Mission

by Amy Andrews

  ‘I’m surprised an educated man would be party to such futile, thug tactics,’ Richard goaded.

  ‘Desperation can bring out the thug in us all, Sergeant. There has never been a better time to promote our cause. The whole world has witnessed Abeil’s tragedy. We would be foolish to not take advantage of the free publicity.’

  ‘Surely your cause is better promoted through political means. You must know you will only get the world off side through abducting us.’

  ‘It is difficult to seek a political compromise when we are considered criminals and dismissed out of hand. Forty years of struggle and still a free state of Abeil remains elusive, Sergeant. We grow weary of the wait.’

  ‘I still don’t understand what you hope to gain from holding us hostage. As I’ve already said, our government doesn’t negotiate with terrorists.’

  ‘So, now we are terrorists. So much name calling.’ Richard didn’t have to turn around to see the smile on John’s face. He could hear it.

  ‘You are much more valuable to me than you know, Sgt Hollingsworth. It’s not just the price we can put on your head.’

  About to query the cryptic comment, Richard was cut off by a sudden deluge from the heavens. He was drenched in seconds. They all were. The noise of the rain was thunderous and drowned out all other sounds for the half-hour it lashed down around them.

  Holly was just visible in front of him, struggling against the storm, slipping often on the track as dirt quickly turned to mud. She was doing so well. Much better than he’d expected a woman to be doing. She still hadn’t cried or had a tantrum. She hadn’t even broken her ankle.

  If Holly had found it hard going before, it was almost impossible in the rain. The ground was slippery, making the route suddenly treacherous. Visibility was bad and she was frightened she’d stumble and plummet right off the edge down the sheer drop on either side. Her clothes weighed a ton and her boots and socks felt like they were made of lead. Her thighs and calves ached.

  She wanted her mother. And a cup of tea. And a warm bed. She wanted to close her eyes and for this all to be a bad dream. So she did the only thing she could do in this sort of situation. She cried.

  Oh, she was quiet about it. She didn’t beat her chest and shake her fist at the heavens, which was exactly as she felt like doing. She felt the hot tears well in her eyes and let them run unchecked down her cheeks.

  There was so much water running down her face no one would be any the wiser and there was too much noise to hear her muted sobs. She would be all right in a minute. She just needed to release all her fear and anxiety and frustration. Then she could be brave again. She had to stay in control for Richard, so she could do whatever had to be done, but just for the moment she wanted to indulge her oestrogen and be a girl.

  As the rain tailed off so did the incline and Holly sighed with relief as the strain on her aching muscles eased. They were walking along an almost flat area now that undulated gently from time to time. The track was wider and she didn’t feel like one wrong footfall, one slip, could mean instant death.

  The two rebels in front of her held their weapons high above their heads as they entered a puddle that lay across the track. Holly thought it rather strange until she realised that the puddle was deeper than it seemed. They were hip deep in it before she could blink.

  Holly sighed and trudged in, too. She refused to think about the bacteria and parasites and the myriad creepy-crawlies that were probably swimming around her in the soup-like brown water.

  She could tell her almost pathological fear of creepy-crawlies was going to get a real workout in the jungle. Not quite the way she’d hoped to confront it! Richard, who had been privy to her bug paranoia on more than one occasion, had enough to worry about without her squealing every time an insect landed on her!

  The water became waist deep and her boots sank into the thick mud at the bottom grabbing at her feet each time she lifted one, making her progress twice as difficult. Every time something brushed her legs she had to suppress a scream. Did they have piranhas in this part of the world? Or water snakes?

  She waded out the other side and turned and looked behind her at Richard, who was having to complete the chore with his hands tied behind his back. She wanted to wade back in and help him, despite having only just thought she never wanted to repeat the experience. She started to do just that but was prevented from doing so by a gun pushing into her ribs.

  He smiled at her, a smile that said, I’m OK, it’ll be OK and keep your chin up. The smile she gave him was kind of weary before she was prodded onwards again. She wanted to scream at them to leave her alone and let her rest but she remembered Richard had told her to keep her mouth shut so she set it in a grim line and plodded on.

