Blood Covenant (27 page)

Dear Reader,

Thank you so much for taking this journey with me. As I started doing the research for this book, I found myself afraid that you, as a reader, would find the plot unbelievable. Surely the story of a humanitarian crisis dealing with so many issues — from cholera to measles to rebels — could only be fabricated and would never happen in today’s world. Yet as I read story after story of individual refugees I found myself weeping with them over what they experienced. And I realized that, if anything, I had sanitized my story to make it more believable, because the facts tell another story.

According to the international aid organization Doctors Without Borders, there are forty-two million people in the world who have been displaced by war and violence. Read that again: forty-two million. So while the story behind
Blood Covenant,
including the setting, is fictional, the issue of those being forced to leave their homes with nothing more than the clothes on their back, often after witnessing murder, rape, violence, and kidnappings, is very real. But in spite of this horror, I didn’t want to stop the story there. Drawing from my own experiences across Africa over the past twenty years I wanted to tell a story that went beyond the adversities and gave a message of hope.

The truth is we don’t have to travel around the world to see people hurting and exploited and needing that message of hope. They’re real people we pass every day, living in our neighborhoods and attending our churches and schools. They’re empty and broken, searching for freedom and hope in an often hopeless world.

But maybe, like Paige — and myself — you often feel too small and inadequate to do what God is calling you to do. Paul says that it is through our weaknesses that we are made strong because of Christ’s power. At the greatest moment of weakness from the world’s point of view, Christ’s death on the cross brought victory and allowed God to enter into a relationship with us through that sacrifice.

Interestingly enough, God has been doing the same thing in my own life as He stretches me with new opportunities. Lynne Gentry, a close friend and fellow author, and I have recently started The ECHO Project, a nonprofit organization where ordinary people like you and me can make a difference in changing the world one individual at a time through assistance with education, compassion, health, and opportunities.

It’s tempting to believe one person cannot make a difference. But when we dare to become involved, the ECHO can be heard around the world. Find out how you can invest in an individual today in order to reap a changed world tomorrow by visiting our website at
www.theECHOproject.org
.
For more information about the refugee situation around the world, visit my website at
www.lisaharriswrites.com
.

It all starts with each one of us, wherever we are, letting God take us on that amazing journey He’s prepared for us.

Be blessed today,
Lisa Harris

DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

1. What character did you relate to most in this story and why?
   

2. Paige had to finally come to the point where she admitted her weaknesses and fears and continue on in God’s strength, not her own. Has there ever been a specific time in your own life when you realized you needed His strength in order to continue?
   

3. Have you ever been challenged to ask yourself if you are living out God’s purpose for your life? What was your response?
   

4. Have you noticed that the Bible is filled with inadequate, ordinary people? What was Gideon’s response when God called him in Judges 6:15?
   

5. What was Esther’s reaction in Esther 4:11 to her uncle Mordecai’s request that she must go before the king and beg for mercy for him and her people? What was Esther’s uncle’s response to her hesitation in verse 14?
   

6. God led Gideon to victory with only three hundred men, some trumpets, jars, and torches. Esther was able to save her people in the face of possible death. Neither of them triumphed through their own strength, but through God’s strength. The Bible is full of these kinds of stories. David was a shepherd who became the king of a nation. Rahab was a prostitute, yet because she feared God, she not only saved Israel’s spies, but she became a part of the lineage of Jesus. Think of someone you know today whom God has used to do extraordinary things with His power and share their story.
   

7. What does Paul say God determined from the very beginning of time in Acts 17:26? Why did Paul say that God did this in verse 27?
   

8. Did you realize that He is talking about you in these verses? In the middle of your ordinary, run-of-the-mill, take-out-the-trash-and-drive-the-kids-to-school routine, you’ve been called by God for this time. For this moment. To make a difference in the world around you. How do you see God calling you to make a difference in your world?
   

9. Ashley helps to represent the extreme dichotomy between the haves and the have-nots in this world. Her eyes were opened and she was changed through the difficult experiences she lived through. After reading this story, do you see your own life any differently? Do you see the world differently?
   

