Hello there! So, I know that next to no one is going to read this, but I've been really rather proud of it ever since I started it a few years ago and figured why not put it up. So, here it is. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy :)

Part I-Jungle, Nigeria, Africa

When I came to Africa to teach, it hadn't ever even entered my wildest, most paranoid fears that at one point during my stay I'd be running for my life through the Nigerian jungle carrying an eight-year-old boy on my back.

Growing up in the suburbs of Wisconsin, I had never thought about enemy soldiers with guns coming in and shooting up the people they don't like. It just doesn't happen because there are no enemy soldiers. There are no enemies, period. Enemy is a relative term that you apply to rival football teams and people in history. There are no physical enemies to come in and shoot at you.

They were all too real when I was running through that jungle, carrying Ngozi, scared to death that there were rebels whenever anything moved. It got to the point that I screamed my head off after a monkey swung down in front of me. Ngozi looked up at me, anxiety clear in his big brown eyes, and asked, "Miss Jessicka where are we going since we're lost?"

I didn't have much of a clue myself but I wasn't about to tell him that. He was scared, injured, lost thanks to me, and eight. I wasn't about to let him know that I was completely out of my element and just as scared as he was. I was his teacher. I was supposed to know, especially since we were both dead if the rebels found us. He was Ibo and I was American. We would not be popular with the rebels.

I managed to come up with something and tried my best to make it sound like I was on top of things, "If we don't find the mission we're gonna keep heading east. Cameroon isn't too horribly far. We'll try for it." In truth I had no idea how far away Cameroon was but it looked like I'd be running most of the way.

He thought about that for a second and then nodded, "Okay."

I kept running. Well after the truck had quit the morning before and then Ngozi sprained his ankle, I was at more of a forced jog. I'd never been what you'd call athletic. But I was a book person. If it was written down on paper somewhere I could find it and if it was considered a classic I'd read it. Unfortunately, I was going through the jungle, considerably rougher than the sidewalk, and had an extra fifty-five pounds on my back.

I had no way to know if the rebels were chasing us. I managed to be able to doubt it a little since we were just one woman and a little boy, that and we were already supposed to be dead. Yakubu's men didn't strike me as the type that after shooting up a school would check and count to make sure everybody was accounted for. For that matter, I doubted they had a lift of some kind. They just came in to shoot…

But I was scared. The full gravity of what Ngozi and I were running away from, what we'd seen, was being held at bay by some part of my mind. It was prioritizing. Fear kept me running to save our lives. And running on empty through a jungle that I didn't know didn't help. It was humid, heavy and dark in places. I had no idea what was making all the sounds. So all I could do was keep going, renewing the cycle of thoughts.

I glanced at my watch now and then. It was probably one of the only practical things I had on me…

I had to slow down after I slipped and fell twice. Ngozi was injured badly enough. I didn't need to get him hurt worse on top of being lost. He seemed ok though. He talked a lot. He kept going on about playing soccer and how he was going to be so much smarter than his sister Amaka now that he'd gone to school. In all honesty it was nice. His voice kept me distracted and it kept him from falling into a panic. I was panicked enough myself I didn't need him freaking out on me.

I had to admire the boy. He was hurt and running for his life and he didn't want anybody to know he was scared. And he was doing a fabulous job of it.

It was still drizzling down when I began to notice this sharp, weird smell. It kind of reminded me of this one time that a mouse had died in our basement only we couldn't find it for almost three weeks. My little sister had to go hurl when I grabbed it with the shovel to take it outside it was so rancid. And this: this was much, much worse.

Ngozi screwed up his nose as it kept getting stronger, "What is that?"

"I'm not sure…" I heard some gunfire and I added, "Let's keep quiet though." He nodded and kind of buried his face even further in the back of my neck, hiding his head underneath my brown ponytail. I slowed up to a cautious walk as the gunfire got closer—or we got closer to the gunfire. Eventually with it came screams. I tried as best I could to block them out of my head, like I had the other ones. It still didn't work too well.

We got to a point where the trees simply stopped. They didn't thin out or anything. They just completely cut off, revealing a dirt road and a village…and just feet away rebel soldiers with guns, screaming villagers, and a man shoved into a tire covered with gasoline. Looming above him there was a soldier holding a lighter. I could feel my mouth drop open. I honestly couldn't believe what I was seeing. I still didn't understand how they could do that. How do you do that to another person?

