Chapter 13

CHAPTER 12 (revised ending)

Stefen. He was in danger. Of what, she didn’t know, but the alarm sounded inside. If they found him…

She ran through the back door to the kitchen and into the storage room, now empty. He was gone.


CHAPTER 13

Not only was he gone, no sign indicated he ever existed. The floor was swept recently; Novas could see the swirls of a straw broom in the dust. The bedding was gone too, and the remenants of Stefen’s clothing. She found the bucket for water returned to it’s normal position and the pan he had used scrubbed up and drying on a counter.

The noise coming from the front continued, and now grew louder as whoever making it came closer to the kitchen. They were searching the mission, usually off limits to all military. Even Tephoe had not set foot inside. This group was not so concerned about honoring their mission status as religious and non-participants in any uprising or war effort. Maybe they were Moslim and the Catholic mission meant nothing. Maybe they were of no religion and nothing meant nothing.

Novas shuttered. Rumors of sisters being killed and worse first were not uncommon in Africa, although they had not been specifically threatened. However, she thought of Tephoe’s three week agreement assumed with Father MacClenny. Could this group be searching for the same thing? And taking the sisters as they found them? No, the sounds were not of screams or fights, just of demands and shuffling around. And they were heading into the kitchen.

Novas slipped out the back door, debating with running through the back gate or climbing to the roof. She discarded the gate idea as Stefen had to be somewhere inside. The mission kept water basins to catch rainfall on the roof, and she could always say she was cleaning them in preparation for the next season. Sisters were always cleaning something, so it wouldn’t be a blatant lie.

She climbed the ladder to the roof, and for a moment felt safe from the outside. She grabbed a cloth from cabinet kept for storage and swirled it around an empty basin. It was instantly black from the dust of several weeks of no rain. While pretending to clean, she surveyed the surroundings. Here she could see into the town, now virtually empty, the soldiers or whatever they were milling around in front of the mission, and that she had forgotten to close the back gate. And, unfortunately, they could see her.

The soldiers pointed and started yelling. It wasn’t English, so her Moslim theory was beginning to make sense. Whoever they were yelling at was yelling back from inside. Someone fired a gun, and she instinctively ducked.

“Get down here, now.”

The words were English and cut worse than the gunfire. She peeked over the edge by the ladder while pretending to flap the cleaning cloth, and saw she was the object of the command. Bunching her robe for modesty, she slowly made her way to the ground, the dirty cloth over her shoulder.
The soldier giving the command grabbed her at the end of her decent. “What are you doing?” he demanded.

“Cleaning the basins, sir. To get them ready for rain.”

“It is months before rain. You are lying.”

“Basins cleaned weekly are ready should the season begin early.”

“Or, you are hiding, say a European recently left in your care? A dentist?”

He turned and snapped his fingers. Immediately, a group of men stepped forward. Novas cringed when she saw Nyeayea among them, smiling at something one of them said. So, they weren’t Muslims, but northern tribesmen. When did they get organized?

“Where is this man you care for?” Nyeayea asked, looking directly into her eyes, something he never did.

“I don’t know which man you are reffering to,” she stamered in reply. “What is his name?” She was certain Nyeayea could not know it.

Nyeayea was stopped, but only for an instant. “His name does not matter. You know who we want, the one’s whose broken arm and legs you just fixed. Is he up there? I say he is.” The smile was worse, with malice and anger replacing the fear Nyeayea usually presented himself with.

“If this man had broken arms and legs, he could not climb.”

The man facing her, apparently in charge of the soldiers, cut off the conversation and sent one of his men up the ladder. Nyeayea’s smile soured when he heard whatever the soldier shouted down. Novas knew it had to be verifying her claim.

Nyeayea spotted the opened back gate. “She took him through the gate. I will get him.” He took off running toward the opening and almost made it, before a single shot rang out, crumpling him to the ground.

The officer holstered his pistol and barked some commands. Several soldiers trotted toward the fallen man, flipped him over onto his stomach, and took turns stabbing him. Then they drug him though the gate and disappeared.

The officer faced Novas. “He said wherever we found you, we would find the dentist. Obviously, he lied. Do you lie too?” he asked, fingering his pistol.

“I don’t know where this man you speak of is. I do not lie.”

“It is good. Religious people lying, well it would give religions a bad name, don’t you think?” He grabbed her arm.

“What do you want?” Novas asked, trying to shake his hand off without success.

“World peace?” He laughed at his attempt of a joke. “But, lacking that, I want you.”