Chapter Four: The Way It Is
The screams were in my head as I slept. I heard Nmumbu, and the screams of the dead villagers. For some reason, I saw the image of my watch, the hour hand rolling round and round for all the time I'd just hid and listened to those screams, to the torture the people went through.
I woke up with a jolt as I heard tense voices arguing. I quickly sat up.
My movement startled the two voices I'd heard subconsciously. LT and Lake stood in front of me, though with a little distance.
"I already did, last night," Lake said, looking back to LT.
LT looked sternly at me, and then the rest of the group. We were all hunkered down, resting but alert enough.
"Search her again."
LT walked off, and I saw Lake's jaw tighten. He turned towards me. I tensed up.
"Get up, please," he said. I obeyed. He walked to me, his rifle supported by one hand and the strap across his shoulder. His eyes, which I could see were quite light compared to his demeanor, fixed on me enough that I chickened out and took a step back. That was becoming a habit, and it bugged me. Since when did I become such a coward . . .
He tilted his head slightly at my movement.
"Could you raise your arms, Miss Sorenson?" he asked. He was being polite, but I saw his lieutenant glancing my way distrustfully. I raised my arms, holding them out from my sides.
He started patting me down. I tried not to flinch at his touch.
"Didn't we do this last night?" I asked. My mouth felt cotton-dry, and I swallowed. I hoped he didn't hear how nervous I sounded. I think my voice was wavering. He glanced at me, his eyes sparkling somewhat. Was he amused?
"Just following orders, miss," he said. His hand grazed my butt just then, and he hesitated as he realized it. My wit came from nowhere.
"Sure you are." He looked sharply to me, close to showing a tiny bit of embarrassment. Suddenly he laughed, just a quiet breath of air, but a smile complimented his face. I smiled back. Thank goodness for breaking the ice.
He put his hand to the collar on his neck.
"She's clean," he said. LT turned and glanced over his shoulder from where he stood by the rest of the group. A few others were being frisked too. Lake glanced back at me. "Well, sort of."
His eyes moved up and down over me, and I looked at myself. The mud had dried on my skin and clothes. I think my face was somewhat better, but not much. Lake moved off before I could blush, but I heard him laughing to himself.
Jerk.
The woman in the group, the doctor, spoke quickly with LT. Something was going on. I didn't quite understand what, but there wasn't much I could do to figure out what it was. I was just along for the ride.
I kind of hated that.
Suddenly, one of the men ran away. I didn't recognize him, so he must have come with the soldiers or something.
"LT!" yelled one of the Americans. I gasped as he took aim at the man. My eyes moved to the man as the shot echoed through the trees. The man yelped and went down.
Instantly, LT and two others ran after the man. But the other soldiers corralled the group back.
"Down!" Lake yelled, and everyone obeyed. I certainly did too. Lake glanced my way but seemed satisfied I wasn't moving or making trouble. He was on full-alert now. Amazing, how quickly these men changed. Their lives depend on it.
The doctor, who I heard someone call Lena, ran to the injured man. I wasn't horrified like she was about the shot. Something in how LT and Lake looked told me it wasn't for nothing. There was a threat here. The soldiers took care of it. A cold way to think of it, but I trusted the soldiers enough to know they'd keep us safe.
Lena argued with LT. I couldn't hear what she was saying, but LT silenced her with a look. I thought that was interesting. Not sure why, but . . .
I looked away from them, and in the corner of my eye I noticed Lake was watching me. I met his eyes, until LT came back towards us all.
He held something in his hand.
"Does someone want to tell me why anyone would be transmitting our position?"
Transmitting . . . Tracking us? Who was tracking us?
"Rebels," I whispered the answer aloud to myself. Lake glanced at me.
"Someone knows something," LT said. He was miffed. "I'm going to count to five." He raised his pistol, level at the eyes of one of the men. Nmumbu was next to him, and even though they did not know each other, Nmumbu shook his head, as if to influence LT not to do anything drastic.
I found myself rooted to where I stood. I didn't even sway. The scene just unfolded before me. A younger man, probably my age, stepped forward.
"Please," he said. "Please. There's no need for this."
"You know something, don't you?" I heard LT say.
The young man shielded his friend as he spoke. "I am Arthur Azuka. Son of President Samuel Azuka."
Those names sounded like they should mean something to me. Looking around, they made an impact on the survivors, the villagers, even the American soldiers. The feeling of stupidity washed over me. How little I knew . . . how little I understood of what surrounded me.
I wondered if I ever really cared for anyone here. I hadn't cared enough to find out the dangers each person faced. I hadn't cared enough to move from that hillside.
Was I really here now just to satisfy some vague dream of helping people? If so, it wasn't to help them. It was to make myself feel better because I would feel like I was doing something good.
A part of me was glad that I've failed in that too.
