The Oracle Page 13

  That day never came. One night, her uncle shook her awake. “Time to go.”

  “It’s too early. The sun isn’t even up.”

  “Nasha,” he said, not dropping the a at the end of her name for the first time since she’d come to him. “Move. Quickly.”

  She roused herself from her cot, reaching for the lantern.

  “No light,” he said, handing over her clothes.

  She dressed in the dark. And he put her in the back of a borrowed truck along with a half-dozen other boys who were destined to become the next unwilling soldiers of Boko Haram. They picked up Chuk last. A year younger than her, he started crying as the truck bounced along the dirt road on their way out of the village.

  Nasha took his hand in hers. “We’ll stay together, like my uncle says. And watch out for each other. Okay?”

  “Promise?” Chuk said.

  “Promise.”

  Her uncle drove them to Jalingo. He’d made a deal with someone who promised to take care of the boys until he could come back for them.

  That had been well over a year ago.

  The man he’d entrusted had pocketed the money, leaving the boys to fend for themselves.

  Some of them ran off. Nasha, Chuk, and one other boy, Len, were picked up by the Kalu brothers as they wandered the streets of Jalingo. They may have escaped Boko Haram but they’d landed in a completely different hell, of that she had no doubt. The oldest Kalu brother, Kambili, had always told them this was their fate. This was what society’s rejects deserved.

  As much as she tried not to believe him, a part of her figured there was some truth to his words. Wasn’t that why bad things kept happening to her?

  Shaking off the old memories, especially the hurt of Chuk’s betrayal, Nasha crept toward the partially open shed door and peered out. She startled when she saw Mrs. Fargo, Miss Amal, and the four older girls surrounded by men with rifles.

  Frightened, she glanced toward the closed trapdoor, longing for the feeling of security, wondering if anyone would let her in if she were to knock.

  Still, she hesitated. Those girls down there might not be like her. But once she had been like them, thinking there was nothing else in the world but loving parents and a new day. And as much as she wanted to return to that life, free from Boko Haram and the likes of the Kalu brothers, she refused to knock on the door. If someone heard her, every one of those girls would be in danger.

  Heavy footsteps scuffed across the courtyard toward the shed, and she hurried back to her corner, kicking something as she scrambled beneath the burlap sacks. She looked out, saw a small square thing near the door, too far to reach without exposing herself. Mrs. Fargo’s phone, she realized, her heart beating so hard, she was sure that the man who walked into the shed could hear each and every thud.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  He who is sick will not refuse medicine.

  – AFRICAN PROVERB –

  Sam pulled up to the lobby doors of the Jalingo hotel, parked, then pushed the hatch release button, looking forward to having Hank and his bucket gone from the car. Thankfully, whatever had plagued the man seemed to have let up once they were on the road, though he still looked pale and weak. “I’ll get your bag,” Sam said.

  “Appreciate it.”

  Sam walked around to the back of the Land Rover, grabbed Hank’s duffel from the cargo, as Renee LaBelle hobbled out the lobby doors on her crutches, her own bag slung over her shoulder.

  “Don’t close that,” she said as he slammed the tailgate shut.

  Hank hauled himself and his bucket from the car. “LaBelle?” he said, looking at her travel bag. “Where are you going?”

  “I left a voice mail on Remi’s phone. I thought that’s why you were here. Well, why Sam was here. Why are you here?” she asked Hank.

  “Sick.” He held up the bucket. “I didn’t want to pass anything on to the kids. I figured I must have picked up what you had.”

  “I’m fine,” she said. “I think it was a bout of food poisoning or a very quick bug. Anyway”—she smiled at Sam—“seeing as how you’re here, can I catch a ride with you to the airport?” She gave a pleading smile. “I’ve made a late-night flight back to Tunis.”

  “Everything okay?” Sam asked.

  “Unfortunately, no. There was a break-in at the dig site. Luckily, I think it was interrupted before too much was disturbed, but I need to get back right away.”

  Hank put his hand on her arm. “I’ll go with you.”

  “Au contraire,” she said, acknowledging his bucket.

  “Really,” he said, quickly setting the pail at the curb. “I’m feeling better already.”

  “Even if you were, the flight’s booked full. Besides, you look like death warmed over. You’d never get through airport security.”

  “She’s right,” Sam said. “They’d quarantine you before you ever made it through the terminal.”

  Renee looked at her watch. “Hate to rush you out of here. My plane leaves in a few hours.”

  Sam took Renee’s bag from her, slung it over his shoulder, then set Hank’s bag at his feet. “And I have to pick up Lazlo.”

  Hank looked at Sam in disbelief. “But—”

  “Get some rest,” Sam said, opening the tailgate with a key on his fob and depositing Renee’s bag. He helped her into the front passenger’s seat, put her crutches in the back, and walked around to the driver’s side. “Couple of days, you’ll be right as rain. Oh, and thanks for your help with the dorm. Appreciate it.”

  Sam slid behind the wheel as Renee buckled her seat belt. She rolled down her window, waving at Hank as they drove off. “Room service,” she called out. “They serve a mean chicken broth.”

