Emily Taylor - Abducted

by Vi Grim

  Saleem cleaned and disinfected the wound then stitched Emily up. He said, ‘You’re lucky that Gamel was so mean otherwise you would be dead. Tsul, you’re brave, but very stupid. Only an idiot would take on a charging hippo with a dung ball!’

  When she told him about the owl, he said, ‘Tsul, the gods are looking after you. Be true to yourself and try to do good things and they’ll help you.’

  He was not happy to hear about Gamel’s final phone call. His frown lines came back and he called a meeting of the men. Exhausted, Emily curled up beside Ijju. Sleep didn’t come easily because there was a lot of kerfuffle going on in the camp until the wee hours. The next morning they slept in until the sun is high in the sky.

  Yuba came to see Emily. She gave him a big hug, ‘Thanks Yuba, you saved my life.’

  She could see the pride welling up in him, but he just shrugged, as if to say, it’s nothing, and was gone.

  He’ll be a Desert Rider one day, I know it.

  The caravan got underway with an advance party of five up ahead. Saleem walked in front leading four armed men riding on camels, the rest of the caravan following a few hundred meters behind. The air was tense.

  Emily was a bit shaken from the hippo attack and rode on a camel with Ijju. Ijju sung to her then when Emily’s spirits rose, they sung together. Molly curled up on Emily’s lap and snarled at their singing. She was such a cute, angry little thing that Emily made the same mistake of trying to stroke her.

  Ouch!

  Not only did the Desert Rider drag the weight of the hippo off Emily but he lifted it off her shoulders as well. The threat of him doing something nasty to her, which had hung over her since the day she joined the caravan, had gone.

  High up above they could see the owl circling. Occasionally he swooped down to check something out then slowly circled up again until he vanished from sight. Ijju drew a picture in her diary and asked Emily to guess what it was. It had coloured circles inside coloured blobs on top of beige shapes. Emily had no idea. Ijju laughed and said that it was an owl’s view of the caravan. You could tell who was riding on which camel by colour of their scarves and tents. Gamel’s black camel was empty.

  The following day there was a commotion ahead when the Desert Riders found the remains of two soldiers mauled by a lion. The soldiers wore desert camouflage and had high tech sniper rifles with thermal imaging sights. Saleem wasn’t happy. ‘Soldiers don’t come in ones and twos,’ he said. ‘Everyone, please stay alert!’

  During the afternoon, the Desert Riders were able to pick off three more soldiers using their new guns but it didn’t stop the attack.

  Heavy gunfire from ahead made the camels start, then all fell silent. When they reached the spot of the attack, Saleem and the other men and two of the camels lay on the ground, twisted and immobile. Saleem’s hawk flapped around squawking then settled on his shoulder and pulled on his ear with its sharp beak. Emily screamed, ran to Saleem and knelt down beside him. His eyes were closed and bullet holes peppering the bright blue tent he was wearing. One eye opened, looked around, saw Emily and shut again. A smile crept across his face. ‘I’m getting too old for these games,’ he said painfully.

  His hawk flapped away and circled above.

  ‘But how?’ asked Emily.

  ‘Wonderful stuff Kevlar!’ he said, opening up his shredded tent or show a flak jacket then grimaced. ‘It still hurts!’

  ‘What about the others?’ Emily asked looking around.

  ‘They’re dummies made from whatever we could find. They looked good, didn’t they?’

  He looked at the dead camels, ‘It’s a shame about them though.’

  One of the Desert Riders rode in, bristling with weaponry, ‘Four bandits dead, sir.’

  ‘Four more,’ said Saleem, scratching his chin. ‘This is worrying. All these soldiers and we’re just a group of nomads with an owl as look out and a friendly lion on our side. We’re going to need support.’ He pulled out Gamel’s sat-phone, punched in a number and spoke rapidly in Arabic.

  Next morning as they got underway, Emily heard the throb of an approaching helicopter. It flew along in front of the caravan checking the way was clear and in the afternoon, was joined by three armoured pickup trucks, bristling with soldiers and guns. One had a huge anti-aircraft gun mounted on the back and a green and yellow tank painted on its rusty side. They rumbled across the desert in a cloud of dust, protecting the caravan’s flanks.

  Nothing can touch us now.

  ‘I feel happier now,’ said Saleem.

  The words had hardly left his lips when two sleek drones appeared out of nowhere. A missile quickly took out the helicopter and within a minute the pickup trucks joined it as flaming wreckage, blackening the sky with acrid smoke. Camels bolted and the caravan scattered.

  Saleem raised his hand and called the caravan together again. ‘This is not our war,’ he said. ‘Everyone stop, come together and throw your weapons on the ground. Someone, please find a white flag!’

  Soon a large white t-shirt with Make Love Not War in pink writing across the front flew flapping in the desert wind on a makeshift flagpole and the men and woman of the caravan prostrated themselves on the sand saying prayers.

  They didn’t have long to wait; four black, heavily armoured halftracks came bouncing across the desert and stopped in a line facing the caravan. Well-drilled troops jumped out onto the sand, training their guns on the nomads. Saleem whispered in Emily’s ear, ‘Tsul, you are the smallest, and least threatening, give this to them.’ He slipped the bag off his shoulder and taking out the box that contained the Book of Light, gave it to Emily.

