Chapter Sixty-Nine

Zeb shifted the bodies to inside one tent. It was bare. No possessions, no backpacks, no cellphones.

The other was in a similar state.

Why would Namir steal as well?

Supplies, he answered himself.

He hustled Sara out of the camp after making note of its location.

‘Can you …?’ she swallowed, ‘How long ago do you think they were …?’

‘Several hours, ma’am. Maybe sometime in the night. Not recently, for sure.’

He tried to work out just how much of a lead Namir had on them, and then gave up.

At least a day, if not more. We got sidetracked by Tavez. Lost time because of my wounds.

There was urgency now. Both of them striding swiftly. Wanting to catch up with the terrorists before they reached the town.

Or at least get to Erilyn as quickly as we can.

By late evening, their pace had slowed, however.

His thigh and shoulder were flaring up. His trouser leg had turned dark with blood, while his chest was wet.

They no longer had any loose clothing from which to fashion dressings.

He unbound the existing bandages, squeezed them and applied them again.

‘It will have to do.’

‘Let’s walk through the night.’

‘Let’s not,’ he countered. ‘Namir isn’t a fool. He could have posted watchers. We won’t see them in the dark. Until it’s too late.’

She didn’t argue. He could see she was exhausted as well. Her shoulders drooped, her hair was matted to her forehead.

They made camp behind rocks, in an open plain, under the sky.

Cold rations and water to fill them up.

Stars and the thin sliver of the moon looking down at them.

‘Churches,’ she roused him as he was drifting into sleep.

‘Huh?’

‘Namir has a thing about churches.’ She propped herself up on her elbow. ‘It came to me. That time in Beirut. He had fired into a church. Dad said it wasn’t the first time he attacked such places. There were other instances.’

Zeb examined it in his mind.

He didn’t come all the way to this country just to kill Kenton Ashland.

However, he wasn’t convinced of the church angle.

He settled back and stifled a yawn. ‘Tomorrow. Let’s deal with it then.’


He woke her at three am on Sunday.

‘I thought you didn’t want to travel in the night,’ she grumped.

‘It’s the morning, ma’am.’

She snorted but followed him without a word.

They made good time in the cool of the dawning day.

He could sense her feelings as they neared the town.

Relief. Worry. Uncertainty.

‘That couple.’

He cocked his head, waiting for her to continue.

‘You put them inside their tent. There was no one for Dad. I fled.’ Her voice broke.

‘Ma’am,’ He caught her shoulder and turned her around. ‘I made you a promise. I’ll hand you over to your grandfather and return. Kenton Ashland was a hero. He will have a hero’s funeral.’

‘My life, it’s no more,’ she sniffed.

He knew what she meant.

He hugged her as she broke down. Bawling and crying, wetting his shirt with her tears.

The weight of the last few days breaking her.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, struggling to be free.

He released her.

‘I tried to be strong. But …’

She sniffled and brushed her tears angrily.

She’s only fifteen.

‘Ma’am, crying isn’t weakness.’ He cursed himself for not finding better words. ‘Your world has collapsed. It’s normal to feel that life is dark. That there is no light.’

‘I don’t know what to do.’

‘Your grandfather will. I will stay in town until we sort everything out. I will help him.’

‘You will? Why? You have your own life. Work.’ She half-laughed through her tears.

‘Because if I didn’t help, I couldn’t look myself in the mirror.’

She looked at him for a long time. A teenager with tears on her cheeks, hair ruffling in the breeze, eyes large.

She looked at him while the Earth rotated on its axis and hurtled along its orbit.

Then she nodded, clasped his hand once and turned around.

Started walking toward Erilyn.

Which they reached at six am.