Promise To Keep

by Rainwater, Priscilla Poole

  As the children finally scattered and left, an old woman, sitting by one of the huts, caught her eye. Her weathered face seemed blank, like she was staring into a void. Her arm was bandaged with a dirty, blood soaked cloth, and large flies buzzed all around her, but she seemed completely unaware of the pests or anything else around her. Turning to their guard, she asked him in English to ask her what happened to her.

  He stooped, gently waving the flies from the woman’s face, and in their native tongue, spoke to her quietly.

  When she didn’t move or answer, a malnourished boy who had been silently trailing them stepped forward and spoke to the guard.

  When the boy had finished, he turned and explained. Apparently they had been attacked by Islamic rebels who had murdered her son, her husband, and carried her three young granddaughters off, no doubt to be sold into slavery.

  Please, no more, no more… she thought in anguish, then steeled herself and began snapping pictures. It was difficult however, because for the first time in her career, her hands were trembling badly.

  Finally finished, she fumbled with the camera bag, tried to place it inside, and nearly dropped it.

  “Here, I’ll hold it for you.” the guard said as he reached out and gently took it from her hands.

  In the distance, perhaps as little as a mile away, the faint sound of several gunshots rang out.

  “Thanks.“ she mumbled absently, then looked slowly up to the heavens, thinking, Sweet Jesus, the world has gone mad, where are you? Where……...???

  “Miss, you look ill.” the man said.

  Looking back at him with difficulty, she turned to leave on legs that felt like petrified wood, then hesitated. Taking off her backpack, she reached inside and pulled out what little food and water she had and placed it on the ground at the woman’s feet.

  *******************************************************

  Several hours later the van stopped in front of the hotel they would be staying in. It had once been part of an upscale resort, but was now dilapidated as a result of all the fighting in the war torn area. But, for the moment at least, the government-backed militia had control of the area, which meant it would be relatively safe.

  Harriet and the young photographer, Terry Wallace, decided to go the hotel bar for a liquid dinner, but Aisha simply wanted to eat and get some sleep.

  Weary, she closed the door to her room, putting her camera bag down and tossing her duffel bag on the bed. She flopped down on the bed, groaning with pleasure, even though it was semi-hard and lumpy. She was thankful anyway, knowing that these were luxury accommodations compared to what the average person was used to here. And it certainly beat the painfully hard seats in the van. Turning on her side, she slid the laptop out of the duffel bag, and plugged it up. Thanks to digital technology and satellites, she could send her magazine editor her photos right away. Max had even been helpful, making sure she knew the right people, so sending and receiving the information wasn’t a problem.

  Getting up reluctantly, she grabbed her camera and flopped back down. She downloaded the photos and sent them off, enclosing with them the story of the old woman. Checking her email, she perked up somewhat. There was an email from Connell. Since he claimed he hated using any computers, she was somewhat surprised, but pleased. Her stomach fluttered, and she hesitated to open it. What if he had met someone? What if someone had been hurt? What if…? Stop it, girl! Just open the damn thing already! an inner voice scolded.

  Biting her lower lip nervously, she hesitated only a second longer, then clicked *open*. As an image materialized on the screen she felt tears spill down her cheeks. She looked at the large, beautiful picture that had apparently been snapped down by the pond, presumably by Jonus. It was Connell and the children, along with Thelma and Louie. Shawn, who was sitting upright on the ground, had his little arms wrapped around Louie’s neck (the poodle) while Abby was sitting on her father’s shoulders, sporting a huge, heart warming smile. Thelma was preoccupied, barking at the blurred form of what looked like a rabbit, at the right hand edge of the photo. At the bottom of the picture there was one sentence: “We Miss You.” Touching the screen reverently, she mumbled, “I miss you too.”

  She thought about the long distance call she had made to them a week before. The call had been like a soothing balm for her soul, yet heartbreaking at the same time. After the little girl’s initial excitement, Abby had then cried, asking when she was coming home. When she spoke to Connell, their conversation had been awkward, and it was all she could do to keep from packing up then and there, and catching the first flight back to the states she could find. He had quietly pleaded for her return also, and she had had to hang up as he said that he loved her, missed her, and needed her by his side.

  Typing a quick reply that said she missed them all as well, she let them know she was Ok, and was careful to not say anything that would lead Connell to believe she would be returning.

  Clicking *send*, she closed the laptop. All the pent up loneliness and homesickness hit her so suddenly and savagely, she had difficulty breathing for a moment. Grabbing her cell phone, she dialed Helen’s number. She answered after the fourth ring.

  After her surprised friend had given her a piece of her mind about leaving, her voice softened as she informed her things were going well on the farm. Megan had moved in with Connell, to help with the children, and Jonus was still on as well, albeit seemingly nearly as depressed as Connell. She added that Connell had been keeping busy, he spent a lot time with the kids every chance he got, but didn’t do much socializing. There were no leads on the cross burning incident yet.

