by D. I. Telbat
"No fuel, Andy."
"It's God's mess to sort out," I said to Chong. "We step through the doors He opens. He takes care of the rest—and brings us home when He's ready and wills it."
She laughed through a sob. Chong was right about the languages, though. I spoke English and Mongolian; she spoke Chinese and some English; Sembuuk spoke Mongolian, Kazakh, and some Chinese. We were quite a trio—a missionary, a hunter, and an ex-torturer.
"How far away are those woods, Sembuuk?" I asked the outdoorsman.
"Maybe three kilometers."
"Let's pick this truck clean—tools, upholstery, whatever we can use. Does Chong have a watch?"
"Yes."
"Give it to me."
He unclipped a designer watch from her wrist and handed it to me. It was almost ten p.m..
"We'll sleep here for a few hours because it's the only shelter we have. But a couple hours before daylight, we need to set out for those woods."
"As soon as the sun rises, they'll find this vehicle," Sembuuk said.
"Nothing we can do about that." I shrugged. "The forest is near enough to reach in a couple hours—if you two help me along. After we reach the woods, we'll go south to join the clan."
"With the ground frozen as it is, we won't leave many tracks, though I doubt the Chinese can track like a true Kazakh."
"Yes, it's good the ground's frozen. I hadn't thought of that blessing."
"How we survive?" Chong asked after I explained the plan to her.
"Sembuuk's a master hunter, and whatever he can't figure out, the three of us can put our heads together. We need to sleep for now in what little heat we have remaining in here. I'll wake us in a few hours."
I didn't expect to sleep myself, but since I was bone-tired, I drifted off, having not slept comfortably on the concrete floor in the cell for more than a week. But the cold woke me. The windows of the recon vehicle were fogged and icy from our breathing. The watch said it was four o'clock. That was close enough. If I slept any longer, we might miss our trek over land while we still had cover of darkness as an advantage.
Behind me, Chong was curled up next to Sembuuk. In her sleep, she shuddered from a nightmare or the cold—or both. Sembuuk's head was leaning back on the headrest and he was snoring lightly. I hated to wake them; it would probably be the last shut-eye we would get until we reached North Camp. That was a day's ride south by horseback. Without horses . . . It wasn't going to be easy.
"Chong, Sembuuk," I said softly.
They stirred. While they were rubbing the sleep from their eyes, I prayed for us, first in Mongolian for Sembuuk to witness the faith my God had graced me with, then in English for Chong's encouragement.
"Amen," Chong closed with me. She smiled and nodded at me, seeming to be a different woman than the one who'd been beating me days before. What an actress! "We do with God."
"Yes," I agreed. "We can do this with God's help."
It took us twenty minutes to gut the vehicle. We tore off the upholstery, stuffing it inside our coats for extra warmth, and pulled out the maps and other papers from the glove compartment to use later for fire fuel. I found a flashlight, which I discarded after pocketing the batteries.
"No flint, Andy," Sembuuk grumbled. "No flint, no fire. Not even matches. And you don't have your lighter."
"I'll show you a little American trick I learned from prison," I said, patting the batteries bulging in my pocket. "We'll be okay."
With the seats' upholstery removed, I tore apart the foam cushioning until the thin coils of springs were exposed. I ripped out three of them to use with the batteries later.
"Sembuuk, I'm going to need a lot of help walking." We closed the doors of the vehicle. Chong carried a tire iron and a heavy wrench from the spare tire kit. "Come dawn, we need to be out of sight."
We set off at a crawling pace. Hopping on my one good leg was tiring and difficult, but the pain of holding my bad leg up so it didn't drag on the frozen ground was the worst agony I'd felt yet.
After ten minutes, I made a life-threatening announcement.
"I'm sweating," I said, and we all stopped. Sembuuk growled under his breath. At first, I hadn't thought anything of the trickle down my spine, but when I mopped my brow with my hand, I realized my error. In those temperatures, sweat was as good as death—icy death.
"Are you trying to kill us all?" Sembuuk fumed. Taking a couple breaths, he managed his anger. He'd been working so hard to help me along, I was surprised he wasn't sweating, too. "We'll go slower, but we have to keep moving."