Also by Lisa Harris

Mission Hope Series
Blood Ransom

Mission Hope Series Blood Ransom

Lisa Harris

Natalie Sinclair is working to eradicate the diseases decimating whole villages in the Republic of Dhambizao when she meets Dr. Chad Talcott, a surgeon on sabbatical from a lucrative medical practice, now volunteering at a small clinic.

Meanwhile, things are unraveling in Dhambizao. Joseph Komboli returns to his village to discover rebel soldiers abducting his family and friends. Those that were too old or weak to work lay motionless in the African soil. When Chad and Natalie decide to help Joseph expose this modern–day slave trade–and a high–ranking political figure involved in it–disaster nips at their heels.

Where is God in the chaos? Will Chad, Natalie, and Joseph win their race against time? Romance and adventure drive Lisa Harris’s Blood Ransom, a powerful thriller about the modern–day slave trade and those who dare to challenge it.

Available in stores and online!

READ AN EXCERPT FROM THE PREVIOUS BOOK IN
THE MISSION HOPE SERIES: BLOOD RANSOM

PROLOGUE

A narrow shaft of sunlight broke through the thick canopy of leaves above Joseph Komboli’s short frame and pierced through to the layers of vines that crawled along the forest floor. He trudged past a spiny tree trunk — one of hundreds whose flat crowns reached toward the heavens before disappearing into the cloudless African sky — and smiled as the familiar hum of the forest welcomed him home.

A trickle of moisture dripped down the back of his neck, and he reached up to brush it away, then flicked at a mosquito. The musty smell of rotting leaves and sweet flowers encircled him, a sharp contrast to the stale exhaust fumes of the capital’s countless taxis or the stench of hundreds of humans pressed together on the dilapidated cargo boat he’d left at the edge of the river this morning.

Another flying insect buzzed in his ears, its insistent drone drowned out only by the birds chattering in the treetops. He slapped the insect away and dug into the pocket of his worn trousers for a handful of fire-roasted peanuts, still managing to balance the bag that rested atop his head. His mother’s sister had packed it for him, ensuring that the journey—by taxi, boat, and now foot—wouldn’t leave his belly empty. Once, not too long ago, he had believed no one living in the mountain forests surrounding his village, or perhaps even in all of Africa, could cook
goza
and fish sauce like his mother. But now, having ventured from the dense and sheltering rainforest, he knew she was only one of thousands of women who tirelessly pounded cassava and prepared the thick stew for their families day after day.

Still, his mouth watered at the thought of his mother’s cooking. The capital of Bogama might offer running water and electricity for those willing to forfeit a percentage of their minimal salaries, but even the new shirt and camera his uncle had given him as parting gifts weren’t enough to lessen his longings for home.

He wrapped the string of the camera around his wrist and felt his heart swell with pride. No other boy in his village owned such a stunning piece. Not that the camera was a frivolous gift. Not at all. His uncle called it an investment in the future. In the city lived a never-ending line of men and women willing to pay a few cents for a color photo. When he returned to Bogama for school, he planned to make enough money to send some home to his family—something that guaranteed plenty of meat and cassava for the evening meal.

Anxious to give his little sister, Aina, one of the sweets tucked safely in his pocket and his mother the bag of sugar he carried, Joseph quickened his steps across the red soil, careful to avoid a low limb swaying under the weight of a monkey.

A cry shattered the relative calm of the forest.

Joseph slowed as the familiar noises of the forest faded into the shouts of human voices. More than likely the village children had finished collecting water from the river and now played a game of chase or soccer with a homemade ball.

The wind blew across his face, sending a chill down his spine as he neared the thinning trees at the edge of the forest. Another scream split the afternoon like a sharpened machete.

Joseph stopped. These were not the sounds of laughter.