  But as she prepared to thank Helen and hang up, her friend uttered words that nearly paralyzed her with fear and panic.” Aisha, I love you to pieces girl, but I’ve just gotta’ tell you this: You don’t just up and leave family when shit gets hard! You better get your ass back here, before some other woman takes your place.”

  “Oh, well, thanks Helen, love you too. Give Ben a hug for me. Bye.” she finished numbly, then hung up. They still haven’t caught those people yet, the ones who set fire to that cross. Think about the kids, think about the kids…. she reminded herself.

  Feeling sick to her stomach for the fourteenth time in as many days, she ran to the bathroom, slammed the door shut, and leaned over the tiny sink.

  ****************************************************

  “Now look, you’ve been sick for days, you need to see a doctor, and I mean like five minutes ago!” Harriet scolded Aisha from the other side of the closed bathroom door. She winced and wrinkled her nose as she listened to her emptying her stomach.

  Standing upright, Aisha turned on the sink faucet and splashed cold water on her face. Grabbing her toothbrush and toothpaste, she scrubbed her teeth frantically, trying to clean the bitter taste from her mouth. “I’m Ok, I’m sure it will pass.” she called as she spit into the sink, then rinsed her mouth out with water and mouthwash.

  Wiping her damp face with a clean towel, she opened the door and croaked, “Come on, let’s go before your boy-toy get restless.”

  Harriet laughed and linked her arm through hers.

  Although she didn’t acknowledge the friendly, teasing accusation about the young man, Aisha knew by that throaty laugh that she was correct. Harriet had always had a taste for younger lovers.

  ******************************************************

  The drive to the remote village took most of the day. Several times along the way the guard warned them to stick close to him once they got there, that the area was very dangerous, and they had to be alert at all times. They weren’t about to argue with him. The man wasn’t big in stature, but just looking into his eyes, they all could see a lethal determination there, one that had undoubtedly contributed to his own survival over the years in this war torn land. They were certain he was no stranger to deadly combat, ambushes, diseases, animals, or any other of the myriad dangers that plagued these peaceful people.

&nbs
p; Aisha leaned forward in the seat miserably, resting her head in her hands. The sweltering heat wasn’t helping her deal with the lingering stomach flu, or whatever it was she had.

  Terry, the young photographer, noticed her distress and passed her a cold bottle of water from the cooler they had brought along. He smiled when she mumbled her thanks and immediately pressed the cool bottle to her forehead.

  Finally they made it to the refugee camp, where new arrivals had been pouring in the last several days. Slowing down, the van passed several bodies laid in a neat row. Finally stopping, they got out. Wails from recently orphaned children, widows, and widowers could be heard all around them.

  Aisha quickly worked her way through the crowd, only stopping to snap a heart-breaking photo of a woman crouched over the body of a young man, who from the looks of things, had been attacked with a machete.

  Quickly, she approached the same BBC crew she had seen days before, and stopped to listen. They were interviewing a group of volunteer doctors who were there treating injuries. Suddenly, the hairs on the nape of her neck nearly stood on end, as the doctor they were interviewing paused. A nearly supernatural silence had fallen over the area, and others seemed to have sensed it as well.

  Gunfire suddenly erupted, then screams and desperate cries for God as people began scattering to the four winds, seeking escape or cover. Numbly, she watched in horror as the suddenly confused blond reporter collapsed a feet away from her, shot dead.

  Instinct and adrenaline kicked in, and she snapped pictures as she ran in the direction she had last seen the van. She heard their personal guard screaming for them, then looked around wildly and finally spotted him. Sprinting in his direction, he reached out and grabbed her arm and yelled, “We must find cover, quickly! The rebels somehow managed to sneak up on us, they’re surrounding the village. Come we must go!”

  Letting go of her arm, he took her hand and pulled her towards a row of burnt out structures. Looking around wildly, she was relieved to see Harriet and Terry running in the same direction. She had to jump over the lifeless body of a cameraman to avoid falling over him.

  From behind them more gunfire was heard, and the guard suddenly released her hand and crumpled to the ground. Looking down at him with mounting horror, she saw he was still alive, but instinctively knew he wouldn’t be much longer. She had seen enough death to know. Putting her cameras around her neck, she kneeled down to see if she could give him aid anyway.

  “Please, don’t worry about me, my time on earth here is done, I know this. You must run away, hurry!” he said weakly as he tried to push her away.

  Ignoring his objections, she got behind him, putting her arms under his and around his chest, and locking her hands together. She started dragging him towards one of the structures, determined to save both him and herself.

  Their van sped towards her, with their guide behind the wheel.

  Harriet sprinted towards it as Terry yelled at Aisha to move. Bending over quickly, he lifted the guard in his arms and screamed for Harriet to open the rear door. Placing the injured man inside, they all leaped in and shut the door even as the guide sped away from the camp.

  Harriet screamed and ducked as glass shattered inwards, and they all heard and felt a rapid succession of thuds as bullets tore into the van from all sides.

