Collision

by Stefne Miller

  “It’s horrible.”

  “I know.”

  “And you’re around that all the time? Aren’t you in danger?”

  “Who’s to say I’m in any less danger here?”

  “We don’t have stuff like that going on.”

  “You’re making a joke, correct?”

  I shook my head.

  “Cabot, people are murdered here every day. Children are molested by relatives or abducted and tortured by strangers on a regular basis. The elderly are abused. Women and children are trafficked across the country for use in the sex industry. It’s all happening here. It might not be under the instruction of a witchdoctor per se, but it’s happening. Evil is everywhere. It’s not limited to certain continents or colors of skin.”

  “But we don’t sacrifice our children in the name of some god.”

  “Parents murder their children here too. They might not bury them alive, but they drown or stab them and say that God told them to do it. I’ve heard of it happening. Certainly you have to.”

  “You’re right. I never thought about it like that.”

  “I believe people from first-world countries like to look at other countries and point fingers while at the same time tell themselves they aren’t as bad, aren’t as evil as others.”

  “We don’t have the wars and we aren’t abducting children and forcing them to kill.”

  “No, they aren’t doing that. But they are ignoring that it’s happening other places. So doesn’t that make us somewhat

  accountable?”

  I still couldn’t think of an intelligent response, so I said nothing.

  Her face drooped. “I apologize. I got serious and totally sacked the night again. I don’t know what it is about me that must turn so serious all the time. Maybe I’m just a depressing individual. Have I depressed you beyond reason?”

  “Yeah. This is by far one of the most depressing campouts I’ve ever been on. Actually, it is the most depressing, hands down.”

  She slapped her hands over her face and fell back onto the sleeping bag. “Bollocks!”

  “Yep.”

  Uncovering her face, she looked back over at me. “Let’s try this again, shall we?”

  “I, for one, would appreciate that. You can do it, Kei. Humor me and rally back.”

  “I don’t know what ‘rally back’ means.”

  “Un-sack the night.”

  “Oh,” she said with a nod. “I can do that.”

  “Prove it.”

  “Okay…the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen?” She sat back up and grabbed some more worms out of the bag. That time, she used them to make a circle in front of her on the sleeping bag. “It would have to be the time a witchdoctor in one of the IDP camps did some sort of chant or incantation and then threw himself down on the ground and started writhing around like a snake.”

  “Shut. Up.”

  “On my honor. It wasn’t just shaking; he was literally moving like a snake along the ground. It made the hairs all over my body stand on edge. Utterly freaked me out and almost caused me to tinkle in my britches.”

  “I would run away screaming like a girl. I’m not gonna lie. I would not do well with that kind of thing.”

  “It was mad. And we had a group of people with us who were visiting from the States. Their eyes were the size of half dollars. It scared them to death. They talked about it all the way back to the mission house, and everyone was completely gutted that they didn’t get it on video.”

  “Wow.”

  “That’s pretty much the craziest that I’ve seen with my own eyes, but I’ve heard a lot of other stories. Like I said, I’m not permitted to go into the places that end up being the strangest.”

  My curiosity was so piqued that I couldn’t wait to hear more. “Like what have you heard?”

  “Well, several of the team members swear there’s a village in Southern Sudan that they go to sometimes where the tribe members are heavily into voodoo.” She grabbed another worm off the blanket and ripped one end off with her teeth. “When they need more workers for the fields, they get the witchdoctor, or whatever it is they call them there, and he goes into the graveyard and does a spell, and they come out and work in the fields and then go back to the graves at the end of the day.”

  “Who does? The dead people?”

  “Yes.”

  “No!”

  “Yes. I swear. That’s what they’ve told me.”

  “I would never go back. I’d leave saying, ‘You weirdoes can burn in hell for all I care. You start waking people from the dead and you’re all on your own.’”

  “Then you’d make a horrible missionary.”

  “I’d get over it.”

  “Of course, I don’t know that I’d be able to handle it either. But they talk about it as if it’s not an issue, as if they see it all the time.”

  “What else?”

  “I’ve personally seen a multitude of demon possessions. We pray over them all the time.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  “How do the people act? What do they do?”

  “No possession is exactly like another. Some are silent and don’t move at all. Some, their eyes roll around in their sockets, and some growl or hiss.”

  My body shivered, and it wasn’t due to cold because it was hot as…well, Africa, or at least how hot I would imagine Africa would be.

  “You’re freaking me out,” I admitted.

  “I’ve had several go into convulsions. A lot scream in your face in a guttural voice. Most of the time you know you’ve finished because they just fall down completely limp”—the upper half of her body acted out the events as she explained them—“as if all the energy has drained from their body.”

  “And you don’t find this weird at all?”

  “I’m accustomed to it.”

  “Okay. Can I just admit how crazy it is that I’m sitting here with a girl who’s telling me about watching demon-possessed people and talking about it like it’s an everyday occurrence?”

  “It is an everyday occurrence. I’m odd. What can I say?”

