Where Tomorrow Leads

by DiAnn Mills

  “My family may be looking for me.”

  “Who told you about the clinic?”

  “My uncle broke his leg a few years ago, and he was brought to you.” She gasped as the baby struggled against her body to be born.

  “Squeeze my hand until the pain is finished.”

  In less than an hour, the girl gave birth to a tiny boy. Larson wrapped him in a clean cloth and laid him in the girl’s arms. Children giving birth to children. How horribly cruel.

  “He’s beautiful and healthy,” Larson said. Suddenly she wanted her baby now. She wanted to hold him and make sure nothing ever happened to him.

  For the first time, the girl smiled. “Each time I felt the baby move, I wondered if it was a boy or a girl and what it would look like.”

  “What are you going to name him?”

  She shook her head. “No name. Neither of us will live.”

  Larson’s emotions plummeted, and she touched her own stomach. “Please let me help you. You can live here until my husband and I find you a new home.”

  “Where would I go?”

  “We’d help you get farther south or out of Sudan.”

  A shadow appeared in the doorway. Larson whirled around to face two men with assault rifles.

  CHAPTER 15

  Ben listened to his men boast about what they intended to do now that peace had come to Sudan. He’d heard it since January when the peace treaty had been signed. Fools. The conflict would never end. Just wait until one of them stepped on a land mine and see what kind of sympathy the government gave them. They’d encountered a firefight last week. They’d be fighting tomorrow. The government lied to the international community while open warfare continued. And he didn’t want to get started on the situation in Darfur.

  His mind rested on the many women and children taken as slaves. Where were they held, and how were they going to find their way home? Both sides had used child soldiers, and many children still carried guns—especially in Darfur. Ben had used them in the past, but Paul and Larson had convinced him to let the boys go. For years, he had believed that using the boys was a necessary part of the war. He needed soldiers, and most of the boys were willing. But in his effort to build the South’s army, he hadn’t realized he was killing the future of his country. He knew now that without counseling, those abused by the atrocities of the war might never recover from their ordeals.

  The poor education in Sudan was another source of contention. A people who lacked sufficient schooling were without leaders. A twenty-year vacuum existed in which the majority of children hadn’t been schooled. So what happened when the current leaders, like himself, could no longer fulfill their duties? He didn’t trust any of the government officials but John. If any man could bring about changes, it would be Vice President John Garang.

  Slowly his thoughts drifted to Daruka and David. After the boy’s rejection, Ben and Okuk had made their way back to the Rhino Battalion. At least with his men he fit. Every time he thought about the hatred he’d seen in David’s eyes, a knife twisted in his heart. More so because David had been right.

  Ben attempted to shove aside the memory and convince himself he didn’t care. He sank onto a chair outside his tent and winced. His life had lost what meaning it once possessed. Now that his son had no use for him, Ben’s grandiose ideals about a father-son relationship had died before they had a chance to flourish. All he had was a ragtag army and a civil war many wanted to believe had ended. While he and Okuk had been gone, his men had exchanged fire with a few government soldiers, which led Ben to believe that someone from Yar had informed the GOS of his location. He’d get drunk if the doctor hadn’t told him not to mix the pain medication with alcohol. But why should a doctor’s order matter anymore? He deserved a stiff drink for all he’d been through, and it wouldn’t change cancer’s death sentence.

  “Okuk, bring me a bottle of whiskey.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Day after tomorrow we’ll leave at first light. We’re going back to Yar. All of us. We’re going to find the mole and make an example of whoever has betrayed us.”

  * * *

  Paul heard a scream and several rounds of rifle fire. Larson. He snatched up his pistol and darted out into the pouring rain toward the clinic. With Santino gone for the day, Paul had failed to keep his wife safe. Again. Not twenty meters away, a black man guarded the clinic’s opening with a Kalashnikov rifle. He wore a ghutra headdress.

  “Drop your weapon.” Paul aimed his pistol.