  In a daze, Aisha felt the wind knocked out of her, and looked down at the man who had tried to save her. There was now a bullet wound in his throat, and she knew he was gone. Shaking with fear and suddenly feeling her entire body go numb, she looked down at her lap and saw blood seeping from underneath her Kevlar vest, onto her lap. Oh, I‘ve been shot, so much for the bulletproof vest, she thought. Still in shock, she actually chuckled.

  Looking over, Harriet saw all the blood and screamed, “Jesus, she’s losing a lot to of blood! Terry, look and see where she’s been shot! Tear off your shirt, use it to stop the bleeding!“ Screaming at the driver, she said, “We have to find a clinic, FAST!”

  The driver floored the accelerator, and moments later the sounds of the gunfire and chaos faded away.

  Slumping against the window, Aisha felt weak. Her ears were ringing, and she opened her mouth to ask if they were out of the danger zone, but was unable to speak. Her last thought was of Connell and the children. I’m going to die, without being able to say goodbye to my family…..

  ***************************************

  Connell tossed another bail of hay down to Jonus. He had been working hard all morning, trying as usual to push Aisha from his every thought. He didn’t know how, but he had to find a way to get her to come back, her not being here was killing him.

  Hearing the sound of an engine, Jonus looked up to see Ben’s truck pulling up. He waved as both Ben and Helen got out. Instantly, he could tell something was wrong just from the looks on their faces.

  Ben was dreading giving Connell the bad news, but he didn’t want his friend finding out what had happened from television.

  A deep sense of dread washed over Connell as Ben and Helen walked towards him.

  “Uhh, Connell, the Sheriff‘s wife called…” Ben hesitated, looking to Helen for help. But she said nothing as she wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. His voiced cracked as he continued. “Aisha was in a remote refugee camp when it came under attack. The details are sporadic for now, but it looks like the village was caught in between two rebel forces fighting each other. The news wire is reporting there’s well over twenty dead, and several were members of the media. Many more were critically wounded, and some of the American doctors were kidnapped and taken from the village. Aisha, her name was listed as one of the injured, but information on ….well….if she’s one of the critically wounded or not, isn’t known yet.”

  The life seemed to drain from Connell’s body, and he fell to his knees and doubled over. “No, no, it can’t be, not again..” he moaned.

  Jonus and Ben quickly went to help him to his feet.

  “I’m alright…just…give me…” he mumbled, then tried to walk towards the house, but stumbled.

  Helen wept helplessly as Ben and Jonus supported him, one on each side, helping him regain what little composer he had. She did her best to try to reassure all of them. “Look, we at least we know she seemed to have survived, I mean, she wasn’t reported as one of the casualties….lets go back to the house and wait. The Sheriff is calling around to see what information he can get.”

  Jonus led Connell to the truck, telling Ben and Helen he would get him home, and they could follow him.

  *****************************************************

  Everyone sat around the kitchen table in silence, sipping coffee nervously. Everyone but Connell. His cup had grown cold, untouched, as he stared at his cell phone, which was laying in front of him on the table. “I can’t wait any longer, I’ve got to call somebody,” he finally said.

  Grabbing his phone, he got up and went into the tiny office. Sitting at the computer desk he grabbed Jenny’s rolodex and flipped through it, and after a moment found what he was looking for, Aisha and Max’s phone number in New York (when they had still been together) and both of their cell phone numbers. Swallowing his pride, he dialed Max’s number and wasn’t surprise that he answered after the second ring.

  “I assume your calling about Aisha?” Max answered, straight and to the point.

  “Yes. Look, let’s just set our personal differences aside for the moment, Ok? Have you heard anything yet?” Connell answered.

  Max released a long sigh. “Not that I think it’s any of your concern, but no, I’ve yet to learn anything myself. Even as we speak though, I’m trying to make arrangements to fly out to that area.” What Max didn’t tell him was that he was only two hours away from where she was.

  Connell forced himself to stay calm, determined to not waste time being petty with him. “Look, if it wouldn’t be too much of a bother, all of us here would like to know what’s going on, first chance we get.”

  After a
very long pause, Max answered. “Alright, I’ll call just as soon as I have something concrete.“

  “Thank y…” Connell said, but the connection ended abruptly. With a heavy sigh, he got up and went into the living room, then turned on the television for the twentieth time in two hours.

  Hearing the noise, everyone in the kitchen got up and came to join him.

  Megan watched her son pace back and forth as he went from news station to news station, trying to find out more about the deadly attack. She could see the fear and worry weighing heavily on his slumped shoulders. She looked at Abby, who was sitting on the floor coloring, humming a tune to herself. The child was completely unaware what the adults were talking about in hushed tones, trying to make sure she didn’t hear anything. She knew she was right, her son should never have allowed his daughter to bond with Aisha. In such a short time the little girl would be losing another mother figure, and would be devastated. If only everyone had listened to her…