Authors: Felicia Rogers
Contrary to popular belief, hard work never killed anyone, but a man could languish for years and easily die from a broken heart.
How did they fare? Had Melanie remained silent of his plight and thereby stayed safe? Or had she contacted the embassy to secure his rescue? Were efforts under way at this very moment to save him? Or had the attempt sent her to her own prison? Would he ever know the answer?
“What are y' brooding about? Y' ought to be happy. With the score of gems we've found of late The Butcher might have to find another place.”
“What? I don't believe I understand your meaning.”
Afua, a fellow prisoner, shook his head. “I still don't understand how a man of y' fine speech arrived here. Anyway, as I was saying Aja and Gamba think this mine is played out. They're going to be moving us to greener pastures soon.”
Korzan's eyes widened with fear. “Leave? But I can't leave.”
“I don't believe you'll have a choice.”
“But look at this!” Korzan held in his palm a diamond the size of his fist. “I've seen many more of these in the cave. It is nowhere near played out.”
In the dim light Afua looked at his hands and studied his nails. “I thought you'd be happy. When the mine is played out, we return to Tapiwa's camp.”
A look of gloating knowledge crossed his companion's face. Korzan's gentle, easy going nature vanished. He grasped Afua by the collar and hauled him roughly to his feet, allowing him to dangle above the ground. Korzan shook him and sent him a heated stare. “Afua, if you know something, spill it. Now.”
The man's hands rose in a defensive nature. “All I know is this, I heard Aja telling Gamba that men returned from Tapiwa's camp, spouting off about a woman and some children they'd acquired.”
Korzan fingers relaxed and Afua slid to the ground. “But⦔
“I knew it might not be Melanie, but it could be, eh? The men and I are tired of this cave, so we've been burying some of the diamonds, bringing out less and less, you see, so they'd⦔
“Think the mine had played out.”
“Exactly.”
“But how does that get us back to Tapiwa's camp?”
“Well, we heard Aja and his men talking, and they said they need more manpower and we need a rest and some good food. Although it's highly debatable as to whether there will be good food or not, but⦔
“You can stop now. I understand.” Looking at his full bucket, a wicked gleam coated his coal-colored eyes. “Help me hide some of these. I believe this well has just gone dry.”
****
Today Melanie and the children were in much jollier spirits. For the last two days, they'd been allowed to leave their cell and walk around the grounds.
Even though the children never moved a few feet from her side, the fresh air and sunshine continued to be enjoyed. Taking deep lung-filling gulps, she perceived a hint of gasoline, unwashed bodies, and manure. Still the smells were preferable to those in their room.
Why, outside, even her worries seemed paltry and insignificant. It reminded her that God shone light on the good and the bad. Perhaps if she could find it in her heart to forgive Tapiwa for his transgressions against her and her family, then she could share the love of Christ with him. By sharing her faith, he might have a change in his own heart. Maybe this change could even cause him to release his prisoners.
Smiling contentedly, Melanie studied Tapiwa's office. The building sat in the center of the compound. Surrounded on all sides were smaller and more crudely constructed shelters that housed the soldiers. The second row of huts were made of stone and held those intended for the flesh market. On the outer crescent rested shacks, like open-air cages, that housed the diamond workers and those prisoners being punished. The last building on one end of the row housed the mess hall; the other end held the armory and supplies. Dirt-covered, rutted roads ran between each hut. Inside, if one stood at the front gate leading into the facility, the shape resembled a spray.
The outside walls stood at least ten feet high. Constructed of wood and held together by thick rope, the top was lined with what appeared to be razor wire. On every corner and in the middle of each side, a large imposing guard tower loomed. In total there were nine towers, as an extra flanked the gate in the front. At least two men with guns slung upon their backs paced within.
Under veiled lids, Melanie glanced around. The realization that at any one time eighteen men stood between her and freedom was daunting. It appeared her only choice rested in the Lord.
On a tall erect pole, a flag snapped in the wind outside of Tapiwa's headquarters. Embedded in the ground, the pole was surrounded by bright blooming flowers and a brick wall. Placing one of the older children in charge, she ordered them to wait. They rested on the bricks as she headed to find Tapiwa.
Shoulders pulled back and her spine erect, Melanie marched with a single-minded purpose. The goal was simple. Witness to Tapiwa, give him a chance to change his evil ways, then sit back and reap the reward. Mission at hand, she was surprised when within a few feet of reaching her destination, a soldier stepped in her way.
Head and shoulders towered above her. He wore army green pants with a matching shirt. The shirt lay unbuttoned, revealing a white t-shirt underneath. Sweat stains dotted the garment. A cigar hung casually between his clenched teeth. The gun that was over his back instantly fell into his hands and pointed at her chest.
“Where are you going?”
“To visit Tapiwa,” she answered, placing a hand to her hips.
“Why? He did not call for you.”
