The devils own, p.12
The Devil's Own, page 12
Kerry turned warm beneath the heat of his eyes. She was included in his compliment. After she passed it along to the orphans, they smiled up at him.
They fell into Linc and struck out through the dense jungle, which would have been impenetrable were it not for the merciless hacking of Linc’s machete. Kerry kept her eyes trained on his back. Before wading into the river, he had tied the sleeves of his bush jacket around his waist and fashioned a sweatband for his forehead out of a handkerchief. The muscles of his arms, back, and shoulders rippled with each upward swing and downward arc of the huge knife. Kerry let that supple rhythm entrance her. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have had the energy to place one foot in front of the other.
Her aching body cried out for rest, her dry mouth for water, her empty stomach for food. When she was certain that she would drop on the next step, Linc halted and called a rest. Bearing Lisa, who had fallen asleep in her arms, Kerry slumped to the ground. The children all did the same, dropping in their tracks.
“Joe, pass around that canteen, but be sure to ration the water.” Silently the boy moved to obey Linc’s request. “How long have you been carrying Lisa?” he asked Kerry as he dropped to his knees beside her and offered her the canteen that had been hanging from his own belt. She in turn raised it to Lisa’s parched lips.
“I don’t know. For a while. She was too exhausted to take another step.”
“I’ll carry her from now on.”
“You can’t carry her and cut a path at the same time.” She lifted her heavy hair off her neck, knowing that she would never take a hairbrush for granted again.
“And I can’t afford to have you collapse on me. You’re not having your period or anything like that, are you?”
She gazed back at him in speechless astonishment. She didn’t even realize that she let go of her hair and let it fall back to her shoulders. She ducked her head. “No.”
“Well, that’s good. Now take a drink of water.” After she had recapped the canteen and handed it to him, she said, “I’m sorry about your cameras.”
“Yeah, so am I. We’d been through a lot together.”
She could tell by his grin that he was teasing her. “I mean it. I’m sorry you had to destroy them.”
“They can be replaced.”
“What about your film?”
“I hope the containers are as watertight as they’re advertised to be. If they are, I’ll have a helluva story to sell when I get home.” He stood up. “I’ll carry Lisa, and no more arguments about it. We can’t go much farther before dark.”
He offered his hand to her. Kerry accepted it gratefully and relied on him to pull her to her feet. He swung Lisa onto his back, hoisted her into a comfortable position, and moved to the head of the line again.
Kerry felt dangerously close to tears.
She became immune to the buzzing insects, the slithering progress of jungle reptiles close to her feet, the sweltering, steamy afternoon heat, the raucous chatter of monkeys and the keening of birds. She concentrated solely on following Linc’s lead and staying on her feet even when her body threatened to fold in upon itself and never move again.
The sun had long since set and the shadows of the jungle were dark and threatening before Linc stopped. He had stumbled upon a shallow stream beneath a slender waterfall which trickled between two vine-shrouded boulders. He eased Lisa off his back and rolled his shoulders to work the knots out.
The orphans were too tired to complain. Some of them were already asleep as Kerry circulated among them carrying canteens of cool water fresh from the stream. There was no food to distribute, and even if there had been, they were too exhausted to eat it.
Kerry longed to take her boots off and put her feet in the water. Indulging in that luxury was out of the question, however. Her feet might swell so much that she couldn’t get her boots back on. Should they be attacked, she wouldn’t have time. And from the way Linc was circling the perimeter of their resting place, attack seemed a very real possibility.
He moved toward her and sat down. His deep frown prompted her to ask, “Did they follow us?”
“I don’t think they followed our trail, but they’re on our heels just the same. I can smell the smoke from their campfires. Apparently they don’t think we pose much of a threat.” As he talked he was making a thick paste out of a handful of dirt and drops of water from the canteen. “Keep the children quiet. Take cover if anyone you can’t identify approaches.”
Terror smote her chest. “Where are you going?”
“To their camp.”
“Their camp! Are you crazy?”
“Undoubtedly. Or I wouldn’t be here in the first place.” He gave her a wry grin. Kerry couldn’t have fashioned a smile if her life depended on it. Linc motioned Joe over to them. “Will you go with me?”
“Si,” the boy said.
“Smear some of this mud on your face and arms.” Linc extended his hand. Joe scooped a large dollop of the mud from Linc’s palm and began spreading it over his exposed skin as Linc was doing.
With apprehensive eyes, Kerry watched them methodically preparing to do battle. “Why are you going into their camp?”
“To steal weapons.”
“Why? We’ve come this far without weapons.”
She struggled to keep the tears out of her voice, but they were there. And even though it was too dark for Linc to see her stricken features, he could hear the stark fear in her voice.
“Kerry,” he said gently, “do you really think that either side in this damn civil war is going to let an airplane from the United States land, then let us waltz on and fly off just like that?” He snapped his fingers.
It was a rhetorical question. He didn’t expect an answer and didn’t get one. He went on. “If the plane is there as you seem to believe it will be, and if we get on it at all, it will be amidst gunfire, probably from all directions. I can’t fight off two armies with one machete.”
