Blood Covenant (4 page)

SEVEN

MONDAY, FEBRUARY 21, 2:58 P.M.
REBEL BASE CAMP

… In other news from the African continent, talks continue in the capital of the Republic of Dhambizao between the government and spokesmen for the rebel leaders, but many fear that the resolution to the three-week-long standoff is nowhere in sight. Rumors continue to spread that villagers are being butchered in their beds by rebel soldiers, giving way to fears by some of a possible genocide. President Tau insists that his army is in control of the region and denies that the rebels are gaining any ground, despite their threats. He also denied rumors that the RD is heading toward a civil war.

On the other side of the controversy, rebels maintain that they now control over seventy-five percent of the Mponi region, where their camp is believed to be located. It is also estimated that in the past week another five thousand have fled to escape the heart of the conflict, leaving aid organizations overwhelmed with high numbers of refugees and few resources.

To assure his people, Tau addressed the country yesterday from his home in the capital and told those listening that the army is still in control, and that despite the rebels’ demands no group would be able to coerce the government.

Later, a spokesman for President Tau even went
so
far as to say that the RD is willing to offer amnesty to the leaders of the Ghost Soldiers in exchange for an end to their reign of terror. But the International Criminal Court says that their organization will not withdraw the international arrest warrants they issued last month.

Because of this, many fear President Tau’s assurance that everything is under control is simply not true. An American aid worker was shot and killed earlier this morning, fueling fears for foreigners living inside the country and forcing the president to implement a forced evacuation of all foreigners in the Mponi region.

Washington has repeatedly said that it will not intervene in the conflict, though a spokesman from the State Department did say that marine expeditionary units have been alerted to prepare for a potential rescue mission to pick up evacuees if necessary …

Jonas tossed the cigarette butt onto the ground and watched the orange tip smolder for a few seconds before it turned into a pile of pale ashes. His own heart had been extinguished years ago, making revenge far more palatable. But even the numbness couldn’t completely hide the raging anger inside. Or the guilt.

A mosquito buzzed in his ear. He swatted at the nuisance, wishing the late afternoon held more of a breeze. The shaded compound held little relief from the sun’s fury, for him or the dozens of other soldiers and their women who made up the newly formed camp. The success of the past few days hadn’t been enough to sway the outcome of the situation. They were going to need to do more to convince Tau and his army they had no intention of backing down until their commanders — including his brother — were released. He’d worry about the next step after that.

Ngozi slid into the wooden seat beside him, a bottle of beer nestled between his fingers. “I am worried.”

Jonas tried to shove aside his own tremulous thoughts, but knew the nightmares and the constant worry would never leave him. Ngozi’s stature resembled his own lean frame. Too much drinking and too many women killed a man on this continent. But he never took time to worry about tomorrow. Getting through each day was enough.

“Why are you worried? Nelson radioed an hour ago and told me that their attack was a success. They’ll be back in a couple hours.”

Ngozi shook his head. “Successful? They were supposed to return with satellite phones and equipment. Instead they left a man dead. How well do you think that will go over with the International Criminal Court?”

Jonas laughed. They’d killed dozens in the past three weeks, and Ngozi was worried about one man? “There are always casualties in war, and I have never known you to worry about a few dead bodies.”

“Getting the Americans involved does not equal success.”

Jonas had wanted to ignore that detail. Few cared when the rebels spent their time burning down villages and raping women, but kill a white man and the world reacted.

Ngozi leaned forward. “They will send more troops, the UN will get involved, and then where will that leave us?”

Jonas shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. By the time President Tau assembles his troops and comes after us, it will be too late. We will have squeezed Tau until he has no choice but to give us what we want.”

“And then what? You think they will actually honor any promises of amnesty to your brother, Seba, and the others?”

Jonas turned and studied his friend. The hard lines on his face displayed the scars of the rough life they’d both lived. “It will not matter. We will disappear somewhere and live like kings.”

“And how do we do that when we’ve lost a dozen of our own men and do not have the resources of the army.”

“All we have to do is strike back faster and smarter.”

“And that means burning down more villages to prove a point?”

“When did your conscience start bothering you? We wanted to get their attention, which is what we have done. And until our demands are met, I have no intention of stopping. Have you forgotten why we’re doing this?”