  When it was clear Sam was driving into town instead of out, Renee looked over at him. “Shouldn’t we be heading the other way? Airport? Lazlo?”

  “Gotta make a quick stop first. Sorry. Should have warned you.”

  He drove to the street where Nasha had stolen the keys from Hank, parking the Land Rover in front of the warehouse store. He looked over at Renee. “You think you can drive the car?”

  “My right foot is fine. Why?”

  “Good.” He took her crutches from the back, bringing them around to her. Once she was behind the wheel, he said, “Sit here, doors locked, engine running. I don’t want you falling prey to the pickpockets.”

  “What exactly are you doing here?”

  “A little chat with the remaining Kalu brother. I need some background on that kid we found.”

  “The pickpocket? Why?”

  “Long story,” he said. “If I’m not back in half an hour, drive yourself to the airport and send Lazlo back for me.”

  “Sam, what kind of chat are we talking about?”

  “I guess that depends on how forthcoming the man is with his information.”

  “Isn’t he part of the same group who stole your truck? Are you sure you should be doing this by yourself?”

  “I’ll be fine.” He started to walk off, stopped, and rapped on the hood of the Land Rover. “Might want to roll up that window. Like I said, pickpockets.”

  Within moments, the kids swarmed around Sam, at first begging, then quickly backing off as though suddenly recognizing him and recalling their last encounter. A few followed at a safe distance as he turned the corner and ducked into a doorway, waiting for them to catch up. He didn’t wait long. Two boys rounded the corner and he stepped out, blocking their path.

  “Don’t run off,” he said as they started backing away. “I’ve got a deal for you.”

  They stopped, eyeing him warily. One tilted his head back, trying to look defiant. “What sort of deal?”

  “I need to talk to Kambili Kalu. Where can I find him?”

  “You can’t. He finds you.”

  The other boy added, “If he wants.”

  “The thing is,” Sam said, “I’m a bit short on time.” He fanned out some bills in front of them. “Tell me where he is and I’ll make it worth yo
ur while.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  If you don’t stand for something, you will fall for something.

  – AFRICAN PROVERB –

  The kidnappers lined up the women against the siding of the unfinished dorm, tied their hands behind their back and ordered them to sit. Remi, Amal, Zara, Jol, Maryam, and Tambara huddled together. Though tears slid down the girls’ cheeks, they remained stoic.

  Makao ordered his men to search the buildings a third time. “There’s a ladder,” he said, nodding to the one Pete had used to get on the roof. “Maybe there’s an attic in one of these buildings. Search every corner, anywhere someone might hide.”

  “This is my fault,” Amal said after the men moved off. “Had the girls not stopped to help me, they’d have been safely away.”

  “No,” Zara said, near tears. “The only reason anyone was in there was because I was too tired to wake up. And then we heard the gunshot and—”

  “It’s no one’s fault,” Remi said, looking over at them. “And we’re going to get out of this.”

  “How?” Amal said.

  “I’m not sure. Yet.”

  One of the men looked at them. Amal waited until he turned away, then whispered, “Do you think they’re Boko Haram?”

  Remi thought about the attack on the road and the men who’d been hiding in the back of the white pickup. The road spikes would have disabled their vehicles, which meant they weren’t in it for the truck, the rental car, or the cargo. At least not the cargo meant for the school. Undoubtedly, they’d been after hostages. These men had enough firepower to ensure that anyone they came up against would quickly surrender without a fight. “I have no idea. But whoever they are, there’s no doubt they’re holding us for ransom.”

  Zara looked at her in alarm. “My father doesn’t have any money. Who’ll pay?”

  “My husband will.” But only as a last resort—that, Remi kept to herself. Right now, she needed the girls to remain calm. “Everything’s going to be fine. I promise.”

  Her words sounded hollow even to her. A loud crash, then another and another, all coming from the dorm, startled the girls as the men ransacked the school.

  “What are they doing?” Maryam asked, her voice shaking.

  “Looking for the others.”

  “But where are they?”

  “Not here,” Remi said.

  The answer seemed to confuse the girls, but Remi didn’t have time to come up with a plausible explanation. Noises came from every direction as the men searched. “Makao,” one of the bandits called out from the cafeteria. He walked over, looking in the door, the two talking intently. Remi wondered what they’d found that was so interesting.

  “Look,” Tambara whispered. “At the shed.”

  She turned to see Nasha peering out the door, watching the men standing by the mess hall. As much as Remi wanted to call out to her, tell her to stay there, she didn’t dare make a sound, even when the girl slipped out, ducking behind one of the planters. A moment later, she belly-crawled to the edge of the wooden box, looking out through the long tussock of grass that grew up at the corner of the bed.

  Zara took a breath. “What’s she doing?”

  Remi shook her head at Nasha, warning her away, but the girl darted toward them, scrambling into the space between Remi and Zara just as Scarface looked back to check on them. He watched them for several seconds, and Remi leaned forward, trying her best to block his view of the girl.

  Apparently not realizing they’d gained an extra hostage, he returned his attention to whatever the man was telling him about what he’d seen in the mess hall.

