Resistance (Nomad Book 3)

by Matthew Mather

  “Does he know of Al-Jawf?”

  “He does, but he’ll not travel that far south. He says the desert has changed, but its people have not changed with it. There is still much violence. The Toubou and the Zuwayya have rekindled their ethnic hatred of each other. All Toubou have been expelled from Kufra entirely. To avoid conflict, he hopes to head north once the winter has passed, and work the land up there. He thinks the ash will enrich land that the sea has saturated and act to fertilize it.”

  “Who are the Toubou and the Zuwayya?” Giovanni asked.

  “The al-Zuwayya are a Murabtin tribe, although whether they’re Bedouin or Berber is the subject of some debate. The Zuwayya conquered the richest oasis of the interior, Kufra, in the nineteenth century, subduing the indigenous Toubou. Since then they’ve mostly employed Toubou as laborers.”

  “So they’re the slaves?”

  “I wouldn’t say that to them.” Ufuk shook his head. “The Zuwayya took part in the Libyan Civil War on the side of the opposition. The head of the tribe was Shaikh Faraj al Zuway, but it’s not clear if he’s alive. The Zuwayya maintain he is.”

  “You seem to know an awful lot about this,” Jess said.

  “The Toubou live mainly in northern Chad,” Ufuk continued, “around the Tibesti Mountains, and are Muslim. There is also a minority in southern Libya. They speak Tebu, a subfamily of the Nilo-Saharan languages. Most are herders and nomads, though some have become semi-nomadic.”

  Now Jess sensed he was just showing off, but he knew his stuff. She wondered what relationship Ahmad and his people had with the rest of those who inhabited the Sahara, whether it was still possible to simply roam the desert and live a nomadic life, or whether there would always be those who wanted what others had and would take it by force. Could Africa—with its troubled past—offer salvation in the chaos? Or was ethnic and religious hostility too deeply rooted?

  Jess didn’t want to answer her own musings.

  “The Toubou minority in Libya has suffered considerable discrimination, in particular those residing in Kufra and around Al-Jawf. As is the way of oppression, there have been armed and violent uprisings in recent years, particularly in Kufra.”

  Massarra murmured, “It would be nice to believe the world changing might serve to give people new perspective.”

  “Injustice and the hatred it breeds leaves a stain on the memory that nothing can erase, not even vengeance.” Ufuk paused, then said, “Nevertheless, the Zuwayya have for a long time controlled the oil fields in Kufra. It is said they still have control of Al-Jawf.”

  “How long will it take us to get to the Sahl Oil Field?” Jess asked.

  “About two days. The camels have adapted to the colder weather.”

  Jess found her mind wandering as they spoke more, enjoying the heat of the drink in the small, egg-shaped cup. She thought about the group, found herself considering the many practical matters that came with patrolling and long marching, and realized how close she had come to being a soldier once more. Not what she’d ever wanted again, but then, none of this was close anything she’d ever imagined.

  They broke camp soon after that, the camels taking the burden of the shelters and what the Bedouin had been able to scavenge as they’d waited for Ufuk and his group to arrive. They took Jess’s backpack too, and those of the others. The Bedouin spoke little as they made their way, leading the camels behind them.

  When after several hours they made camp again, the landscape seemed barely changed to Jess: a cold, sweeping wilderness of gray framed by a sky than shifted in color from sepia to a washed-out purple. Alone, she chose to undertake a circuit of the terrain around them. She took a pistol with her as she conducted a patrol reconnoiter. How much of a Corpsman she had again become. She watched from one of the dunes, observing, as the members of her small group talked. It was her responsibility to keep them safe.

  Jess snapped awake, disoriented. She raised a hand to feel the cold on her face. How long had she been asleep? The fire had dwindled to softly glowing embers in the night. She looked around the tent and realized that Ufuk was gone.

  Voices carried on the cold air.

  She struggled out of her sleeping bag and slipped her feet into her boots. Taking one of the blankets, she wrapped it around herself and went to the door of the tent. She tugged open the flap just enough to peer out.

