Nice one, Amie thought, not a chance there would be any help from that quarter. She could only wonder at the girl’s absolute commitment to the cause she believed in. She’d been totally and utterly brainwashed.
Halfway across the compound between the tents, they met a young soldier who smiled at Shalima and Amie realised it was probably Fahid. While she couldn’t see Shalima’s face, she felt her whole body tense and quiver and had no doubt he was the boyfriend. He was certainly handsome and probably only a teenager himself.
Shalima stopped, abruptly pulling back on Amie’s arm which caused the cable ties to dig deeper into her wrists. With her head bowed she whispered a hurried conversation with Fahid. Just as quickly she jerked Amie forward again and made for a tent at the far end of the compound.
They waited outside, eyes on the ground until one of the soldiers came out and nodded to Shalima who pushed Amie inside.
As Amie’s eyes adjusted again to the dim light inside the tent, she observed three men sitting around a low table. They were all dressed in fatigues, drinking tea and smoking. The air was thick with blue haze. The one in the middle nodded to Shalima and she withdrew, leaving Amie on her own.
For several seconds the men stared at Amie making her feel like a piece of meat in a butcher’s shop. She was still wearing her burqa but her face was exposed and she felt them staring at her blond hair. She stared right back at them, pretending she wasn’t quaking inside, but if it was from fear or rage, she wasn’t sure. What right did they have to take her prisoner? All she wanted was to take her husband and leave.
“You Amie Fish?” the man in charge barked at her.
It seemed pointless to deny it, so Amie simply said yes.
“Married to Jon Fish?”
“Yes, to Jonathon.”
“So, Mrs Fish, you will be a good example to the people of your country when they see how we treat our enemies. I understand you have been famous once before, in a television series yes?” The man gave a short humourless laugh. “Now you are going to be famous again, and it will be on television have no doubt.” He chuckled and the other men smirked.
Amie was tempted to protest she’d done nothing to harm them, and plead for her and Jonathon’s lives, but she’d be wasting her breath. These people were fanatics and no objection she could raise would have any effect on them. They were ruthless and vicious and would employ any means whatsoever to further their cause. She had escaped death before, but she wouldn’t be so lucky this time. The only thing she could do, was to maintain her dignity. It was unlikely she would gain their respect after all she was only a woman. She would do her utmost to represent Western women who lived as human beings, with their own agendas and their own freedoms. She continued to glare boldly at the men.
There was some discussion in a language Amie guessed was Arabic, and the man in charge indicated with a wave of his hand that she should leave. Amie turned to totter out of the tent. Her legs were aching and stiff and she wished she could’ve exited more gracefully with her head held high. She swayed as a wave of nausea hit her, and she heard them snigger as she pushed her way through the front flaps.
Shalima was waiting for her outside, still whispering with Fahid and for a moment she wasn’t even aware that Amie was beside her. She turned around suddenly and grabbed her arm. “They’ve laid on a bit of entertainment for you,” she sneered. “Wanna see what they do to Ben?”
“Stop it Shalima. Stop it,” Amie snapped. “Do you enjoy being cruel? Ben has never done anything to you either, in fact I thought …”
“Thought I liked him? You gotta be joking. Had to make sure he’d play along, didn’t I? Especially at the end.”
She dragged Amie across the open area a little way into the veldt. To Amie’s horror she saw Ben blindfolded and tied to a stake. She whimpered and tears dribbled down her cheeks. No, this wasn’t happening, they couldn’t be that barbaric, they couldn’t!
A group of five soldiers strolled towards him, taking their rifles off their shoulders laughing and chattering among themselves. They lined up opposite Ben and took aim.
Amie’s legs gave way and if Shalima hadn’t held her up, she would have collapsed. She couldn’t watch. She wanted to shout words of encouragement to Ben, but her mouth refused to open and the words wouldn’t come. She shook violently glad Ben couldn’t see what was happening.
At the last minute the men raised their rifles and fired into the air. No bullets went anywhere near Ben. It was just a show of bravado. The air rushed out of Amie’s lungs and she gasped, trying to get her breath but she could feel her heart racing. She was reduced to a quivering wreck, and only a few seconds ago she’d been telling herself to be brave and dignified.
When Shalima hauled her to her feet again, Amie thought she saw a spark of fear in the girl’s eyes. Maybe she’d had a moment of regret, but it was gone in an instant.
Amie was dragged unceremoniously back to her tent, propped against the wall, her legs tied together, and once again she was left alone.
She drifted in and out of consciousness, but her dreams were full of dark, terrifying images. She could see Shalima’s face, laughing hysterically at her. She pictured Angelina crying, Mrs Motswezi petrified, and she saw Jonathon’s pale face lying lifeless on a stretcher.
Every time she came to, the tears would course silently down her cheeks, stinging her eyes and the minutes ticked by like hours. She tried not to think what might happen in the next few days, to her and the people she loved. At least the elderly headmistress and Angelina were safe and that was the only thing that gave her comfort.
