Where Tomorrow Leads

by DiAnn Mills

  His treachery squeezed at her heart and burned in her throat. She’d loved Santino like a brother and thought he cared for her and others. An awareness of her naiveté washed over her and brewed a caldron of fury. Snippets of past conversations, laughter, and intense work in the clinic dripped into the boiling pot.

  Santino had deceived them all in the name of his faith. How many times had she asked him to explain his beliefs, thinking he still held on to tribal gods? Instead he followed Muslim extremists who encouraged him to lie to the infidels for Allah’s sake. And he’d done it quite well.

  Each step she took in the darkness fueled her anger, yet fear for the lives of her dear ones kept her swallowing one retort after another. She would gladly sink a knife into Santino’s blackened heart. He deserved a torturous death for all he’d done.

  She gasped at the hate in her own thoughts. She’d sworn an oath to save lives, not to end them. More importantly, she had committed her life to God by acknowledging what Christ had done on the cross for her wretched soul. Who was she to judge and condemn Santino?

  Larson recalled the Bible’s instructions to pray for those who persecuted believers. If she died tonight, she’d be in the presence of Jesus. If Santino died this night, he’d never know the blessings of heaven. From the realization alone, pity crept into her heart for Santino and all those who followed false gods.

  Stinging tears flowed from her eyes. Surely not all of the good she’d seen in Santino was false. God could still reach him. Couldn’t He?

  God, help me here. I’m afraid, but I’m trusting You to save us from these men. I don’t want to meet You with a heart full of hate and revenge. I can’t bring myself to forgive Santino. Yet I must.

  She swallowed hard and fought for self-control. Up ahead a faint light indicated they were nearing Warkou. As she plodded onward, she saw that the light came from her clinic. Who was there? Could it be Ben’s men ready to set them free? She prayed so.

  * * *

  Paul recognized the familiar trail winding back to Warkou. Would Nizam have a plane waiting to take them to Khartoum? The thought sat like acid in his stomach, not for him but for those he loved. Memories of the ghost houses loomed over him. He’d do anything to prevent Larson and Ben’s being tortured. A glimmer of hope led him to believe Thomas’s life would be spared, even if it meant he would be raised Muslim.

  “Santino, will you tell me what is going on?” Paul said. “We’re nearly to Warkou.”

  The man swung around and laughed. “Does it matter? Did you and your wife think the government would do nothing while you aided southern Sudan? Missionary teams come and go with their few days of good deeds, but you are a stench to your family. No, I will not tell you what’s ahead.”

  “Take me and let the others go. I’m the one you want anyway.”

  “I have my orders. No more talking.”

  “These people are—”

  Santino stopped and threw a punch into Paul’s stomach. The impact doubled him over, and he stumbled to keep from losing his balance. Santino grabbed him by the neck and jerked him to his feet. Larson cried out.

  “I said to keep quiet.” Santino tightened his hold on Paul’s throat. “One more word, and I’ll slice up your wife and the baby.”

  Paul’s breath came in short gasps. He nodded. What else could he do?

  Father, deliver my wife and child. Keep Ben from the hands of these men. I confess I’ve been angry with You. Please forgive me.

  * * *

  Ben studied the area around him while the small band made its way into Warkou. Most likely the village guards had been killed along with his two men. Santino had considered every detail to this point. Now to figure out what lay ahead for the rest of the night.

  Together Nizam, Muti, and Santino had plotted the course of events during the past several months. Why hadn’t one of them killed Paul when he was alone instead of creating this elaborate scheme? Plenty of opportunities had arisen in which they actually had him in their clutches. Most of this situation didn’t make sense, and Ben could not figure out their motivation. But he did know he would try to overtake his captors at the first opportunity.

  A pocketknife lay inside his right boot. In the dark, he could easily pull it out, but he needed one of the men to knock him down first. He should have thought to grab it the first time he’d been knocked to the ground.

  “This is a bunch of crap, Santino. Looks to me like you have no idea what you’re doing.”

