The Oracle Page 12

  Nasha’s breath caught. “Scarface …”

  “Go tell Wendy to ring the bell. If you see anyone, tell them to meet at the shed. Hurry.”

  Nasha raced across the graveled drive, clucking chickens scattering in every direction.

  Remi pulled on the chain at the gate, making sure it was secure, as the bell started clanging from the office.

  Within seconds, girls flew out the doors into the courtyard, lining up as they’d been taught. Pete stood at the forefront, his tanned face etched with concern, as Remi ran in. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Get the girls in the tunnel. The man in the white truck. With reinforcements.”

  Pete ran to the shed, opening the door wide as the girls gathered outside it, frantic, unsure about this sudden drill, undoubtedly picking up on the quiet urgency of the adults. The bell rang several more times, then Wendy rushed into the courtyard carrying three packs—hers, Remi’s, and Pete’s. Monifa and Yaro ran out of the mess hall, taking a position behind the girls, as Pete stepped out of the shed, holding two fingers high. The girls stopped talking, their eyes on him.

  “Listen up,” Pete said. He pointed toward the shed. “I want you all to follow Miss Wendy down the ladder as quickly and as quietly as you can.”

  “A ladder?” someone asked. “For what?”

  “Is this a drill?” one of the girls asked.

  “No. It’s not.”

  Panic filled their faces as they looked around, trying to find the threat.

  Wendy handed Remi her pack, then took the hand of the first girl, leading her to the tunnel. “Quickly,” she said, her voice and demeanor the epitome of calm. “And no talking.” Remi pulled the Velcro from the hidden slot in her pack, wrapping her fingers around the butt of her Sig Sauer but not drawing it. After seeing the fright on the girls’ faces, she knew the sight of a gun might send them over the edge. Not surprisingly, their attention wasn’t on her and instead was on Pete, who hurried them into the shed. Nasha brought up the rear, looking back toward Remi as Pete led her in. “Down you go,” he said.

  “I don’t want to go,” Nasha said.

  “It’s safer.”

  “But I know where—”

  Remi, hearing the vehicles outside the gate, realized they had seconds. “They’re here.” Apparently, that was enough to send Nasha scurrying to the ladder. Remi looked at Pete. “You first.”

  “Sam will kill me if anything happens to you.”

  “Nice try. I’ll be right behind you,” she said, suddenly realizing Amal wasn’t there. Drawing her gun, she moved to the shed door, opening it just enough to look out. The courtyard was empty and eerily quiet. So far, though, whoever had arrived hadn’t yet breached the gates. She closed the door and moved to the tunnel, hearing Wendy’s soft voice, taking a head count of the students.

  Remi looked over at Pete. “Is Amal down there?”

  He squinted into the tunnel just as Wendy’s panicked voice said, “We’re missing four girls.”

  Remi peered down the ladder, just able to make out Wendy’s face below her. “Who’s missing?”

  “Maryam, Tambara, Jol, and Zara,” Wendy said.

  Remi recalled three of the girls running off when Nasha came to tell her about the car. “You’re sure they’re not here?”

  Nasha squeezed in front of Wendy, looking up at Remi. “I know where they are,” she said, scrambling to the top before Wendy could stop her. “I saw them after I left the office.”

  “Saw them where?” Remi asked.

  “In the dorm. Miss Amal went to find Zara, and the girls followed her. But something happened to Miss Amal again. They couldn’t wake her.”

  “A seizure,” Remi said.

  Pete started to open the shed door. “I’ll go look for them, Mrs. Fargo.”

  Crack!

  The single gunshot echoed through the compound. Nasha ducked behind the raised trapdoor. The girls in the tunnel started screaming.

  “Hush,” Wendy said from the top of the ladder. “Don’t make a sound.”

  Remi moved next to Pete and looked out the door, thankful the courtyard was still empty. No doubt someone shot the lock off the gate. Putting her hand on Pete’s shoulder, she looked him in the eye. “Whatever you do, don’t come out until Sam comes back. He’ll know to look for you.”

