Twenty
Maddy doesn't leave New York without seeing a few last tasks to their end. Before anything else, Maddy picks her photographs up from the developers and sorts through them to decide which ones she will have to accompany her story in the magazine. The chore takes up most of her morning. With the stack of chosen photos sitting neatly at the corner of her desk, she finishes typing up her story before brushing through it to edit and change anything that doesn't read right.
While she's putting the last touches on her piece, the phone rings with news of the arrival of Solomon's family. The call couldn't have come at a better time. She arranges to meet them at the airport, and as soon as she hangs up, she informs Solomon of the news and they leave her apartment immediately.
The affair in the airport terminal is an emotional one and Maddy was swelling with happiness for Solomon and his wife and his children. They remain in the airport for just under an hour before she sends them off in a cab to a hotel suite near her apartment. She tells them that she will put them up for as long as they require until they find a place of their own. Maddy has provided Solomon with all that he needs to find a job and a new home — funding and important contacts — so now, it's just a matter of time. He is grateful for her and he thanks her profusely before they part ways.
Maddy's next order of business is to complete her story. She does so soon after she gets back to her apartment and then she wastes no time leaving again to head to Vital Affairs HQ. She meets up with Richard, who is pleased to see her before she promised him the story, and submits her piece. She then requests a month long leave of absence and Richard is more than happy to accommodate. He grants her the leave, they deal with the appropriate paperwork, and then she's on her way again back to her apartment to pack a travel bag.
She takes only what she can carry on her back and that consists of nothing more than one change of clothes, a dozen rolls of film and her beloved travel camera, her notebooks, and a canteen of water with a few soup packets. Maddy is on the move again, but this time, her phone is glued to her ear as she waves down a taxi. She arranges a press flight to Sierra Leone en route to a private Vital Affairs Magazine owned airport and, much to her delight, everything is in line for her departure in only a few minutes.
Maddy arrives in Africa early the next morning with the same knots in her stomach that she had the very first time she touched down on the red sand. With her hair slicked back into a tight bun and her bag hanging off her shoulder, she racks her brain trying to devise a plan — or at least something vaguely akin to a plan — to try and find Archer. The war torn land is nowhere to be without a course of action and Maddy knows this, so she decides to not rush herself.
She remains at the UNICEF base camp she touched down in to assist with aid to refugees. She figures she'd be able to make her presence in the area valuable while sparing herself some time to think about how she was going to track a single man in a country of millions while the threat of capture, torture, and death loomed over her head.
She asks some of the workers about Archer but the answers to her questions come up fruitless. She stays the night and then leaves early the next day for the heart of the city the next morning. The landscape is somewhat familiar and, with the help of a map and a compass, she navigates her way to where she needs to be.
She travels alone in the thick forest and down abandoned roads passed ruined villages and destroyed buildings taking photographs and making notes in her journals. A shower of bullets and bombs echoes in the distance as Maddy settles under a tree in the jungle for a moment of rest and the sound makes her skin crawl. She can't help but wonder if she's made a mistake, but with an optimistic shake of her head, the thought passes as she leans her head back against the trunk of the tree. She stays in the shade for almost an hour before getting up and pressing on.
After several hours of walking, she reaches the part of the city that she remembers as the place where she and Archer first met. M'Ed's bar has been reduced to nothing but a pile of rubble under the unrelenting forces of the RUF, but her days there, good and bad, are still very fresh in her mind. She's overwhelmed by a sick feeling of longing as she walks by and as a reflex, her camera is up and she snaps a handful of photographs before continuing on.
When night falls for the second time since Maddy's arrival, she finds herself making the strange decision to sleep in an abandoned jeep on the side of a road that looks like it hasn't been used in a while. There are no fresh tire tracks anywhere nearby and there is even new foliage growing at the road's edge. She knows the jeep is the furthest thing from safe or comfortable, but she is exhausted and the back seat, which has stiffened to feel like it has been filled to capacity with sand, will suffice for the night.
Maddy is a blink away from sleep when she hears footsteps coming down the path she came down. At first, she thinks it might just be an animal, but the steps are too even and consistent to belong to something nonhuman. The footsteps slow as they approach the car but then stop outside the car door at her head. She holds her breath and forces her eyes open as she listens more closely.
Step. Step. Step.
Whoever is outside the car is right at the door now and after a moment of silence, she can hear their labored breathing. Maddy's heart is so thick in her throat that she chokes in a strained gasp. Every image of torture and pain her mind can conjure up flash through her mind as the door swings open. It takes Maddy a few seconds to register the sensation of the hot barrel of a gun digging into the soft skin of her temple.
"I should just shoot you right here, huh."
The familiarity of the voice makes her ears ring. Archer is standing over her, gun still against her temple, with a glare that could melt the polar ice caps. He shoves his gun into the back of his pants and leans into the car to grab Maddy by her biceps to pull her out. He pins her against the rusty side of the car with his hands squeezing her biceps so hard that she lets out a cry.
"How did you find me?"
He kisses the back of his teeth and shakes his head knowingly. "You think I don't know when the little American planes full of journalists come and go?" He scoffs in her face.
Maddy swallows. He reeks of alcohol and cigarettes. "You're drunk."
"No, Miss Bowen," he barks. "I am not."
"You are," she gasps insistently.
"Maybe you're the one who's drunk," he retorts. "Because no one with a sober mind would come back to this godforsaken place."
"You came back!"
He laughs sardonically and clenches his jaw so hard that Maddy hears his teeth grind. He releases her arms with a slight push before pounding his fist through the window of the car. Maddy flinches out of the way and doubles over as she brings her arm up to her head out of reflex. Archer grabs her arm again and straightens her against the side of the car.
"Archer!"
"Shut up!" He hisses, his face an inch away from hers.
"Archer, you're hurting me!"
Maddy is frantic now and she can't catch her breath. Archer's grip is so tight on her bicep that she feels like he's about to shatter her bone. Without another word, he jerks her away from the car and pushes her towards the jungle.
"Walk," he grunts. He reaches into the car and grabs her bag to throw at her.
"To where?" She catches her things with a gasp.
"Just walk!"
Not wanting to get on his bad side now, Maddy composes herself and walks in the direction she was shoved in. She adjusts the strap of her bag over her shoulder and rubs the sides of her arms. Her insides are trembling and her heart is still pounding up against the back of her ribs. Even her ears are ringing still.
Archer walks several steps behind Maddy breathing like he'd just strangled someone. The only sound between them after a few minutes is the sand crunching under each step. She hears the tear of fabric behind her and she stops and turns around to look at Archer.
In the thick darkness of the night, she can see the streaks of blood on Archer's wrist and forearm and she knows immediately that he must have cut his hand when he punched the window out. His face is still with indifference as he wraps the strip of his button down shirt around his knuckles. He flexes his fingers before balling them into a fist. Blood soaks through the fabric instantly.
"You're hurt, Archer."
He looks up at her, narrowing his eyes.
"You cut yourself."
"Ja, Miss Bowen," he spits to the side as he closes the gap between himself and Maddy. "Your hero complex is showing."