“No, but—”

“We cannot forget that our government once promised us far more than the status of
renegade.
If we do not win, we will end up nothing more than cowards like the rest of them.”

“Maybe, but how much longer can this continue? Or is this nothing more than revenge because the army murdered your wife and children and now your brother sits rotting in prison?”

Jonas bit back the acidic reply that hovered on the tip of his tongue. Right now he needed Ngozi on his side. “My brother and the others are why we will continue to fight. And the fact that they murdered my wife and children puts me in the perfect position. They have taken everything I have and I have nothing more to lose.”

“What about Eshe?”

Jonas’ gaze flashed to the thatched hut where a young girl lay on a reed mat, their child growing within her large belly. Yara toddled beside her, then fell down, her brown legs covered with sand. His gaze dropped. Children didn’t belong in a camp run by a bunch of renegade soldiers, just like he hadn’t belonged in one at seven. But he’d had no alternative. Eshe had chosen to stay. Or so he liked to believe. He’d heard little complaints from the woman he’d chosen as his second wife.

“Do you plan to risk the lives of your children for … revenge?”

“Yes.” Jonas’ jaw tensed. Walking away might have once been an option, but not anymore. “We both know that it will take bloodshed to get what is ours.”

“Except they will never give it to us. Eventually, they will slice our throats or leave us rotting in prison before they give in to our demands. They know it is only a matter of time before our resources run out and we are forced to — ”

“Give up?” Jonas kicked over the wooden chair beside him, then pulled out his gun. The nozzle of his weapon brushed against Ngozi’s cheek. He winced at the sudden movement of his injured arm, but bit back the pain. He didn’t need anyone that bad. “I’m in charge now and I say we will not give up. Besides, you talk as a fool and make the death of those we’ve lost in this fight worth nothing. Is that what you want? Because if it is, walk away now and take the rest of your followers with you.”

Ngozi’s jaw trembled, and he dropped his gaze. “What are you suggesting?”

“That you have forgotten they used every one of us to do their dirty work, then spit us out like vomit onto the African soil. If a few more people die, then so be it, but you are a coward if you walk away now.”

Jonas shot his rifle into the air, then stepped into the center of the compound, looking one by one at each of the men who’d been drawn into the commotion. “Anyone else ready to walk away from this, or have you already forgotten how our government was quick to place all the blame on us while they spent the profits made from the slave camps like rich men?”

When no one responded, Jonas righted the chair he’d kicked over and sat back down, still grasping his weapon. Most of the men had already lost interest in the discussion and had gone back to sleeping in the afternoon heat.

One of his men approached, his left brow twitching. “I know where we can get supplies.”

“Weapons?”

“Mainly food and communication devices.”

Jonas wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and considered the offer. He’d be the first to admit that weapons were a priority, but it was food that would sustain the fight. “Where?”

“There is a convoy of trucks headed from the capital to the refugee camp twenty kilometers north of us.”

A plan began to form as Jonas mulled over the idea. “The government’s not listening, so maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s time to take things a step further.”

EIGHT

MONDAY, FEBRUARY 21, 3:14 P.M.
5,000 FEET ABOVE THE KINGANI REFUGEE CAMP

Paige gazed out the window of the Cessna at the hundreds of white tents dotting the flat landscape in the distance. Beyond them, billowy clouds met the blue-gray mountains rising from the earth in the east. The plane banked to the left in preparation for landing her and her team.

She took in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. In the past three months, her emotions had been pulled in more directions than she’d ever imagined possible. Lack of basic resources had showed her up close the heartbreaking struggle her patients faced daily. Tayla’s image surfaced, reminding her how quickly situations became personal. Day-to-day living was difficult for most in the best of circumstances, but with the rebels slaughtering villagers and cholera ravaging the camp, survival would take a miracle.

Paige grasped the armrests as the plane banked to the left and the majestic peaks of Mt. Maja came into view. She’d spent the past seven years since graduating from med school dealing with emergency medical situations, but here, limited resources called for creative responses for needs that never seemed to wane. With long hours and a steep learning curve, the work was draining both physically and emotionally. Which was why she was ready to go home. She searched for the extra reserve of energy it was going to take to deal with the situation and came up empty.

I don’t want to do this any more, God. There are
so
many needs, and all I can see is suffering …

“Are you ready for this?” Nick’s question from the pilot’s seat brought her back to the present.