  “We can go together.”

  “No.” Remi didn’t doubt Pete’s sincerity or bravery, but she also knew that with so many girls to care for, Wendy, Yaro, and Monifa were going to need his assistance to survive until help came. “I’ll be fine. I promise. Get that tunnel closed and keep them calm. Their lives may depend on it.”

  “I will.”

  Pete followed Wendy down the ladder.

  Remi slung her pack over her shoulder, knocking her phone from her back pocket to the floor. Before she had a chance to retrieve it, she heard the sound of car doors slamming, then the crunch of gravel beneath booted feet as someone shouted, “Search every building.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Do not let what you cannot do tear from your hands what you can.

  – ASHANTI PROVERB –

  Remi glanced back, unable to see her phone in the shadows cast across the rough planking from the north-facing window. With seconds to spare before the men reached the courtyard and saw her, she slipped out.

  “Where is everyone?” a man asked from somewhere out front.

  “Keep looking. They’re in here somewhere.”

  The deep, gravelly tone was undoubtedly that of the scar-faced leader of the ambush, Makao. She had no idea how many men were out there with him, all probably armed with the same sort of assault rifles they’d used during the ambush. As much as she wished she’d had the foresight to open the safe and retrieve the two she and Sam had recovered, she knew it would’ve wasted valuable time. Their goal had been to get the girls into the tunnel without being seen.

  That goal hadn’t changed.

  Her Sig Sauer was woefully inadequate, and, until she was able to get the four girls and Amal into the tunnel, she wasn’t about to risk getting into a firefight with who knew how many men.

  She was relieved to find the dorm unlocked. Just before she slipped inside, she took one last look at the empty courtyard, praying it would remain deserted long enough for her to get everyone out and to the shed. She locked the door behind her and looked around for the missing girls, seeing nothing but bunk beds, neatly made, and a wardrobe against the wall between every other bed. A few wardrobes, she noticed, had doors partially open, and she checked the closest to see if anyone was hiding within.

  Deciding the girls would have to be contortionists to fit inside, she crossed to the other end of the dorm, stepping through the bathroom doorway past the large, industrial-sized laundry hampers piled high with used towels. She quickly ruled out the open toilet stalls on one side, as well as the curtained shower stalls on the other. Her gaze landed on the two hampers. Before she had a chance to look, she heard someone rattling the handle of the exterior door, followed by a loud crash as someone kicked it open.

  Trapped, she ducked between the hampers, holding her gun on her knees, listening to the heavy footsteps clomping across the floor. The top of the hamper blocked her from seeing out the door, which was to her left, but she had a partial view of the large mirror over the row of sinks to her right and watched the reflection of the two men looking around the dorm. Both carried pistols, one with an AK-47 slung across his back.

  “Nobody here,” the first said.

  The second man looked toward the bathroom, a pale jagged scar on his face cutting from his cheekbone to his jaw. “In there.”

  The two walked over, their booted feet scuffing across the wooden floor. Remi slid down as far as she could, moving her finger from the trigger guard onto the trigger. She had nine rounds, one in the chamber, eight in the magazine. She could easily take both men, but the others were bound to start firing at anything and everything. Not willing to risk the girls’ lives, s
he lowered her weapon, kept watching the men’s reflections, knowing that if they glanced in the right direction, they’d see her.

  But neither man looked her way. Instead, they focused on the showers and toilets, pulling back the curtains and pushing open the door of each stall.

  “Empty,” Scarface said. They turned, the other man brushing against the hamper as he stepped through the doorway.

  Relieved, Remi leaned back against the wall, watching their reflection as they strode across the dorm and out the door. Another man joined them, saying, “Nothing. They’re all gone.”

  Scarface turned around, looked into the seemingly empty dorm. For a moment, Remi thought he’d seen her, but then he turned away. She caught sight of him in the mirror, his smile sending a chill down her spine. “Burn the place to the ground.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Be a mountain or lean on one.

