And Then Came A Lion (Lions and Lambs Book 1)

by Cecilia Marie Pulliam

  The knot of men untangled and one man signaled it was time to go. Brian had no qualms about doing most of the things they asked, as long as they left him alone afterward. So far, they had, but they were taking more and more notice of his abilities. That could be good, or very, very bad. Bigger payouts would be fine, but he preferred not to get too close to their inner circles. He was hearing more and more about this religious stuff and he wanted no part in it.

  Brian climbed in the back of the SUV, on the window side, forcing Charlie to squeeze in between him and another man. Brian didn’t know the man, having seen him only once before, and then briefly. That was fine too. He wasn’t the sort to seek friendship, especially from the likes of these.

  The big doors of the warehouse lurched up and the vehicle slid out into the street, followed by two vans. This time they were heading further up state to the Canadian border to pick up the latest cache of drugs, other illicit commodities, and some young women. Neither he nor Charlie could touch these. They were paid merchandise. He and Charlie were just part of the delivery crew.

  After two hours of driving, they pulled into Laurier, a small community on the Washington and Canadian border. The driver turned off onto a dirt road, drove several miles, and stopped. Another vehicle approached from a side road and parked in front of their vehicle. The driver opened his door, signaling it was time to move.

  The exchange was quick. Within minutes, the vehicles headed out in different directions. Interestingly enough, the van Brian and Charlie drove was destined for Spokane. That suited Brian just fine. From what he understood, Spokane was a distribution point for commodities sent to points south and east. Commodities, the word included even the living flesh, and that was just fine too. It all paid a nice wage.

  He refused the occasional offers of one of the girls. There was no thrill in that. Like any hunter or predator, much of the excitement came from the pursuit.

  Chapter Twelve

  Susannah’s group arrived at the Minneapolis airport three hours after leaving Spokane. With only one hour before their flight to Atlanta boarded, she gained a true appreciation for packing light and felt she had greatly missed on that score. Her carry on piece was heavy and running with it proved a daunting task.

  She had listened to one of the other women, Carol, and had packed extras. Her shoulders ached and her legs were cramping. By the time they reached the terminal, she was less than a happy traveler. She was hungry, tired, sore, and cranky.

  Barbara led her toward one of the few cafés not overly crowded, shuffled her to the closest table, and ordered coffee and scones.

  Susannah devoured the pastry and downed the coffee.

  Barbara smiled “Feeling better?”

  “Some. Sorry. I don’t mean to be so crabby.”

  “Ready for the next leg?”

  “No.”

  Barbara gave her another smile. “Well I don’t see as you have any choice at this point.”

  Susannah nodded, picked up her carry on, and followed Barbara toward the boarding gate. If she could get some sleep, her attitude would improve, and she might enjoy the travel rather than drag along like a condemned prisoner. She remembered the centurion and sighed. At least he knew why he was making his journey. God often demanded sacrifices that didn’t make sense until afterward. She just hoped hers didn’t involve martyrdom.

  The two-hour flight to Atlanta was smooth and quiet. Susannah managed several short naps and disembarked, ready to tackle the enormous Atlanta airport. It was large enough to require express trains to shuttle passengers from terminal to terminal. Traveling at seventy miles an hour, Susannah felt they should be required to supply safety harnesses. Even seats would be nice. Instead, she held onto a vertical pole and tried to keep her luggage corralled in a somewhat close proximity to her body.

  Exiting proved almost as daunting as trying to stay on her feet. Both boarding and disembarking passengers crushed her between them. Her luggage barely cleared the doors before they closed and the train exploded away from the platform.

  At the South African gate, Dr. Forrester gathered them around. “This will be the longest part of our flight. It is seventeen-hours from here to Cape Town, South Africa. We will not be disembarking there. It is only an hour-long stop for boarding and un-boarding passengers. We’re flying onto Johannesburg where we will change planes for the trip to Bulawayo. A driver will pick us up at the airport there and drive us on to the first mission ― about a six hour drive.”