  The moment the shooter raised his rifle, Paul fired at the man, sending him sprawling into the mud, with blood filling its own puddle.

  “Stop, or I’ll kill the woman,” a man from inside the clinic called out in Arabic.

  “What do you want?”

  “To leave here with the white woman.”

  “Go, but leave her.” He moved closer. The many accountings of what happened to captured women hammered in his head. “You’re surrounded out here. Leave now and you’ll live.”

  The man laughed. “There’s no one with you. And if you want the woman to live, you’ll not try to stop me or follow.”

  “Can I talk to her?”

  “Paul, I’m all right,” Larson called in Arabic. “He’s shot a young girl and two other patients. I think they’re all dead. He’s asked me to bring medicine for a man who’s been shot.” Her voice trembled. “I’m sor—”

  Her words broke and she cried out.

  “Leave her alone.” Paul fought to keep his composure. “What can I give you for the woman? I’ll pay any price.”

  “No money. I need her with me.”

  “Let me go with you, and when she’s treated your friend, I can bring her back.”

  “I’m finished talking. Toss your pistol in front of the hut or the woman’s face will have a scar.”

  Paul did as he was told. “I’m backing away.”

  “If I find you’ve followed us, I’ll put a bullet in her head.”

  “I understand.” Fear paralyzed every inch of him.

  Larson stepped from the hut with a rifle stuck in her back and her bag of medical supplies in her left hand. Where was her sling? Who would help her change the bandage on her wounded arm?

  The man sneered at Paul. “She’s mine now.”

  “I’ll get her back.” And make you pay for what you’ve done to my wife.

  “I don’t think so.”

  She turned in the pouring rain and looked at Paul. He saw the longing in her pale face. “I love you,” she said in English. “See if the baby inside lives.”

  The man grabbed her wounded arm and pushed her ahead of him. Paul watched until she was out of sight. Snatching up the pistol, he shoved the dead man away from his path and hurried inside the hut. A young girl lay on the floor. A pool of blood trailed from the examination table to her still body. She’d been shot in the back. He bent and turned her over to discover an infant wrapped in her arms. A very much alive baby boy.

  He needed to go after Larson. The baby needed tending. Sarah wasn’t in Warkou. He glanced into the other room at the patients and saw they were dead. Anger flooded his senses and threatened to overtake any logic. He gathered up the baby and sheltered him from the rain before hurrying outside. He’d take him to a nearby hut and go after Larson.

  God, keep her safe. Don’t let anything happen to her.

  * * *

  Ben loaded a box of ammo into the back of the mud-caked truck. When he’d first come back from the States and joined the SPLA in the eighties, he used to worry about a grenade or a strategically aimed shot blowing him and his men to who-knows-where, but not anymore. He and his men did their jobs and buried the casualties.

  Kicking one of the bald tires, he calculated how long until one of them blew. The engine sputtered like an old man, and the oil was never changed. He and that old truck had a lot in common. Chances were the truck would last longer.

  He itched for a good firefight, and he hadn’t killed an Arab since one of t
hem had put a hole in his arm. Ending Paul’s problems by putting a bullet through Nizam’s heart had crossed his mind. A quick glance at his men breaking camp showed the rest had done them good. Paul had sent food and cases of good water, and they’d eaten well. Hard to fight with a hungry belly.

  “Colonel Alier, we’ll be ready to leave at dawn,” Okuk said. “They’re in good spirits.”

  Ben laughed. “The spirits I had last night gave me a horrible headache this morning.”

  “I hope this goes well for you.”

  How much about Daruka and David had Okuk figured out? “What do you mean? We all want to put our hands on that mole.”

  Okuk swallowed. The scar across his throat widened. “I overheard your talk with Daruka, and I’ve kept the information to myself.”

  “And?”

  “Sometimes I still hear the cries of my family.”