The thought of gunfire appalled her. But she realized that what Linc said was true. The fighters in this war weren’t likely to wave bye-bye from the ground as they took off in an airplane.
Why hadn’t she thought of the actual escape before? Reaching the rendezvous point had been her primary goal. Probably because of the tremendous odds against achieving that, she hadn’t thought beyond it. What would happen to them? The children? Joe? Linc? Her stubbornness had put them all in life-threatening danger. She mashed her fingers against her lips to stifle a sob. “What have I done?”
Linc took her in his arms and drew her close. “Don’t chicken out on me now.” He hugged her tight. Placing his mouth directly over her ear, he whispered, “You’ve been terrific. And it just might turn out all right after all.”
Kerry wanted him to hold her longer—forever—and was disappointed when he released her. He handed her the machete. It weighted her arm down like an anchor. “Use it if you have to. We’ll be back as soon as possible.”
He moved away from her. She reached for him, but grasped at air. “Linc!”
His shadow solidified in front of her again. “What?”
She wanted to throw herself at him and beg him not to leave her alone. She wanted to cling to him and never let go. She wanted to be embraced, sheltered, protected from the million and one dangers lurking in the jungle at night. She wanted him to kiss her one more time.
She willed her chin to stop trembling and said shakily. “Please be careful.”
It was awfully dark. He was virtually invisible with the mud smeared over his features. She might not have even known he was there if it hadn’t been for his breath settling in warm gusts over her face. She sensed that he wanted to hold her as much as she wanted to be held. The tension in his body conveyed his reluctance to leave her.
But he didn’t touch her again. Instead he only said, “I’ll be careful.”
Seconds ticked by before she realized that he and Joe had disappeared into the black shadows surrounding her. She and the eight children were alone.
Chapter 7
It was almost daybreak before Linc and Joe returned. Kerry, who had been dozing, was so relieved to see them unharmed that she didn’t immediately comprehend their defeated expressions.
Their postures heralded the failure of their mission. Both went directly to the stream and scooped up generous handfuls of water, washing off the camouflaging mud as they drank. When Linc finally turned around, he stared at Kerry through dejected eyes.
“What happened?” she asked.
“We didn’t get anything,” Linc told her, keeping his voice low. “Couldn’t even get close. They were on alert and didn’t relax their guard for a single minute. We circled the camp all night, hoping to find a goldbricker asleep at the switch. There was no such soldier in that whole outfit.”
He backed against a tree and slid down its trunk, bending his knees as he went, until his bottom touched the ground. Then he rested his head against the tree trunk and closed his eyes. “Anything happen here?”
“No. The children slept. A few of them woke up saying they were hungry, but I managed to lull them back to sleep.”
Joe, in a poignant imitation of Linc, sat leaning against another tree and closed his eyes. He was a man now, having done a man’s job. He might resent Linc, but he held a grudging admiration for him, too. Kerry touched Joe’s knee and, when his eyes opened, gave him a smile that said, “I’m proud of you.” The boy smiled back.
She left him to rest and sat down beside Linc. “How much farther to the border?” she asked.
“About a mile.”
“We won’t have any trouble making it there by the deadline.” The plan was to meet the plane at noon, in hopes that if any troops were nearby they would be sleeping off their midday meal and the afternoon heat.
“I just wish to hell I knew what we were going to do once we get there.”
Linc’s weary sigh had a frightfully pessimistic sound to it. Kerry clutched at straws. “If we can’t board the plane without risking the children’s lives, we’ll just slip across the border.”
“And then what?” Linc asked impatiently. His red-rimmed eyes opened and focused on her. “It’s just more of the same over there.” He indicated their jungle surroundings with a flip of his hand.
“For miles there’s nothing but jungle. God knows how far it is to the nearest outpost of civilization. And the neighboring country doesn’t want Monterican refugees adding more of a strain to their struggling economy. You’ll find them inhospitable if not downright hostile. If we could convince them to give the kids political asylum, what do we do in the meantime? Where are we going to get food for supper tonight? Water? Shelter?”
His negativity sparked Kerry’s temper. “Well, then you think—”
“Shh!”
Joe sprang to his feet, poised to listen. He cocked his head to one side. After a moment, he shot them a warning glance and silently crept forward. Kerry made a move to detain him, but Linc’s fingers encircled her wrist like a manacle and jerked her back down beside him. He shook his head vigorously when she opened her mouth to speak.
Joe disappeared into the deep green shadows of the jungle. The waiting seemed interminable. Linc eased himself up to his haunches and scanned the area with piercing eyes. Kerry felt useless. She only hoped that none of the children woke up making noises.
No more than a minute had elapsed before Joe stepped through the trees, closely followed by a guerrilla fighter. Recognizing him instantly, Kerry stood and rushed toward him, avoiding Linc’s precautionary restraint.
“Hola, Juan,” she whispered.
“Hermana,” he responded with a respectful inclination of his head.
Linc joined them. His guard was relaxed now that he recognized the soldier as the one Kerry had pointed out to him the day before. He looked like all the others, except that he was younger than most, sixteen maybe. His features hadn’t hardened into a cold mask yet, though he already had the alert bearing of a trained guerrilla fighter. He and Kerry carried on a low, rapid conversation. When he gave Linc a suspicious once-over, she explained who he was.
