by D. I. Telbat
"Focus, Mr. Foworthy. Is the camp north or south of my finger?"
"Where my camp is?"
"Yes."
"Where I sleep?"
"Yes! Where you sleep!"
"North."
He moved his finger northward.
"Here?"
"More north. East now. East again. There. That's where I sleep."
Squinting, he studied the map. His finger had stopped over the town of Hasagt. Quickly, he whipped his hand to his side in frustration, and turned to me.
"Not where you slept last night, Mr. Foworthy! Where is the clan survivor camp?"
"Oh . . ." I pretended to drift off. So, we were in fact in Hasagt. At least I had confirmed that much, but now, what could I do with that information? "The clan survivor camp . . . I thought you found them."
"No, not yet, but with your help, we will. You're an honest man. You'll tell me, won't you?"
"Tell you what?"
"Tell me—!" Disgusted, he turned away, waving his hand at me, and spoke in Chinese to the woman. It was no use. His serum wasn't working on me. He returned to his briefcase and slammed it shut. "Next time, Mr. Foworthy, I promise you will speak to me with clarity. I have many tools to loosen your tongue."
With that said, he stalked out of the room. As soon as he was gone, the woman slapped me and grabbed my hair.
"You pathetic liar!" she hissed. "When more poison comes from Beijing, you will talk! It takes one week for delivery from lab. Stupid man!" She slapped me again. "One week for me and you free. Stupid spy! I may need flee now with you. My time here not safe to help any longer. Be ready!"
She slapped me again and ordered me to be taken away. I guessed she turned her back to me so we didn't accidentally communicate through a final glance of mutual understanding.
Back in my cell, I lay on my back and tried moving my leg. It was stiff and painful. I still couldn't walk. How was I to escape?
"Andy!"
I crawled up the wall to my vent.
"Sembuuk!"
"You're back. Are you well?"
"Well enough. We escape within one week. Got it?"
"Yes, Andy. Can you walk?"
"No, but . . . Just be ready. God will work out the details, Sembuuk. You'd better be praying! Submit to God. That's the lesson through this."
"I believe you, Andy, and I'm praying. Jesus saves, right? Like Rahab and the spies?"
"That's right. The end is coming, my friend. Make sure your heart is prepared. You know what to do. We'll talk later."
Easing myself to the floor, I grimaced. My leg pained me with every bit of movement, but it didn't seem to be infected. Yes, just like Rehab and the spies, I thought with a chuckle. The Lord was working on hearts in Mongolia!
*~*
Chapter 27
The days ticked by and I was more and more reminded of my time spent in New York's finest institutions. That didn't make my time any easier, but the cold, cement cell did feel more familiar to me than it did to Sembuuk. The falconer had never spent a day or night in a building in his life, and this fine welcome to a stationary dwelling probably wasn't convincing him that civilization had the upper hand to comfort.
On day five, I received my daily ration of food and water like the previous days. However, inside the spoiled slab of beef that day, I found a coiled up note written in messy Mongolian, as if the writer had pulled the words straight out of the dictionary, interpreting from one language to another in choppy sentences. The message, more or less, said:
"Once out of the town, you must take three persons to safety. Plan where to go."
Three persons. So, she had to escape with us. By freeing us, her cover would be blown. My life was in her hands. Soon, she would reach the limit of her abilities and she would put herself into my hands. She was warning me of this fact. Understandably, this meant her resources were limited outside the town of Hasagt. But were mine any better? I had no resources, except for Sembuuk. And I couldn't even walk!
At the vent, I called to Sembuuk
"Yes, Andy?"
"How far are we from Three Rocks if we're in Hasagt?"
"Two hours, perhaps, by vehicle. I was awake when they brought us here. Why?"
"Just thinking, friend."
"Did you eat your fine meal, yet?"
"Not yet. Did you receive a side order of fruit or vegetables today?"
"Fruit."
"I'll trade you; I hate vegetables," I joked. "Send it up with the servants."
"And I suppose you want a flask of airag, too!"