  Ben studied him for a moment—his one arm, a raspy voice from a slit throat, and courage. “You have much to learn, Okuk, but you are a fine soldier. A commander who understands the men around him earns respect from his soldiers and his superiors.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Make sure your insight never clouds your judgment.”

  The day wore on along with a perpetual blinding rain. Ben briefed Okuk on his strategy for finding the man or men who’d joined forces with the government soldiers. As the pain in his back intensified, Ben found it more difficult to concentrate.

  “Okuk, I will be assigning you more and more responsibilities in the coming weeks.”

  “Are you leaving us?”

  “Possibly.”

  Okuk grinned. “For Juba? Colonel, you deserve leadership in rebuilding the South.”

  Ben sat back in his chair while the rain splattered against the tent. “I’m not giving any details. Just want you to know I’ll be working you hard and expecting more.”

  His phone rang. A quick glance showed it was Paul.

  “I need help,” Paul said. “Larson’s been taken by a man who shot and killed three of her patients.”

  Ben stood. Hadn’t she been through enough? “How many men?”

  “Only two. I killed one. The other one headed northeast with her on foot. I’m trailing them now. Santino is in another village with Sarah. Should be back today.”

  “We’re on our way. Give me your location.”

  Within the half hour, Rhino Battalion moved out over water-filled roads to find Larson. Would he always be choosing between Larson, Daruka, and David? Ben drew in a deep breath and reached into his pocket for the pills that kept him moving one more hour.

  * * *

  Larson struggled to keep up with the fast pace of her abductor. She fought hard to see through the screen of rain while she attempted to figure out how to escape. How badly hurt was this man’s comrade? What would happen to her after she treated him—or watched him die?

  Paul. How insensitive she’d been to him. If only she could take back the cruel things she’d said earlier. But he knew of her love. She’d seen it in his face. He’d be close behind them, doggedly pursuing them more viciously than a lioness tracking her kill.

  Larson’s arguments and reasons for staying in Sudan didn’t seem as important after seeing the man ahead of her shoot the young girl and her other patients—and possibly the baby. Given the time, Larson would have shared the Good News of Jesus with the girl. Senseless murders. Every day the tally rose, taking so many innocent. The predators never satisfied their lust for blood. If only the international community could see what was really happening, maybe things would change.

  I will survive this, and my baby—our baby—will not live in this terror. Oh, dear God, help me so my baby will live.

  The medical bag filled with instruments of healing also held a 9mm pistol. And she wouldn’t hesitate to use it.

  “How far are we going?” she said.

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “What happens to me once I’ve treated your friend?”

  “I haven’t decided. You’d bring a good price.”

  “I’m a doctor. Surely that means something to you. Others will die if I can’t help them.”

  “Shut up.” He struck her wounded shoulder with the rifle barrel.

  Stumbling in the mud, she bit her tongue to keep from crying out. The handle of the pistol in her bag lay against her baby. She drew in a deep breath in an effort to manage the piercing pain and thanked God for the heavy rain. The man would not try to rape her in this miserable weather, and Paul might have a set of tracks to follow if he stayed close behind them.

  Where did these vicious men come from? With a signed peace treaty, why didn’t they attempt to settle down? Didn’t they have families and a home? A suspicion crept into her mind and she shivered. Could this man be sent from Paul’s family to force him into their clutches? She caught her breath. I can do everything through Him who gives me strength. I can do everything through Him who gives me strength. She shoved away the despairing thoughts. God was in control, not the man holding a rifle to her back.

  They continued on in the rain for what she believed was around two hours. She thought they were headed northeast, and she knew a battalion of SPLA soldiers used to camp in that region. Water dripped from her and weighed down her clothes. Twice she asked for privacy, but the man denied her and laughed. At least the rain cleansed her the moment her body finally sought release.

  Soon it would be nightfall. Had it been stubbornness on her part to stay in Sudan? On the other hand, if she escaped this abduction and left the country, would she demonstrate a lack of trust in God? She’d had her share of scares before, but the tiny life growing inside her compounded her fears.

