TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 17, 9:16 A.M.
MAPONI VILLAGE
Natalie stood in the center of the empty village and squeezed her arms around her waist. When she and Joseph had arrived at the tranquil scene, she’d braced herself for the emotional impact of seeing firsthand what the Ghost Soldiers had left behind. Instead there was nothing pointing to the chaos of yesterday. No signs of the struggle Joseph had described. Only a compound of empty huts sitting in the morning sunshine.
“I do not understand.” Joseph’s voice cracked beside her. “They are gone. Their bodies…my grandfather…There’s nothing left.”
Natalie’s lungs contracted. “Joseph—”
“They shot my grandfather here. I saw it. And Aina…they took her…I never saw my mother…” He stumbled away from her toward the edge of the compound. “I must find the camera.”
While Joseph searched for the camera, Natalie gazed across the familiar compound. Eleven months ago, she’d visited this village. Women had welcomed her in their bright dresses made from fabric they’d managed to secure from the city. She had given free vaccinations to the children and taught them how to thwart diseases such as hepatitis that could run rampant in a village.
Lifting her camera, she started snapping photos of the quiet scene.
Today no women chatted around the cooking pots; no laughing children played beneath the shady mango trees. Gone were the old men playing an unending game of
kari
at the edge of the compound while shooing away squawking chickens and lazy dogs.
But where were the bodies Joseph had glimpsed, laying on the damp African soil? All that remained was an eerie quiet that seemed to reverberate louder than the forest itself. Had someone come in and whisked away all signs of life? Or were Chad’s gut instincts on target, and there was nothing more to the story than a young boy’s vivid imagination?
“Don’t get involved in this
,
Natalie. Tell Stephen
,
leave it to the local authorities to investigate. Call your senator back home if you have to
,
or forget about it for all I care. But don’t get involved.”
Don’t get involved.
Chad’s words played over and over in her mind. He was right. She shouldn’t even be here. If Joseph was wrong, she’d done nothing more than plop herself in the middle of the jungle where she could be attacked by mysterious soldiers who kidnapped and killed villagers or bitten by a venomous snake. Neither sounded very smart.
And if Joseph
was
right? How in the world could she deal with such brutal realities in a corrupt third-world country? She’d signed up to bring relief to the people, not to get involved in the political arena.
Natalie held up her hand to block the sun that cast rays of light across the brown earth. Two dozen mud huts, with their neatly thatched roofs, surrounded her. Pathways between them had been swept, grass cleared, and firewood piled along the sides of the huts. Crossing the soft ground, still damp from the rain the day before, she searched for signs of a struggle. Dozens of random footprints scattered out before her, but she couldn’t be sure whose they were. The rains could have washed away the villagers’ footprints.
But not a group of soldiers who had returned to cover up their handiwork.
Trying to ignore the lump of fear swelling inside her, she glanced beyond the eastern edges of the village to where neat rows of corn and manioc had been planted during the first rains. Beside them bamboo, tied together with homemade rope, formed bins to keep stalks of dried maize from last year’s harvest out of the reach of animals. Pulling out one of the yellowed stalks, Natalie crumbled the dry husk between her fingers. How many hours of work had been put into planting, watering, and cultivating this vital crop? Without constant care, the crop would be ravaged by animals or burnt by the midday sun. Why would the villagers leave all this work unless it was under force?
Natalie made her way past one of the huts, its mud walls decorated by a band of dark brown around the bottom, and snapped another photo. Twelve feet away sat an open smoke-stained kitchen. Clay water pots lay in one corner beside a stack of rusty plates. Nearby, a hollowed-out gourd was filled with dried cassava. She crouched down in front of the fat, black pot and lifted the wooden spoon to reveal a sauce that smelled of tomatoes and piquant peppers. The embers below had long since grown cold, leaving behind nothing but a mound of gray ash.
She stood and rested her hands against her hips. Something wasn’t right. While it might be true that Joseph’s tribe migrated when food sources like wild game dissipated, leaving healthy crops behind or a pot full of sauce untended wasn’t normal.
A flash of pink caught her eye. Skirting a pile of firewood, she leaned down and pulled out a worn cloth doll from the edge of the sticks. Two tiny black-beaded eyes stared back at her. The mouth had been made from red thread stitched in a zigzag pattern. One shoe was gone, and the dark face was streaked with mud.
