Darkest Before Dawn (KGI series) (10 page)

The woman glanced at Honor as if judging whether the younger woman believed such a fantastic story. But Honor stared back at her in earnest, absorbing every word. Still, the woman must have felt she needed to back up her wild claims.

“If you wonder how I could possibly know of such things in a group that is so secretive, my son kept a journal of every detail of his experience as a member of A New Era. He had it sent to me right after he confronted the leaders. Maybe he knew what was going to happen. Maybe he sensed they were lying and wanted someone to know what they truly are. And as for my knowing what happened after—the last journal entry was of his confrontation with the leaders—one of his friends in the organization, one who like my son, didn’t like the actions of the group, came to me and told me what they did to my son.”

This time, the mournful sound poured from the woman’s mouth, soaring from the very depths of her soul. Tears ran freely down her face and her features were so stricken with grief that Honor couldn’t even look at her without responding in kind, without remembering the horror of that day when every one of her friends and coworkers had been killed. She knew exactly how this woman felt. They were bound by a bond that no two people should ever have to share.

“They came in the middle of the night. My son had packed his belongings and had planned to leave at dawn to come home to me and his father. They pulled him from his bed and dragged him outside where all the others were already gathered. They gagged him so he couldn’t speak, couldn’t defend himself, couldn’t denounce the organization and their agenda and possibly strike a chord with other followers.

“They told the others that he was a traitor to his brethren. That he’d committed an unpardonable sin by giving their location to an opposing military faction. He’d been bought off and had betrayed every single one of his brothers for money. He was an abomination not only to Allah but to their cause—Allah’s cause. By the time they were finished denouncing him, the others were only too happy to participate in his torture. They were angry—furious—that he could do such a thing. They called him evil. Possessed by evil spirits.

“They tortured him endlessly for an entire week,” the woman whispered, tears still spilling in endless trails down her cheeks. “And in this instance, they didn’t behead him at the very end just before he’d die on his own as is their custom. They said that a traitor such as he didn’t deserve the mercy of a quick and painless death. He was left there to slowly succumb to the torture they’d inflicted on him. He had no food or water in all that time. It took three more days!”

The woman put a fist to her mouth, biting down hard, her grief a terrible, tangible thing in the tiny dwelling. Honor couldn’t help it. It was her nature to comfort others. To help them. No matter the cost to her. It was why even now she
was fleeing for her life. Because she’d chosen a dangerous place to render aid. But it was also the area that was most in need because so many others didn’t dare come here to help.

Honor wrapped her arms around the other woman and simply held on as they both shed tears for so many horrible, senseless deaths.

“I am sorry for your loss,” Honor whispered next to the woman’s ear. “He sounded like a good man and not at all like the mindless puppets these monsters command who embrace the promise of riches and power. He tried to right the wrongs. He is safe with Allah now. You must know that.”

The woman pulled back a wan smile. She wiped at the tears with the back of her hand, and it shook as she lowered it to her lap once more.

“Thank you for saying that. I admit at times I’ve feared for his soul. I’ve prayed that he finds peace in the arms of Allah. But yes, he was a good man.” Her chin notched upward, her gaze more determined. “When he learned of the true goals of A New Era, he fought back. And I admire him for that. But in my heart I wish he’d simply walked away.”

Honor nodded her understanding. Knowing her time was limited and that the man collecting water for her was likely searching for her, she leaned forward to take the woman’s hand again.

“Thank you for your aid. I can never hope to repay such kindness. But I must go now. A man who escorted me into the village and who is getting me water from the river said that the group is here, in the village. At least some of them. They surround it and even mingle at the market. Looking for me. I must find a way to leave undetected and without drawing suspicion. And then I must find a place to rest. I sleep by day and journey by night to lessen my chances of detection, but this morning I had to come into the village to get more supplies. I was nearly out, and was completely out of water.”

The woman’s eyes gleamed a moment and the first true semblance of a smile lit her face.