  Susannah groaned.

  Barbara leaned close. “It’ll be worth it, trust me.”

  “I’ll take your word on that, and that may come back to haunt you.”

  Barbara laughed and turned her attention back to Dr. Forrester.

  “And, there is a time difference. We will cross the International Date Line before we reach Cape Town. Our nights and days will reverse. Jet lag is real, folks. Be prepared. Also, remember to move out of your seats and stretch your legs often.”

  Susannah turned to Barbara. “He sounds like a travel documentary, one giving only the bad news.”

  Barbara grinned. “It’s all the same from here on out, Honey. But remember, it’ll be worth it.”

  “So you said.”

  Susannah edged out of her seat only twice during the long flight, both times only to use the restroom. She eyed the flight monitor, appropriately shaped like a plane. It barely seemed to move.

  She leaned over to Barbara. “I think they lied. This isn’t an airplane, it’s a hover craft.”

  Barbara laughed.

  “So, tell me again why I volunteered to do this?”

  Did she volunteer? That might be a subject for debate. Instead of sitting cramped in this plane, she could be home, cuddled in her chair with Buddy, or out walking the path ― well, maybe not that. She still did not feel comfortable walking through all the dense vegetation, not until Brian Falun was locked up.

  On that thought, maybe being out of the country for a while wasn’t such a bad idea. With a little luck, he might be in prison by the time she returned. That would be one less issue to face. Loneliness would still be too close of a companion, but then, perhaps she would adjust to that, find another purpose, like the children.

  ***

  The Bulawayo terminal in Zimbabwe was tiny and it took mere seconds to find their luggage. Their driver, Phillip, was a paid employee of World Wide Christian Services and a personal assistant to Dr. Forrester.

  After the initial introductions and their luggage was secured in the back of the van, Phillip pulled away from the terminal. The temperature gradually rose to nearly a hundred degrees. Thankfully, the van’s air conditioner worked. Phillip explained that wasn’t always the case.

  They left the city, driving through arid grassland, low growing bushes, and termite mounds. In Bietbridge, Phillip pulled into a restaurant and turned off the van.

  “We’ll eat dinner here. It is the last piece of civilization before we reach the mission.”

  “How much further?” Carol asked.

  “We’re probably about half way.”

  Susannah stifled her groan. Halfway?

  Wimpy’s was a hamburger shop very similar to any fast food chain back in the States, but the similarities ended with the menu. It listed hamburgers and chips. Susannah didn’t want chips. She wanted fries.

  She smiled at the server. “I’d like a hamburger and Coke, but I can I have French fries instead of chips?”

  The server scowled. “We don’t serve French fries. We have chips.”

  Barbara whispered in her ear. “Chips are the English word for fries. Zimbabwe was an English colony, not French.”

  “Oh. All right, please give me the chips then.”

  She was already tired and cranky, but was even crankier when she received her food. The burger was small, sitting in the center of the bun, leaving at least two inches of bread all the way around, and the meat tasted funny. Then, after the drama over her fries, she was disappointed to find out that th
e ketchup wasn’t ketchup at all. It was tomato sauce mixed with vinegar. She ate the potatoes plain, and nibbled on the bread.

  The Coke was the only thing that resembled anything familiar. The next time she saw that old Indian, they were going to have words, divine messenger or not.

  She spent the rest of the trip in alternate states of sleep and drowsy wakefulness, vaguely remembering pedestrians illuminated by the headlights. Without any light other than the vehicle’s headlights, or the occasional cooking fire, the night seemed endless. By her calculations, they had been traveling seventy-two hours since leaving Spokane. She was tired of traveling and had yet to see anything that made it worth it.

  After hours of jostling, choking dust, heat, and black night, they finally pulled into the first mission. Susannah peered through the dust-encased window at the small compound lit by a few electric lights and a campfire. Phillip parked in front of a row of large tents and stopped. Susannah shuddered. She’d seen a documentary once about lions dragging people from tents.