Natalie squeezed her eyes shut. She remembered the young girl and her doll as if it were only yesterday. Her faded red dress had barely reached to her thighs, and her dusty brown feet had dug their toes into the soft earth as she’d grasped the cloth treasure and stared
up at Natalie. Around them, the village had stirred with life. The tangy smell of sauces being cooked in their black pots for the evening meal drifted across the compound with the afternoon breeze. Mothers nursed their babies. Children sauntered back from the dusty trails with water held high on their heads. It had been her job to help them improve their lives.
The little girl had tugged on the skirt of her dress as Natalie knelt down and greeted her in Dha. “
Eh fo banda
.”
“
Eh fa
.”
Natalie had taken the ragged doll and smiled at the girl, wishing she had something to give her.
Something snapped in the brush. Natalie opened her eyes, pulled away from the vivid memories. She ducked against the frame of a low doorway and stared into the bush. Another twig cracked and a pig rushed by, squealing as it disappeared behind one of the huts.
She pressed her hand against her heart and let out a slow breath of relief. Clasping the doll between her fingers, she peeked inside one of the dim huts. A mattress covered with a frayed pink sheet sat in the corner of the room. A table and chair on the other side. Even without the photos for proof, it didn’t take much for her to believe Joseph’s story.
Outside the dark living areas, the bright sunlight blinded her. A family of monkeys howled in the distance, and Natalie shivered at their jabbering. She skirted the perimeter of the village, stopping at the empty clotheslines.
Three feet in front of her was a patch of blood.
Natalie pressed the doll to her chest and swallowed the tears that threatened to erupt. Maybe if she brought Chad up here he would have some ideas of what to do, who to talk to. Something had to be done.
“I found it! Now you’ll believe me.”
Natalie spun around at the sound of Joseph’s voice.
The young man bounded across the level ground with the camera,
stopping in front of her when he saw the doll. For a moment the significance of the camera was forgotten.
“Where did you get that?”
Natalie shrugged and pointed toward one of the huts. “It was lying on the ground.”
“It’s Aina’s.”
His sister. Natalie felt her stomach clench. “I’m sorry. I—”
“What if I never see them again?” He grabbed the doll and crushed it against his chest.
“I don’t know, Joseph. I don’t know.”
There was nothing she could say. No words that could erase the emptiness she knew he was feeling. Except for one thing.
“They’re not rumors, are they?” she whispered.
“No.”
He handed her the camera. She flipped open the small square screen and scanned the photos one by one. A man in black with a rifle in his hands jabbed an older woman…A villager grasped a child’s hand…A group of women, their hands raised to the heavens, were prodded toward the forest…An old man lay motionless on the ground…A soldier gestured with a grin on his face…
“You were right about all of this, Joseph. The Ghost Soldiers are real.” Natalie swallowed hard. No longer did they have only the word of a local village boy. “Now we’ve just got to get someone else to believe us.”
Something rustled in the bushes. Natalie turned and saw a flash of light.
Joseph grasped her arm.
Why would they return? There was no reason, unless someone had followed them here. She tried to push away the fear. “There was a pig running around a few minutes ago. It’s probably just an animal.”
He didn’t look convinced. But neither was she.
“We’ve got what we need. Let’s go.” Natalie shoved the camera into her backpack, grabbed Joseph’s hand, and started running.
TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 17, 11:12 A.M.
KALAMBALI SQUARE, KASILI
Relief flooded Natalie as she pulled into the parking lot of her office compound, thankful for the security of the high walls and the electric barrier that surrounded the property. Such safety measures had become the norm in a city riddled with burglaries and petty crime. She waited until the automatic gate clicked shut, then stepped out onto the brick drive. The gardener raked leaves in the corner of the compound. Voices drifted across the yard from people passing on the street. Strange how life continued as if nothing had happened.
Beside her, Joseph raced up the front steps of the one-story building. The walls of Kalambali Square, with its chipped and worn exterior, held offices for two nonprofit organizations as well as a branch of the government health headquarters.
Inside the office, she nodded as she swept past the receptionist, who seemed more intent on filing her nails than the stack of papers lining her desk.
“Is Stephen in?”
The secretary shook her head. “He should be back any minute.”
“Please tell him to come see me when he returns. It’s very important.”
Her tiny office at the end of the narrow hallway held little more
than a desk, two chairs, and a few items she’d brought in to brighten up the space. A collage of photos hung above her desk beside a wilted plant that needed water. She glanced at the pictures of her parents, taken at her father’s sixtieth birthday party.