But even in that pause, the wind found its way through my few layers of clothing and began to turn my innermost shirt into a thin sheet of ice.
We continued slower with fewer breaks. Chong walked quietly beside us, oblivious that I was as good as dead already. Sembuuk knew it, though. He knew I didn't have long, and stopping completely was the worst thing we could do. Once my body temperature began to drop, it was over. Icy sweat was the first step.
"If I can't be saved . . ." I was panting. "You have to leave me."
"Quiet! Save your energy. I'm not leaving you."
"She saved us," I said urgently. "Your priority is to save her."
So that Sembuuk didn't start sweating as well, we paused for a few breaths. Chong gazed longingly at the dark shadow of the forest that seemed too far away to reach by dawn.
Starting again, I shivered.
"One thing I'll admit," Sembuuk said, "we can't travel all the way to North Camp like this."
"Get me to the forest. I'll start a fire and—" My body jerked. "You two go for horses."
Though we were over halfway, I was declining fast. Chong noticed us both struggling. She abandoned the tire iron, but kept the wrench, and helped me on my other side. The wind whipped at our backs and on the right side, taking our breaths. I was freezing inside my clothes, my body heat sucked out by the ice that now sheathed my skin.
I fell onto the hard ground. My weight was too much for them in our weary condition. Sembuuk gave Chong instructions in Chinese, and she helped me climb onto his back, piggyback style. Through dazed eyes, I saw Chong run ahead of us.
"Chong, don't leave . . . us . . ." I mumbled deliriously.
"Quiet," Sembuuk said. "She's just going ahead. Hang on now. We're almost there."
But the forest still seemed miles away. I was tired of being optimistic. Hypothermia was already stealing my will to live. Take me home, Lord. No more anguish. No more struggles.
Sembuuk fell to his knees. I saw a bead of sweat fall from his brow. He was sweating! We were both doomed in this weather. Chang would be on her own, and without knowledge of the outdoors, she wouldn't last but a couple days.
"Go without me, Sembuuk," I pleaded weakly with him. "Please, go. I'm already starting to feel warm. I'll drift away, no more cold . . ."
"No. Just a little . . . farther! Where is your strength in God, coward! You never let me down! Don't do it now!"
"Sembuuk, no . . ."
Falling flat, we lay there, me covering him with my bulk, unable to move. We could've stayed there, could've died there peacefully, but he rolled me off with a grunt and dragged me forward. From somewhere within, I found a reserve of energy and rolled over onto my hands and knees. Together, we crawled, my bad leg dragging like the dead weight it was. I couldn't feel the pain any longer, and the muscles in my thigh wouldn't respond to my commands. Defeated, heartbroken, I realized I'd never see Zima again.
Chong's hands wrapped around my chest, under my arms, and helped me over a log. A log? I tumbled over the other side.
"Here! Wood!" she announced. "Make fire!"
My eyes focused.
"Too big. Need smaller. Twigs. Find small wood."
Understanding, she trotted away. A heavy weight fell on my legs. I turned around to see Sembuuk crawling on his elbows over me.
"Batteries . . ." he stuttered. "Show me . . . your fire trick now, Andy."
Chong returned. I nodded off to sleep
until I was slapped awake with a familiar jolt from Chong. When I opened my eyes, Chong had the batteries from my pockets in her hands.
"What now? What now?"
"The springs," I said, my words slurring. "The springs . . . in my coat." She tore at my coat zipper with shaking hands. Sembuuk had passed out next to me. Chong found the springs. "Make a . . . a circuit. Both batteries. Get paper. Tap the spring, rub it on one battery. Fire. Makes . . . sparks . . ."
She fumbled to hold all the components together.
"I understand," she said. "Like starting engine."
Trembling, she aligned the springs after straightening them. She shredded a corner of the map and began to frantically strike at the battery.
"Slower," I coached. "Start and stop the circuit. Scratch the wire."
The wind blew a mighty gust and the shreds of paper disappeared. I hovered closer to protect her efforts.
"Again," I urged, and eyed Sembuuk. Didn't he know how close we were to a fire? There was hope!
