ‘encourager.’”

  “Wonderful. You think my brother will be pleased?”

  “I’m sure of it. I’ll tell him about our conversation. Is there a number I can have him call?”

  “Oh no. Too dangerous. I’ll call him in a few days. You and I shall know each other too, right?”