Cut for Life

by Lucinda E Clarke

  The kidnappers allowed Fazia to stay where she was and Amie was grateful as the girl helped her to eat her lunch, a bowl of thin soup with a few pieces of meat in it. She drank some water then propped herself against the bench to keep an eye on the activities around the camp, noting where the water supplies were, the sleeping quarters, the stacks of jerricans, the vehicles and general layout. She thanked Fazia for her help, then closed her eyes to commit every detail to memory.

  As expected, after the evening meal, they were once again frogmarched into the container, handcuffed to the sidebars with the doors closing behind them. As before each child was given a bottle of water to last them through the night. The temperature inside the giant tin box was stifling when they were first forced inside, but it would drop drastically in the middle of the night before turning back into an oven as the sun rose. Amie had noticed the clouds when she was being pushed up the ramp and prayed that it wouldn’t rain, this was their only chance.

  Amie deliberately walked as slowly as she dared on the way up the ramp, examining the stainless steel table just inside the door. She could see the instruments used for the FGM procedure, and she shuddered as she memorised the layout of everything left on it. She would have liked to stop and stare at it for longer, but a hefty push from behind sent her flying to land on her hands and knees on the hard metal floor. One of the soldiers grabbed her roughly and flung her against the wall snapping on the handcuffs. He checked that all the little captives were manacled and marched out slamming the door behind him.

  Amie rubbed her sore knees before pulling her shirt out from her cargo pants and feeling for the packages Linda had given her. The flat metal rectangle was what she’d asked for, the Zippo lighter Brown Suit had used to light his cigarette. The second was a tube of paper which puzzled her for a while until she felt the sliding wrappers inside it and remembered the chewing gum. That might come in handy. The third was the best, a long, thick metal flattened cylinder with bumps on either side.

  “Did I do well, Miss?” whispered Linda from the other side of the container.

  “Is this what I think it is?” Amie waved it around in the dark, “a knife?”

  “Yeah. One o’ them Swiss Army things.” Linda giggled. “Bit o’ luck yeah?”

  “You did brilliantly, Linda, I’m so proud of you.” Amie grinned even though Linda couldn’t see her.

  All day while observing the camp she’d been angry with herself for not taking action sooner. Had she been relying on Simon and Jake to come and rescue them? Why had she gone into a state of suspended animation? Why had she been so passive? Well, that stopped here and now. She began tugging on the little grooves to find out what this model of knife had to offer her.

  Once she’d located the long-pointed hoof cleaner, she got to work on the locking devices on the handcuffs. To her surprise it only took a few wriggles to spring them open, they didn’t get the top of the range models she thought as she stood up and felt her way along the row in the pitch black to where she’d seen Fazia, and tapped her on the shoulder. Running her hand down her arm she began to unlock the handcuffs. She whispered in her ear and then felt her way towards Linda on the other side.

  Amie had counted the children as they were manacled, there were now sixteen of them altogether including herself, today’s buyers had taken three little ones. But she was still left with a lot of people to rescue. She returned to her place and spoke quietly. “I want you to listen carefully and do exactly what I tell you. Do you understand?” Amie hoped they all spoke English otherwise it would be a disaster.

  “Yeah, ‘an you better listen ‘cos Felicity’s real cool. She got us out of a mess before and she’ll do it again. So listen, all of you, right?” Linda could never resist adding her bit.

  There were several murmurs and then frantic whispering. “Shssh,” Amie tried to quieten them down. “We will only escape if we are very, very quiet.”

  There was complete silence in the container as Amie felt her way along the row unlocking the handcuffs. She tried to gauge how long they had been locked in there they’d even taken her watch away from her. How many mercenaries would stay awake? She was banking on two things. First, that when they’d slammed the doors on the container she’d heard no bolts locking them in, so prayed they were only pulled to and she could push them open from the inside. If they were properly locked some containers were air tight and they couldn’t risk suffocating valuable merchandise. She guessed that was the reason for the handcuffs. Second, she was also counting on there being very few on guards on duty. They were miles out in the middle of nowhere and could possibly camp here for months without being noticed. She’d figure out later where to run if they managed to get away.

  “I know it’s hard to sit and wait, but we have to make sure all the bad men are asleep,” she whispered. “We must be patient, and remember what to do when I tell you it’s time. I know you just want to run away as far and fast as you can but we need to be clever, right?”

  A few murmured in reply and then there was silence again.

  It was hard to sit there in the dark doing nothing, every muscle in Amie’s body wanted to escape as fast as she could, but for once, now she’d made a decision, she had to maximize their chances.

  She waited another hour and then told them it was time. The children obediently took the tops off their water bottles and drank as much as they wanted. Then deliberately they emptied the rest of the water onto the floor of the container.

  Amie felt her way to the doors and gave one a gentle push. Nothing happened. She pushed harder, but still it didn’t move. She tried again and again without success. She fought down her frustration, after all her planning it wasn’t going to work.

  29 FLIGHT FROM THE CAMP

  Amie felt Linda and Fazia beside her. They linked hands and together they pushed as hard as they could against the huge steel door. At first Amie thought their combined strength wouldn’t be enough, but suddenly it gave way just a little. They could feel cold air rushing in, then it opened a little more.