“You will stay here,” she said triumphantly, as though she’d just solved an enormous dilemma.

Alarm took hold of Honor and she shook her head automatically. “No. Absolutely not. I won’t endanger you and your husband—or the rest of the villagers—that way. It’s best if I leave this place as quickly as possible so I draw attention away from you and the rest. You’ve been so kind and I will not repay such kindness by getting you killed for harboring someone they hunt for.”

The woman’s smile didn’t falter. “They will not find you here. Even if they come inside to search.”

Her expression was smug and more importantly confident. There was no hesitation, no fake confidence to falsely reassure Honor.

Honor looked at her in puzzlement. “How is that so?”

“Years ago when the fighting was so bad in this area, we feared we would be bombed on a daily basis. The attacks would only come at night. They were too cowardly to face their victims during the day. So my husband dug a shelter underneath the flooring of our home. It’s deep and wide enough to fit two people. It’s where we slept every night when we had the threat of bombing looming over us for months. You can go get your water and bring it here. I’ll boil it to cleanse it while you sleep. When night falls I’ll awaken you and you can be on your way once more with Allah’s blessing.”

“And what will your husband think?” Honor asked quietly.

“Any victory over this abomination calling themselves messengers of God and instruments of his will only pleases my husband. And he would never turn his back on a young woman in so much need. They will not find you. My husband made the opening in the floor undetectable. Those animals could be standing right on top of you and they’d never know. You need the rest and you need your wounds tended to. Allow me to do this small thing. I couldn’t help my son, but I
can
help you.”

“I don’t know how to thank you,” Honor said tearfully, relief falling over her like a cleansing rain.

This time the woman reached for Honor’s hand and gripped it firmly in a clear gesture of solidarity. Determination passed from the woman into Honor. She could feel it.
Could feel the woman’s resolve not only to help Honor but for Honor to escape and to live.

“You can thank me by living,” the woman said simply. “Know this, Honor Cambridge. You have many who are praying for your safe passage and many who would aid you in any way, but you cannot afford to trust anyone, because just as there are many praying that you reach safety, there are also many who wouldn’t hesitate to betray you for the riches that have been promised to the person who finds you.”

Honor looked at her in utter shock. The woman knew her name. Her name had been distributed widely.

The woman smiled. “You have become somewhat of a legend in the span of a few days. Word of your escape from the militants has passed from village to village, all in awe not only that one lone American woman was able to escape the vicious attack on your relief center but also that you’ve managed to evade capture for over a week. You have become a beacon of hope to our people. Proof that A New Era isn’t as invincible as they proclaim, as their reputation suggests. It is why you must pay heed to my caution and trust no one. You are a source of great embarrassment to the militants because while they wield much power and are feared widely, they have been unable to find you. Their rage is great and they grow angrier and more impatient by the day.”

“I’m no one special,” Honor managed to croak out around her astonishment. “I’m just an average, normal woman who wants very much to make it back home.”

“You will,” the woman said fiercely. “If anyone can accomplish this feat, it is you. You’ve made it this far, and you won’t fail now.”

CHAPTER 6

AN urgent voice intruded into the vast nothingness of Honor’s mind, disturbing her deep, dreamless, restoring sleep. Despite desperately wanting to remain in the safe cocoon she’d rested in for the last hours, fear and readiness were too ingrained in her not to respond.

Her eyes flew open, seeking the source of the call, and she saw her protector standing anxiously on the bottom step leading down into the shelter her husband had constructed.

“I am sorry to wake you so early, but there is need of you to get ready and depart while the sun is still high in the sky.”

The worry in her voice roused Honor, and she scrambled up, gathering her bag and straightening the new garment she’d purchased earlier. She’d put the headdress on once she was above ground level so she could touch up any areas needing more dye.

“What has happened?” Honor demanded even as she followed the woman up the stairs.

Waiting at the top was the woman’s husband, who wore a grim expression.

