Adelaide
I lie awake on my cot, sleepless.
I’m thinking of Ford, and my heart aches.
Where are you now, Ford?
Does he miss me at all, or has he cut me out of his memory already?
Another adventure over and done with on his way to more…whatever it is that he’s doing with his life.
The rain is drumming on the roof of my hut.
Oliver is no replacement for Ford.
Not that I’d ever dream of doing the things I’ve done with Ford with Oliver!
But simply as a guard and human being, he lacks the attentiveness, foresight, and kindness Ford has.
And the dark past, I assume.
Oliver stirs at the entrance to the hut, and I see his shape enter silently.
He quickly strides over to my cot.
Not seeing I’m awake in the dark, he shakes my shoulder.
“What?” I mumble.
“Something’s wrong,” he whispers. “I’ve heard someone approach the village, I think. I’ll go investigate. Stay inside, wait for my signal.”
He moves back to the entrance and peers down the road between the huts.
Then he ducks out into the rain, moving along close to the wall of the hut.
I jump out of bed and quietly dig through my things.
Ford has left me a gun.
Just in case, he said, ever so thoughtful.
Ever so pessimistic and paranoid, I thought then. But little did I know how soon I’d need the gun.
There it is.
The metal feels cold and foreign in my hand, but I grip the handle tightly. I take off the safety and place my finger on the trigger guard, just like he’s shown me.
I tiptoe over to the entrance and take position next to it on the inside.
Oliver has a signal, so anyone else stepping through without it, I need to…shoot?
I really hope it doesn’t come to that.
I listen intently out into the rain.
Of course, they’ve come at night, under cover of the rain. The torrential downpour leaves zero visibility and surrounds the village like a curtain.
Whoever’s out there could approach in total stealth.
I pray Oliver will be back and give the all-clear. But with each passing second, my heart sinks more and I suspect something’s up.
Are those boots in the mud I hear outside?
It’s hard to tell in the rain.
There’s the sound of running footfalls in the muck close-by, and then a scuffle.
Then I hear the thud of a blow connecting.
Something heavy hits the ground, a knocked-out body splashing in the mud.
I tighten my grip on the gun and press my back against the wall. My heart is pounding in my chest and my blood rushes in my ears, drowning out the rain.
How does Ford do it? This suspense alone scares me more than anything.
The barrel of an assault rifle pokes through the door opening.
I hold my breath.
Then the shape of a man inches forward.
I hesitate a split-second, but spring into action.
I quickly reach out and press the muzzle of the gun against his neck.
“Don’t move,” I hiss, “or I’ll blow your fucking head off.”
My voice wavers, but I hold the gun firmly.
His eyes are wide, as he moves them sideways to stare at me.
“I mean it,” I say. “Put down your weapon. Slowly.”
He unslings the rifle, and lowers it to the ground without taking his eyes off me.
I push him with the gun, and he raises his hands over his head.
He’s young. A local who’s been hired as a mercenary, desperately making a living on poaching and odd jobs thrown to him.
But how did they find me here? Why are they coming for me now?
I place my arm around him like the street mugger did with me, still pointing the gun at his neck.
“I won’t hurt you if you do as I say,” I try to reassure him.
He nods.
I make him turn around and we step into the entrance of the hut.
From the street, a half dozen rifles are pointed at us.
“I have your friend here!” I shout, my voice breaking.
The men in the street take a step back, but their rifles are still pointed at us.
More poachers, from the looks of them.
I order my hostage to step into the street with me and survey the scene.
More men come running, some in khakis, some in old army fatigues. The whole village appears to be swarming with a wild bunch of these outlaws.
They’re driving out the villagers from their homes, rounding them up. Looking for me, I assume.
“Boss!” one of the men near us shouts. “Come here, we’ve found her!”
“Great,” an oddly familiar voice sounds from further away, “Have you subdued her?”
A man in camouflage pants is striding down the street towards us. He clicks his tongue in mock amusement as he takes in the scene outside my hut.
Undeterred by my gun, he walks towards me, his hands on his hips, elbows at his sides.
I recognize his face.
He stops short a few feet away.
It’s Demetri Bordeaux.
“You!” I spit.
“Adelaide,” he says, his voice all oily.
“Whatever you want,” I shout, “you won’t get it!”
I press the gun harder against the young man.
Demetri raises his hands.
“Let’s all be reasonable,” he says. “You’re reasonable, aren’t you, Adelaide?”
I don’t like the sound of his voice.
“You’ll come with us of your own accord,” he continues.
“Like hell I will!” I scream at him.
“Then you leave us no choice but to kill off the people of this village, one by one.”
He slowly steps towards me, enunciating each smarmy oozing word.
“We’ll start with the women and children.”
He forms a gun with the thumb and index finger of his right hand, pointing it towards the square where the villagers are gathered.
He sights in, then pulls the trigger, raising his forearm as if from recoil.
“Bang, bang,” he says, “until you change your mind.”
On his signal, his men fire a couple of rounds from their assault rifles into the air.
The frightened children cry out and the women scream in fear, some falling to their knees, wringing their hands and pleading with the gang of poachers.
“You monster!” I shout, my voice overwhelmed with anger. “Let them go!”
Demetri turns to me.
“We will, if you cooperate. Now, Adelaide,” he says, “your choice. Which one will it be?”
“You will not get away with this!” I scream.
He grins, baring his teeth.
“Give me the gun, and no one will be hurt, including you. Provided your family meets my demands. They’ll find them very…reasonable. A cool billion dollars—for your life.”
He chuckles.
I’ve come to love this village, and not only do I care for my patients, but all the people here are dear to me. I have to think of them first and do what’s best for them.
I can’t risk their lives. I have to give in to his demands.
Defeated, I let go of the young man in my clutch and engage the gun’s safety, handing it to Demetri.
“I will go with you,” I say. “Just leave the villagers in peace.”
“Excellent,” he says triumphantly. “Tie her up.”
Two men jump forward and wrestle my arms behind my back. They tighten zip-ties around my wrists, so my hands are bound.
“And you,” Demetri yells at the man I overpowered, “How come you let a woman disarm you? Loser!”
He pistol-whips the guy, sending him tumbling for a few feet.
I wonder if he and Ford are really two of a kind, and how much of a dark past they share.
Demetri loves violence, and seems capable of any evil. I have a different image of Ford, even though he was ruthless with the street mugger.
Ford could have turned this situation around.
But he’s not here, because he only thought of himself.
The kidnappers march me through the village. I can see now that they have the entire village surrounded with their jeeps.
Oliver never stood a chance.
As we pass the square with the villagers, an old woman tries to run forward.
“Daktari!” she shouts in panic.
I recognize her as a former patient of mine.
One of the poachers steps in and butts her with his rifle, knocking her to the ground.
I’m horrified and wince in pain. “Stop!”
“Stand back,” I shout at the villagers in Swahili, “and they won’t harm you.”
“Yote yatakuwa sawa,” I add, mumbling.
Everything will be alright.
Only I hardly believe it myself.
I spot Oliver on the back of one of the jeeps, his hands tied like mine with a sack over his head.
They throw me into the back of truck, and I get one last look at the village and its frightened people staring after us.
Then a sack is placed over my own head, and everything goes dark.
As the truck jerks forward and starts rolling, I notice the rain has stopped.
But under the cover over my head, hot tears are streaming down my cheeks.