  Two shapes stood on one of the dunes, talking. One she made out as Ufuk, his tall, slender frame unmistakable even concealed beneath a swaddling of blankets. The other was Ahmad. They spoke for a little while, their voices hushed. Ahmad nodded infrequently, but eventually turned to Ufuk and embraced him. Above them, far in the distance, something furnace hot and pure white arced across the sky, lighting up the clouds from behind. More followed. Steaks of meteors. They didn’t seem to reach the ground. At least, not anywhere close.

  Ufuk and Ahmad made their way back to their tents.

  Jess returned to her sleeping bag and slipped inside. Sleep didn’t come for a long time.

  Chapter 2

  Northern Libya, outside Sahl Oilfield

  Jess pulled a blanket around her and warmed her hands over the glowing coals of the small fire. She watched Ufuk stroke the wiry fronds of his dark beard and studied the small lines etched on his face. While still young and fit, his face wore an aged quality that made him seem older. When she observed him, trying to figure out his intentions, he often appeared far away and lost in thought. She considered asking him what he spoke to Ahmad about each evening, what they shared as they stood huddled against the cold.

  She didn’t ask.

  Hector slept on wadded blankets on the sand. What was she leading him into? Did Ain Salah have access to the resources they would need? When Giovanni came to sit beside her, wrapping an arm around her and hugging her gently, the smile she gave him was uncertain.

  “The oil fields across the Sahara have become targets for raiders,” Ufuk said, drawing a map of the Sahl installation in the sand with a stick. It was early morning. Light seeped into the tent through an open flap. “We can’t approach without first knowing what awaits us.”

  Jess inspected his diagram. It wasn’t much, but Ufuk said it was one of his installations. They needed to get inside. It was critical for their survival, he said.

  “People here have been exposed to violence for a long time,” Ufuk continued. “Strong, proud people. The civil war and the opposition to Gaddafi, and racial wars between tribes. There’s been a lot of fighting, and Nomad didn’t stop it.”

  He stood and made his way outside, passing Massarra as she entered the tent holding Bedouin clothing.

  “We should dress as they do,” she said as she handed the clothes around. “Better others think that Sahl was taken by Bedouin raiders than by foreigners. We should keep our presence here unknown for as long as we can.”

  Once dressed, Giovanni and Jess went outside with Massarra. Ufuk sent the last of his drones into the air, fiddled with his tablet and left them to their mission. They watched them rise and drift away. They couldn’t approach closer to Sahl for fear of the sound of their presence carrying over the frozen dunes, so the distance to be covered was measured in kilometers. The drones would turn fast and when they did, she could begin to analyze the images they had captured and see what awaited them.

  She spent the time playing with Hector, running after him over dunes and around the camp. She tried to let his infectious enthusiasm, his childish innocence, wash away the pressure. The seeds of something she didn’t like swelled inside, knowing she would almost certainly need to take more lives to protect those around her.

  She couldn’t help but think of the survivors at Sanctuary, escaping the complex into a frozen night, terrified and uncertain. How many had been left behind, trapped beneath tumbling rock? And whose fault was that? It felt like hers.

  When the drones returned an hour later, the images they returned weren’t good. Jess hoped it would be easy, that the Sahl would be deserted and they could si
mply walk in.

  “How many are there?” Giovanni scrutinized the images from the drone’s surveillance cameras. They showed a spider’s web of diaphanous lines amid silvery dunes and gray buildings concealing unpredictable risks. Some of the images were blurred by falling sleet. There were some signs of movement, of figures making their way in time lapse over the open ground.

  “I count at least five,” Massarra said. “I’d bet there are more out of sight. There’s only one vehicle. A pickup truck.”

  “At least two carrying rifles,” Jess said.

  “We have two pistols, a shotgun, and an M4 with SOPMOD.” Massarra did an inventory. “Four of us armed. With Ahmad and his men, we’re eight.”

  “I don’t want to kill anyone unless we have to,” Jess said.