  The butt end of a rifle cracked across the back of his head. Ben fought the dizziness and allowed himself to sink into the soft earth. He yanked on the knife and slid it under his shirtsleeve. Fighting the agony in his skull, he forced himself to rise to his feet.

  Ben battled the grinding pain in his back and head during the remaining trek into Warkou. The knife rested against his flesh, ready for him to use.

  Santino’s men shoved Paul, Larson, and Ben through the clinic door, and it closed behind them. Larson nearly fell with the baby, but Paul caught her. Nizam and Muti were seated on a bench in the waiting area. Ben immediately recognized Nizam from the time he’d visited the hospital.

  “Santino, what a fine job you’ve done here.” Nizam stood. “We have them all, just as you claimed. This is perfect, well worth the wait. Your loyalty to the government will make you a wealthy man.” He nodded at the guards. “Make sure the men have their hands tied.” As two men forced Ben’s hands behind his back, they discovered his knife and seized it.

  Nizam chuckled and turned toward Paul. “Brother, I don’t hear a warm greeting from you.”

  “Why don’t you tell me what this is all about?” Paul’s low voice sounded amazingly calm. “How did you get here?”

  “It’s very simple. I flew in while Santino had you out looking for your wife. I have what I want: you, your lovely wife, Colonel Alier, and—” He gestured to one of the closed doors leading to the examining rooms. “Muti, bring out our other guests.”

  Muti grinned and opened the door, pushing Daruka and David into the room with the other captives. White-hot fury welled in Ben’s body, and he struggled to free his arms. In the dim light, Ben saw dried blood on David’s face and a bruise on Daruka’s cheek that circled above her eye. Her gaze flew to his, and for the first time he knew for certain that he loved her.

  “I’ll kill you for this.” Ben wrestled with the bindings on his hands, but one of the men jabbed a rifle into his chest. “You touch my wife and son again, and you will pay.”

  “How, Colonel? Looks like we have the weapons. I’ve wanted you for a long time. Your death will cripple the southern armies.” Nizam faced Paul. “You are a fool and will die a fool’s death, but not before you watch your friends and family die.”

  “My men are due here anytime,” Ben said.

  “Not before dawn, and we have a long time until then.”

  Ben stared silently into his wife’s eyes, willing her to understand he loved her. She’d die because he had tricked her into marrying him. And David . . . his son would face an agonizing death. Both would lose their lives because of his deceit.

  CHAPTER 33

  Paul wanted to believe Nizam would not give in to the evil he’d planned. They’d been close as boys. Could their relationship have changed so drastically? Yet Paul understood the teachings of Islam.

  “I’m the target here,” Paul said. “Let’s board your plane and get out of here.”

  “Oh, we will.” Nizam walked to Larson and lifted her chin. “Such a pretty woman. Too bad.”

  Alarm seized every part of Paul. “She has nothing to do with you and me.”

  Nizam focused on him. “I have only hatred for you.” He nodded at Muti and Santino. “Take Mrs. Farid, the baby, and the colonel’s family to Abdullah’s tukul. Tie them up. I’ll be there shortly.”

  Paul’s pulse raced as Muti and Santino obeyed his brother’s order. “Please, I’m begging. Do not harm them.”

  “You’ll do more than beg before I’m fin
ished.” Nizam looked down his nose. “You’ll go to your grave listening to the sound of their screams and smelling their flesh burn.”

  “You animal.” Ben struggled against the ropes binding him. “You’ll pay for this.”

  Nizam laughed. “No, you will pay for every day you ordered men to fight against the government.”

  Paul swallowed hard. He had to stall. “Nizam, the SPLA will not let this go without retaliation. You’re planning the death of a respected officer, his family, and a world-renowned doctor because of what? Pride? Religion?”

  “The international community will get over it. You and I both know Darfur has their attention. This will be nothing more than a CNN crawl.”

  The knowledge of his own idiocy ripped through Paul’s mind. How could he have been so blind? He’d fought his doubts since Nizam had first suggested a meeting. Paul should have forced Larson to leave Sudan. He should have gone himself. He should have . . . Now he was helpless to stop whatever his brother had planned for all of them.

