Soul's Survivor

by Navi' Robins

  While everyone was busy playing cards in the family room, Daniel decided to sneak away and go into the office that housed the family’s history. He slowly walked past each wall of pictures with a glass of eggnog in his hand. Years before, he avoided this room like the plague, but now he felt more at ease with being in this room, and he was scoping out new wall real estate to place li’l Timothy and Ayana.

  He finally stopped at the last wall, staring at the picture of Victoria smiling back at him with eyes filled with life and promise. He smiled back and lifted his glass toward her. Turning to his right, he momentarily watched yet another blizzard raging outside, tossing inches upon inches of snow everywhere.

  Suddenly, the office door flung open. His dad stood there with the landline phone in his hand. His eyes were bulging, and he was breathing heavily as he stretched out his hand for Daniel to take the phone. Daniel quickly moved over to his father while searching his eyes for any sign of what he was to expect on the phone. Holding his breath, he slowly placed the phone to his ear.

  “Hello?”

  “She’s awake, Danny!” Meagan screamed hysterically through the phone. She was sniffing and crying while trying to laugh. “Oh my God, she’s awake and talking! How soon can you get here? She’s been asking for you all night!”

  “Does she know about—?”

  “No, she didn’t know she was pregnant before we went to Juba, and I think you and li’l Timothy should tell her yourselves, in person.”

  “We’ll be there tomorrow afternoon!”

  “Danny, there aren’t any flights leaving out of Chicago because of the weather! Wait until it clears up! You’ve waited almost a year for her to wake up. I think you can wait for another day. Once the weather clears, then catch the first flight out. Promise me you won’t try to leave tonight with li’l Timothy with you. Promise me!”

  Exhaling deeply, Daniel promised her and gave the phone back to his father, who was now staring at him with loving and endearing eyes.

  “Merry Christmas, son,” he said before taking him in his arms and hugging him tightly.

  Forty-eight hours later, Daniel was running through LaGuardia’s Airport’s terminal with li’l Timothy in his arms. By the time they hopped in the UN van, he was completely out of breath but excited. Meagan greeted him inside the van with a smile he’d never seen on her face before.

  “How is she?”

  “She’s a miracle, Danny. The doctors are saying her progress is astonishing, and she’s talking and moving her limbs more than most patients who have been awake for almost a year.”

  Daniel smiled like a little boy anxious to get on the new ride at the biggest amusement park in town. Meagan covered her mouth, giggling at his boyish smile.

  “Hey, Timothy, how are you? I missed you so much. My God, he looks so much like her.”

  “He does,” Daniel agreed, looking down at his son with pride as he eagerly looked outside the van’s window as the busy and massive city passed by.

  “Did anyone tell her about Timothy yet?”

  “No, not yet. I can’t wait to see the look on her face when she sees him,” Meagan said excitedly.

  “I’m kinda worried. She may not take it well at first,” Daniel said while rubbing his hand through his son’s hair.

  “Danny, trust me. She will be moved to tears, in a good way.”

  “I hope so. She’s been through so much already.”

  Meagan nodded and began looking out the window, reflecting on the many dangers and disappointments she’s faced alongside her friend.

  Once they arrived at the hospital, they all hurried to Ayana’s room. Outside the door, Daniel paused with Timothy in his arms. He looked his son in the face and kissed him on the cheek before saying, “Let’s go meet your mommy.”

  And as soon as he opened the door, li’l Timothy yelled out his first complete word . . . A word he’d been saving for almost a year. A word that meant the world to him, and he practiced saying it in secret in his young mind repeatedly.

  “Mommy!” he screamed at the top of his lungs, with his arms lifted above his head in celebration.

  Ayana began to wail as she looked at her beautiful surprise in her love’s arms. She was expecting the surprise of seeing Daniel alive, but never in a million years was she expecting to see a baby that came from her and the love that she and the doctor shared. She reached out to her son, and he leaped out of Daniel’s arms on top of her, hugging her in an embrace filled with love and desperation. Daniel joined them as the three of them held each other in triumph. Although Kronte wasn’t convicted, he didn’t win. All the effort and hatred he spent trying to break the two destined lovers apart only brought them closer, and the miracle of their destined love filled the entire hospital wing as numerous doctors, nurses, and patients stood outside in tears watching this impossible reunion unfold . . .

  Meanwhile, sixty miles from South Sudan’s northern border...

  The heat seemed to make his skin crawl as Kronte threw back another shot of the cheap liquor provided by the bartender that looked at him with disgust. Kronte was free but completely broke, and his appearance spelled just how destitute he was. Upon his release, he immediately went into hiding and attempted to withdraw his secret stash of money and gold he plundered during his days of terror, but somehow, his sponsors knew where he’d hidden everything. Now, over a year later, news of his exwife waking up from her coma and her speedy recovery broadcasted on every international news station only seem to depress him more. No one feared him anymore, and a few times, he was run off by an angry mob, but it seemed like the word was out that no one was to touch him. After becoming desperate for the lavish lifestyle he’d once lived, he accepted the invitation to meet John Smith at this remote location.