They hadn’t been thrilled with her decision to move to the RD. Since retirement, becoming grandparents had topped their wish list. But up to this point, neither she nor her brother, Sean, had managed to supply them with a bundle of joy. Sean had married an attorney set on making partner by the time she turned thirty-five.
At least no one would be sending them a notice of her death today.
Natalie shoved open the window to let in a breeze, then waved Joseph onto the extra chair. Pulling the memory card out of the camera, she prayed it would work with her photo printer. She’d told her parents she didn’t need the expensive piece of equipment and had only used it twice; anything more than a computer or laptop seemed an extravagance in a country where people struggled to find enough food. For the first time, she was glad they’d insisted on the purchase.
Joseph sat on the edge of the chair. “Is it going to work?”
“I think so.” Natalie drummed her fingers against the desktop as she waited for the first photo to emerge. When it did, she shuddered. The camera had captured the mocking expression of one of the men in black. “I’ll make two copies. That way I can give a set to Stephen and keep one for myself. And I want Dr. Talcott to see these.”
She pulled her cell phone out of her purse to call Chad, then paused. What about Gabby? Her journalist friend’s connections with the media might be enough to get something done. Even the RD would make a humanitarian effort in order to avoid bad publicity.
She logged onto her online account, typed in the password, and punched out a quick e-mail to Gabby. After attaching three of the photos, she pressed Send, then erased the message in the Sent box and emptied the trash. There was no need to take any chances at this point.
Chad was next. She punched in the number he’d given her and waited for it to ring. The call failed.
Natalie frowned. Great. The lines were down…again. She dropped the phone back into her purse. More than likely they’d be up again soon, but for once she wished things would work when she needed them.
Another photo fell into the tray. One of the soldiers was pushing someone onto the ground. She pressed her lips together, afraid she was going to be sick. Joseph’s fingers tightened around the edge of the desk. They both needed a distraction. “Tell me about school.”
Joseph seemed to understand her desire to talk about something other than the images they’d just seen.
“There are many students and few teachers, but I want to keep learning, so I study hard. That is what the camera was for—a way to earn extra money for books and something to send to my family.” He ran his finger along the edges of the chair. “And maybe a chance for University. That is…was…my mother’s dream.”
A sullen look crossed his face. There was simply no way to avoid the subject.
Natalie squeezed his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
“It is our life. I do not expect it to be easy, but this…”
The last picture finally dropped into the tray. Natalie separated the pile of color photos. They would be enough to convince someone of what was happening.
The front door slammed shut. She dropped the second set of copies into Joseph’s backpack and zipped it shut.
“Stephen?” She heard the familiar gait of his heavy boots before he stopped at her office.
He leaned into the doorway looking anything but pleased to see her. “Where have you been? I’ve tried to call you all morning. You didn’t leave a message as to where you were going.”
His normal fatherly concern was overbearing today. “I guess you didn’t notice that the cell phone tower is down again.”
“It was working fine an hour ago.” He frowned. “Next time at least leave word where you’re going. I’m responsible for your well-being.”
Natalie grimaced. Obviously she wasn’t the only one whose pre-election nerves were hanging from a thread. He wasn’t going to be happy when she told him she’d been running through the jungle instead of teaching preventative health measures in the relative safety of the city.
“I took Joseph up the mountains to where his family lives.”
Lived.
The veins in Stephen’s neck pulsed. “I told you to leave it alone. There’s no such thing as Ghost Soldiers.”
“Don’t be so sure.” Natalie watched his face, gauging his reaction. Disbelief? Fear? She wasn’t sure at this point. “They’re real, Stephen, and I have proof.”
Stephen ran his hand across his short black hair. “Natalie, leave it alone. Sometimes you have to overlook things—for the good of everyone.”
“For the good of whom, Stephen? A little girl ripped from the only home she’s ever known? A grandfather killed because he’s not strong enough to work?” Her heart thumped. She wanted to scream at the way everyone tried to bury the problem. “How does that work for the good of everyone?”
“I’ve talked to Patrick—”
“Maybe Patrick cares more about his position as a government official than looking at what’s really happening out there.”
“He assured me they were only rumors—”
“Look at these.” Natalie began dropping the photos one at a time onto her desk in front of him. “Then tell me if you still think the existence of the Ghost Soldiers is nothing more than a rumor.”