Both of us laughed and then hushed ourselves for fear of being heard beyond the vent.
"Will we make it, Andy?"
"Yes, we will," I said. "Rahab has sent word. Any time now, Sembuuk."
"Do you believe they've found Three Rocks, yet?"
I cringed at the thought of Zima falling into the hands of the Chinese. She had such Russian features; she'd be taken into custody without delay, maybe even executed.
"We must trust God," I answered. "He has the answers and He can see all things. I can't even guess. Our enemy is strong. Their strength is from the devil, of that, I'm certain. But I'm also certain that the devil is only a fallen angel, created by God Almighty, and therefore, the Creator is stronger than His creation."
Back on the floor, I exercised my leg. It was so stiff! I finally shut out the pain and massaged the muscle to feel the femur beneath. If the bullet had grazed the bone, I thought I'd be able to tell, but I couldn't.
"Lord, You know my infirmities. You could heal me in an instant, but You've given me this burden to . . . strengthen and humble me. Perhaps to cause me to trust You more. Help my faith, Lord. Please, don't let my anxiety surface to trip me when we're so close to the end. I'm nervous without much of a plan, with others depending on me. Take away my fear, Lord. And please lift me up as a leader. Above all, lift up the clan and open their hearts to Your power, Your Truth, the Gospel of Jesus Christ . . ."
That day closed, as did the sixth, without interruption. On the morning of the seventh day, Sembuuk and I each received an early meal of cornbread and cheese and water. An extra meal? I conversed with Sembuuk as to what it meant, and we decided the Chinese woman was strengthening us for what lay ahead. We both ate half the portion that morning. At noon, we received our normal daily ration, which we ate right away and felt overly full from the extra food. The butterflies in my stomach weren't helping, either.
Using the wall, I hobbled on my leg, tears of pain bursting from my eyes. Every few minutes, I collapsed on the floor to rest, and nibbled at what was left of my morning meal.
Any minute now, the door would open. What would be required of me? To Run? Fight? Attack a guard? I asked myself if violence was justified now. But my answer was simple—no. Compromise was unacceptable. If God desired to free me, He would provide a way that was void of sin.
The last of my food was gone. While sitting on the floor, I stared at the door with my back against the wall. My waste bucket overflowed next to the drain, but I'd grown somewhat accustomed to the stench long ago. Human senses adjust to such things with time.
A door slammed shut somewhere. My breath caught. Hurried footsteps sounded outside my door—and they weren't the guards' heavy combat boots . . .
Slowly, a key turned in the lock. I climbed up the wall to stand on my good leg. The door swung open. The Chinese woman—my tormentor—stood there. No longer was her face a mask of cruelty or spite. She seemed more afraid than I, the lines around her mouth trembling fearfully.
"Come!" She waved at me, her voice hoarse.
"My leg. You'll have to help me."
Entering the cell, she pulled my arm over her shoulder to support my weight, which was twice her own. She thrust something leathery into my other hand. My journal! I tucked it inside my coat.
With more noise than either of us desired, she helped me hop out of my cell and down a narrow corridor to the left where she stopped at an intersection. I followed her gaze t
o the right and heard the sound of a television coming from some sort of guards' station. She put a finger to her lips, then we moved through the intersection to a steep flight of stairs. Waving her ahead, I used the railing to swing my leg down to the landing below.
"Where's Sembuuk?" I whispered at the next corridor.
She pointed ahead. For a small woman, she was supporting me remarkably well, but Sembuuk would be able to fully carry me if need be.
Like the floor above, we came to another intersection. The guard station here was now to our left. I smelled cigarette smoke. Down the corridor on the right were five cell doors. Sembuuk was in one of them.
"We . . . need . . . key." The woman mouthed to me and pointed toward the guard station.
More keys? Apparently, Sembuuk's cell required a different key. How were we supposed to get another key off the guard? I wondered how she'd gotten my cell key.