It was dark the next time Amie woke. She thought she’d heard stealthy footsteps at the back of her tent and reckoned at first it was her imagination, but suddenly something exploded close by, lighting up the dark night. There was a second explosion and the sound of rapid gunfire. Men were shouting, feet running past the tent, followed by cries and screams and more explosions. The noise was deafening. The night was fractured by bangs, screams and non-stop firing.
Amie imagined they were being attacked and she slid down as close to the ground as she could. The cacophony went on and on, but with her hands tied behind her back she was unable to cover her ears. Her head was vibrating from the inside as guns spat bullets and the screaming continued, interspersed with shrieks of pain. It felt like hell, here on earth, right now. The noise permeated every fibre and cell of Amie’s body while she lay curled in a ball. The last explosion was right next to the tent. It lifted her bodily off the ground and as she crashed down again, she blacked out.
By the time Amie came to, it was daylight and the early morning sun was beating down on her. A large hole in the canvas roof of the tent allowed a view of the bright blue sky above. The centre pole was leaning over at a precarious angle as if it was about to fall on her at any moment, burying her under what was left of the canvas.
She struggled onto her bottom, her head spinning, then twisted until she got onto her knees and crawled forward. She didn’t have the strength to stand up, her movements were uncoordinated and shaky. She could hear nothing but ringing in her ears, and the acrid smell of smoke permeating her senses.
When she peered out, she saw there were several small fires still burning but the camp was virtually destroyed. A few figures, clothed in a variety of garments, were rummaging among the wreckage while others beat out the last of the burning embers with blankets and sticks. She frowned, bewildered, not believing what she was seeing in front of her. Had they been attacked? If so, by whom? The British? The Americans? Another IS group? Nothing made any sense.
She shuffled forward a little further and tried to stand up, but her legs wouldn’t hold her. She fell sideways, her hands numb from the cable ties that anchored her hands in the small of her back. Without warning, someone grabbed her from behind and cut the ties. Her hands were free.
Amie tried to move her arms but the pain was excruciating and she rolled her shoulders several times to help the blood flow return. She tw
isted round to see Ben bending over her. He was grinning from ear to ear.
Amie gasped. “You’re free! How?”
“Yes, and now you are too. Here, let me help you up.” He cut the cable ties binding her feet.
“Jonathon? Is he here? Have you seen him? Is he still alive?” The questions spilled out as Amie attempted to stand.
“I don’t know. We must go to look for him.”
“They were going to kill us all,” Amie spluttered.
“I know, but we arrived before they had the chance.”
“We?”
“My people, from Apatu. There has been another uprising, we have been preparing to take our country back for a long time. Now it has begun.”
Amie tried to focus on his words. Her head was still spinning and she wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly through the ringing in her ears.
Ben put his arms around her shoulders and gave her a very gentle shake. “Come, let us try and find Jonathon. Are you ready?”
Amie nodded. Shuffling like an old woman, and leaning on Ben, they went to look in the tents that were still partly standing. In many of them were the burnt remains of bodies, impossible to identify.
In the second tent, two bodies were recognizable. Shalima and Fahid. They were locked together in a gruesome embrace, their bodies melded into one by the heat. Amie could only stare, her emotions mixed between horror and morbid fascination.
Most of the structures had been totally destroyed and as they approached each one, Amie screwed up her eyes afraid to look. She desperately wanted to find her husband, but she dreaded seeing his dead body. Maybe one of the charred remains they’d already seen might be Jonathon. She bit down hard on her bottom lip and tried not to cry. Her whole body felt as if it had been put through a wringer and she wasn’t in control of her limbs.
There was a shout and one of the Africans beckoned them over. He called to Ben in Togodian who whooped with joy and gave Amie a squeeze. “They have found him,” he exclaimed. “They have found him and he is still alive.”
Waves of relief swept over her and adrenaline pumped through her veins. She immediately felt strong and alive. Her pace quickened and there he was, lying on the stretcher, awake but a little dazed as he blinked at Amie.
“I don’t believe it,” she cried as she fell on her knees beside him. “You’re alive and we’re safe and I’m never going to be parted from you again.”
Ben excused himself and left them together but Jonathon still gaped at her.
Amie touched his shoulder “Jonathon! Jonathon, it’s me, it’s Amie!” Her voice broke. “Don’t, don’t you recognize me?”
Jonathon was still for several more seconds then hesitantly he replied, “Amie? Is it you? Is it Amie?”
“Yes, of course it is. We’ve been rescued. Ben rescued us, isn’t that wonderful?”
Finally, it registered with Jonathon and he grasped Amie’s hand and squeezed it hard. “But we left you by the first camp,” he spluttered. “You were to go back with Jefri to Dirk if anything happened. He promised me.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Amie smiled. “It didn’t happen, and just as well, or we wouldn’t be here now and you would be on your way to Libya … I think.”
“Libya?”
Ben returned and told her he’d arranged transport to take them to the outskirts of Apatu. “There is a lot of fighting in the streets now, so it is not safe to go into the city. But I must get back and be with my men.”
“Your men?” Amie asked.
“Ah, did I not mention it before, that President Mtumba was my uncle?”