But he didn't stir.
A flame leapt next to my pinky. Only then did I realize she had forced the batteries into my near-frozen hands as she held the wires. But with such thick wires, the batteries were sure to be nearly neutralized soon.
Another spark caught, and Chong added twigs. The fire snapped and grew. I rolled onto my side. We weren't in the clear yet, but I was feeling better just knowing that Chong would live. Unzipping my coat, I pulled it off and threw it aside as Chong piled on two oversized logs where the flame was tallest.
"Chong, build a wall to block the wind," I said. The wall would also shield the flickering flame from the steppe's observers.
She jumped up and began to pile and weave branches between the nearest trees and above the log over which Sembuuk and I had crawled.
"And take off Sembuuk's coat. He needs to feel this heat."
It wasn't easy, but the woman quickly did whatever was needed. The warmth drew me in as I crowded the blaze. I wondered if it was too big, that it would be seen from the steppe's road through the darkness, but I blinked and found that it was already daylight. To my right, Sembuuk was sitting upright, and I realized that I'd lost time when I'd shut my eyes. Chong held up my t-shirt, drying it by the smoke of the fire. My upper body was naked, my coat draped over my shoulders. The fire was hot and dry.
Chong knelt beside me, and helped me sit up and pull on my shirt. When finished, I admired the dense wall she'd built at my back to guard us from the wind and prying eyes.
"They haven't noticed our truck yet," Sembuuk said as he tied his shoe laces. "Or they have and they've not yet organized a search squad. We need to move, Andy."
"No." I faced him with my jaw set in determination. "The batteries won't start another fire, and if you take me with you, you'll never get to North Camp by sundown. We don't want a repeat of this morning, even if the temperature is a little milder."
"I told you last night, I'm not leaving you, Andy."
Chong asked what we were talking about, so Sembuuk explained in Chinese. They conversed and seemed to disagree. She stomped away to fetch more firewood.
"Her tongue is so sharp, I think she has Kazakh blood." Sembuuk chuckled.
"Don't change the subject," I said, pressing the issue. "Stay on the west side of the forest and go south. You know what to do. If you hurry, you can be back by midnight with horses."
"They'll find you by then," he argued.
He was right. Three kilometers east of us, the truck looked lonely and strange on the open plain—and a fair indicator as to the direction we'd taken. It had to be drawing every eye now that the sun was up. They would check the woods nearest the truck first, and I'd be found.
"Either we all stay here needlessly," I said, "or you two go, and I stay. They may not send out a search party until late, maybe even tomorrow."
"Andy, you know better!" Sembuuk said, shaking his head.
"You're risking Chong's life with every minute you stay here and fight with me! Take her and go!"
"I will not!"
Lunging, I grabbed his collar. Though I was crippled, I still had strength. I pulled him within inches of my face; he couldn't get away.
"Do you remember when Sergeant Xing was shooting at me?"
"Yes, I remember," he said with a gulp, probably knowing where I was taking the conversation.
"I should've died, right?"
"Yes."
"When my plane wrecked in the mountains, I should've died. A month ago, I nearly fell off a ledge. I should've died. Men and women who follow God's will don't meet untimely deaths, Sembuuk, not until God makes it so." Releasing him, I shoved him away. "Now go. God watches over us all." And to Chong I said, "Convince him to leave me. He can return with horses as soon as you reach the Kazakh camp. The longer you wait here, the more dangerous it is for all of us."
"He is not a Christian, is he, Mr. Foworthy?"
"Call me Andy. No, he's not a Christian. But he's seen God's hand in many ways. Some of his clan have become believers, but he's stubborn."
She put her hand on Sembuuk's shoulder and spoke pleadingly to him. It was common sense. They had to leave me. I was the weak link. It was unfortunate, but true.
"Sembuuk, go!" I ordered him again, and thrust my journal into his hand. "God is watching."
After a brief farewell, they marched southwest. Chong shed a couple of tears, but kept them mostly hidden, and Sembuuk looked as mad as a . . . Well, he was mad that he had to leave his American friend. We'd been through much together, and no one should ever have to leave an injured companion behind. It hurt him, and it hurt me because, regardless of my words to him, I considered the fact that perhaps my time had in fact come. God had used me. Now He could call me home.
