Thanks again to my beautiful reviewers. Still not giving too much away. You'll have to wait patiently for my weekly chapter updates. Bahahahaha!
Guide You Home
Chapter Six
Gi clenched her fists, glaring at Sly Sludge as she struggled against the bonds holding her bound wrists to the pylon above her head. She huffed against the oily rag pulled tight against her mouth, aware of the futility in trying to break free. She pressed on regardless, her eyes settling once again on the eco-villain left to keep an eye on her.
Sludge was bickering down the phone at someone; his face turning red with displeasure as he paced the shed, throwing the Water Planeteer resentful glances every now and again.
In all honesty, she was incredibly angry with herself. It was Bleak who had found her in the end. Gi had travelled quickly in the direction indicated by Kwame. She'd found a small village with a number of friendly locals and through basic sign language she'd been able to communicate her need for a phone. The village elder had pointed her in the direction of a market, and offered her food and water before she set out again.
Gi had gratefully accepted, sitting down with some local children to rest. Her thoughts had turned to the others, especially Ma-Ti and Linka and she'd wondered for the umpteenth time if they were okay.
The Planeteer was chugging her third glass of clean bore water when a shadow had loomed over her and she'd looked up in surprise, squinting and shielding her gaze against the glare of the sun.
Her eyes had widened and she'd automatically raised her ring as the figure, momentarily forgetting it wasn't working. Her heart had thudded painfully as a strong hand had grasped her wrist and hauled her to her feet.
It hadn't taken Gi long to realize who it was. Her surprised yelp had startled the local villagers who had watched on with amazement as Bleak had wrapped his arms around her waist and dragged her towards his vehicle.
A young man no older than 18 had stepped forward, attempting to render assistance but Bleak had shoved Gi against the vehicle with one hand and raised his rifle at her would-be rescuer with the other, his eyes blazing with menace. The young man had backed off, his palms in the air as he regarded Gi with worry etched across his face.
Gi had put up a fight but she was no match for him. He'd bound her arms and legs, before throwing her into the back seat and tearing off down the dusty road, towards their current destination.
Coincidence and pure rotten luck had led to Gi's path unexpectedly crossing with Argos Bleak. Plunder had employed one of the villagers to deliver supplies to the base and Bleak had been sent to follow up about a shipment to be made the following night. He'd had been making the required payment when a conversation had been overheard about a young woman who had arrived, requesting help.
Plunder's right-hand-man had quickly put two and two together and gone to investigate.
In the few short months that they had been operating out of Mali, Bleak had ensured that the villagers; living in their primitive, dust-pot shanty town had learnt to keep their mouths shut about the goings-on at the airfield. They were afraid of him, the bald man with the fiery temper.
Rumors were plentiful about this strange individual and his acquaintances; holed up in the compound and surrounded by armed guards and barbed wire. Planes flew in and out at all hours, day and night.
The locals knew better than to ask questions, even when stories were filtering through from surrounding tribes about children disappearing in broad daylight. Mostly street kids, but some of them were from good homes; vanishing on their way home from school, or after purchasing sweets from the local store.
One child in particular from Nigeria had never made it home from her piano lesson. The daughter of a government diplomat, the disappearance had made national news. A witness had reported seeing a silver mini-van in the vicinity, but that was where the trail grew cold.
The girls had simply ceased to exist. They were there one minute, and gone in the blink of an eye. But each 'product' acquired was someone's child. A child who had been loved, hugged, doted on and cared for before a faceless enemy had spirited them away without empathy or compassion.
The locals were getting restless... and angry.
Dr Andrew Glover peeled his blue surgical gloves off and leaned against the wall for a moment. He was exhausted. Seven months working here and he still couldn't fathom the steady influx of patients who walked through the screen doors on a daily basis.
The Englishman sighed, glancing at Doctor Bennett in the next room who was crouched over a malnourished five-year-old, stethoscope in hand. Edward Bennett was an elderly man in his late seventies who seemed better suited to a life of gardening and living out his twilight years, instead of holed up inside a cloying mud-brick building in a small African town for up to 14 hours per day.
Andrew frowned; his brown hair settling over his eyes as he peered through the circular window into the waiting area. It was 4pm in the afternoon and another client had walked in, holding a small baby in her arms. Her brightly-colored dress sashayed around her legs as she took a seat in one of the plastic chairs, holding the screaming infant in her arms.
The doctor turned towards the small sink and scrubbed his hands; his eyes settling on the small fridge in the corner of his makeshift office. It housed the vials of drugs, vaccinations and medicines.
