Megan
The wail of the sirens on the fire truck carried through the night. The smell of the smoke wafted over, too. I hoped that the fire would prove to be enough of a distraction to allow the baby’s mother to escape. The breeze carried another smell, too. What is that? Fried fish?
With my fellow officer Summer in place nearby, Brigit and I hurried down the park trail that ran alongside the compound’s wall, our footsteps pounding on the dirt. When I heard the sound of chickens clucking, I knew I was near the coop. I rushed to the wall. “Are you there?” I called as loud as I dared.
“I’m here!” came a faint female voice. “I’m coming!”
There was a bang that sounded like a door slamming, followed by louder clucking, the flap of multiple sets of wings, and a second female voice calling out, “Juliette! What are you doing?”
Juliette? That must be the name of the baby’s mother.
“I’m sorry, Naomi!” Juliette cried. “I’m getting out of here and I know you’ll run back and tell the others if I don’t tie you in the coop!”
The door banged again, but softer, as if it could only open an inch or two. “Juliette!” Naomi shrieked, her cry punctuated with a squawk. “You can’t trap me in here with these hens! They’ll peck me! Come back here!”
But Juliette didn’t go back. Instead, she ran to the wall and cried, “Whoever you are, I’m ready! What do I do?”
It hit me how horribly sad it was that this desperate young woman’s only hope was to put her trust not in her family or fellow church members, but in total strangers. She’d done it when she’d sewn the message in the quilt, and she’d done it again now. Or perhaps she’d put her trust in God.
I cupped my hands around my mouth to direct my voice. “I’m going to throw a rope over so you can climb out!” I whipped out the rope I’d brought, ready to toss an end over the top of the wall. I’d tie the other around a tree to give her some leverage.
“What about the razor wire?” she called back.
Razor wire? I looked up. Holy crap. At some point in the last couple of days, razor wire had been attached to the top of the wall. If the young woman tried to climb over it, she’d be sliced to pieces, like a ham in a deli.
The bang-bang-bang continued, and Naomi shrieked again, “Let me out! Now!”
Following her cry were more fluttering wings, more cluck-cluck-clucking, and several insistent squawks. Naomi wasn’t happy about being trapped with the birds, and they seemed equally unhappy to have her trapped in their home with them. As bad as I felt for Naomi, though, she would have to fend for herself. I’d come for the baby’s mother.
But what now?
Without a pair of wire cutters, the young mother couldn’t go over the wall. I didn’t have a sledgehammer or battering ram to break through the wall. If she couldn’t go over it and she couldn’t go through it, that left just one option. She’ll have to go under it.
“Dig!” I called. “It’s the only way!” Though she couldn’t use the rope to escape, I nonetheless tossed an end over so she’d know exactly where I was and could dig from the other side. “Look for the rope! It’ll show you where I am. Dig there!”
“I see it!” she cried.
There was a cacophony of cackles and clucks and squawks and Naomi cried out again. “These birds are attacking me!”
“I’m sorry!” Juliette called. “Get in the corner and turn your back to them! You’ll be all right!”
I fell to my knees and clawed at the earth. The top layer was packed hard and my fingernails tore as I raked at the ground with all my might.
This isn’t working!
I have to dig faster!
I whipped out my flashlight, shined it around, and spotted a stick that was around an inch in diameter. I snatched up the stick and jabbed the end at the solid soil in an attempt to loosen it. Jab-jab-jab. My elbow protested in pain, but the earth began to loosen so I didn’t stop. I could ice my arm later.
Once I was through the top layer, the moister lower layer was easier to get through. Still, my fingers were hardly an efficient tool. My kingdom for a shovel!
I shone the light around again and found a bagel-sized rock with a sharp edge. I grabbed it and used it like a scraper, plunging it into the soil and pulling it toward me to tear up inch after inch of soil, layer after layer, dirt clod after dirt clod.
Brigit watched me with interest. When she realized I was digging a hole, she joined in next to me, clawing at the dirt with her paws. Her longer, tougher nails gave her a huge advantage. In just a minute or two of digging, she reached the bottom of the wall. It would’ve taken me five times as long to accomplish the task.
“Keep going, girl!” I encouraged as I struggled alongside her. “Good girl!”
Brigit dug and dug and dug, kicking up dirt, some of it ending up in my hair and eyes and ears. But she could bury me in dirt as long as she got the baby’s mother out.
“Good girl! Good, good—!” I gagged as a clod of dirt lodged in my throat. Ick! I coughed it up, spit it out—PUH!—and decided to hold further praise for later.
My partner and I continued our mission, digging side by side, Brigit making far quicker progress than I.
A squeal of glee came from the other side of the wall. “I see paws!” the young woman cried.
“That’s my partner!” I called back. “She’s a trained K-9.”
While Naomi continued to bang on the door of the coop and the chickens clucked and fluttered, Juliette, Brigit, and I continued to dig, our efforts frantic. Soon, the hole was big enough that I could see fingers working on the other side, too.
“I see your hands!” I called.
Eager to see who was on the other side of the wall, Brigit put her head down and peered through the hole.
Juliette cried, “Thank you, dog! Keeping digging! Please!”
My partner and I dug, and dug, and dug, and dug. When the hole was nearly a foot deep, a face appeared on the other side, illuminated by the beam of my flashlight, which lay on the ground at my side. The face belonged to the young woman with the dark hair, just as I’d expected.
She blinked against the glare. “Bless you!” she cried, tears streaming down her face. “Bless you for helping me!”
“Can you get through yet?”
She shoved her head into the hole. From my side, all I could see was the top of her scalp, as if she were being reborn into the free world.
She pulled back. “Not yet! It’s not big enough yet!”
The three of us continued to dig. The hole was wide enough now, but still lacked a few inches. Brigit continued to send pawfuls of dirt into the air, and I could hear it showering down on the ground behind us.
I looked at the hole again. It might be deep enough now.
“Try again!” I called to the young woman.
Again she stuck her head in the hole. Again it didn’t quite fit through.
“Turn your head sideways!” I said.
She turned her head and next thing I knew it was on my side of the wall. Brigit licked the side of Juliette’s face, washing away the tears. “I’m stuck!” she cried.
“Hold on!”
I dug around her. Brigit did, too. Juliette wiggled and wriggled and wrestled and wrangled. Eventually, her entire top half was through the hole. The bottom half, however, seemed intent on remaining in the compound. Her butt was stuck.
Brigit and I continued to dig, trying to get under her to remove the dirt impeding her progress. Face contorted in agony and determination, the young woman pushed herself up on her hands, arching her back and pressing her pelvis into the dirt as hard as she could to make room for her rear. Inch by precious inch she pulled herself forward, her skirt sliding down to her hips, until finally her rump broke free of the wall. I stood, grabbed her wrists, and pulled her the rest of the way through.
She rolled onto her back, her face covered in muddy tears Brigit was doing her best to clean away. “I’m free!” Juliette cried, raising her voice and hands to the heavens. “Thank God! I’m free!”