*~*
Chapter 29
As soon as I could no longer hear Sembuuk and Li Chong's footsteps, I diminished the size of the fire. I had plenty of wood to burn, but I wanted to keep to a minimum the amount of smoke that rose up through the wall of branches Chong had constructed. Without straining, I could see the truck. Still, no one had approached it. Why not? They had to be looking for the stolen recon vehicle. We had to be a priority since we were the army's only lead to the Russian radio's operation.
Though my stomach growled, I was content and plenty warm. I picked at dry grass and ate some of it. The fire was doing wonders on my leg, and I gently massaged the muscles around the wound. My end was approaching, and I readied my heart before the Lord. Prayerfully, I laughed and cried. So much happens in our lives, so many little things, things that shout of God's existence, and His hand in small moments. It was these events that I recalled and praised Him for allowing me to glimpse. Of all the misery I'd witnessed, the kindness and love seemed to wipe all the bad away.
Gino, the man God had sent to reach me, was foremost in my thoughts. I would see him soon. After God had brought Gino into my life so many years ago, He'd given me a vision to reach out to others, to come to this place, and show them Jesus Christ. It was like a spider web, a fabric of love and friendship that couldn't be equaled in any other facet of life. God reached whom He wanted to reach using whom He wanted to use—even me. He connected the dots of that web, and I was left in awe as I reflected upon His sovereignty.
Two hours passed before two dirt bikes left the incursion road and approached the truck we'd abandoned. I slapped my fire out to a small flame. Since I was downwind of them, they wouldn't smell my smoke. Watching closely, I wished I had my binoculars as they looked over the vehicle. In my pants pocket, I still had the ignition key. But it wouldn't slow down their search.
One of the soldiers moved away from the truck. For a moment, he gazed toward the distant woods in my direction. He wouldn't be able to see me from there, but I still held my breath.
My fire! From my pile of fuel, I added a few branches to the candle-sized flame. Stupid! I'd nearly let it go out. After that, I kept a closer eye on it as I also watched the unfolding events on the steppe.
Th
e two soldiers left, and an hour later, a small platoon of soldiers came with a tow truck. With curiosity, I watched them, not realizing exactly what they were doing until the soldiers were already marching away from the recon truck toward me! They were still over two kilometers away, so I didn't panic. I had to hide or they would find me there. But moving and hiding through the cold with my injured leg meant I had to endure untold pain once again.
"Lord, please store the warmth of this flame in my bones. Watch over me, protect me . . ."
I smothered the fire, then picked at Chong's wall of branches and threw several boughs over the ashes and where the forest floor had been disturbed. It wouldn't fool a mountain tracker, but it was all I could do for now.
The group of soldiers drew nearer—near enough for me to count now—nine. And they were spreading out to enter the woods in a combing formation.
With my simple camp somewhat hidden, I walked like a three-legged dog on my hands and one foot deeper into the forest. The underbrush thinned out the farther I went, providing fewer places to hide, but there was no turning back. I heard a branch snap and knew they were entering the forest behind me, their rifles cradled and ready to fire.
Hopping over a log, I grimaced as my palm slipped on a rock and my chin slammed into the ground. Though my senses were rattled, I kept moving. My route was taking me uphill, straight through the forest belt to the mountain range beyond, though I didn't want to get caught on the bare slope. The forest was the place to hide. But where?
Breathing heavily, I rested against a leaning tree to survey my surroundings and nurse my bleeding chin. The brush there wasn't thick enough in which to hide. The edge of the forest had been the answer where the morning sun urged more vegetation to grow. I couldn't go much farther, not with my leg wound potentially opening up again. They were coming up behind me and I wouldn't be able to outrun them on three limbs! Where could I possibly—
The tree I leaned against was covered in brown mushrooms. And the tree was leaning against and intersecting with a tall cedar far above on which the branches were so high and thick, it hurt my neck to gaze upward. The leaner was especially rotten so I couldn't discern what type of tree it was, but the smelly mushrooms were like natural ladder rungs. It was my only chance.