  – AFRICAN PROVERB –

  You two,” Remi heard Makao call out. “Get the gasoline.”

  Hoping the man was bluffing, Remi remained where she was between the two hampers, until she heard a sobbed whisper from the right. “I’m scared.”

  “Shhh,” came a second voice to her left.

  Relief swept through her. “Amal?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank goodness. How many?” Remi asked.

  “Five of us. I … I had one of my spells. The girls heard the gunshot and were afraid to leave the dorm.”

  “They’re safe.”

  “What if they burn—”

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Remi stood, peering out far enough to see two men walk past the open doorway. When she saw their gasoline cans, she realized she had no choice but to give herself up. “Don’t come out unless I tell you.”

  Holstering her gun in the hidden panel of her pack, she shoved it against the wall and dropped a couple of towels over it. She stepped from the bathroom and quietly crossed the dorm, her hands raised above her shoulders as she walked out the door. She counted eight men, each armed with a pistol at the hip and an AK-47, the majority of which were aimed at the various doors of the buildings.

  “I’m unarmed,” she said as they turned, aiming at her.

  That the men didn’t fire the moment they saw her gave her some hope that they were under orders to take everyone alive.

  Which meant they weren’t terrorists bent on killing girls who were being educated.

  That did not, however, rule out terrorists bent on kidnapping girls who were being educated.

  One of them patted her waist, looking for a holster. “Nothing.”

  Scarface held her gaze, then looked past her through the doorway. “What’s your name?”

  “Remi,” she said. “Remi Fargo.”

  “Where is everyone, Remi Fargo?”

  “I’m alone.”

  “Then you won’t care if we burn down each building? Starting with this one?”

  Remi said nothing, still hoping he was bluffing. He flicked his head. The two men holding the gasoline cans started splashing fuel on the wainscot at opposite corners of the dorm.

  “Stop,” she said.

  Makao’s smile turned triumphant. “Call them.”

  “They’re just children. No need for guns.”

  He studied her for a moment, then said something in another language, one she didn’t understand. They lowered their weapons. He pointed his gun at her. “If anything happens, you’ll be the first to die.”

  She nodded and moved away from the door, drawing his aim toward her and away from the girls. “Amal,” she called. “Bring the girls out. Keep your hands up and they won’t shoot.”

  The massive hampers creaked as the girls climbed out. A moment later, Amal led them to the threshold, hesitating at the sight of the armed men.

  “Over here,” Remi said, holding out her hand. They refused to move. The looks on their faces broke her heart.

  This was supposed to be their safe haven.

  She had failed them.

  Makao eyed the girls, then turned toward Remi, his gaze boring into her. “Where are the rest? All the others?”

  “We’re the only ones here. Everyone else left this morning. To Jalingo.”

  “You expect me to believe the entire school is gone?”

  “Believe what you will. They’re not here.”

  He called one of his men over. “Ask Dayo if any cars came down from the school.”

  The man nodded as he pulled out his cell phone and moved off to make a call.

  If Makao had someone watching the road, it had to be at the tea farm at the bottom of the hill. Hoping she was wrong, she glanced over at Zara, glad to see the child hadn’t realized the danger to her father.

  With only one road in and out, they’d never get past the farm without being seen—assuming they could even escape.

  A moment later, the man returned. “No cars since the Land Rover left this morning.”

  Makao glared at her. “You lie.”

  “Think whatever you want,” Remi said. “They’re gone. We’re all that’s left.”

  He stared at her a moment, then stalked up to the girls. “Where are they?” he demanded.

  “I don’t know,” Zara said, bursting into tears. “When I woke up, everyone was gone.”

  The raw and painful truthfulness convinced him in a way nothing else could. He turned back to Remi.

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  “I think that’d be obvious. I hope you know someone with enough money to buy your freedom.”

  “If you think my husband will turn over one cent without proof of life for each one of us, you’re making a grave mistake.”

  He laughed. “We just need to keep you alive long enough to collect the ransom. After that, I don’t care much about what my men do to you.”