Suddenly, she forced me back against the left wall and joined me, flattening herself against me. She braced me so I wouldn't lose my balance on my one leg. The cigarette-smoking guard walked out of his booth and paused next to us. I could've tickled his ear. He stretched and yawned. In his peripheral vision, I hoped we stood as still as the wall. The guard finished stretching and turned his back to us. Lazily, he sauntered down the corridor toward the cells, lighting another cigarette as he went.
Without warning, the woman stepped around me and disappeared in the guard's station.
My wide eyes were glued on the guard's back. I prayed he didn't turn around—or smell me, since I reeked from my own filth and dried blood.
Stopping, the guard kicked his toe at a shard of something on the wall, then turned to his left out of sight.
The woman returned, a key held between her lips. She pulled my arm over her shoulder and moved down the corridor. At the fourth cell door, she let me go. I fell against the wall and she gave me a critical glare for the noise as she fit the key quietly into the door. The tumblers clicked into place.
There was a scuff of boots in the corridor. I turned as the woman opened Sembuuk's door, and found that the guard had also returned behind us. He stood frozen in amazement, his cigarette dangling between two fingers. Using the element of surprise, I shot a hand out and grasped his uniform collar. With all my strength, I pulled him toward me, next to me, and then shoved him beyond me into the cell. Losing my balance, I tripped along unexpectedly, and fell through the cell door even before Sembuuk had exited the cell. Grabbing me by the shoulders, Sembuuk pulled me upright, then pushed the woman out of the way and slammed the door. Only then did we both look to the woman for direction.
"Outside," she said in English, and pointed straight ahead from where the man had entered only moments earlier. "Follow me."
I translated for Sembuuk, but he knew what to do. He pulled me halfway onto his back and dragged me forward after the Chinese woman. She opened a door. At first, I thought it was to a darkened room, but then I felt the chill of night air blowing into the building. We passed through the door as the guard locked in the cell behind us finally gained his faculties enough to start banging on the door and screaming for help.
Running between three vehicles, the woman checked for ignition keys. Beneath our feet there was a skiff of snow, but the sky was clear and starry.
"Here!" she yelled, no longer concerned about making noise.
She threw the door open to a tan, four-door recon vehicle. Sembuuk boosted me into the front passenger seat then climbed into the back as she started the engine.
"Where do we go, Mr. Foworthy?" she asked in English.
"South."
"On highway?"
"No, on the incursion road."
Backing onto a desolate street, she started forward. As we got up to speed, a Jeep came into sight, passed us, and pulled into the jail parking lot behind us. We didn't have much of a head start.
I recognized Hasagt as we rushed west down its main avenue. There was the clinic, the grocery store, and a burned building. That was new. A pair of soldiers with rifles braved the cold and walked the street on our left. It was close to five degrees outside. No wonder not many invaders were out and about.
Turning left onto a street, she braked abruptly. We all saw it at the same time: a barricade with a checkpoint. I turned, looked behind us, and saw we were already on the incursion road. A convoy of four headlights drove toward us from behind, and others approached from the checkpoint's direction.
"Run through the roadblock!" Sembuuk said.
"There's no going back." I squinted, studying the checkpoint where there were two guards in uniform. One sat inside the tiny hut, probably with a heater, while the other stood outside waving vehicles through after they stopped and showed their papers. "Just go through the checkpoint," I said, instructing our driver, patting her hand on the steering wheel. "Go ahead. Just like normal. A lot of people are around. Don't do anything out of the ordinary."
Sembuuk didn't understand my English, but he felt the recon vehicle creep forward.
"Faster, Andy!" Sembuuk shouted in Mongolian. "They're armed! Faster!"
I ignored Sembuuk and eyed the two uniformed men as we approached. No doubt, when the guard outside grew cold, they rotated.
We stopped on the side of the road in front of the barricade to allow an ATV and a fuel trailer to pass us, heading in the opposite direction. As we waited, the convoy behind us caught up, announcing their presence by their frozen, squeaky brakes.
