Chapter 23
CHAPTER 23
L exi felt like collapsing. Her legs trembled with every step, her chest burned, and her blistered feet screamed with agony with every step. Blood pooled in her left boot, sticky and warm, but she didn’t dare take it off. If she removed the boot, she wouldn’t be able to get it back on again, and she couldn’t risk falling behind.
“Not long now, then we’ll stop for a break,” Patrick said, his eyes scanning the path ahead. He’d been a godsend, and she thanked her lucky stars he’d escaped with her and Moyo. Without him, they would never have gotten this far.
The climb was relentless, each step felt like scaling a staircase carved from uneven stones and loose gravel. The jungle had all but disappeared, and now their path wound through sparse, rocky terrain. The air grew thinner and colder the higher they climbed, but it was a relief from the stifling humidity below.
“Okay, let’s take a break.”
Lexi heaved a silent sigh of relief. Patrick knelt and laid a pale and drawn Moyo on the hard ground. Lexi scurried over to him and took his hand. “You’re doing great,” she told him, giving it a warm squeeze. “You’re such a brave boy.”
Braver than any child should ever have to be.
A flicker of a smile, but then it was gone. He didn’t have the energy to respond anymore. Lexi flashed Patrick a worried glance. They were running out of time. “How much further to the village?” she asked.
Beads of sweat glistened on his brow, but his expression remained calm. “The elder said a day’s walk. We must be close now.”
Shit. Would they make it?
They were both exhausted, and Moyo was fading fast. Not to mention the rebels who she had to believe were still hot on their tail, even though they couldn’t see or hear them.
They couldn’t afford to stop for long.
She looked around at their environment, assessing it for hiding places in case of an ambush. Nothing but rocks, crumbling earth, and patches of scrubby grass. Reaching into her backpack, she took out her water bottle. It was nearly empty, since s he’d not had a chance to refill it before they’d fled the village. Her hands shook as she unscrewed the cap and held it to Moyo’s lips.
“Drink,” she urged him gently, her voice hoarse. Moyo took a few tentative sips, then rested his head back down on the ground. Lexi sat beside him.
“Why are they still after us?” she asked Patrick. “I wouldn’t have thought we were worth the trouble.”
“You are a valuable asset to them,” the veterinarian told her. “A foreigner, an outsider, someone they could use as leverage.”
Or worse.
Imagine if they knew who she really was. A senator’s daughter. The ransom they could demand would be astronomical.
She cringed. Not even Patrick knew about that.
If they got caught, maybe she’d use it as a bargaining chip. Her life, along with Moyo’s and Patrick’s, for a larger sum. If they didn’t kill them first. She pushed the thought down, locking it away with all the other horrors she refused to acknowledge. She couldn’t afford to let fear paralyze her now.
She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the cool mountain air wash over her. Somewhere above them, birds sang sweet, sharp notes that echoed through the hills. For a fleeting moment, it was almost possible to believe they were safe.
Almost.
“You ready to move?” Patrick asked, a short while later.
Grimacing, she got to her feet. Patrick picked up Moyo, who wrapped his arms around the man’s neck. He looked absurdly young and vulnerable. Lexi wanted nothing more than to get him to a hospital, but out here, there was no chance of that. Maybe a medicine woman in the nearby village could help. That was the best they could hope for.
It was late afternoon when they finally stumbled into Bibokoboko.
Lexi nearly wept with relief as they crested the last ridge, and the small mountain town came into view. Rolling green hills stretched out around them, dotted with cattle and fringed with patches of dense forest. The sky above had turned a deep shade of purple, twilight creeping over the mountains like a velvet curtain.
The village itself was a scattering of mud-brick houses painted in faded hues of pink and yellow. Smoke curled lazily from a few chimneys, and a sparkling stream cut through the valley below, where women bathed their children and washed clothes. It was a serene, picturesque scene, but Lexi couldn’t fully appreciate its beauty. Her body ached, she was tense with worry, and all she could think about was Moyo.
She collapsed onto a wooden bench outside a pink-painted house unable to go one step further. Patrick set a barely conscious Moyo down beside her. He slumped against her shoulder, his body unnervingly limp.
“I’ll find the elder,” Patrick said, taking off toward the center of the village. “Wait here.”
Lexi watched him go, praying they’d be welcome here. As Patrick disappeared from sight, a small group of villagers gathered nearby, gawking at her and Moyo. She managed a faint smile, though it felt like more of a grimace. There was no point in talking to them, she couldn’t speak their language.
Patrick returned minutes later, accompanied by a diminutive man with sharp features and wire-rimmed glasses perched precariously on his nose. The elder greeted her warmly, though his expression turned somber as his gaze settled on Moyo.
Thank god. They weren’t going to be butchered, murdered, or run out of town.
The elder directed them to the Health Center—the largest building in the village and, according to Patrick, the only source of medical care for miles.
The Health Center was a sturdy concrete structure with a corrugated iron roof and a smattering of cracked glass windows. Inside, it was spartan but clean, with rows of wooden benches and a single examination table. A middle-aged French doctor introduced himself as Claude. His soft voice carried an air of quiet authority, though he looked tired, and the strain of years spent working in such an unforgiving place was evident by the lines across his forehead.
“He has a head wound.” She gestured to Moyo who sagged limply in her arms. “He’s concussed, but I’m worried it might be worse.”
“Set him down here.”
She laid him on a wooden assessment table and stood back, her heart hammering.
Please let him be okay.
Claude examined the boy with practiced efficiency, his brow furrowing as he checked Moyo’s pupils and probed the edges of his wound. When he finally straightened, his expression was grim.
“He’s severely concussed. I’d recommend getting him to a hospital as soon as possible. There’s a risk of internal bleeding—a hematoma.”
Lexi’s stomach twisted. “How urgent is it?” she whispered, though she already knew the answer.
Claude’s gaze didn’t waver. “Very.”
Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she felt like the ground had dropped out from under her. There was no hospital nearby. No medevac. No way to save Moyo.
She blinked back tears, gripping the boy’s hand tightly. “We can’t lose him,” she murmured.