Dropping behind the dense covering of the large leaves, Joseph approached the outskirts of the small village, straining his eyes in an effort to decipher the commotion before him. At first glance everything appeared familiar. Two dozen mud huts with thatched roofs greeted him like an old friend. Tendrils of smoke rose from fires beneath rounded cooking pots that held sauce for evening meals. Brightly colored pieces of fabric fluttered in the breeze as freshly laundered clothes soaked up the warmth of the afternoon sun.

His gaze flickered to a figure emerging from behind one of the grass-thatched huts. Black uniform … rifle pressed against his shoulder … Joseph felt his lungs constrict. Another soldier emerged, then another, until there were half a dozen shouting orders at the confused villagers who stumbled onto the open area in front of them. Joseph watched as his best friend Mbona tried to fight back, but his hoe was no match against the rifle butt that struck his head. Mbona fell to the ground.

Ghost Soldiers!

A wave of panic, strong as the mighty Congo River rushing through its narrow tributaries, ripped through Joseph’s chest. He gasped for breath, his chest heaving as air refused to fill his lungs. The green forest spun. Gripping the sturdy branch of a tree, he managed to suck in a shallow breath.

He’d heard his uncle speak of the rumored Ghost Soldiers — mercenaries who appeared from nowhere and kidnapped human laborers to work as slaves for the mines. Inhabitants of isolated villages could disappear without a trace and no one would ever know.

Except he’d thought such myths weren’t true.

The sight of his little sister told him otherwise. His mind fought to grasp what was happening. Blood trickled down the seven-year-old’s forehead as she faltered in front of the soldiers with her hands tied behind her.

No!

Unable to restrain himself, Joseph lunged forward but tripped over a knotty vine and fell. A twig snapped, startling a bird into flight above him.

The soldier turned from his sister and stared into the dense foliage. Joseph lay flat against the ground, his hand clasped over the groan escaping his throat. The soldier hesitated a moment longer, then grabbed his sister’s arm and pulled her to join the others.

Choking back a sob, Joseph rose to his knees and dug his fingers into the hard earth. What could he do? Nothing. He was no match for these men. If he didn’t remain secluded behind the cover of the forest, he too would vanish along with his family.

The haunting sounds of screams mingled with gunshots. His grandfather fell to the ground and Joseph squeezed his eyes shut, blackness enveloping him. It was then, as he pressed his hand against his pounding chest, that he felt the camera swinging against his wrist. He stared at the silver case. Slowly, he pressed the On button.

This time, the world would know.

With a trembling arm Joseph lifted the camera. Careful to stay within the concealing shade of the forest, he snapped a picture without bothering to aim as his uncle had taught him. He took another photo, and another, and another … until the cries of his people dissipated on the north side of the clearing as the soldiers led those strong enough to work toward the mountains. The rest — those like his grandfather, too old or too weak to work in the mines — lay motionless against the now bloodstained African soil.

In the remaining silence, the voices of two men drifted across the breeze. English words were foreign to his own people’s uneducated ears but had become familiar to Joseph. What he heard now brought a second wave of terror …

“Only four more days until we are in power … There is no need to worry … The president will be taken care of … I can personally guarantee the support of this district …”

Joseph zoomed in and took a picture of the two men.

A monkey jumped to the tree above him and started chattering. One of the beefy soldiers jerked around, his attention drawn to the edge of the clearing. Joseph froze as his gaze locked with the man’s. Someone shouted.

If they caught him now, no one would ever know what had happened to his family.

Joseph scrambled to his feet as the soldier ran toward him, but the man was faster. The butt of a rifle struck Joseph’s head. He faltered, but as a trickle of blood dripped into his eye, he pictured Aina being led away … his grandfather murdered in cold blood …

Ignoring the searing pain, Joseph fought to pull loose from his attacker’s grip, kicked at the man’s shins. The soldier faltered on the uneven terrain. Clambering to his feet, Joseph ran into the cover of the forest. A rifle fired, and the bullet whizzed past his ear, but he kept moving. With the Ghost Soldier in pursuit, Joseph sprinted as fast as he could through the tangled foliage and prayed that the thick jungle would swallow him.