  Remi glanced over at Nasha, relief mixed with worry. If Makao connected her to the missing girls … Knowing they might have only seconds, she said, “Do you remember how to send a picture on a phone?”

  She did. “Amal showed me. The button with the little white cloud. And then I press the camera button.”

  “Good. I dropped my phone somewhere in the shed. If you find it, I need you to send a message to Sam. But you have to unlock the phone first.”

  “How?”

  “You’ll see the numbers when you press the round button at the bottom. Seven-one-two-two.”

  “Seven-one-two-two.”

  “When the screen comes up, take a photo and send it to Sam.”

  “How do I find his number?”

  “Unless someone else texted me, it should be the top number on the messages.”

  “What do I say?”

  “Help. Do you think you can do that?”

  She nodded.

  “Good girl. If he calls, tell him they have men watching down near the farm.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Zara look over at her in alarm, tears clouding her eyes. “He needs to know.”

  “Okay.”

  “And no matter what happens, don’t let them see you. I want you to hide.”

  Nasha looked at the other girls, then Remi, her chest rising in defiance. “No. I won’t. I might be just a girl, but I want to fight.” She lifted her chin, daring Remi to refuse her.

  Remi searched the girl’s determined face, knowing without a doubt that if she didn’t give the girl some direction, Nasha would engage the enemy on her own. She seemed to fear nothing, which was what worried Remi. If she turned into a mini rogue agent, doing whatever she wanted, chances were good she might be caught. Far better to keep her safe so that if all else failed she could warn Sam. “You can help, if you promise to do exactly what I say. If it’s too dangerous, you have to hide.”

  “I promise.”

  The other girls looked from Remi to Nasha, their eyes filled with uncertainty. Remi outlined her plan, starting with her pack hidden beneath the towels between the hampers. Nasha listened intently, nodding, as Remi told her what she wanted done. “If you can’t get to my pack, don’t worry. What’s more important is the road spikes we found. They’re in a box in the shed.”

  “I know where they are.”

  “Good. You’ll have to get the box out without them seeing or hearing. Maybe the girls and I can create a distraction.”

  “Like the boys do when we pickpocket?”

  “Just like that. If we can’t make one, you need to wait. I’m going to try to get us moved to the office. That will be closest to the truck and the keys. There’s a window in the office bathroom.” Remi, about to tell her that the window should be open, glanced over at Makao, shocked to see him looking their direction.

  His eyes locked on hers and he drew his gun, then stalked across the courtyard toward them.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  An army of sheep led by a lion

  can defeat an army of lions led by a sheep.

  – GHANAIAN PROVERB –

  Within seconds he stood in front of them, pointing his weapon at Remi’s chest. “There are twenty trays and food in the cafeteria, waiting to be served. Where is everyone?”

  “I told you. Gone. Some of the kids were sick. We were worried it might be contagious, so we did an emergency evacuation. They won’t be back.”

  “The food—”

  “You’re welcome to wait, but it’ll be a long one.”

  Makao started to turn away when he seemed to notice Nasha for the first time. He scrutinized her for several interminable seconds, his gaze narrowing, when two of his men appeared from the back of the compound.

  “The place is deserted,” one of them said. “But there’s a huge pile of dirt behind that building.” He pointed toward the supply shed. “We can’t figure out where it came from.”

  Scarface looked at Remi for an explanation. “Well?”

  “Honestly, I have no idea,” she replied, grateful his attention was no longer on Nasha. “I’ve only been here a few days. But I’d assume it’s topsoil from the firebreak around the school.” She nodded toward the garden area. “They’ve been using it in the planters.”

  She hoped he’d believe the partial lie. The area outside the fence was plowed regularly as a firebreak to sepa
rate the forest from the school, but it was clearly contaminated with grass and weeds—which easily could be seen if they walked outside the courtyard for a closer look.

  He seemed to buy it. Her relief was short-lived when his interest focused on the shed. “And why is that building round? Different from the others?”

  “It was an experiment in recycling.” From the corner of her eye, she saw the older girls looking at the shed. Keeping her voice nonchalant, she added, “They filled the plastic bottles with dirt and used them for the walls.”

  He studied the structure. “What’s in it?”

  “Tools. Feed for the goats and chickens. Nothing much.”

  “I want to see this bottle building.” He and two men walked toward the shed, stood in front of it a few moments, discussing something she couldn’t hear.

  Nasha had an innate sense of timing. The moment the men looked away, she dashed toward the planter, ducking out of sight.

  Amal stared after her, then leaned toward Remi. “You’re sure that’s a good idea?”

  “Worst case? They catch her and she ends up here with us.”

  “You’re positive about that?”

  If anything happened to Nasha, Remi would never forgive herself. But she’d seen the child in action, feeling certain that she had the skills to survive. “Yes.”

  For the first time since they were captured, a sense of hope filled her. “Say nothing,” she told the other girls as Nasha scurried toward the picnic benches and behind the tree. A moment later, they saw the branches above moving. “Whatever you do, don’t look up there. If they find her …”