  “You’re not odd. Your life is odd.”

  “I suppose that’s true.”

  “What else?”

  “Um…one time, we were all sitting down at dinner and one of the team members came running in and announced that my father was needed at one of the villages. So he got up and left. A few hours later, he came back home and said that the village had been under spiritual attack and the roofs of several of the huts were bursting into flames for no reason. So he got the prayer team together, and every time a hut would burst into flames, they would run over to it and start praying. Within seconds, the fire would completely go out. And then, right before they left for the night, the witchdoctor’s hut burst into flames and was completely destroyed. He denounced witchcraft that night and became a Christian.”

  “You’re lying!” I yelled, causing an echo to fill the valley.

  “No. He’s actually part of our team now.”

  “You’re making this up!”

  “I am not! I swear to you, Cabot, I’m not. I’m not imaginative enough to. Honest to goodness, I have no imagination, at least not one creative enough to make up stories like that.”

  “No wonder you like it over there so much. You never know what’s going to happen next. How can boring ol’ America compete with that?”

  “It makes for an interesting life. That’s for certain. Missions work is exciting, and it has batty things like fire shooting out of the sky and stuff, but most of the time and most of the missions concentrate on meeting academic needs, teaching AIDS awareness and how to prevent transmission, or they work in medical teams, things like that. The biggest need there isn’t fighting witchdoctors; it’s taking care of the war orphans and meeting their needs.”

  “I could sit and listen to you talk about your life for hours, but I won’t. Not tonight anyway, which leads me to my last question.”

 
“Okay.”

  “What the hell are we doing sleeping out here tonight? I’m so freaked out right now that if I hear one sound, I’m going to crap my pants.”

  “This was your brilliant idea, remember?”

  “That was before you went and talked about demon possessions and corpses climbing out of their graves and plowing the fields.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”

  “I’m the guy. Aren’t I supposed to be protecting you?”

  “It’s the twenty-first century. It can go both ways.”

  “Well, help me keep my man card and let’s just say we’ll protect each other.”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  “That’s what I want.”

  “Consider it done.”

  “Thank you. How do you say that in Acholi?”

  “Ero kamano.”

  “Ero kamano.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Kei opened the sleeping bag and wiggled her way inside while I lay on top of my bag.

  “Here’s the deal,” I said, turning onto my side and propping myself onto my elbow. “Just play dead.”

  “Play dead?”

  “Yep. I’ve heard it works, especially when it comes to bears.”

  “And who exactly reports this, and how do you know that people who have been killed by bears weren’t, in fact, playing dead when the creature chose to attack?”

  “I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about that.”

  “Then ponder it a bit and get back to me.”

  I lay onto my back again and tried to keep my mind from going crazy with possible death scenarios.

  “So here we lay,” she said, “both seemingly contemplating our deaths at the hand of some sort of wild beast that’s presumably roaming the forest at night, looking to devour a carrot top and her pansy of a friend. Even I’m starting to get frightened.”

  “Glad to hear I’m not alone.”

  “Teamwork, Cabot. As long as we stick together, I’m sure we can tackle anything we come up against, even a ridiculous bear.”

  “Teamwork, huh?”

  “Yes. We’d be brilliant. I’m certain.”

  “I think I agree.”

  “Very well.” She turned onto her side and smiled over at me. “Good night then.”

  “Good night.”

  I’m pretty sure we were both asleep in minutes. I know I was anyway. Maybe it was all the running or all the cleaning. Or maybe it was the fact that my heart rate hadn’t slowed back to normal since the second she walked into the kitchen and I laid eyes on her the first time.

  I woke to a drop of something wet on my nose. The first thing I thought of was bear drool, and I was afraid to open my eyes. I figured I should follow my own advice and play dead. But within seconds, several more drops slapped against my face. I opened my eyes but could barely make out anything. It was too dark, and the moon was covered by clouds.

  I searched around for the flashlight as water drops fell on me with more force and in larger amounts. Finally, I found it, turned it on, and flashed it toward Kei. She was all the way inside her bag. All I could see was some red hair sticking out the top.

  “Kei?”

  She didn’t respond.

  “Kei,” I said more loudly as I wiped water off my face, which was now drenched.

  “If there’s a bear out there, I’m going to be extremely peeved,” she said.

  “Wake up! It’s raining.”

  She popped out of the bag. “Bollocks! I thought you said you checked the weather.”

  “I did.”

  “It’s a monsoon,” she shouted as she tried to climb out of her sleeping bag.

  To try to even describe the scene that took place in the following thirty seconds would be impossible. All I know is that we both looked like crazies escaping from a loony bin while we tried to climb out of the bags, pick up all of our stuff, and get to the car with nothing to lead the way but a small flashlight.

  In the process, I finally had the opportunity to hear some of the cuss words she’d been taught by her cousins. She was right. She did cuss like a sailor, and they flooded out of her mouth like a tidal wave, causing me to laugh so hard that I could hardly stand up straight or run like a normal human being.