  “We only need it wide enough to squeeze through,” Amie whispered and they nodded. It took three more good pushes to make the gap wide enough, but at the last one, there was an ominous grating sound.

  They held their breath, waiting, listening, ears flared to catch the slightest sound. The air outside smelt fresh and clean. It promised freedom, but that was still a long way away. Amie whispered to them not to make any noise just wait quietly. She ducked back to the table by the entrance and rummaged around for the extra things she needed. A torch would have been more useful than a packet of gum, she thought but she had to admit Linda’s pick pocketing skills had come in useful. Amie wondered what the rich, fat buyers who’d taken off in the helicopter would think when they realised they’d lost a lighter and a Swiss Army knife. Finally, her fingers found what she was looking for: a roll of surgical tape, a length of nylon they used for stitching up the girls’ mutilated parts, two pairs of sharp scissors, a bottle of what looked like water, a wad of paper hankies and a pair of surgical gloves. It wasn’t the best choice of materials but it would have to do. She crouched down on the floor and went to work. She unscrewed the top off the bottle, took a careful sniff and smiled.

  The children shuffled their feet. In the darkness they couldn’t see what Amie was doing and there was some low grumbling at the delay until Linda hissed at them to be quiet.

  Lastly, Amie snapped on the surgical gloves, they might protect her hands a little, and stepped outside. Keeping low she made for a nearby bush and observed the sleeping camp. Linda followed her while Fazia guarded the little ones who were itching to get out.

  As Amie had hoped, there was only one guard hugging the fire in the centre of the compound. Reassuring snores came from a couple of the tents. She sent Linda back to tell Fazia to let the little captives out.

  The youngsters crept out of their prison in single file and huddled next to Amie. She watched with pride as each one remembered to crouch down low
moving slowly and quietly. They had been through so much but were innocently ready to trust her.

  Once they were all clear of the container, Fazia asked Amie if they should close the door. Amie shook her head, it had squeaked loudly once, it was better not to take that chance again.

  The line of little children, like small Red Indians after their chief, crept round the periphery of the camp as far as the stack of plastic jerricans on the other side of the clearing. Amie loosened the top on the first one, sniffed the contents then fished out the Swiss Army knife. She chose the pointed hoof picker and began to bore it into the side of the closest one. After a few seconds of pushing, twisting and waggling the pointed metal spear from side to side she was dismayed to see only a tiny trickle run down the side. She’d need a much bigger hole than that and already she could smell the fumes spreading through the air.

  She beckoned to Linda who was physically the strongest of all the girls and explained what she wanted her to do. The girl nodded and set about using the knife to widen the hole.

  Amie left her to her task. It was time to deal with the soldier by the fire.

  She circled around behind him, unscrewing the top off the bottle and pouring the contents into the paper hankies as she went. She knew the effect of chloroform was not as instant as they suggest in the movies, they’d taught her that when they trained her, but it might incapacitate the soldier long enough for her to use her home-made garrotte.

  Up to this point Amie had not actually killed anyone. She’d believed she’d killed Jean-Pierre but hadn’t actually finished the job. This time she’d make sure; their lives depended on it. And this time there was enough fury coursing through her veins to give her the resolve to do it.

  She was about to attack when she heard the first rumble of thunder. The clouds obscuring the moon made for a dark night, that was helpful, but if it rained it would destroy all their plans. She took a deep breath praying to a God she’d stopped believing in a long time ago.

  She tiptoed until she was directly behind the seated guard and clamped the soaked tissues over his nose and into mouth with one hand wrapping her other arm across his windpipe. She worked the sodden tissues into his nostrils, balancing on one leg as she pressed her knee into his kidneys forcing his head backwards. She let go of the tissues and pressed down on his vegus nerve immobilising him, then gave him another chop to the back of his neck for good measure. She reached for the garrotte, fashioned from the surgical thread and two pairs of scissors, and looped it over his head. Grabbing the scissors in each hand, she pulled and twisted with all her might. His body jerked as the nylon thread bit into his neck and the anaesthetic took hold. Amie was hanging on for dear life; it was much harder than slicing oranges in half with cheese wire at the Residency. Her muscles strained and her shoulders started knotting up. She pulled harder again, but she didn’t have the strength, what had she been thinking? There were easier ways to kill him, she could have poked the scissors into his eyes, but in her rage she wanted to send them a message. In that moment, Amie was acting savagely, intent on mutilating one of them in revenge for what they were doing to the innocent. She gave an extra tug and all at once his arms and legs stopped twitching. For a second, Amie wondered if he was faking it, though her mind told her she had delivered the killing blow. She realised she had sliced deep into his windpipe and part way through his neck. She clung on for several more seconds scared to let go, afraid he would suddenly jump up and grab her, but his body remained limp. The bile rose in her throat and her stomach lurched, but she swallowed hard and reluctantly let go. She pulled the bloody nylon filament out of the gaping wound and shoved it in her pocket, just in case she needed to use it again.