“He’s brought us two guns,” she told Linc. “He says they’re all he could smuggle out of the camp.”
She shied away from the machine guns as Juan handed one to Linc and the other to Joe. Linc checked them both out. “Perfect working condition. Ammo?” The rebel handed him several clips of ammunition.
“Thanks.”
“De nada.”
“Ask him if his group knows who we are and what we’re up to,” Linc told Kerry.
“No, he says,” she told Linc after translating his question and hearing Juan’s answer. “Since we were in the government truck, they think we’re inexperienced stragglers or possible deserters looking for a band of rebels to join. They intend to follow us until they find out.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.” Linc gnawed on his lip for a moment. “Ask him what would happen if he explained to his commander who we were. Would he let us go?”
The soldier listened, then shook his head vehemently. Kerry translated his quick response. “He says that they probably wouldn’t kill us, but that they would try to take the airplane for their own use. Our only hope, he says, is to get to the plane as quickly as possible. He’ll try to divert his squadron away from the designated landing place.”
“Does he realize that some of his own men might get shot if they try to stop us?”
Kerry smiled ruefully at Juan’s answer. “He says that some deserve to be shot.”
Linc stuck out his hand and the young man shook it solemnly. “Anything you can do to help, buddy, I’ll appreciate.” Linc’s tone didn’t need any translation.
Kerry suggested that Juan wake up his sisters and tell them goodbye. He crept over to where they were sleeping. His face softened as he gazed down at them, but he motioned for Kerry to let them sleep.
He murmured something to her. His face and voice were earnest, his eyes shimmering with tears. Then, after one last glance down at the sleeping girls, he silently nodded farewell and melted into the jungle.
“What did he say?”
Kerry brushed the tears from her eyes. “He didn’t want his sisters’ last memory of him to be a goodbye. He knows it’s doubtful that they’ll ever see each other again. He wants them to start a new life in the United States. He said to tell them that he is willing to die for the freedom of his country. If they never hear from him again, they’re to find comfort in the fact that he died happy, knowing that they were safe and free in America.”
They fell silent, and for a long moment none of them moved. Any commentary on the young soldier’s sacrifice would be superfluous. Words, no matter how poetic, wouldn’t do it justice and would only sound banal.
Linc forced himself out of the reflective mood and asked Joe, “Do you know how to use that?” He nodded down toward the Uzi the boy held in his hands.
While Linc was instructing him, Kerry moved among the children, rousing them, but telling them to remain as quiet as possible. She gave them fresh water to drink and promised that there would be food for them on the airplane. Surely Jenny and Cage had thought of that.
When they had gathered what pathetically few possessions they had left, they began the final leg of their journey to the border. Kerry insisted on carrying Lisa so Linc would have more freedom of movement. Not only was he carrying the machete now, but the blunt-nosed machine gun, too.
It was almost eleven o’clock before they reached the edge of the jungle. A wide strip had been bulldozed out of it so that the border between Monterico and its neighbor could be easily distinguished. Between the two green walls of solid jungle, there was a swath of open territory about as wide as a football field.
“There, that’s where he’s supposed to land,” Kerry said, pointing toward the open space. They remained behind the shelter of the trees, but could easily see the clearing. “See that old watch-tower? He’ll taxi up to that and turn around.”
Linc, squinting against the brightness of the sun, studied the area. “All right, let’s move as close to it as possible. Tell the kids to stay together and well behind the tree line.”
“Do you see anything?”
“No, but I’ve got the feeling that we’re not the only ones taking cover in the jungle this morning. Let’s go.”
They moved laterally, always keeping several yards of jungle-growth between the clearing and their parallel path. When they came even with the abandoned watchtower, Linc halted them. “We’ll wait here.” He consulted his wristwatch. “It shouldn’t be long now.”
Linc told Kerry to make sure all the children understood the need to run in a crouching position should they be fired upon. “Tell them not to stop running for any reason. Any reason, Kerry. Make certain they understand that.”
They prepared the children as well as they could, then Linc drew Kerry aside, out of earshot, and sat down to wait. “He’s got fifteen minutes,” he said, glancing at his wristwatch again.
She said confidently, “Cage will be here.”
Linc’s eyes, as sharp as a gold-plated razor, sliced down to her. “Who is this Cage Hendren anyway?”
“I told you. He’s a Texan whose missionary brother was shot by one of El Presidente’s firing squads a couple of years ago.”
“I know all that. But who—or what—is he to you?”
If she didn’t know better, she would think Linc was jealous. “My good friend’s husband.”
He stared deeply into her eyes as though looking for signs of duplicity. “What was he to you before he married your good friend?”
“Nothing! I didn’t even know him. I met Jenny first, through the Hendren Foundation.”
He looked away, staring straight ahead. He didn’t comment on the information she had imparted, but the tension in his jaw had relaxed noticeably.
“You and I will escort the children out,” he said to her, abruptly changing the subject. “Can you carry Lisa?”