  “Then we make them see the only available option is to leave,” Massarra replied.

  “One of the buildings appears to have suffered damage already,” Giovanni said. “Looks collapsed. Must have been a fight before.”

  “When we’re finished, Sahl will belong to Ahmad and his people,” Ufuk said. “That’s the deal.”

  “We engage only if we’re engaged ourselves,” Jess insisted. “We’re not going to murder everyone we come across. We try to make them see they can’t overpower us and that the better course would be to leave.” Weapons were laid out on a blanket on the sand. “The M4 marks us out as foreign military, so better it’s not seen. Also better it gives us a range advantage. Massarra, can you take up a position on the dunes a few hundred feet away?”

  The Israeli nodded.

  “Give them a demonstration. They don’t need to know you’re the only sniper we have. Ufuk, hover one of your drones over the site and monitor them. We can set up short range comms through the headsets.”

  “There’s sleet falling again,” Giovanni said, glancing outside the tent. “Visibility will be poor. Shouldn’t we wait?”

  “We don’t know how long it will last and any disadvantage the weather gives us, it gives them the same. Better we do this now, before we lose the element of surprise.”

  Chapter 3

  Northern Libya, Sahl Oilfield

  The wind curled around them, carrying with it eddying streaks of sleet. It burned ice-cold against exposed skin, soaked into the outer layers of their makeshift Bedouin clothing. Jess hid the pistol within the folds of a long overcoat that whipped wet at her legs as they descended the dunes toward Sahl, sliding as the sand shifted beneath them. She wanted to have the weapon out, ready to deal with whatever threats might present themselves, but she knew that could only antagonize and ensure a confrontation.

  She pressed down her fear. “Massarra, do you copy?”

  “Receiving you clear.”

  “What can you see?”

  “Two inside Building Five, the central facility. They haven’t noticed us. I cannot see the others yet.”

  “Copy that. Ufuk?”

  “Drones in the air now. Sleet is coming down heavy so visibility is intermittent, but so far no movement detected.”

  Five of them, side by side, in appearance all Bedouin, moving across the sand. The wind whipped across her face and she blinked away sand.

  “The two in Building Five are moving,” Massarra said. “They’re taking weapons. Looks like…a Kalashnikov and a rifle. Coming out now, so get ready.”

  Jess tensed. “Here we go,” she said. “They’re coming out.” She laid a hand on Ahmad’s arm. She only saw his eyes, the rest of his face covered by his shemagh, but they were steady and calm.

  Two shadows appeared from a doorway ahead of them and moved fast, weapons held high.

  “Stay calm,” Jess said. “We approach slowly. Massarra, the moment you think they’re getting ready to shoot, give them a warning.”

  “Copy that.”

  Ahmad took one hand off his rifle, the only weapon that could be seen, but which he kept low, and raised it in acknowledgement. He shouted in his own Bedouin Arabic. Words, which, although she couldn't tell what they meant, Jess heard repeated and which carried a tone of cautious greeting.

  “Ufuk,” Jess said. “Anything to see?”

  “Nothing yet. No more movement.”

  “Copy that. No movement.”

  “Where are the others?” Giovanni muttered.

  As they approached the buildings, the two shadows caught the light and became defined. Two men dressed similarly to Ahmad, both carrying weapons. One an AK, as Massarra had seen, the other a rifle. Both were raised, but the men seemed calm.

  They spoke to Ahmad, gesturing in a way that left no doubt that they wanted him to leave. He replied quickly, returning gestures of his own.

  “He’s telling them the oil field belongs to the Sanusi Bedouin. That the men should leave immediately before they’re forced to resort to violence. He’s telling them not to come back, that this place is not theirs to take.”

  Jess watched their expressions, her palm damp as her grip tightened on the pistol. The men grew angry, gesturing again and shouting.

  “There are more coming,” Ufuk warned. “From a building to your right. Building One. Three or four. Maybe five.”