  Richard kept his eye on Holly’s soaked form in front of him. He knew it was taking every inch of her courage to walk through the dirty water and not dissolve into hysterics. Holly didn’t do insects or any kind of creepy-crawly. Yep, she’d be totally freaked by now.

  How many spiders, cockroaches and other household insects had he’d killed at her insistence? Poor creatures innocently going about their business, unaware of the size-twelve boot descending upon them.

  Holly lost track of the number of puddles and creeks they walked through. Each one seemed worse than the last, and she doubted if she’d ever been more drenched or more freaked out in her entire life.

  Just when she thought she could go on no further, a clearing appeared ahead and she smelt the woodsmoke before she saw the fine wisps trailing heavenwards. As they approached, people came out to greet the soldiers and look curiously at the prizes they had brought with them.

  Not that she felt like much of a prize. She was exhausted. Every muscle protested. She was soaked and her hair bedraggled. She longed to sit down and the sight of the fire burning in the background called to her on a primal level.

  Pigs, chickens and the odd goat roamed freely around the central area. Young children eyed them with inquisitive stares, giggling and pointing and then running away to play. The camp was alive with noise—animal sounds, children’s laughter, the crackling of the communal fire and adult chatter.

  Somewhere in the background a woman screamed. Holly wondered for a moment if she was delirious because nobody seemed to be paying it any heed. The noise stopped, to be replaced by muted wailing and moaning. The unknown woman was obviously in pain. What was happening to her? Was somebody torturing her? Was that why no one seemed to give a damn?

  ‘Why is that woman screaming?’ demanded Richard. He had heard her pain and distress too, and his thoughts were running in a similar vein to Holly’s.

  ‘Relax, Sergeant,’ said John, his voice full of derision. ‘She is in labour.’

  Holly almost sagged in relief, and she saw Richard’s shoulders visibly relax. That certainly explained it. Holly had heard enough labouring women to be confident John was telling them the truth. She also knew that different cultures handled labour pain in their own ways. Still, her distress rang around the clearing and Holly hoped everything was OK.

  ‘We will rest here for the night,’ said John. ‘We’ll set out in the morning for the next camp.’

  ‘Higher?’ said Holly because the mere thought made her want to join the labouring woman and howl like a banshee.

  ‘Higher,’ he confirmed, and nodded to one of his colleagues who prodded them with his rifle butt, herding them into a rickety wooden shelter with a dry earthen floor. Some sort of woven fronds formed the roof and a fire burned in the middle of the floor surrounded by a ring of stones.

  A door shut them in and through the wooden slats they could see two armed guards posted at the door.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Richard asked her.

  Now was not the time to dissolve into tears but the concern in his voice was almost her undoing.

  ‘Sore and tired,’ she said quietly, ‘but, still, I think I’m better than her,’ she said, indicating the renewed screaming they could hear.

  ‘Untie
me,’ he said, turning and presenting his imprisoned wrists.

  ‘Oh, God, Richard, I’m sorry,’ she said, attacking the ropes quickly. It took her for ever to undo them. The rain and Richard’s attempt to loosen them had tightened them to the point of impossible.

  ‘Richard, what a mess. Do they hurt?’ she gasped as she pulled the last knot free. She lightly stroked the bloody rope burns encircling his wrists, pulling her fingers away as he winced at her touch.

  ‘Like you wouldn’t believe,’ he said, assessing the damage himself. If he’d had his kit he could have dressed them properly, but he was just going to have to try to keep them clean and pray that they didn’t get infected in the moist jungle environment teeming with bacteria.

  There was a bucket of water sitting next to a pile of wood in one corner. It looked fresh and the bucket clean so he dipped the edge of his shirt into the water and squeezed it out over his wounds.

  ‘Here, let me,’ Holly offered, and knelt beside him.