  Carrying the box in outstretched hands, she walked over to the soldiers and gave it to the biggest and meanest looking one.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said.

  ‘Take care it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands,’ said Emily.

  He laughed and the soldiers climbed back into their shiny vehicles and were soon lost in the dust as they roared off into the evening.

  Molly hissed a good bye in Emily’s ear and jumped down onto Spot’s back and they lumbered off following the tracks. Emily and Ijju watched the owl until he vanished into the haze.

  The camels were rounded up and it was decided to travel for another few hours before stopping for the night.

  ‘Let’s go, let’s finish this trip,’ said Saleem.

  ‘But you’ve lost your merchandise,’ said Emily.

  ‘Some of it,’ he replied giving Emily a wink. ‘I’m not sad to see that book go. What worries me is who has it now.’

  They certainly didn’t look like the good guys.

 

  29.

  The next afternoon they arrived at a small oasis and pitched their tents under the date palms.

  Saleem took Emily by the hand and they walked over to the oasis and sat with their toes in the thick, brown water. His hawk sat on his shoulder, regarding Emily with cold eyes, then flapped away hunting for frogs. ‘We’ve arrived in Khartoum, the meeting point of the Blue and the White Nile,’ he said. ‘Tomorrow you’ll be delivered to Abdullah, our agent. Tonight we’ll have a special party to celebrate the end of our voyage and to wish you luck in your travels.’

  ‘B-b-but?’ stammered Emily.

  He’d said he was going to sell Emily, but she didn’t believe him, she was sure he would let her stay.

  ‘I’d love to have you stay with the caravan, I feel like you’re part of my family, but no, you must go.’

  ‘You just want the million pounds,’ said Emily, angrily.

  ‘I’d pay a million pounds to keep you.’

  ‘Why must I go then,’ asked Emily, feeling a little confused.

  ‘Do you love Ijju?’ he asked.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Well, let her grow up and be with Zula. It’s what is meant to be. You can’t both be with him, it’ll end in tears.’ He planted a gentle kiss on her forehead, patted Emily on her shoulder and left her sitting, twiddling her to
es in the water.

  She understood what he was saying. She had to go.

  Zula didn’t take it so well. When Emily got back to the camp there had been a fight. Saleem had a fat lip and blood dripped from his nose. Zula had stomped off in a rage.

  Emily found him kicking and punching a small palm tree, tears streaming down his face. He was like a wild thing.

  ‘Azulay,’ she yelled, throwing a stick at him, ‘Pull your head in!’

  That got his attention.

  She took his hand and led him to the oasis and they sat on a log in the shade of a palm.

  ‘Saleem was right,’ she said. ‘I must go.’

  ‘I don’t see why, he just wants to cash you in. I’m ashamed to be his son,’ said Zula, his voice sounding strained.

  Emily squeezed his hand and kissed him on the cheek, ‘I must go. You know it too. I have other things to do.’

  He looked at her with sad eyes and nodded his head in agreement.

  ‘Come on, let’s swim!’ he said, and lunged forward, dragging Emily into the oasis. They swum right across, letting the cool water wash their woes away, then lay on their backs under the rustling palm trees, watching the clouds playing in the fresh breeze.

  Arriving back at camp, Zula apologized to his dad and they both laughed at Saleem’s swollen lip.

  Ijju came to see Emily. She didn’t say anything; she undid her necklace and fastened it around Emily’s neck. Emily could just see it out of the corner of her eye. Now her pink skin has turned tan, it looked good. It could stay; she’d wear it forever.

  In the evening, a roaring fire was lit and taguella bread cooked up and eaten with a delicious sauce. They sat around the fire and recounted tales of the trip, munching on fresh dates and drinking ladles full of eghajira. They recalled the soccer match, the ostrich and the rainstorm, the fight at the well, and the hidden pyramid, the cagoon and Suez dog, already another legend being told by flickering firelight.

  Emily felt sad and scared. Even if she was just the poo picker, she liked being a nomad. She didn’t like the sound of slavery. She’d miss the Tuareg and their good humour. Even after six months with the caravan, all she knew of most of them was a name and a pair of smiling eyes, the rest remained hidden by the long scarves and colourful tents they wore. She would miss the camels too, foul natured beasts that they were. She’d miss Saleem, who was like a father to her, and the Scorpions; Ijju, Yuba and Zam.

  Most of all, she would miss Zula.

  Once the camp was quiet, Emily snuck over to where Zula lay and snuggled up beside him, curling up in his arms. It was where she wanted to be.

  ‘What did you write in the front of my diary?’ she asked.

  ‘It says, “Emily, wherever your adventures take you, I will love you always.”

  Emily forgot to run away.

  It looked like it was sauerkraut, sausages and The Sound of Music for her.

  The End

  If you enjoyed reading this story or would like to post some feedback, please take a minute to rate it.

  Also published by Vi Grim

  Emily Taylor Book 2- The Slave Girl

  Emily Taylor Book 3 – The Apprentice

  Emily Taylor Book 4 – The Teenage Mum

  writetovigrim@gmail.com