I stood there, paralyzed with fear and shock until Ngozi pulled me back to my senses. He had peeked his head out from its hiding place and he was seeing the same thing I was. He quivered and then started uncontrollably shaking as he watched. I quickly turned and set him down. I hugged him and let him bury his face in my chest. He was eight. He shouldn't have to see that.

He shouldn't have had to see a lot of things…

It then ran through my mind, how do kids who grow up in this ever be normal? How do they get past this?

I was shaken from my thoughts when I heard this muffled whizzing sound and then the soldier crumpled to the ground behind us. I glanced back to see the other soldier clutching his weapon, searching. His eyes were darting everywhere, trying to see who shot his comrade. He didn't find that person.

He found me.

He raised his gun and leveled it at my chest. If I'd had any control over my body whatsoever I'd probably have screamed my head off. But before I had time to think, I'd shoved Ngozi to the ground and run and tackled the soldier. He was down, fighting with me on top of him before he could even fire. I pounded on his arm until the gun skittered away, but that was only because he was still in shock. Once he realized what'd just happened he punched me in the temple, making my vision flicker.

He was a good fifty pounds heavier than me and not eating anything for the last twenty-four hours but two mangos caught up with me. He had me pinned with a hand over my throat, squeezing tight, within seconds. His other hand was traveling a bit farther south. I screamed against his grip and tried kneeing him where it would do the most good but his leg was firmly over both my knees. I tried to struggle harder as my world started to go black-and then it stopped.

I heard the same sharp but still muffled whizzing then I felt hot liquid splatter on my face. The man just went limp. I screamed and kicked him off me once I realized he was dead. I scrambled away from him then looked around panicked, just like he had a minute ago. I thought I saw a man, or at least a person, up in a tree. I assumed he had the gun. I stared at him for a moment but he didn't fire. I let myself breathe a little. He wasn't shooting at me so I didn't care.

I picked myself up and grabbed Ngozi. I didn't have time to get him situated on my back again so I balanced him on my hip, ran back into the road. I mentally hesitated for a second, wondering if I should take the gun or not. I had no idea how to use it so I left it. What was the use of carrying something I couldn't operate? I just sprinted on pure adrenaline. I didn't have anything else.

By that time Ngozi was screaming along with shaking as we flew past the carnage of this miniature holocaust we were now suddenly part of. He could see all the dead bodies. He saw the piles and the people screaming. He could see all the blood. I didn't have the breath or heart to tell him to hush. I didn't blame him for screaming.

We ran past a cemetery that I knew if anyone was still around would be a lot fuller. I pressed Ngozi's face into my neck when I accidentally stepped into someone. Her stomach had been slashed open and I almost slipped on certain parts of her body that were never supposed to see the light of day. I choked back vomit as I pushed on, telling myself that she was dead and couldn't feel it.

I lost my foot again in mud that was saturated with rain and blood. I got it pulled out and when I looked up I saw a couple of men in camouflage. They didn't notice us, though. I was too scared to think about whose soldiers they were. I didn't even care that two of the three I saw were white. They had guns: I was running.

I wouldn't let Ngozi look until we were back into the foliage on the edge of the village. The grass was tall everywhere here. That with the ferns and trees. He wasn't going to see anymore but roof tops and smoke from the fires. But I knew that the damaging thing would be the noise. It was toxic. The screams that were cut off by gunshots. They were like a virus that worms its way into your head. You can't shake them.

I fell about fifty yards up the hill above the village. My legs were numb and shaking with exhaustion. I tried to stand up but I fell right back down. I just leaned back, looking to the sky. I panted, "Ngozi, I'm so, so sorry buddy but I can't... We'll rest here for a bit. We'll wait them out. They won't find us up here." I tried not to think about how I could possibly be lying to him right then.

He nodded, still shaking slightly, "Okay…" He scooted under some ferns unconsciously. He couldn't help that overwhelming urge to just hide from the world and hope that they don't notice you, that survival instinct.

I could only sit for a minute, panting and wheezing. When I was finally able to breathe through my nose again I crawled up onto my knees and looked down at the village. On the edge was a house, kind of by itself. I couldn't describe the screams of the woman inside. As soon as I heard her cut through the air itself, my blood ran cold. I felt the goose bumps pop up on my arms and legs. I glanced back to Ngozi, making sure he wasn't watching, before I turned back and bit my lip. My vision blurred. I had no idea what they were doing to her in there and I didn't want to know. I didn't want to know even though my mind was already drawing pictures of what they could be doing, adding my own illustrations to what I'd seen in my school. I let the tears spill a few seconds before trying to wipe them away.