  She scooped small palmfuls of water and sluiced them over his wrists. It felt cooling and soothing and stung like hell all at the same time. She was gentle and he looked at her bowed head and his heart did a funny flutter thing that had no place in the predicament they were in.

  ‘So, what happens now?’ she asked, looking at him suddenly and catching him looking at her. She felt a constriction in her chest at the puzzled look she saw on his face.

  ‘If we can’t escape tonight, I guess we go higher.’

  ‘I can’t, Richard.’

  ‘Sure you can.’ He smiled at her. ‘It’s amazing what you can do with a gun poked into your back.’

  ‘Do you think the outside world knows about us yet?’ she asked, sitting on the floor, satisfied his wrists were as clean as she was going to get them.

  ‘They might not have received the picture yet, but Kathleen and my CO are going to know we’re missing. And Kathleen knows we were together. I suspect they’re probably already searching for us.’

  ‘And they’re going to look for us here? In the mountains?’

  ‘Once a ransom demand is made and it becomes clear the rebels are holding us, I’d say this will be the first place they’ll look. Unfortunately there are quite a lot of mountains in this region and they cover an extensive tract of land.’

  ‘So…we’re screwed? We’re going to die. It’s over.’

  Absolutely not. Come on, where’s that Pollyanna attitude? It ain’t over till the fat lady sings.’

  Another scream broke the humid air and Holly got the giggles. It wasn’t exactly singing and it was only temporary fat but it was ironic nonetheless. Still, as omens went, it seemed kind of ridiculous so Holly didn’t see the point in worrying. And when Richard’s deep throaty laughter joined hers, the seriousness of the situation faded.

  ‘Come on, then,’ said Richard after their laughter had petered out. ‘Socks and shoes off. Let’s try and get our stuff dry before we have to get going in the morning.’

  Holly followed suit, wringing the excess water out of her thick socks and laying them in front of the fire next to her waterlogged boots.

  ‘It’ll be dark soon. Once the camp settles for the night you can take your damp clothes off and dry them properly by the fire, but if you sit near enough you should be able to start the process.’ Richard imparted this information very dispassionately. Whatever else he did, he must not think of a near-naked Holly or let her know the thought terrified him more than all the rebels in Abeil.

  Richard was right. Darkness descended quite quickly and delicious smells from the communal campfire they could see through the slats of their prison made Holly’s mouth water. Her stomach grumbled loudly and she realised she hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast.

  Her hunger almost took her mind off their situation and then the woman having the baby would cry out again and it was all brought back into sharp focus. They were in the middle of the wilds, held hostage by a rebel army, and their future was uncertain at best.

  At least having Richard by her side stemmed the hysteria that threatened every time she thought about their circumstances. Her arm rubbed against his as they sat with their backs to the fire and she yearned to snuggle into the circle of his arms and draw the quiet strength and confidence he exuded so effortlessly.

  The door opened a little and a woman entered with two bowls full of plain rice. Holly devoured hers as if it was the grandest offering fit for a king. There was nothing in the bowl that resembled the aromas coming from outside but it was something to fill the stomach and beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  ‘I think we should get some sleep,’ said Richard after they’d finished eating. ‘How dry are you now?’ he asked.

  ‘My shirt and bra are dry but my cargos are still a little on the damp side.’

  ‘Why don’t you take them off and lay them in front of the fire for a while?’ He tried not to let her see his concern at the thought of seeing her bare legs. ‘I’ll turn my back,’ he offered hastily, and promptly did just that.

  Holly stared at his back. She hadn’t picked him as a prude. For goodness’ sake, all he’d see was a bit of leg and now he was making her feel self-conscious. She quickly slipped her cargos off and spread them on the ground. ‘What about you? Surely your fatigues are damp too?’

  ‘I’ll survive,’ he said, his back still to her.

  ‘Richard, I have seen naked men before.’

  ‘I really don’t want to discuss your sex life, Holly.’