  It was karma, she reasoned, that the equipment used for mutilating young bodies could also be used to kill the abusing adults. The dead soldier slumped, his head dangerously close to the hot wood embers of the fire.

  The thunder was increasing, rumbling away in the distance and she thought she could feel a few rain drops on her head. No, not yet, please make the wind change she thought. Please, please give these little ones a chance to live. What have they ever done to deserve a fate like this?

  She cast her eyes round the camp but luckily no alarm had been raised, yet. She slipped back to the children. Linda had managed to widen the hole considerably and now there was an orderly queue waiting to fill their water bottles. In the container Amie had explained how they were going to pour the fuel in a big ring around the camp and then escape just before she set it alight. It was the only way she could think of to give them enough time to get clear before the chase began. If she was really lucky, some of the kidnappers might be trapped in the fire so no one would come running after them, at least not for a while. She was aware that it wouldn’t be easy to move fast through the bush at night with so many young children.

  After her recent exertions and the knowledge that she had just taken her first life, for real this time, Amie was in a daze. When a little girl called Angelina came to fill her water bottle Amie started, took a step back and almost cried out. Then the face morphed into that of Winnie who smiled shyly at her. This wasn’t the little AIDS orphan Amie had fostered a few years ago, this was another child, with a loving family back in England. I’m losing my mind, she thought briefly, you’ve got to hang in there; see this through. Believe the spirit of Angelina is here to protect us. It was a comforting thought.

  She smiled at the last two little girls who were still waiting to fill their water bottles with petrol. Linda had already gouged a second hole so two bottles could be filled at once and she was grinding away at the third plastic jerrican. Amie couldn’t have asked for a better army. Each child crept quietly away, emptied her water bottle, then came back for a refill. Each one followed on from the one in front until they had completed a circle around the perimeter of the camp.

  When the level in the plastic containers got too low, Fazia hefted it up and poured out the remaining fuel on the ground but the larger barrels were too big for them to turn over.

  Amie whispered to Linda to gather the children together and head for an enormous rock they could just make out in the dark night. The thunder was closer now, the odd lightning bolt flashed across the sky and a few drops of rain were falling. Amie needed to act fast. As soon as the last child had scampered away, she flicked open the lighter and played the flame over the glistening petrol. For a few agonising seconds nothing happened. In a panic she tried again, but this time the lighter wouldn’t work and she had to grind the flint again and again until it lit. She plunged it into the trail of fuel, igniting it. At first it burned slowly but then it took on a life of its own, spreading greedily over the dry vegetation.

  Amie set off at a run. She’d hoped to set fire to a couple of the tents as well, but why warn the sleeping kidnappers too early? If it worked, they would be inside a ring of fire before they woke. She looked over her shoulder as she ran towards the little gaggle of children, thrilled to see the flames racing round the outside of the camp and just beginning to lick at the base of the tents. So far she hadn’t heard a single cry and she wondered if Jean-Pierre was in one of the first tents to catch alight, she still didn’t trust him in spite of what he’d whispered earlier.

  A few more rain drops fell on her face but in her headlong rush she wasn’t going to stop to check which way the wind was blowing.

  She found the party huddled together on the far side of the big rock and, like a mother hen, chivvied them into line behind her with Linda bringing up the rear to encourage the stragglers. She hoped she knew the way back to the vehicles at the first camp site, even in the dark. Her best bet was to drive one of the cars back to town. How Amie thought she was going to get fifteen children plus herself into one 4WD was a problem she’d face if and when they got that far.

  It was hard running through the undergrowth in the dark. Low branches slashed at their faces, rocks and fallen tree trunks tripped them up. But as soon as one fell, others hauled them to their feet. No
one complained, no one cried out; the adrenalin rush was keeping them going. Amie, Fazia and Linda had to reduce their walking speed to the slowest, but the little ones ran as fast as they could.

  For a few moments a large hole appeared in the clouds, the rain subsided and the moon’s silvery light shone through. It made the tracks easier to see, but it also made them more visible. Looking back, Amie could see a red glow beneath a pall of smoke. It looked as if the camp was well and truly ablaze. Still there was no pursuit, but they dared not stop. If the kidnappers managed to drive their trucks through the wall of flame, they could cover the distance in a very short space of time.

  Amie grabbed Fazia’s arm and pointed the way she wanted them to go and then dropped back to help Linda with the youngest who’d lagged behind. She hoisted Winnie up into her arms and carried her for a few metres. She dared not put her on her shoulders, that would make her too visible. Having given the child time to catch her breath she picked up another little one to give her a rest.

  Eventually, they had to stop. They were just too exhausted to go on. Linda had spied a cluster of rocks and pointed to them. Could they rest up there for a while? Amie nodded, shattered from carrying one child after another for the last kilometre or so. She should have stolen one of the trucks parked by the container, or at least she should have armed herself with the dead soldier’s gun, but in her shocked state she hadn’t thought of it. Not for the first time did she tell herself what a rotten spy she was.

  They slumped down against the cold grey rocks, the earth beneath them damp but cool. It would be very difficult to track them in the dark, but in daylight, fifteen pairs of feet would leave enough evidence for a total novice to follow.