“You? You are the nephew of the deposed President?” Amie was astounded. She’d known he was a Kawa and they considered themselves superior to everyone else. She could guess they would not accept being governed by any other tribe, especially a smaller clan they had no respect for. That’s how it is in Africa. For a fleeting moment she wondered if it would go back to the way it was. Jonathon working on the desalination plant, living in their old house, great parties at the club, helping out at the orphanage - except there was no orphanage now, it had been burnt to the ground.
“Is everyone dead?” Amie noticed there were a few still-smouldering tents but the only people walking round looked African. She could see no sign of prisoners.
“Should be by now,” Ben sounded satisfied. “We do not want these people in our country, not because they believe differently, but for the killing and the damage they cause. They are fanatics and they have no place here. We don’t think anyone escaped.”
Amie turned back to Jonathon. “Where are you hurt?”
“It’s only a broken leg,” he said with a small grin. It’s not been plastered but they took better care of me than I expected.”
“All the better to kill you later on, when they were ready to film it and show it to the world,” Amie said bitterly. “What if we tried to pack round it with mud, that might help?”
“Sounds better than nothing.”
The Kawa were systematically looting the camp of anything they could find that might be useful, and they collected up the rest of the boxes that had been air dropped.
During the morning, several more vehicles arrived and were loaded up. Someone came with food and drink, and Amie was aware that Ben was treated with great respect, bordering almost on reverence. As his close friends they were also getting royal treatment.
Two men arrived and tended to Jonathon’s leg. To distract him from the painful procedure, Amie plied him with questions.
They’d kept Jonathon at the first camp for several days and he knew there’d been some kind of trouble, but he didn’t know it was Amie who’d caused it when she rescued the women. While Amie was hiding out in the cave with Mrs Motswezi and Shalima, they’d put Charles and him in a truck and left Ben behind and another group of soldiers had driven him away. He had no idea what was going on.
At the next camp Charles had been brutally tortured, then forced to kneel down and was shot in the back of the head. The soldiers had unceremoniously thrown his body into a nearby river, and Amie could guess which creature had eaten well that day.
While she listened, Amie said nothing. There would come a time when she would tell Jonathon her story, but for now it could wait. After being surrounded for so long by people who didn’t speak his language, he couldn’t stop talking. She just held his hand and listened.
Before returning to Apatu, Amie and Ben walked back to where they’d left the Land Rover and collected it along with all their belongings. The drive back to the outskirts of Apatu passed in double time. The bungalow they were allocated by the government was a haven of civilization. True, the electricity supply was erratic and the water out of the taps was not potable, but to lie in a real bed, stand under a running shower and sit on a soft chair was heaven.
Amie was able to walk to the nearest tuck shop and she used some of Edward’s money to get basic essentials. There was plenty left over and she considered it Jonathon’s salary after everything he’d been through. The funds came from his employers after all.
The local market was operating as usual, even though there was a civil war going on only a couple of kilometres away. They could hear firing in the distance, and for the first few days it was heavy, but the fighting lessened until it became sporadic and eventually stopped altogether.
They took a circuitous drive round to the hospital, which miraculously had escaped damage and was operating as normally as possible under the circumstances where they x-rayed and set Jonathon’s leg.
Apart from visiting the hospital, for the first few days they did nothing but chill out, dozing or simply staring into space. They took time to get to know each other again, and they talked for long hours into the night. They talked about everything, except for Jonathon’s second career, but as they lay together in bed at night, they rediscovered the love they had for each other and were at peace.
The fighting in the capital itself had only lasted about a week, and all the M�
�untu leaders were rounded up. Amie suspected they’d been shot. She chose not to ask. It was like turning the clock back, apart from more ruined buildings, lots of extra rubble in the streets and intermittent services for a while, life went back to normal. The shop keepers raced to pull their shutters up and the minibus taxis were soon flying along the streets, stopping wherever and whenever they wished. The banks, offices and shopping mall were once again open for business.
It took a little longer to restock supplies to their previous levels, but ships came into the docks and were offloaded with minimum delay. The airport was also busy, with planes flying in from all over the world. Since most governments hadn’t acknowledged the rebel interim government it was back to business as usual. They even announced that elections would be held the following year, which would, most likely in true African tradition, return the ruling Kawa to power again.
Amie couldn’t believe it was all happening so fast. Within a matter of weeks there were discussions about restarting work on the desalination plant and new expatriate families were arriving, mostly the husbands at first. There was still work to do organizing the schools and there was even talk of revamping the club. Were the Fishes going to stay and carry on as if nothing had happened over the past several months?
If she had any qualms about spending the money they’d rescued from Edward, Amie squashed them quite successfully. She felt she’d earned it, and if asked, they could afford to pay some of it back. To their amazement, they were told the money they’d left in the bank in Apatu, all those months ago, was still there. It’d been beyond the resources of the rebel government to break into the vaults, and the new government had won a lot of trust by offering to reimburse every citizen, worker and company in full. This was almost unheard of, but already large firms were swarming in with the prospects of mining the oil and minerals discovered some time earlier.
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