  “You harm one child and—”

  He stalked over, grabbing her by her collar, pulling her until she was inches from his face. “If you knew what was good for you, you’d shut your mouth and cooperate. Am I clear?”

  He twisted her collar so hard, she felt a prickling sensation across her face from the loss of circulation. “Very.”

  Finally, he loosened his grip on her shirt, his face filled with disgust as he shoved her back against the building. “Tie them up. I don’t want anyone getting away. Then search the buildings again.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Sticks in a bundle are unbreakable.

  – KENYAN PROVERB –

  Nasha lifted the burlap sacks she’d hidden beneath and crept from the corner, listening to the men walking around in the courtyard outside the supply shed. She glanced at the trapdoor, saw it was securely closed, wondering if Mr. Pete and Miss Wendy would even notice she was gone. Probably not, she decided. She wasn’t like the other girls.

  People tended not to notice her.

  It was, after all, what made her a successful thief.

  Then again, Mr. Hank had noticed her. But only because she’d stolen his keys. She didn’t feel the least bit of guilt over seeing him leave, though she was sad to see Mr. Fargo go. He also tended to watch her closely, yet she sensed that he was different. He watched his wife closely, too.

  She liked that.

  It reminded her a bit of her uncle, how he had watched her aunt when Nasha first came to live with him. That was before Boko Haram had killed everyone who tried to stop them as they invaded the school, taking the girls hostage. So many of her friends were gone. By the grace of God, she’d escaped to her uncle’s home, even though he lived in the shadow of a Boko Haram stronghold. He’d had the foresight to shave her head and dress her in boy’s clothes. “No more Nasha. Nash is now your name,” he’d said, putting her to work in the field with the other male children, who were, for a while, too young to catch the eye of the terrorists in their hunt for new fighters. A self-educated man, her uncle had a saying for every situation. When she’d complained after the first day about a blister on her hand, he’d told he
r, “A blister will heal, yet—”

  “When can I go to school?” she asked, not wanting to hear yet another of his old proverbs.

  Her statement had angered him and he slammed his fist on the table, scaring her. “Everything you learned in school, you forget. You are no longer a girl. Even to the boys you work with—especially Chuk,” he said, naming her one friend in the village. “He’s too young to keep that a secret. Tell them nothing. Do you understand?”

  “No,” she replied, tears springing to her eyes.

  “A whisper released is like feathers soaring in the wind. You cannot catch them to take back. And you never know where they might land.”

  “But—”

  He grabbed her blistered hand, pain coursing through her fingers as he squeezed them between his. “If they find out you’re a girl, they’ll take you away. They’ll …” His gaze flicked to an empty chair at the table, where her aunt used to sit. He paused and gave a deep sigh. He’d never spoken about what had happened to her, why she was no longer there, and Nasha had never dared ask.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, having no idea what she’d done to rouse his anger.

  He said nothing at first, just watched the tears slipping down her cheeks. Realizing he still held her hand, he let loose, suddenly pulling her into his arms. “No more crying. You’re a boy now. You’re Nash.”

  “But I’m not.”

  “You are. And you can never tell anyone different. If they find out …” He held her away from him, looking deep into her eyes. “I’ll get you out of here. However long it takes. But until then, you must do as I say. Understand?”

  She nodded. “But when can I go to school?”

  “They hunt the schools. Destroy them. Take the girls. It’s not safe.”

  And that she did understand. She’d seen the empty building, listened to the wind whistling through the broken windows.

  Her uncle was determined that would not be her fate. For the next six weeks he disguised her right beneath the terrorists’ noses, sending her to work the fields by day and hiding her at night. Her best friend in the village, Chuk, thought she was a boy. Her uncle refused to let her tell him the truth. Their life was lonely, hard, but filled with love. At night he read to her from an old tattered book of proverbs that had been borrowed decades ago from the library in Jalingo, a day’s bus ride from his village. “Someday,” her uncle told her, “we’ll take the bus and get a new book.”