“Sit,” the woman urged. “I’ll work more dye onto your face and in your hair. You can listen as I work. And I have an idea you may be opposed to, but I think given the
circumstances it would be the perfect form of disguise to get you safely past the assassins.”

Honor immediately complied, dread pitting deep in her stomach, causing a knot to form, but also intrigued by the idea the woman spoke of. So she settled down into one of the hand-carved chairs, curling her fingers together in her lap so as not to betray how badly she was shaking.

It was the husband who spoke first.

“The outcasts are here, and it was heard that they plan to stay in the area past sunset as it is known you travel exclusively by night. There is a group of people here for the market who came from the north, the direction in which you travel. You need to leave with them while it’s still light. You’ll blend in and the militants won’t be looking for a woman traveling with others when she’s strictly been solitary until now. It’s your best—and only—chance. If you leave at night, they’ll capture you for certain. And if you don’t appear this night, they’ll search the village and those harboring you will be killed instantly.”

Honor looked to the couple in horror over the danger she’d put them in. She’d acknowledged that they risked much in helping her, and realistically she knew from the beginning just how much they risked, but hearing it said so matter-of-factly rattled her to the core. She didn’t want these people to die because of their kindness to a complete stranger.

“And this is where my idea comes in,” the woman interjected, as if sensing Honor’s rising panic. “They won’t be expecting to see you traveling during the day, accompanied by others, but they could possibly be tipped off to your disguise as an older lady hunched with age and a shuffling walk.”

Nerves attacked Honor, instantly increasing the dread already present in the pit of her stomach. The taste of hopelessness and impending failure was bitter in her mouth. To have come so far, to have come so close, just a few days from the border into a safer zone with a U.S. presence, a place A New Era hadn’t yet dared to encroach on, and be captured with freedom in sight. It was more than she could bear. She
lifted a knotted fist to her mouth, determined not to show the depth of her despair to these courageous people. She felt it dishonored them when they’d shown so much of what she now lacked.

“Just listen to me,” the woman said soothingly. “I think you’ll agree this is a good idea. We will redarken your face and hair but smooth the lines in your face, making you appear younger. We will remove the padding that makes you appear larger, and though it may be painful given the injury to your knee, you must walk normally, as if you are unhurt. I’ll apply the salve to your knee and other areas that pain you so you’ll receive temporary relief.

“And there are men in the group, one who will act as your husband and walk just ahead of you as is customary. All of these factors—these changes—combined will throw those who wait for the old lady traveling under the veil of night off course. I believe you won’t even draw their notice because they won’t be looking for what you are. A young woman, in a more vibrant, younger woman’s manner of dress, traveling with a group of people—family—in the daylight hours.”

“I believe it is your only chance,” the husband said in a resolute voice.

The absolute certainty in the husband’s tone overrode any fear Honor had of venturing into the daylight. She pondered the woman’s wisdom, and her idea had merit. She would, in fact, be the reverse of all intel A New Era had on her. They might not fall for it ever again, but if she didn’t get past them this time, there wouldn’t be a next time to worry over anyway. She had to take it one step at a time. Avoid one trap at a time. And as the husband had said, it
was
her only chance. Her only choice. She had to do this, because if she was discovered leaving under the shield of dark, the militants would know that someone in the village had given her sanctuary, and they would retaliate by murdering every single man, woman and child. The thought sickened her. These people had been kind to her, risking their lives to help her, and she’d be damned if they were repaid with violence.

She simply nodded her agreement as the woman first
thoroughly cleaned Honor’s face, removing the embedded dirt and debris disguised by the dye to make her look older, with age-weathered skin. Then, with great care, she rubbed the dye into Honor’s skin and then began reapplying it to her hair so that the natural blond was nearly black. She redarkened Honor’s eyebrows, which were already brown, but a light brown color, in contrast to the honey blond of her hair. Honor, not wanting to take any chances, had dyed them the first time she’d used henna to cement her disguise.