The cigar now loosened, threatening to drop. She removed her gaze from the object and focused on the man before her. “How do you know?” she asked with false bravado.
An arched brow and a sadistic grin gave Melanie pause. “Because he is with another. But if you are in dire need, perhaps I can assist you.” He picked up a strand of her hair and wound it tightly around his finger.
Melanie realized her mistake.
“You are very pretty.”
She gulped and glanced over her shoulder at the children. “Thank you. I think you're right. I can visit Tapiwa at another time.”
The guard shook his head. “Oh, no. We wouldn't want you to be disappointed.” His head descended, his lips edging closer and closer to her mouth. Melanie turned away. His gaze shifted and he peered over her head, a look of annoyance flitted across his expressive face. “What in the world?” he asked in an angry tone.
Melanie escaped his grasp as his attention was diverted by a truckload of yelling men. As the vehicle drove past her location, a gasp of surprise left her. Could it be possible? Dare she hope?
One word whispered past her lips, “Korzan.”
“Why did I have to visit now?” moaned Hannah, wiping sweat from her brow.
“What did you say, love?”
“Tonya says, âRight now is the hottest months. Just wait a few weeks and go when the weather cools. It'll be sunny without any rain. Wouldn't you love that? You and Melanie can sun on the beach while the children play. You hate the rain.' Hate the rain, she said. What I wouldn't give for a rain shower. It could be a thunderstorm, a drizzle, even a drop of water would be worth it right now!”
Rory didn't interrupt her tirade, giving her the time she needed to vent. She'd suffered horribly over the last few days. It was a small matter to listen to her complaints.
“A typhoon, no that's a little too much. A deluge, that's what I need. Drops of water, a full dime-size around, huge, plump, crystal clear, blue water droplets. Coming so fast and so hard my grime melts away. Then I would have that rain fresh scent.
“Did you ever notice laundry detergent with rain fresh scent never smells like rain? How does rain smell anyway?”
“Sparkles, perhaps we should rest.” The sun was obviously making her delirious. They'd been out of water for the last couple of hours and that was all she could talk about.
“Why did I get in that crazy cab? I should have called Melanie. Look at the danger I put her in.”
Tears coursed along her cheeks. The streaks of cleanliness mingled with the ones from before. She looked like a street urchin, a lovable street urchin. Her sorrow tugged at his heart. In an effort to offer comfort, Rory said, “This is not your fault.”
With an odd look, like she'd just now realized who he was, she asked, “Rory?”
Worry beset him. “Yes, love?”
“How much farther?”
“We're very close.”
“Good.”
As the word passed her lips, she collapsed. He caught her, holding her in an awkward embrace. Like a precious treasure, he lowered her to the ground. With haste, he removed his pack. Next he extradited her own. Looking down the road, he thought he could just make out the outline of a town on the horizon.
The gear littered the ground behind them as Rory placed his hands under Hannah's knees and swung her into his arms. Her body nestled against his chest, and he walked. His gait was erratic and unsteady. The massive sores on his leg caused torture with each step.
As he drew closer and closer to habitation, he hoped Father Thomas had sent someone to look for them. They'd left the jeep behind over a day and a half ago, and during the entire journey they'd seen not one other living soul.
When he saw Father Thomas, he would explain the next time he was late they should come looking for him.
Sweat beaded on his forehead and ran into his eyes. It slid beside his nose and set up an itch he had no hope of reaching. The fabric of his clothing stuck to him in an uncomfortable way.
Hannah was little more than a wisp, yet after walking for at least an hour with her held in his grasp, his arms trembled. Now his imperfect leg dragged behind him with every motion.
He'd long ago forgotten to visually check on Hannah. Without looking, he could feel her steady heart beat. Each beat encouraged him forward. If for no other reason than her, he had to make it to safety.
****
Disconcerted, Hannah worried about the sounds Rory made. The desire to relieve him of her person was there, but the will to do so wasn't. No matter what she tried, her body just wouldn't cooperate.
The sounds. Children running in the streets. Men and women shouting. Store owners encouraging purchase. Hannah attempted to speak, but her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Struggling to move out of Rory's embrace, she found herself resting on the ground.
They were in an alley, away from prying eyes. Her back against the wall and her leg stretched out, Hannah turned her head and studied her companion. Up and down in a rapid rate, Rory's chest moved, causing her own pulse to increase.
Placing her hand on his forearm, she squeezed. “Rory, are you okay?”
He turned. His eyes held a glazed look as he answered. “Yes, I believe so. Just allow me to rest a moment.”
Weary, Hannah didn't protest. They sat there for an undetermined amount of time. Awkward gazes came as more than one passerby peered into their tiny sanctuary. Foreign words flowed. Fear gnawed in her gut. What were they saying?