  By the time we’d made it inside, we were both laughing uncontrollably and we were very, very wet. I turned the car on and cranked up the heat so we could try to get rid of the shakes. She also made an ill attempt at drying her dripping wet hair.

  Just as I was about to apologize for my piss-poor planning, she looked over and smiled. She had obviously enjoyed every second, and come to think of it, I did too.

  About an hour later, when we were finally somewhat dry, I turned off the car and we went back to sleep.

  The next morning, I woke up with my hip shoved into the seatbelt contraption and a crick in my neck, but it was some of the best sleep I’d had in over a year.

  The car was cool, and a fog covered the windows. We were in our own world.

  I turned on the overhead light and looked over at my bunkmate. She was in the fetal position in the passenger’s seat, her red hair covering most of her face.

  “Kei?” I carefully moved the hair off her face. “Kei, we need to wake up if we’re going to see sunrise.”

  Her body slowly stretched out inside the bag. “Does this mean we’ve survived the night?”

  “As far as I can tell.”

  “Very well.”

  “Yeah. Very well.” Using the sleeve of my shirt, I rubbed the window until I could see outside. It was still dark, but a little bit of light was starting to appear. “I’m going to go ahead and get out. I need to go to the bathroom.”

  “All right.”

  Once finished, I stumbled back to the car and opened her door. “You up? I think it’s about time.”

  “I’m up. Would you get my camera?”

  “Sure.” I reached into the backseat and grabbed her camera case as she rolled out of the car, plopped onto the ground, and then climbed out of the sleeping bag.

  Placing the bag in the seat she’d just left , she unzipped it and pulled out the camera and attached the lens. I was impressed with the equipment. She obviously took her hobby very seriously.

  “Shall we?” she asked, turning to me with a smile.

  “We shall.”

  Insane. It was completely insane. I’d just spent the night with a girl I didn’t try to make a move on. Not only that, but she didn’t care that she woke up with no makeup, her hair a mess, and teeth that hadn’t been brushed. There hadn’t even been any alcohol involved. I actually kind of liked it. The only other girls I’ve seen under those conditions were my sisters or my mom.

  In less than ten minutes, the sun was rising and Kei was snapping pictures.

  “It’s beautiful. Would you agree?” she asked, peering into the camera.

  “Absolutely.”

  “Should I take your picture with this lovely backdrop?”

  “No. I have enough pictures of myself.”

  “Okay.”

  “Is there a tripod in that case of yours?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then how about a picture of the two of us? That’s one picture I don’t have.”

  “Sounds splendid.”

  I helped her set up the tripod and moved around while she positioned it for just the right shot. “To the left a bit. There. Just there. Perfect.”

  She set the timer and ran up next to me. We took several, all differing poses, some funny, some serious, some altogether ridiculous.

  “One more,” she said, running up after resetting the timer.

  I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and smiled.

  “Cabot?”

  “Yep?”

  “Were there still candies left in the bag when we went to sleep?”

  “Yep.”

  “We left it outside the car.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Something was here. Look at the sack. It’s empty
.”

  Shocked and scared, I looked down at the mauled bag just as the camera snapped the photograph.

  C H A P T E R

  8

  Kei and I ran every morning at around six thirty, and being used to living my life on a schedule, I walked into the main house every morning at six twenty-five. Kei, on the other hand, came down whenever she was done with morning prayer. Sometimes it was six thirty and sometimes it was seven. I learned to busy myself in the kitchen until she finally appeared each day.

  This morning as I walked toward the main house, I found it weird that the kitchen door window shades were down and I couldn’t see into the kitchen. Kei never lowered the shades at night. I didn’t know if it meant something was wrong, or possibly Oliver had come back from Japan earlier than expected. Either way, the sight made me uncomfortable.

  I picked up my pace, jogged to the door, threw it open, took one look around the room, and said, “What the hell?”

  The ceiling was covered in helium balloons with strings hanging off of them, almost touching the floor.

  Kei jumped out from behind the table and screamed, “Happy birthday!” Her excitement, combined with the decorations and my complete shock, made me laugh.

  “Did I surprise you?” she asked with a huge smile on her face.

  “You did.”

  “I did? Honestly?”

  “Honestly. I’m totally shocked,” I said before laughing again.

  “You haven’t seen anything yet. I have the entire day planned.”

  “Do you now?”

  “I do.”

  “And just what exactly does it involve?” I asked.

  “Zero exercise.”

  “Thank God.”

  “Food.”

  “I like food.”

  “A game of pool where I intentionally miss some important shots and then let you win.”

  “That sounds amazing. My pride would appreciate a nice win for a change.”

  “Some cake.”

  “Love cake.”

  “A European adventure.”

  “A European adventure?”

  “Hold your imaginary horses on that one,” she said.

  “All right.”

  “And then, we’ll end the day with a campout minus the rain and hopefully no bears.”