  Fuck me! It’s hot.

  As if on cue, John appeared, leaning on the bar next to him, smiling brightly.

  “How’s it hanging, brother?” he teased while looking him over in amusement. “You look terrible, by the way. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so . . . What are the kids calling it these days? Oh yeah, ‘rachet.’”

  “Very funny. I don’t have time to entertain your shit today, John. What are Father’s terms for my reinstatement?”

  “Oh, right down to business? Good man. Well, Father’s terms are quite simple: termination without prejudice or mercy. And these terms are nonnegotiable.”

  Suddenly, the door of the bar flung open, and a ruffling of feet and metal sounded behind them. Kronte turned around to see a group of men staring at him with cold-blooded hatred in their eyes, machetes, and large wooden clubs wrapped in glued broken glass in their hands.

  “Oh, and one more thing, brother . . . I got the results back from the DNA tests that should’ve tied you to the rape and murder of that little girl . . . or should I say, the rape and murder of your daughter.”

  Kronte’s head jerked up violently. Violent rage, coupled with shock and horror, reflected in his eyes, and John found himself pleasantly amused by his reaction.

  “That’s impossible,” Kronte growled back at him. “I can’t have children!”

  “Yeah, that’s what you believed, as well as the doctors who healed that wound, but they were mistaken. The DNA tests prove that in the case of little Victoria . . . Kronte . . . You . . . Are . . . The . . . Father! So, it appears that you raped and murdered your own daughter, and to add insult to injury, you allowed other men to rape her too while you cheered them on. I’ve done some terrible things in my life, but I draw the line when it comes to children. You, on the other hand, brother, you have no shame or boundaries. All this fuss about Ayana having another man’s baby . . . and come to find out, you were that man all along. How does it feel to be the worst dad in the history of fatherhood?”

  “Fuck you, John,” Kronte replied, his entire body weighed down by guilt as the revelation of his actions tore him to pieces.

  “Well, time’s up, old chap. It’s been a blast, but I’ve got a plane to catch, and you have a mo
st painful and humiliating death to attend,” John said playfully, slapping Kronte on the back before walking toward the door.

  Before he walked past the mob, he whispered in their leader’s ear, “Make it last as long as possible. I want him to feel everything.”

  The man nodded in agreement, and John immediately walked out of the bar. Once outside, the sounds of Kronte’s vicious beating blasted through the walls of the bar. His screams of pain could be heard throughout the small village, and the villagers celebrated each time they heard the agony of his suffering. He’d murdered countless numbers of his own people. No one would weep for him today. No one would feel sorrow for his passing or how he was laid to rest. To the people of South Sudan, Kronte was the Antichrist, and no amount of violent punishment would cause anyone to feel one bit of remorse or empathy for him. The world itself would rejoice when the news of his death reached all news outlets. His sponsors would rest easy, knowing that he was no longer a threat, and they would patiently wait for another chance to exploit this young African nation. For now, they will allow the country of South Sudan to mature and regroup after decades of war and death . . . until another Kronte emerges, willing to sell out his people for wealth, women, and violence.

  “Gold Coast” of Chicago, Illinois

  “One minute,” Timothy yelled as he rushed across his condo in only a bath towel wrapped around his waist. He was slipping and sliding on the marble floor in his foyer, attempting to stop himself from falling on his ass. It was very late, at least after 2:00 a.m., and he couldn’t fathom who would be at his door this time in the morning. It couldn’t be a booty call, because he’d curtailed his behavior drastically once his godson was named after him. He wanted to set a much better example for his godson, so he started on the long road to recovering the gentleman that his father and mother tried to instill in him during his teenage years.

  The loud banging on the door continued, and Timothy became upset and planned on cursing out whoever was at his door. He didn’t even bother to look through the peephole before swinging the door open . . . to behold Ms. Meagan Quinn in a black trench coat with a mischievous grin on her face. She stepped inside the condo, wearing a pair of thigh-high, patent leather boots, and her lips were covered in a red lipstick that seemed to put Timothy in a trance. Before he could say a word, she opened her coat and let it drop to the floor, revealing an amazing body completely nude, shaven, and ready for action. Timothy’s mouth flung open, and Meagan reached forward, snatching his towel from around his waist. She then bit her bottom lip as she looked him over lustfully. He was a very big boy, built like a tank, and she was anxious to put him to work.

  It’s been awhile.

  She then calmly walked past him into his condo, saying, “Didn’t Dr. Bennett tell you I wanted to thank you personally for what you did? Well, I’m a woman of my word, and I’m here to thank the hell out of you. Close your mouth, baby. It’s rude . . . at least for now. I have a lot of things that I’ll be putting in there soon enough . . .”