  God, please. “Let’s talk about this.”

  “I’m finished talking,” Nizam said. “Take these two outside so they can watch.”

  Paul planted his feet firmly on the concrete floor as though his efforts would stop the inevitable, but he was powerless against those dragging him outside. “Don’t do this. It solves nothing. I’m the one you want.”

  But Nizam kept on walking toward the tukul, behind a man with a fiery torch.

  Paul whipped his attention to Ben. Huge tears flowed down his friend’s face. “If you’ve ever thought about calling out to God, now is the time.”

  “God? Where is God in this?”

  “He’s all we have, Ben.”

  * * *

  Larson viewed Thomas’s peaceful slumber on the floor beside her as a blessing. Perhaps God would take her baby soon, and he wouldn’t suffer. She glanced down at her stomach—the child she’d see in heaven. She’d heard Nizam’s order to set the hut on fire with her, Thomas, Daruka, and David inside. How unspeakable for Paul and Ben. Sickening dread crept over her at what this must be doing to them. She’d shut Paul out of her life so much over the past several weeks. Ever since she’d learned about Nizam’s wanting to see him, she’d built a wall around her heart. She might never have an opportunity to apologize. Lord, forgive my selfish heart.

  Nizam walked in, shoulders erect, reminding her of a man ready to conduct a business meeting. Perhaps for him, this was all their murders meant. But she couldn’t give up. As long as there was life in her, she had to believe they would not be killed.

  She stared into Nizam’s dark eyes and shuddered at the resemblance between him and Paul. “Tell me, how will you live with yourself once you’ve killed innocent women and children?”

  “I will have my reward in paradise.” He knelt in front of her as though he was interested in what she had to say. “This means nothing to me. My duty is to kill the infidel.”

  “And what if you are wrong and Paul and I are right?”

  “Muhammad says differently.”

  “What do you say, Nizam? What does your heart say?”

  A flash of anger swept across his face. “There is no God but Allah.”

  “I think you’re fighting the truth.”

  He swung around to a man who held the torch. “Leave us. I’ll light the fire.”

  Larson studied the man before her. She was afraid of his power, but something stronger than fear told her to continue. “I know you’ve read parts of the Bible because you talked about Barnabas. And I think you have a better understanding of Jesus than what your faith avails you.”

  “Do you think your talking is going to change my mind?” He stood and paced in front of her.

  Larson glanced at Daruka and David. They were praying. She could feel it. “I think you know enough about Christianity to doubt what you are doing.”

  “What does a woman know?”

  “Tell me you didn’t read more of the Bible.”

  Nizam’s cold stare bored into hers. “I read enough to know you’re wrong.”

  “You read enough to know I’m right. Think about it. You and Paul grew up together. He became a Christian, forsaking his family and power to follow Jesus. You were curious enough to find out what had persuaded him. You—”

  “Enough.” Nizam touched the torch to the roof and sides of the tukul.

  Larson watched him disappear into the night. The crackle of fire met her ears. In an instant, flames lapped at the small hut. The smoke from the burning thatch filled her nostrils. “Daruka, David, you know we will see Jesus soon.”

  Daruka’s sobs met her ears. “Poor Ben. How terrible this is for him.”

  “I pray God will comfort Father and Paul.” David nearly choked on his words.

  Oh, Paul, please remember how very much I love you. She longed to touch the smooth skin of her precious son. Dear God, I feel so forsaken.

  Heaven. Before dawn lit the sky, they’d all be with Jesus.

  * * *

  “Nizam, how can you do this?” Paul screamed into the night. His jaw tightened. His body stiffened. Several yards away, Nizam swung the torch high in the air as a sign of victory. Paul twisted at the ropes around his wrists, but men on both sides held him tight.

  The thatched roof ignited, flames lifting demon-like fingers into the sky.

  “Nizam, I beg of you, don’t murder innocent people.”

  Ben said something, but Paul couldn’t bear to tear his eyes from the burning tukul. The memory of how he’d once served the crescent moon haunted him. Now he served the cross, but where was God while his family burned alive?