  Paul, find me, please. I can’t bear spending a night with this man.

  CHAPTER 16

  With the fast-approaching darkness, Paul hurried his pace and followed Larson and her abductor’s trail. The rain had stopped for now, which made the going easier, and he could see until night overcame him. Voices alerted him. He stopped and crouched low, then listened to men speaking in Arabic. Slowly he moved forward until he was able to peer through the bushes into a small clearing. A fire touched on the features of three men outside a makeshift shelter consisting of a tattered UN blanket strung over brush. Paul stared into the shelter. In the shadows, he saw the outline of Larson’s body.

  Paul pulled out his phone. “I have them in sight,” he whispered.

  “According to my GPS, we’re directly west of you,” Ben said. “Once we’ve surrounded them, you make your move.”

  “Got it.” Paul disconnected the call. His gaze focused on the movement in front of him. None of these men had respect for his wife. Yet they needed her to save a man’s life.

  “This man is nearly dead,” Larson said from inside the shelter. “He needs more than what I can give him.”

  “Do not let him die,” one of them said. “If he lives, then we might let you live too.”

  Bring her out of the shelter.

  “I’ve removed the bullet and stitched the hole, but he’s lost too much blood.”

  “You heard the deal.”

  Paul listened to what the men intended to do to his wife, and none of their claims had anything to do with letting her go. From Ben’s position, he had to hear too. Two men who loved the same woman would not allow these animals to lay a hand on her.

  One of the abductors peered inside at Larson and the injured man. Paul aimed his pistol. Just let the snake take one more step toward her.

  Lord, protect her.

  “Muti, is the woman yours first?” The question came from a man near the fire. He turned and Paul saw his face.

  Muti. Is my brother behind this? Acid burned Paul’s throat. Of course he was. Larson’s abduction was his own fault.

  The man stepped back from the shelter and rejoined the group. “I have my orders. We’ll not go unrewarded.”

  “Does our brother still live?” another man said.

  “For now,” Muti s
aid. “I don’t think he’ll last much longer. Abdullah did not marry a skilled doctor. Look, I found a gun in the medicine bag.” He held up Larson’s pistol and laughed.

  Paul kept his gaze fixed on Muti, waiting for the moment to send a bullet into his murderous heart.

  Suddenly Larson stood at the tent’s entrance. “The man has died. I told you he’d lost too much blood to survive.”

  Muti grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her into the light of the fire. “You will pay for this, and so will your infidel husband.”

  Paul signaled to Ben’s soldiers with the soft cry of a jungle bird, and they stepped into view. Muti’s men lifted their weapons.

  “Put your rifles down now!” Ben shouted.

  Muti pulled out a knife from his waist and held it at Larson’s throat. “Do you want me to slit her throat while you watch?”

  “Touch her, and all of your men will die,” Ben said.

  “And we’ll take her with us.” Muti sneered. “Move back, and I might let her live.”

  Paul crept behind the shelter. He’d stop the man or give his life trying. Lightning flashed across the sky, and in the next instant thunder roared. Rain pelted all of them. Paul inched closer, his pistol aimed at Muti’s back. As long as he went undetected and the sound of rain masked his movements, he might be able to snatch the knife from Muti’s hand. Within seconds, Paul stood behind him. He reached around the man and jerked back the hand holding a knife to Larson’s throat. The knife flew to the right, and Larson stumbled to the ground. Rifle fire cracked, and the other two abductors fell. Paul lifted his pistol to Muti’s head.

  “Don’t kill him.” Ben grabbed Paul’s hand. “We need to know who’s behind this.”

  Paul heard Ben and understood, but the thirst for revenge threatened to take over. “Did you hear what this animal was going to do to her?”

  “Paul, I want to deal with him.” Ben pressed Paul’s arm firmly. “Put down the pistol.”

  Paul lowered his weapon. “Take him before I kill him.”