  Phillip gestured to the right. “There is one chalet, which we’ve designated for the women. The men will bunk in the tents.”

  Barbara laughed and nudged her. “Lions won’t be dragging the men out of the tents.”

  Susannah’s face felt like someone hit her face with a blowtorch.

  “It appears you have been reading the wrong books, Susannah.”

  “No books, just some documentaries, and they claim there are a lot more lion predations than people admit.”

  “I’ve been to Africa numerous times, Susannah, along with a lot of other volunteers, and have never heard of any problems.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  The camp staff sprang into action, whisking their luggage away to their various quarters, and offering food and drinks. Susannah declined all, her last meal still sitting undigested in her stomach and she headed directly to the chalet.

  It was rustic, but accommodating. There was running water, and so no need to go out at night. However, the door was made of exceptionably thick wood and the hinges were ten times what she considered a normal size. Was that a good thing or a warning? Before another slew of images could fully form, she turned away and studied the rest of the room.

  Each bed had a nightstand with a bottle of water, a glass, and a candle with matches. The beds looked immaculately clean, but resembled landscapes more than sleeping pads, with numerous hills and valleys, the valleys lying predominately in the middle. Valleys or not, it was a real bed and Susannah couldn’t wait.

  After some rudimentary nightly oblations, she pulled back the bedding and climbed in, found a reasonably comfortable position ― and then noticed the thatched roof. What denizens of the insect world lay hidden, ready to drop on top of her while she slept?

  Carol noticed her staring at the ceiling. “Phillip assured me this is the dry season and the nights are cold enough to keep the insect life down. And the camp staff sprays the thatch on a regular basis.”

  Right. Should she believe that?

  Fatigue numbed all further concerns of extraneous bed partners, and Susannah dropped into a deep, dreamless sleep the moment her head touched the pillow.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It was still black outside when a staff member knocked on the door. Barbara lit her bedside candle and slid out from the covers.

  Susannah tested the air with her arm, shivered and huddled deeper into the warm bed. “Can I wait until the room warms up a bit?”

  “That will be a long wait, Susannah. There isn’t any heat in the chalets.”

  Great. Bugs, lions, and cold rooms, what else hovered on the horizon? At least she had listened to Carol about bringing a coat.

  The dining area was an open veranda with a concrete floor and a thatched roof. More thatch. She wondered about the likelihood of additional protein in her food. Susannah shook her head. She had to stop obsessing about bugs – and lions.

  Barbara gestured to the side bar. “There isn’t any brewed coffee, only instant, but it isn’t bad, and on these cool mornings, anything hot is welcome.”

  Susannah remembered her grandmother’s instant coffee. That stuff grew hair where you didn’t want any. She took a tentative sip. It wasn’t bad. In fact, it was a fair substitute for her usual expensive brew.

  She joined the others around the long table and bowed her head for the short blessing. The moment the “Amen” rang out, the cook staff brought in large plates of ham, eggs, toast, and fried tomatoes. As they ate, the sky lightened and the darkness decreased until the sky turned light grey. What happened to the hot weather they’d had on the trip in?

  Dr. Forrester interrupted the casual conversations. “Phillip, please give us your report.”

  Phillip stood. “The biggest issue is the local maize crop. It failed again this year and several areas are in desperate need of relief. We have one truck out with food supplies, but the villages in the southeast need immediate assistance. It will take all day to deliver the supplies there, and we begin classes in both Triangle and Cheredzi today. We need staff members there as well.

  “Also, we are expecting another large shipment at Bulawayo this week. We need a driver and staff to pick that up, and then it needs to be sorted and distributed.” He smiled and glanced at the newly arrived volunteers. “Good thing we have some new recruits.”

  Laughter erupted around the table.