  “Kill me now. Let me die with my wife and child.” Paul’s words lifted into the night air. How could he go on without them? Please, God, I was wrong not to trust You to take care of us. Is it too late?

  A few villagers awakened by the fire stepped from their homes, but Nizam’s men stopped them.

  Paul’s throat stung with his pleas. How could God allow this? Perhaps he’d never know why. He was a God of love, not hatred and evil. But even though Paul didn’t understand why his family and friends were about to be killed, he had to believe God was in control—His purposes were good and right. “God, I do trust You now, no matter what happens,” he whispered hoarsely. “Help us, please.”

  Suddenly Nizam threw down the torch and stepped into the inferno. Paul held his breath. What’s happening? All he could hear was the roar of the flames.

  A woman’s figure appeared in the doorway, carrying an infant. Larson! Then another woman and David. They stumbled away from the fire just as the tukul collapsed.

  “Daruka!” Ben’s voice echoed above the hissing fire. “David!”

  They were free, but for how long? Where was Nizam?

  In the east, the faint glow of dawn spread across the sky. Shots rang out, and the men guarding Ben and Paul fell, their blood soaking the ground. With his hands tied behind his back, Ben reached down and retrieved his knife from one of the dead men.

  “Cut my ropes.” Paul’s voice graveled, a foreign sound to him. The need to get to Larson and Thomas left him trembling. “Hurry, Ben. Then I’ll get yours.”

  Ben deftly freed Paul’s hands. As soon as the ropes fell, Paul grabbed the knife and slit Ben’s bindings. He could see Larson, Daruka, and David lying on the ground while bullets whizzed around them. Thomas’s frantic cries rose above the gunfire. They were sprawled out in the open with no place to seek shelter. A stray bullet—no, he refused to think about it.

  Wordlessly, Ben and Paul snatched up the dead men’s guns and crept toward their families. Within moments the firing ceased, and the Rhino Battalion emerged from behind tukuls and trees. Not one of Ben’s men had been wounded. Not one of Nizam’s men had survived.

  Paul held his trembling wife. He didn’t want to think of ever letting her go. So much to say, but the words refused to come. Her hair and clothes were singed, her eyebrows and eyelashes gone. The stench of smoke surrounded her,
and she coughed incessantly. Yet she was alive. Had Paul told Larson how deeply he loved her? Perhaps the need in his soul had sent the silent message.

  He stole a glance at Ben, who had enveloped his wife and son in his lean arms. Again, the big man wept. How little a man values love until something threatens to leave him empty of its worth.

  “We have much to talk about,” he heard Ben say to Daruka. “There are things I need to tell you.”

  “I probably already know.” She touched his cheek. “If it is your cancer, I found out weeks ago, after you returned from Nairobi with more pills.”

  “How?”

  “I took the bottles to David’s teacher and asked her to find out what they were for.” She coughed. “Please don’t be angry.”

  “I think it’s time for you to be angry with me. I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you. The doctor has given me hope, and after today, that means a lot. I have three reasons to live, and they have all to do with my family.”

  David stared back at the remains of the burning tukul. “I think I have an idea what hell is like, and I don’t ever want to forget it.”

  Ben nodded. “Maybe you need to share some of your faith with me.”

  Paul turned his attention to Larson, his mind assaulting him with unanswered questions. Exhaustion etched her face. He lifted Thomas from her arms and kissed his cheek. The baby’s coughs disturbed Paul, but Larson would know what to do. Someday he’d tell his son about how God had delivered them all from the snares of death.

  “Can you tell me what happened with Nizam?” he whispered.

  “I’m not sure.” She sucked in a breath and coughed again. “Not sure if we ever will know. I talked to him before he torched the tukul. I asked him about reading the Bible. And what his heart was telling him about God. I . . . I knew he’d read the Bible from the conversation we had some time ago.” Tears streamed down her face, and he kissed her cheek. “He was angry, and that’s when he started the fire. The flames . . . they were so hot. Just when we had given up, he came back, cut our ropes, and pushed us toward the doorway. I asked him why, but he didn’t answer.”