  A hundred feet or more. Hard to be accurate with a pistol. If they chose to shoot, there was virtually no cover.

  “We need to know exactly how many,” Jess said quietly.

  “Hang on, re-routing the drones.”

  “Ufuk, we don’t have time for—”

  “Three.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Three.”

  “Copy that. Three more from Building One.”

  “They’re armed. All are carrying rifles. They’re running now.”

  She tapped Ahmad’s arm three times and caught his quick nod.

  Ahmad shouted again and pointed to the dunes behind them.

  Massarra’s voice came over the headset. “He’s telling them there are more of his people with guns. He’s telling them he knows there are more of their friends here. He’s saying that if they don’t leave immediately, he’ll order his people to fire.”

  More angry gestures came from the men.

  “Don’t be stupid,” Jess heard herself murmur. “Just leave.”

  One of them scanned the way of the fenced building to the north, toward what Jess had designated Building One. From where three men were now running, covering the distance at a sprint.

  Ufuk’s voice: “They look young.”

  Ahmad shouted to the men and Jess sensed the tension growing in his tone.

  Jess reached slowly up and rubbed sleet from her face and eyes. Her skin was numb. Her stump ached in the cold.

  Massarra’s voice again: “He’s giving them a final opportunity to leave.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the Bedouin beside Ahmad moving their own weapons. Giovanni shifted on his feet. No, no, she told herself. This doesn’t need to happen...

  “Just a warning shot, Mass—”

  The next instants were driven by pure instinct. Jess dove forward when the first shots rang out. She turned to the oncoming men. From where flashes of light illuminated the glistening sand around her. Her pistol was out before she even realized it was in her hand. She fired. Then heard the crack of the M4 hundreds of feet behind her.

  One of the attackers fell.

  “Get down, Giovanni!” she shouted.

  The boom of Ahmad’s high-caliber weapon, followed by the guns of the other Bedouin. She didn’t know if the two men by Building Five were returning fire. Another of the two still sprinting toward them went down, and the remaining one stumbled into cover behind the Toyota.

  Jess turned to try and find the first two men, her pistol searching, but both of them were already in the dirt. She turned back to the Toyota. The man behind it wasn’t visible.

  “Ufuk,” she said. “Any more?”

  “Nothing. I can hear the gunfire. I am certain it would have alerted any others if there were more.”

  “Stay vigilant,” she said.
>
  She surveyed Ahmad and the other Bedouin. No one had been hurt. When he nodded to her, she pointed to her lips and then at the Toyota. He nodded again and shouted.

  “He’s telling the man he is alone. They will not hurt him if he leaves now. He must leave the truck, but if he runs now, they will not shoot him. He says honor has been satisfied because the man’s friends are dead. He has nothing to fear if he leaves now and does not return.”

  From behind the truck, a terrified voice shouted. In its tone Jess could hear not only desperation, but youth as well.

  Ahmad shouted something back and then gestured for his men to go to the Toyota.

  “He is telling the man that he made his choice and must live with the consequences. I suspect the man is complaining that he’ll die in the desert without the truck.”

  Jess reached for Ahmad, but he pulled away. He glared at her and shook his head.

  “You must let them resolve this their way,” Massarra said. “Do not insult them. We cannot afford to make enemies, and we may need them later.”

  “But the one behind the Toyota is a damn kid.”

  The Bedouin rounded the truck, one on each side. Jess shouted, but they didn’t stop. Two shots rang out. She closed her eyes and turned away.

  They cleared every building before sending two of Ahmad’s Bedouin to break camp. Frustration grew inside her as they searched and found nothing.

  When they’d cleared the final building, she caught up with Ufuk. “There’s nothing here! Five dead. Three of them teenagers. For nothing.”

  “Not quite.” Ufuk manipulated the screen of the tablet and looked up. The drone hovered and soared into the air again, over to the runway. It hung in the air and then darted away, continuing for several hundred feet, then slowly descended until it landed.

  “There,” Ufuk said. “That’s what we need. Bring some shovels.”