It was now our turn, but the woman hesitated. She glanced at me. This will never work, her look warned. A half-smile touched my lips and I nodded her forward. She licked her lips, maybe wanting to trust me, but she probably felt deep down that we'd never get through the checkpoint guarded by the Chinese. Even if we crashed our way through, there would be such a ruckus that we wouldn't get very far.
"This is insane, Andy!" Sembuuk gasped in fear. He reached for his door handle. "I'd rather run and die freezing on the steppe than go back to that—"
"Quiet!" I shouted at him in Mongolian, then changed to English for her. "Go ahead. If you don't trust me, then trust God that He'll get us through safely. Go."
The lines on her face trembled. She took a deep breath. The guard ahead waved us forward. Our vehicle crept toward the guard shack. The guard held up a hand as we drew abreast and he ducked his head into her driver's window.
"Travel pass and documentation," I understood the guard to say in Chinese. Then he saw me and switched to English. "New York!"
The sergeant grinned as the mouths of Sembuuk and the woman both dropped open.
"Sergeant Xing, what're you doing out here in the cold when your subordinate is in the warm hut?"
"Ah!" He waved at the jest. "Weaklings!" His eyes studied us more warily. "Is all well here?"
Just then, his radio crackled and a frantic call in Chinese rang out. He listened, his eyes focusing on each of our faces in turn. The radio was finally silent. The guard in the hut, who'd also heard the call, emerged from the hut, but Xing turned and snapped a sharp order that sent his soldier back inside. Xing faced us again. He asked my driver a question in Chinese and she nodded.
"It's not wise to stay on this road, Andy. They haven't found your people yet—if they're still in the woods there—but they are searching. It's just a matter of time, if they're where you and I first met."
He stepped back and raised his voice, ordering us casually through the checkpoint with a final wave.
"Thank you, New Jersey," I said through the open window. "I'll pray for you!"
We were well beyond the town, speeding at unsafe speeds on the frozen, rutty road when I urged the woman to slow down.
"I . . . must stop," she said.
"Fine. Turn off the headlights." I looked behind us. "We're clear. Pull way off to the right." She careened off the road and we rumbled across the open plain in darkness. Scrub brush whacked at our bumper. "Okay. This is good."
She slammed on the brakes and dove out of the vehicle. As she st
umbled out of sight, I heard her retching. Sembuuk left the back seat to go comfort her in Chinese. A moment later, she was sobbing and mumbling against his chest. I couldn't imagine how deeply undercover she'd been, afraid for so many years that her faith would be found out. Now she was out and free, though on the run, which was still better than living her previous lie, I guessed. She'd saved us, and for that, I had few words to express my thanks.
By the time they returned, I'd climbed into the driver's seat and fired the motor to turn on the heater. The windchill was forcing the temperature below zero. The two sat in the back seat, indicating that I would drive, though we continued to shiver while the cab was heating up. Sembuuk put his arm around her shoulders for warmth and comfort.
Without turning on the headlights, I drive south again, parallel to the incursion road a half-mile to the east. By the moonlit sky, I caught the shape of timber along the mountains far to the west. Driving slowly, we rolled over hills and gullies where I'd once ridden my bike or a horse with Zima. My only gauge for direction was the moon and the occasional set of headlights to the east.
*~*
Chapter 28
An hour later, two motor bikes zoomed south on the incursion road. They were searching for us, but I said nothing to my two companions. Our foes would look in all directions, hopefully not considering we would be creeping along in the darkness nearby.
The engine sputtered.
"Uh, oh . . ." I tapped the fuel dial.
"No gas?" the woman asked, panic in her voice.
"Nope."
The engine died moments later. I couldn't help but chuckle and shake my head at all the challenges, yet God continued to pull me through. With a calm uncharacteristic for the moment, I determined to trust Him. My time on earth wasn't finished yet.
"We're far from Three Rocks, Andy," Sembuuk said. "What do you suggest?"
"Look in the back," I said to Sembuuk, turning in my seat. "See if there's extra fuel." As he turned around to look, I took the woman's hand. "What's your name? I must know."
"Li. Li Chong. We three know not same language." She shook her head. "Now, no gas. My mess. My mess!"