  She shook her head at his back and snorted. ‘I meant I’m a nurse, Richard. But, hey, if you’re having problems getting sex and me off your mind—’

  ‘I do not have sex with you or anyone on my mind,’ he snapped, turning to refute the point and immediately wishing he hadn’t. Her legs were every bit as spectacular as he remembered. Petite and shapely. Standing before him in a black T-shirt and black, barely there knickers, it was suddenly easy to forget that two armed rebel soldiers were less than a metre away.

  ‘Good, because I’m too tired and all that screaming is giving me a headache. I’m going to sleep,’ she said, lying on the earthen floor a little way from the fire and turning her back to him.

  Her hipster briefs rode up one cute butt cheek and Richard stared at the creamy flesh, mesmerised. Well, he couldn’t take his trousers off now. There were things inside that were being more of a soldier than he was at the moment!

  He followed her lead and turned his back to the fire, positioning himself close to the door so it couldn’t be opened without him knowing. He tried to find a spot on the rock-hard ground that was the least uncomfortable. It certainly brought more meaning to the saying between a rock and a hard place!

  Holly was exhausted. A deep exhaustion that seeped into her bones. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so weary. Not even the regular screams that continued to come from somewhere behind them could stop her eyes from closing. Although somewhere she registered that they were more loud miserable moans now and that the woman seemed to be tiring. Too exhausted to find the energy to scream.

  Well…she could certainly relate to that!

  CHAPTER FIVE

  RICHARD awoke to the door being opened onto his ribs. He sprang to his feet and took an immediate defensive position.

  ‘Easy, Richard,’ warned John, pointing the pistol at him, ever-present cigarette hanging from his mouth. ‘We need your expertise.’

  ‘What expertise?’ he asked, hearing Holly stir behind him. ‘Get dressed,’ he said to her curtly, and turned back to John while still blocking the doorway.

  ‘The labour isn’t going well.’

  ‘I’m no midwife, John. Don’t you have someone here who usually handles that?’

  ‘We used to but she didn’t return to the camp after the typhoon. We assumed she was one of its many victims. Even the rebels lost people to the sea, Sergeant.’

  ‘I’m a midwife,’ said Holly, coming to stand by Richard. She swayed as she fought off the cloud of exhaustion that
still hung heavily over her head. Her eyes felt gritty and sore.

  ‘No,’ said Richard, barring her movement. ‘Yes,’ she said. She took some comfort from the fact that he was obviously protecting her, but whoever the labouring woman was she needed help. ‘It’s OK, Richard. I want to help.’

  ‘Good,’ said John. ‘You come,’ he said to Holly, ‘You stay,’ he said to Richard. ‘Don’t think of doing anything funny. My guards will kill you without hesitation.’

  ‘One moment,’ she said, and quickly removed her contacts. Her eyes felt like they were on fire and something told her she’d need to concentrate. She flicked them into the fire, feeling a momentary pang. They hadn’t been cheap but…there was no need to accessorise in the middle of nowhere.

  Holly was led to a shelter similar to theirs further up the track. Every step was agony as her rested muscles protested their reuse.

  ‘This is Mila and her mother Kia,’ introduced John.

  Holly smiled at the women confidently, trying not to betray her inner turmoil. She’d completed her midi last year but had been so disillusioned by obstetric intervention that she hadn’t practised as a registered midwife.

  ‘What’s the problem?’ Holly addressed Mila, who was lying on a low bed and looked completely and utterly exhausted. She looked so young, barely a teenager, her large belly dwarfing her.

  ‘Kia says the baby is stuck,’ said John.

  ‘How long has she been in labour?’ Holly looked at her watch. They’d already been here for about eight hours.

  ‘Three days,’ said John after consulting with Kia.

  Holly had to stop herself from gasping. No wonder the poor girl looked so weary. Her mind raced. A prolonged labour, a small mother and a large baby. If the baby was truly stuck, in such primitive surroundings there would be little she could do. She needed to check its position first.

  ‘I need Richard,’ she said to John, ‘and his medical kit.’

  ‘No. Just you.’