Five

The next time Maddy's eyes open, she recognizes her surroundings as the interior of a medical tent at a UNICEF base camp. She wonders exactly how she ended up at a UNICEF camp and if Archer was responsible for getting her there. Maddy makes an attempt to sit up straighter than she already is, but the stern sound of someone kissing their teeth keeps her still. Before she can find the source of the sound. Archer is standing over her chewing on a piece of wood. She almost doesn't recognize him without a film of grime covering him.

"Don't move," he tells her.

She nods and relaxes back into the pillows behind her. She licks her dry lips and swallows. "How did you get me here?"

"I smuggled you in," he jokes without a smile.

Maddy cocks her brow.

"You wouldn't have made it to a proper hospital," he says, his tone changing. "So we flew around until we spotted the flag. I figured you were some sort of UNICEF person. They recognized you and put us up."

"Solomon is here too?"

He nods. "He's showering." He approaches the side of her cot and picks up a plastic cup with a straw in it to extend to Maddy. "You should drink this."

"What is it?"

He smirks. "It's water."

The simple act of lifting her hands to take the cup from Archer is exhausting. Her arms feel like they are weighted with lead and she can only manage to hold them up for a few small sips. Archer sees her struggle and moves close enough to put his hands over hers to hold the cup just high enough for her to use the straw. Her skin is warm and soft against his rough palms.

"The doctor said you'll be fine," he says in a low voice as she finds relief in the liquid. "They got the bullet out of you, pumped some blood into you…you're fine."

"You saved my life," she says after swallowing her last sip of water.

He kisses his teeth again. "Don't start with that sentimental nonsense now, Miss Bowen. I just didn't want another dead body on my hands."

"My dead body."

He nods. He puts the cup down.

"Thank you."

He scoffs and shakes his head. "For what? I won't have any thanks, Miss Bowen."

"You brought me here, didn't you? And for that, I'm thankful."

He nods half-heartedly.

"Do you still have your stone?"

He nods again, this time more intently. "Of course I do."

"What are you going to do now?"

He purses his lips and gnaws down on the piece of wood he's been nursing all afternoon. Archer doesn't know what his next move is. His original plan of getting the stone and leaving with his contact was thrown right out the window the moment Maddy followed them into the brush. He thinks back on her offer to take him and Solomon to America. A legal diamond sale. No blood on his hands.

"What are you thinking about, Archer?"

He takes the wood from his mouth and spits before answering. "You said you have someone who would buy this stone in America."

She nods. "Is that what you want to do?"

He hesitates. "I'll end up in prison. They'll have my head in America. I push stones for a living, Maddy, I'm not a UNICEF type like you."

"You gave me my story, Archer, I'll see that nothing happens…"

She sighs slowly as a wave of pain throbs through her. She feels nauseous with discomfort so she closes her eyes for a moment to try and quell the feeling. Archer watches her tense in the cot and he shifts his weight from one leg to the other. She opens her eyes again and clears her throat.

"You gave me my story," she repeats. "I will keep you safe."

"And Solomon?"

"I'll search the refugee manifest for his family," she says. "And I'll have them flown to America."

"What about me?"

"What about you?"

"Say I sell the stone and avoid prison time… and then what?"

Maddy thinks. "I can get you a job."

Archer almost throws his head back in a full, hearty laughter, but instead, he shakes his head with a scoff and turns to pace around. He chews on the branch he's been using in place of a cigarette furiously and his teeth break off soggy splinters that he promptly spits out. Maddy's eyes follow him up and down, back and forth, until he stops at the foot of her bed to look at her again.

"A job?"

"A real job," she says.

"Diamond smuggler isn't recognized as an occupation in America?" He hisses. "I push stones for a living, Miss Bowen, that's what I do. That's what hundreds of poor fucks do here. I get a nice fat pay every time I make a deal. What will America offer me that could possibly match what I have now?"

"Safety," she answers in a sure voice, or at least, as sure as she can sound in her current state. "Security. You won't have to walk around with a target on the back of your head."

He waves her words away with a dismissive flick of his hand. "I've got a target on my back and a price on my head, Maddy, do you understand that? I'm a smuggler," he repeats with intensity. "If someone wants me dead, they'll find a way to get to me, here or in America."

"You'll be safer in America."

"I've been fine here," he retorts.

Maddy remains silent. Another wave of nauseous discomfort waves over her and she draws in a sharp inhale to try and compose her trembling insides. She sinks into the pillows behind her and realizes how tense Archer has made her when her shoulders slump down into their natural repose. Her muscles relax. She unclenches her fists. Archer watches her face, the way her brow is trembling and the way the tendons in her neck twitch under her skin, as he tosses his branch to the ground. He crushes it under the toe of his boot. Maddy opens her eyes again.

"I'm not forcing you to come to America with me," she sighs. "I'm just telling you that the opportunity is there if you want to take it."

"Ja, ja," he nods. He pulls a cigarette from his pocket and lights it between his lips. "You'd be met with a hero's welcome in America," he claps sardonically, "save the smuggler and the poor black man from Africa. That's two in one trip."

"Archer…"

"And then you can write about how you fixed a broken man, huh," he spits. "How you brought him to the land of opportunity and put him in a nice suit and tie—"

"Arch—"

"That would be fucking great for you, wouldn't it, Maddy?"

His voice is almost shrill with venom. He's livid and she can almost see his temples throbbing with anger. Maddy doesn't understand why he is acting so standoffish suddenly and she feels dejected and exhausted. She only wants to help Archer and all he seems to be doing is acting difficult and proud.

"Why can't you just let me help you?" She asks finally, exasperated.

"I don't need your help," he barks. He draws in a sharp inhale and blows the smoke out through his flared nostrils. "I never needed your help, Maddy." He looks her over sternly and turns to leave the tent.

"Archer, please just give me a chance to speak!"

"And say what?" He demands. "I got my stone, I got what I came here for, a'right? You have your story and a bullet hole to take home with you."

"What about Solomon?" She asks, hoping her question would made him stay.

"What about him, huh?"

"I could give you both your happy endings if you just give me the chance to, Archer!"

"You fucking Americans all think the same," he says as he drills his finger into his temple. The ashes from the end of his cigarette flake off by the side of his face. "Happy endings, don't make me laugh."

Maddy feels her throat tighten up.

"There are no happy endings in Africa," he growls, leaving.