These were stockpiled under lock and key: a night-time raid by local Tuareg fighters had ensured the need for extra security. Local rebels had broken into the building when Andrew had first begun his contract here, destroying equipment and stealing much-needed supplies.
They had no choice but to soldier on with what was left, since the supplies were delivered every few months. Between the raids, separatist activity, the heat, the sand, the flies and the abject loneliness, Andrew sometimes wondered what he was doing here at all.
It was a random, totally spontaneous decision to complete his medical training and join "Doctor's Without Borders." Andrew's family had been dead against the idea, but he'd been resolute in his efforts to assist those less fortunate than himself.
His father in particular had always assumed that Andrew would head straight into a local medical practice, spending his days tackling patients with obesity, high cholesterol and common childhood ailments. But it wasn't to be. At least, not yet, anyway.
Born into a middle class family in Chelmsford, Essex, Andrew had experienced a somewhat idyllic childhood with slightly over-achieving parents who encouraged competitiveness between himself and his siblings.
But the young man had applied for the program regardless after completing his doctorate, ignoring the strenuous objections of his family. He'd planned on making a difference.
The reality had been very different to his expectations. His days in Mali were spent administering inoculations, treating malaria and tuberculosis and giving basic sex education to young girls destined to marry young.
Just last week he had assisted Doctor Bennett with a difficult birth. The fifteen-year-old girl who presented to the clinic after hours was in the middle stages of labour and her small pelvis simply wasn't wide enough to birth a baby.
The issue was surprisingly common. But these people had no one else, and their gratitude and kindness was payment enough.
He grabbed a bottle of water from the shelf and emptied half the contents in a few gulps. His thirst quenched, the young doctor made his way out into the waiting area to call his next patient.
Just then the main entrance door swung open again courtesy of a strong gust of wind. Andrew gasped as the door slammed against the internal wall of the building, bouncing sharply as sand blew in from the surrounding desert. He hurried towards the entrance and attempted to close the doors, shielding his face as the gust strengthened in intensity.
He finally succeeded in latching the doors shut, while noticing the tell-tale brown haze sitting just above the darkening horizon. It shimmered and moved, fluid and terrifyingly beautiful at the same time. The doctor peered towards it, his teeth pressing upon his bottom lip. He knew what it meant.
Dust storm's coming.
Andrew went to turn away but noticed an old battered Datsun pull in to the yard at high speed, bearing several young men wearing traditional turbans. The strangers jumped out and tore towards the surgery. Andrew's breath caught in his throat, unsure of what was happening. He motioned for the patients to crouch down before calling for his colleague.
"Grab the gun, Ed," he shouted, as Doctor Bennett looked up in surprise. Andrew stepped back, his heart beating rapidly as the young men burst through the doors, breaking the flimsy latch in the process.
The boys immediately approached the doctor and started talking rapidly at once, worry and stress etched on their faces. Andrew realized that they couldn't have been older that 18, probably local farmers judging by their clothing.
Doctor Bennett appeared beside him, the weapon hidden securely within his clothes as the young men tried desperately to communicate. Andrew glanced nervously at Ed, neither man able to decipher the rapid-fire tamasheq language issuing from the loud rabble.
Finally one of them stepped forward, an item clutched in each hand. Andrew ran his hand through his hair, confused as he took the small brown vest they were desperately offering him. He turned it over, frowning as he noticed scuff marks and light blood stains around the collar and hem-line. It was a woman's vest, the heady scent of roses still present within the fabric.
"What is this," he asked, shaking his head as the youngsters pointed in the direction they had just come from, beckoning for him to follow them. Their sense of urgency was such that Doctor Bennett immediately turned and headed into his office, gathering supplies.
Andrew was herded out towards the vehicle, with Doctor Bennett not to far behind him. The senior doctor called out instructions to the nurse on duty and she nodded, watching them from the front verandah along with the rest of the curious patients who had filed out as well.
Andrew climbed into his ute, turning on the ignition as Edward tossed the supplies into the back seat. He paused, realizing that he was still holding onto a second object, it's tiny weight clenched within his fist.
He looked down at the ring - a thick gold band, attached to a light blue stone with three wavy lines in the center. It was designed to fit a very small finger.
A car horn broke him from his thoughts as the Datsun roared to life, peeling away from the surgery with urgent speed. Andrew passed the ring to his colleague who had taken a seat beside him and together they followed the car in front, hoping and praying they'd make it before the dust storm arrived.