“I’m worried that what we have isn’t going to be enough.” She avoided answering his question. “A handful of nurses, a couple of lab technicians, plus a planeload of supplies … and over ten thousand people.”

“If Jesus could feed a crowd of over five thousand with five loaves and two fishes, then I expect we can trust him to give us what we need today.”

The analogy struck a cord. “Trust has come in spurts lately. We’re going to need a few miracles in the coming days to get the mortality rate back under control.”

“I know I’m praying for a miracle.” Nick shot her a smile, then tugged on his ball cap. “Make sure you’re buckled up. We’ll be landing in another couple minutes.”

Paige stared out across the flat plateau as they began their descent and took in the scene. They were low enough that she could make out the colorful clothes of the women standing between the white igloo-type tents that had become home for the thousands forced to leave their own land and way of life.

Two minutes later, the plane landed on the grassy field on the western edge of the camp that to Paige seemed to stretch on forever. Mt. Maja rose in the background, its icy cap hovering in the distance, a sharp contrast to the hot and humid temperatures on the ground.

She stepped down from the plane and tried to take in the familiar collage of sights, smells, and sounds engulfing her. Photos she’d seen of refugee camps before her arrival in the RD had only been able to convey sterilized stills of the scene. Their thousands of pixels had been unable to transfer the smells of cooking fires and dirty latrines. Or the desperation filling the air that these innocent men, women, and children were forced to deal with on a daily basis. Or the scent of death lingering in the air.

“Dr. Ryan?” A tall, lanky man wearing a safari hat stopped in front of their small group. “I’m Taz Michaels, and we’re glad you’re here. I’m the logistician for the camp.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” Paige shook his hand, then introduced the rest of the team. “I can see that you’ve accomplished a lot in the short time you’ve been here, but Digane told us that the situation is deteriorating rapidly.”

“We’ve already started removing the bodies, disinfecting and burying them.”

“How many?”

“I lost count after the first fifty or sixty.” He pointed to the other end of the camp where dozens of freshly dug graves marked the landscape. “We’re digging new graves every day.”

Paige’s stomach cinched. The sting of death never lessened. “It looks like we’ve got a lot of work ahead of us.”

“And number one on my list is to finish setting up your cholera treatment center.” He picked up one of the bags and pulled the strap across his shoulder. “We’ve already constructed an isolation tent with the help of some of the locals.”

“We’ll need to train some of them to chlorinate the water sources and help keep the area inside the tent disinfected as well.”

Nick handed her a medical bag, then quickly distributed the rest of the equipment.

“If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you where you’ll be working.” Taz started for the cluster of large tents set at the southern entrance of the camp. “Beside the cholera epidemic, we’re dealing with typical refugee-camp issues. We have eight local nurses working in the newly set up clinic. As soon as the rest of the supplies arrive, there are also plans for a malnutrition center. Anything you need to know from me before we get going?”

“Several things.” Paige had her own list of questions she needed to ask to get a complete feel of the situation. “I understand there’re currently about ten thousand refugees?”

“At least two thousand have registered in the past seventy-two hours, which brings our total to just over ten thousand. We’ve set up twelve hundred tents with another five hundred on the way, but even that isn’t going to be enough.”

Paige gazed out across the sea of white tents — constructed to keep out the rain and reflect the suns rays in the heat of the day — and prayed again for that miracle. From her vantage point, it was going to take more than five loaves of bread, or even five stones, to slay this giant.

Women carrying bright-yellow jerricans were lined up for as far as she could see at one of the water points, the skirts of their colorful dresses fluttering in the afternoon breeze. Toddlers clung to their legs or played beside them on the muddy paths.

A group of children ran up to them, waving and smiling in welcome. Despite the scent of death lingering in the air, life still went on. Paige waved back, wishing there was something she could do to make their lives normal again. No child deserved to live in these kinds of conditions.

Paige turned back to Taz, knowing that behind the bright smiles often lurked the dark realities of something even more serious. Those with the AIDS virus would be especially vulnerable to cholera. “What about the prevalence of HIV/AIDS?”

“We haven’t had the time or resources to find out, but it’s suspected to be high in the area, along with tuberculosis.”

“Which will only fuel the cholera.” Concern began chipping away at her desire to leave. “How much clean water is available?”