If she ever made it home and told Tonya about this misadventure, she would be sure to receive a lecture about knowing a language before visiting a new country. Hannah found at this moment she couldn't disagree.
With knees pulled to his chest, Rory placed his head down. The leg with the prosthetic appeared uncooperative, and he continued to shift. A red spot showed through his clothing.
Hannah reached for the spot.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
Taken aback by the strangeness in his tone, Hannah pulled away. She swallowed and said, “I was going to look at your leg. I think I see blood.”
Using the wall as leverage, he stood. He faced the small opening to the crowded street. “That is none of your concern. Come, we must move.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to protest when she saw men staring at them. New people in the village probably stood out.
She helped Rory as much as he would allow, and they walked into the crowd. Men, women, and children surrounded them. Bumped this way and that, Hannah struggled to hold to Rory. He pulled her along. The screech of a sign moving in the wind garnered her attention.
The heavy wooden board swung back and forth as people reached their hands in the air to hit it. Rory ignored the action and led them inside the revolving door.
On the outside it hadn't looked like much. For the most part it resembled all the other ramshackle buildings in the area. Multi-colored and ragged, the exterior appeared as a shack, but once inside everything changed.
Thick, red plush carpet with strings of gold in the outline of scrolls lined the floor. Dark mahogany planks covered the walls. Green plants with blossoming flowers in every color of the rainbow decorated surfaces throughout the room in a chaotic fashion. At the back wall, a wide spiral staircase wound upward.
Shocked at the unexpected beauty, it took a few moments for Hannah to notice they weren't alone.
“Chin Xi can help you?”
The thick accent drew Hannah's attention. With a jerk, she came face to face with a short, Asian fellow. The top of his bald head barely reached her shoulders. His eyes tilted at the corners as his mouth spread into a friendly smile, and Hannah returned the gesture.
When neither one of them spoke, the man cleared his throat. Sensing his sudden impatience, Hannah said, “Yes, you can. Would you happen to have a room?”
“But, of course. This is hotel. What kind of room for you?”
Impulse drove her tongue to lick her dry lips. From behind the counter the man stared.
She asked, “What kind of rooms do you have?”
“Oh, we have only finest rooms.”
“Okay.” That hadn't been the answer she expected. Perhaps she should ask Rory what he thought. One quick glance in his direction, and she knew that wouldn't work. The man could barely stand. His body weight shifted, placing a heavier burden upon her. He needed to lie down before they both sprawled on the floor.
The proprietor of the establishment blinked and looked between them. A smile tinged Hannah's lips. “We will take two rooms, please.”
“Impossible,” Chin answered, waving his hands.
Shocked by the odd answer she waited for an explanation. When none was forthcoming, she tried a different tactic. “Very well. We'll take one room with double beds.”
“Not possible,” Chin Xi answered with a shake of his head.
The urge to throw her hands up in the air was only halted by Rory's body sagging farther. Pressure from his limp form increased. What should she do? There was one option. “One room, please.”
A smile tugged at the corner of the owner's eyes. “Very good. Follow me.”
Hannah shrugged Rory into a better position and followed the man toward the stairs. Moving Rory up the staircase proved difficult. Every few steps he stumbled and she grabbed the rickety railing. Once they reached the next floor, she sighed with relief.
They were led to the first door on the right. Strange noises drifted from the closed doors lining either side of the hallway. Hannah sought the eyes of the host but he kept his back facing her.
“Here you go.” With the door standing open, he backed away. A key clanged against an ugly metal table. “Payment each day. Okay?”
Hannah nodded as the slam of the closing door echoed through the room and shook every piece of furniture. Rory stumbled to the bed. It creaked in disapproval. Not seeming to care, he stretched from one end to the other, his feet hanging off. With a contented sigh, his eyes closed and he snored.
In the middle of the room, Hannah stood. The opulence, which had so impressed her downstairs, did not reside within their current surroundings.
Room of finest quality
? Hannah thought not. It was obvious the ambience from downstairs was used to draw people in. Once inside and awed by its splendor, one never questioned the state of their future residence.
Hannah knew better. Rat hole apartments and hotels had become a regular thing for her since she'd become a writer. Money was something sought but never achieved. If not for her trust fund she would have starved. How could she have been suckered into taking this room?
With a furtive glance at Rory, Hannah knew the answer. Even with the holey blanket, the thin mattress, and the peeling wallpaper, Rory needed a place to rest. If they were lucky, they wouldn't be infested with bedbugs.
One straight-backed chair graced the small square room. Perched on the edge, Hannah steepled her fingers. Soft snores emitted from the bed, letting her know Rory rested. Bottom scooted back in the chair, Hannah closed her eyes. She moved her lips in words of silent prayer.
They were in big trouble. When the sun rose tomorrow they would be expected to pay for the hotel room. Temptation to search Rory's pockets for money assailed her, yet she resisted. Somehow, everything would work out. She was sure of it.