-0-0-0-
We hiked some more after that, until we reached a river. We stopped there. I moved downstream to wash off the mud on me. The water was cloudy as I rinsed my face.
"Great," I whispered at my reflection. I figured how I looked reflected how I felt.
"You shouldn't be too far away from the group."
I spun around. It was Lake. Water dripped down my face. I turned back to the river.
"I'm okay," I said, for lack of any other comment. Lake glanced around the area—was the guy ever not on alert?—and then knelt by the river. He cupped some water in his hands and splashed it on his face.
"You looked confused back there," he said. He sat back on a boulder, his hands resting on his rifle. It was completely casual for him.
"Which part?"
He laughed.
"You really haven't been here long," he surmised. That stabbed at my dwindling pride.
"No, I haven't." He quieted.
"He's the son of the Nigerian president," Lake said, looking to the young man in question. Arthur was huddled with the rest of the group. "The late Nigerian president. You know there was a coup, right?'
Well, now I knew. I'd heard rumors around the village, and could tell people were nervous, but I don't think anyone thought we'd be a target.
"So they want him dead?" I surmised out loud. Lake nodded.
"As the former president's son and some other tribal crap, he actually has a place to lead," he explained.
I splashed some more water on my face. The droplets trickled in my eyes, and I welcomed that. I wore contacts, and this wasn't comfortable for them. Even with the muggy air, my eyes felt dry.
I took a contact out, and washed it in the water.
"You probably shouldn't do that," Lake said. Was he worried about the water quality?
"How else do I do it?" He didn't answer. Probably had 20-20 vision, lucky jerk.
"Why do you stay away from the other refugees?"
I froze at his question.
"You claim you lived there for 4 weeks, but you've avoided all of them," he pressed on.
"Still don't believe me?"
Lake narrowed his eyes discerningly at me. "No, I believe you. But they're worried about you, and you haven't spoken to them at all."
"I talked to Nmumbu," I said hotly. Lake smiled like he was indulging me. I wasn't some kid here, but he was patronizing me anyway. "Look, you don't know anything about me or what I'm doing here."
"You're right."
Crap. He cut me off before I could make my whole argument. I was stumped at that point.
"They're worried you were hurt, and not telling anyone," Lake said. I frowned. Hurt? When? I glanced at my side— "At the village," Lake corrected me. He stared into my eyes pointedly.
Oh. I got what he meant. The villagers were afraid I had been attacked. Or . . .
I shuddered just thinking about it. That alarmed Lake. His eyes widened.
"Were you—"
"No." Even if I had been attacked, I don't know I'd tell Lake about it. Besides, I know some of the women had been raped. Would it have been so different or much more awful had it been me, at least to the soldiers' point of view?
"Jane . . ."
Hearing him say my name caught my attention more. It broke something down, a stubborn, guilty wall I'd put up since the rebels' attack on the village.
"No, I wasn't attacked. I hid, remember?" He'd pointed it out, after all. "I heard the shots and screams early in the morning. I ran to the hills and hid in the bushes." I felt like throwing up just saying it. But like any internal poison, it had to be purged. "You guys didn't come around till early afternoon, right? The whole time, I just watched and hid."
It took him a moment to think of something to say.
"You would have been hurt or killed had you stayed," he said.
"Like the villagers," I said.
He looked away, and I don't blame him. He was the one who blazed in, killing the rebels and saving anyone they could. He was the one who saw every atrocity.
"It was for the best," he said, but even to me it sounded lame.
"Yeah. It was better to hear the screams and not know what was happening," I said hollowly. "Instead I imagined what was happening. You know what, though?"
He waited for me to continue.
"What they went through—I'm sure it wasn't even close to what I imagined." Lake looked away again, and there was something dark in his eyes. It confirmed it for me. He'd seen worse, by far.
"Your friends could use you," he said, nodding at the villagers. 'Refugees,' he'd called them. I supposed that was accurate too. "They saw it all. Nearly died."
Rub it in, why don't you? I couldn't face them now. How could I relate? I was just a foreigner, one who didn't even see what they saw. Not that I wanted to, but saying 'I'm sorry' and trying to comfort when I had no idea how bad it was just felt fake.
Like everything about me in this country. So much for helping them.
I must have said that aloud. Lake stared at me, and he almost looked startled. I suddenly felt weak. I felt my skin go clammy, more so than usual out here, and I stumbled to my feet.
"Excuse me," I muttered. I threw up nothing but liquid into the bushes. My body started shaking then, and I had to go to my knees.
Lake moved behind me. I could hear the rattling of his gun and various things attached to his harnesses and whatever else soldiers had on them. I grabbed my hair and pulled it back. My arm shook as I moved.
"Drink this." Lake shoved a canteen near my face. I shook my head.