“About two-and-a-half liters per person per day.”

Paige quickly calculated the substantive shortage. Even if the weather cooled, it wouldn’t be nearly enough. “The recognized minimum standard is fifteen to twenty liters per person per day.”

“With the fuel truck that’s on its way we’ll be able to dig a couple of boreholes. That should supply us with most of the water we need.”

Clean water was only one of the logistical issues that would have to be tackled. The higher the influx of people arriving at the camp, the higher the need for sanitation — something hard to achieve in an emergency situation.

“What about latrines?”

“So far we’ve had two hundred latrines dug using the local labor, but as the numbers increase, we’re going to need to dig more.”

Paige shook her head, though this time she wasn’t surprised with the answer. The international standard was twenty people per latrine, making this setup again far below minimum standards. She’d never get used to working against the odds.

Taz stopped in front of her. “What do I need to do to help get you started?”

“As soon as we get the supplies unloaded, we’ll need to get the isolation tent set up so we can start registering and rehydrating patients.”

She followed the team past a row of tents, stopping when Taz excused himself to talk with one of the refugees. A group of old men sat playing cards. Barefooted children laughed, seemingly oblivious to the drama taking place around them. A generator buzzed in the background, competing with music playing from a radio. A young mother cooked over a fire, its smoky scent filling Paige’s nostrils. But she didn’t miss the exhaustion that filled the woman’s expression or her dehydrated form and sunken eyes. Cholera.

God, they’re like prisoners with nowhere to run.

The scene triggered a verse she’d read a few months ago in which God had told Zechariah that he would free the prisoners from the waterless pit.

The now familiar feeling of helplessness that had haunted her since her arrival in the RD returned. They needed freedom. How many of these families had been displaced not once, but two and three times? They’d escaped their homes with no way to get food; they’d been separated from their families, vulnerable to the elements, and caught up as victims in someone else’s war.

She patted the head of a small toddler with a yellow band around his ankle that signaled that he suffered from moderate malnutrition and needed to be watched by the medical team. Why was it that there were never enough latrines, water, and food? Even here she’d never be able to give them everything they needed.

Paige crouched down in front of the small group of children that had gathered around her. She pulled one of the square pieces of paper she’d brought with her out of her pocket and waved it slowly in front of her. Eyes wide, the children waited to see what she was going to do.

With the same dramatic flair her father had used when teaching her the art of origami, Paige began systematically folding and refolding the sheet of green paper. By now, several of the adults had joined the circle to see what she was doing. Two front legs emerged from the diamond-shaped folded paper, then two back legs. She held up the frog’s body so everyone could see it, then gently blew up the main body of the small figure.

Giggles erupted from the group as she handed the frog to one of the little boys.

“You’re good.” Nick, who’d hung back beside her while the others stood talking, laughed. “Good enough to think about changing careers if you ever get tired of the medical side.”

“I’ll have to think about that.” She glanced up at him, taken in by the toffee-brown eyes that conveyed a sense of calm she needed at the moment. “I have to admit that all this is overwhelming.”

Nick held out his hand and one of the little girls grasped his fingers and grinned up at him. “Yes, but that’s why you’re here. And I’m already convinced that there’s a certain doctor standing beside me who can handle the task ahead. All you have to worry about is one person at a time.”

One person at a time.

Paige drew in a deep breath. She could do this.

“Dr. Ryan?” Taz walked back to her. The carefree smile he’d worn earlier had vanished.

Paige pressed her shoulders back. “What’s wrong?”

“We have a potential problem on our hands. The truck that’s on its way here with fuel for the boreholes is stuck in the mud five kilometers down the road. There’s already a crowd trying to take advantage of the situation and siphon the fuel.”

Paige put her hand up to block the sun and gazed down the empty road. Digane might have put her in charge, but she wasn’t ready for them to look to her for answers. From the short briefing she’d received before she left, she knew that the road leading from the camp was lightly populated. It wouldn’t take long before word spread, and if the rebels got their hands on that fuel, the situation could quickly spiral out of control. It could take days before another truck arrived. Which meant they had to act fast.

“We need that fuel.” She looked Taz in the eye. “Have the rest of the supplies unloaded from the plane. And in the meantime, we’ll need a car and a driver to assess the situation.”

Taz nodded. “Give me five minutes.”