  Phillip continued. “I’ll take a truck, and with Dr. Forrester’s approval, Barbara and Susannah can come with me. That will leave you, Carol, and the rest of the staff to manage the schools. We’ll address the shipment later in the week.”

  By the time they had the truck loaded, the clouds had burned off and the sun was shining. Susannah was glad to see the sun, even though it meant the temperature would rise with it.

  Phillip handed her a map. “I thought you might like to get an idea of where we are going. You see the mission here, circled in red. First, we head south to the mission at Dumisa on the Mwenezi River, then onto the small village of Chikwarakwara on the Limpopo River.

  “The only other thing, remember Krueger National Park is just across the river and lot’s of animals cross back and forth. You need to be cautious. Once you step out of the vehicle your chances of becoming lunch increase exponentially.”

  “And lions?”

  “Oh yes, lions, hippos, buff ―”

  “Buff?”

  “Buffalo. And hyenas. All animals can be dangerous, so keep aware. We do carry rifles with us when we’re in the bush, but as long as you remember your surroundings and do not go wandering off along game trails, you shouldn’t have a problem. Most people get into trouble venturing too close or coming unexpectedly upon an animal.”

  Right. Or fall prey to something else.

  ***

  The mission at Dumisa was not what she expected. Rather than a dust bowl with a few small huts, it was a beautiful compound set inside a wide arc of green lawn. Monkeys cavorted in the treetops and numerous birds flew complicated patterns just above the tree line. Impala lined the roadway, surprisingly close to pedestrians, women with babies tied to their sides, and men in dress pants and shirts. Susannah marveled at how clean they looked, even the children. Several men and women stopped and waved as they passed. Phillip returned the greeting.

  They pulled into the compound and parked. Phillip opened the tailgate and climbed inside the truck bed. Susannah and Barbara took the sacks and boxes he handed down and carried them to a nearby distribution table.

  Clouds once again covered the sun and the day grew dark. Susannah put her coat back on, already wishing for the sun to come out again. She’d waited all winter for summer to arrive and now she was in a foreign country working harder than she ever remembered, and appeared to have stepped right back into winter. If she were willing to come at His request, couldn’t He at least provide a little sunshine and warmth? Then again, she should be careful with her wishes. God sometimes had a way of going overboard just to prove His po
int.

  They had sandwiches and Cokes in what the locals called a wayside, a wide area off the main road, and then pushed on. The cloud cover didn’t last long. Before they reached the next mission compound, the afternoon turned hot, and her earlier intuition about being careful with her wishes proved true. Between the physical work and the heat, she didn’t need to worry about those few extra pounds she wanted to lose. Keeping enough on might be the bigger issue.

  The community of Chikwarakwara consisted of several huts and a wide expanse of cleared earth encircling the compound with only one tree in the center.

  Susannah pointed to a thin animal lying in the shade. “Why are there so many starving dogs?”

  “They are half wild, living mostly on scraps. Lions take a few, leopards more, but they seem to breed faster than they die.”

  “How sad.”

  “That’s life, especially here in Africa. It’s either eat or be eaten.”

  Susannah shivered in spite of the heat.

  It was sunset when they reentered the main mission compound along the Cheredzi River. Susannah stood for a long moment absorbing the scene. Trees, rocks, chalets, grass, sky, all bathed in amber light. The river looked like liquid gold. Doves darted in and out of the trees and over the open sky above the river. Hippos lingered on the sunny side of the bank and a few crocs glided by, their eyes illuminated in the half-light. Monkeys rocked tree branches back and forth as they settled into their nests.

  The work was hard, the travel rough, and yet, there were moments, like this, when she was very glad she’d come to Africa. She’d never forget the mission staff or the natives. Most were happy, always smiling. How did they manage that when their circumstances screamed otherwise? She was extremely rich, possession wise, compared to these people, and yet they were much richer in joy. What was their secret?

  The cook staff lit a fire and gradually the compound occupants gravitated toward it.