All I could do was pray that someone helped her. The more she screamed the more my body leaned forward, wanting to go but my head held me back. I couldn't fight. I couldn't use a gun. I'd be absolutely no use to her and I knew it. That didn't make it feel any less horrible to just sit there.

I didn't move. I just sat there and cowered in the brush, listening to this poor woman get slowly slaughtered. And all I did was cry.

Then, I saw three soldiers running toward that house. This time I noticed that they weren't wearing the red berets of the rebels and that their camo looked different. It was darker. I leaned forward more, hopeful now. Maybe, just maybe they were good. Maybe they could do what I wouldn't. Two disappeared into the far side of the house from me and I saw another come around on my side to the backdoor. The shooting started almost instantly and the screams stopped. I let the breath I'd been holding out.

I watched the men down there. I didn't have a very good view of all three. I was at the wrong angle and two were too far back into the room. But the one who'd gone in the back I could see. I didn't know why but he looked…a little in disbelief. I couldn't explain it. He looked like he couldn't believe what he'd just done or what he'd just seen or what had just happened. It looked strange, that kind of look on a soldier.

I immediately scolded myself for that. He was a person too. Just because he was a soldier didn't mean that he didn't have a heart or a soul. If anything I should be grateful that he was unlike the rebel soldiers. They were soulless. I couldn't understand them. I could understand this soldier. I understood how he could find this wrong and disturbing and completely unbelievable. At least I hoped that's what he was thinking…

I watched him as he stood there, staring at the ground. I could see him clearly from where I was, the only hindrance being my own remaining tears.

He was fairly tall, probably between six foot and six two. And even from where I was and under all his gear I could tell that running into him would be like hitting a brick wall. He was built. Not the weird, over kill kind of built that you saw on professional athletes or those wrestler guys, though. He had dark hair that was styled into a mohawk. His face was covered in remnants of some kind of paint. I figured probably that camo stuff you usually saw soldiers wearing. It made sense. He had a rifle in his hand with a silencer and a shotgun I thought on his back.

I couldn't see the expression on his face. He didn't look up for the long moment that I watched him. I didn't know why but analyzing him made distracting myself easier… Until he looked up.

For the second time that day I was caught with a deer in the headlights look staring back at a man with a gun. I immediately ducked down into the brush. Just the slight rustle that the plants made sounded like I'd just set off an alarm. I stared back in fear at him. He was still staring at the spot I'd been a second earlier. He frowned, immediately raising his rifle with the silencer. I could see him second guessing himself. He wasn't sure if he'd really seen me.

I pressed myself further down to the ground. I could just see him through the leaves as someone behind him got his attention and he turned. He took a few steps inside but he glanced back up again. Only when they left the building completely did I move. It was time to go. I saw a group of people gather in the center of town, some of the non-rebel soldiers were with them.

I hesitated as I picked Ngozi up and got him settled on my back again. I didn't know whether to trust them or not. There were women and older people with them. Not exactly your average combatants around here. But I still wasn't sure. They could be all right. Just refugees like us…or they could be someone not so friendly. I wasn't about to risk Ngozi's life by making the wrong choice. I'd already gotten him into this deep enough.

They started walking out of the village, the mohawk soldier in the lead. They were moving northeast, leaning more toward east. I finally made up my mind. They were going the same way as us. If nothing else we could follow them to where we could get close enough to Cameroon. I ducked down a bit and made to follow them.

I tried to lighten my voice when I told Ngozi quietly, "We're going to follow them. I think they might be going to Cameroon too."

He sounded confused when he answered, "Why are you whispering?"

"Because I don't want them to know we're here."

I could hear the smile when he asked, "Like a game of hide-and-seek?"

"Exactly! So we have to be really quiet. We don't want them to find us." I smiled myself a little. Leave it to Ngozi to simplify the situation like that. He could find anything in life analogous to a game of some kind. And he'd never even heard of video games before. It wasn't exactly the ideal situation to want a child involved but since he was I was glad that Ngozi was with me. I was glad I wasn't alone and Ngozi was an optimistic, resilient kid.

"Okay!" he whispered back to me and settled his head onto my shoulder, scanning through the jungle for anyone hiding.