"Don't want to get you sick." Besides, I just threw up nothing but liquid anyway. I didn't feel like adding fuel to the fire.
Lake grabbed me by my arm and hoisted me to my feet.
"You're not sick," he said. I begged to differ with a glance at the bushes. Lake rolled his eyes. "You're in shock. Come on."
Shock? Really? That was convenient. I didn't buy it. I had nothing to be shocked about. My experience thus far had been a cake walk compared to anyone else. To Nmumbu, who was nearly burned alive. To Maria, who died in the village. To 65 or so others . . . I had seen one thing from my perch on the hill. I'd seen a pile of bodies. It grew each hour, as the rebels gathered the bodies and stacked them by a hut. Odd that they were so organized with that.
"Jane." I forced myself to look at Lake as steadily as I could. He held the canteen close to my face. I just stared at it.
He sighed, and tilted my head back. He poured the water down my throat, and I let him. His eyes were focused on making me drink. Mine were focused on him. Why did he care at all? He was stuck in the middle of this mess too. A soldier's life wasn't all patriotic all the time. He had to be ticked to be in this situation. And now with me to look after—
I pulled away, the water spilling until he righted the canteen. I wasn't going to be a burden. I wiped my mouth resolutely.
"Thank you," I said sternly. His brow furrowed at my tone. I felt too tired and confused to feel bad about that now.
He looked suddenly to the other soldiers. They were gathering around some rocks on the river bank, upstream. He glanced back to me. He was being summoned. I could hear the low vibrations of the transmission over his communications collar.
"Go," I said, nodding at the others.
He walked backwards at first, a few steps as he watched me. I turned to the river to wash my face again. But in the reflection of the water, I saw he'd come back.
"Don't blame yourself," he said. Part of me wanted to argue that. "Guilt doesn't help anyone. And if you're going to survive this, you have to be sharp."
He stepped back once, and stopped again.
"If you'd gone back, I might have found your body. Raped, bloodied, and probably in pieces." His voice was stern, low in a husky way but not flirty at all. "What they did to those people, especially the women . . . It was bad enough seeing them like that."
He pivoted sharply and walked off, every bit the soldier and in-control man he'd shown me thus far. But what he said got through to me. And what he had left unsaid made me think.
It made me see him in a different light. A deeper light. Instead of fear or apprehension, there was respect for him, beyond the respect that comes with being a soldier. The respect for a man.
"If you're going to survive this, you have to be sharp." I vowed to myself that I would be. No more personal pity. Guilt doesn't just instantly disappear, but I wasn't going to let my repeated failures haunt me at the expense of my life—nor at the expense of the people around me.
I waited until we started moving again to approach Lake. Thankfully, my stomach wasn't bugging me now. The vain girl in me felt embarrassed about throwing up before.
He turned his head slightly as I came up behind him.
"Lake," I started. I didn't think I'd verbally called him that before. "Is that your name or code or what?" I got off topic already, but it was one of those questions that just popped up.
He turned to face me, a smile showing off his amusement.
"My name. Kelly Lake." Kelly, I repeated in my mind. He had a tattoo just below his left ear with the initials JKL. I wondered if 'J' was part of his name too. "We don't go by code names within the unit."
I nodded. He looked pointedly at me, and I remembered my reason for coming up to him.
"I don't want to be one more worry for you guys," I said. "I know you'll worry anyway, but I want to help."
"Help," Kelly Lake repeated. His skepticism was obvious.
"I had a gun and a knife when we met." His eyes showed he got what I was getting at.
"You want them back."
I nodded. "If you don't need them." I knew he didn't. He hesitated, studying me like he was trying to figure what I was thinking. Then he reached into one of his pockets. He withdrew the gun, and checked it. I saw him flip the safety on and off, and then hand it to me handle-first.
He handed me the knife too, but his eyes stayed on the gun.
"You know how to use that?" he asked.
"As well as any of the others," I replied with a nod at the villagers. He smirked.
"Comforting." He watched as I double checked the safety (I admit it was for show, to prove I could do it), and put the gun in my pocket. "It only has 9 bullets left. If it comes to it, conserve your ammo."
I nodded. The knife I put on my hip in its sheath. Lake hadn't moved the whole time. Glancing up at him, I saw the doubt in his eyes.
"The soldier I got these from was a rebel," I said. He knew that, of course. "He was running towards me, at the village, when I was hiding on the hill. I don't think he knew I was there, but he would have found me."
Lake frowned.
"You shot him before he reached me," I said, and the effect on Lake was immediate. His eyes widened slightly. "You didn't know, but . . . thank you. You saved my life."
I offered a tight smile, and went to walk at the front of the group, where I'd been so far. I managed to smile and say hello to the villagers as I moved past them. Nmumbu especially smiled back, and I think he was relieved. I guess Lake was right.
