Chapter 21
CHAPTER 21
L exi stared out over the vast expanse of Lake Kivu, watching as the cotton-wool clouds drifted across the glassy surface. On the other side of the lake, hazy purple hills marked the border with Rwanda. Beyond that, the promise of safety. She longed for it with every fiber of her being, but the lake might as well have been an ocean.
The villagers spoke of hidden dangers beneath those placid waters—gases that could poison the air and the treacherous depth that swallowed small boats whole, never to be seen again. Local myths, mostly, but even if they could secure a vessel, rowing across the lake without supplies or shelter would be impossible. Moyo was injured, and both she and Patrick were exhausted.
Besides, they’d never make it in one go. They’d have to stop on one of the islands, which would leave them exposed and vulnerable. She shivered at the thought.
The alternatives weren’t much better. The jungle loomed dense and unforgiving along the shoreline, while the mountains above promised freezing temperatures and treacherous terrain. She sighed, willing herself to focus.
One step at a time, Lexi. You can do this.
But she didn’t know for how much longer.
She turned and went inside the hut where Moyo lay curled on a straw pallet, his breathing shallow. She knelt by his side, suppressing a sob. The boy’s dark lashes fluttered against his pale, clammy skin. The head wound, though no longer bleeding, had left him weak and concussed. Every time she thought about how he’d stepped in front of that rifle butt to protect her, her throat tightened. The memory of the sickening crack when it connected with his skull still haunted her.
He'd done it to save her, and she owed it to him to make sure he survived this. To make sure they all survived this.
Adjusting the makeshift bandage on his head, she whispered, “You’re so brave, Moyo. You’re going to be okay.” Her words felt hollow even to herself.
He had to be okay.
Hot tears pricked her eyes. She couldn’t live with herself if anything happened to him.
Patrick entered the hut. “The villagers say a French charity boat sometimes stops here to deliver supplies. It’s due tomorrow, but they’re not sure if it’s still running.”
She sucked in a breath as a sliver of hope took hold. “Tomorrow? Do you think we can hide out here until then?”
Patrick hesitated. “The rebels aren’t far behind us. They’ll eventually find this place. It’s only a matter of time.”
The weight of his words pressed down on her like a physical force. She looked at Moyo, so weak and fragile on the pallet. His feverish moans tore at her resolve. “He needs to get to a hospital,” she said, her voice firm. “We don’t have another choice. We have to wait for that boat.”
Patrick gave a grim nod, but she could tell he was worried. “Okay, we’ll stay until tomorrow, but Nomu and his son will keep watch tonight. If anything happens, we’ll have to move fast.”
Nomu, the village elder, had given them shelter without hesitation. His kindness was humbling, but it also filled her with guilt. These people had so little, yet they’d shared blankets, food, and had given them a safe space in which to hide.
The sky outside darkened, the first stars blinking into existence as the jungle’s symphony of night sounds began. Lexi settled down beside Moyo, her body heavy with exhaustion. She pulled a scratchy blanket around her shoulders, hoping it would ward off the night’s chill.
Patrick’s voice drifted from outside the hut. “I’ll keep the first watch,” he said, and she heard the creak of the rusty chair.
“Thanks. Wake me up when you need me to take over,” she called back, her eyelids already drooping. The scent of damp earth and the distant call of an owl lulled her into a restless sleep.
“Lexi, wake up!”
A rough hand shook her shoulder, pulling her from a vivid dream. Hawk was there with her, his warm chest under her head, his strong arms wrapping her in a cocoon of safety. For a blissful moment, she clung to the illusion.
The hand shook her again, harder this time. “Lexi, we have to go!”
Patrick!
Her eyes shot open, the smell of damp straw and mud dragging her back to harsh reality. Her friend loomed over her, his face tense.
“What’s happening?” she whispered, scrambling upright.
“They’re here. Nomu saw them coming.” His voice was low and urgent. “We have to move. Now.”
“Moyo?” She turned to the boy, who was already stirring. His eyes fluttered open, dull and unfocused.
“I’m okay,” he said weakly, though his voice was barely a whisper.
Lexi’s heart twisted. He was anything but okay, but there was no time to argue. She helped him sit up, but he flagged against her.
“You’ll have to carry him,” she told Patrick. “He can’t walk.”
Patrick bent over and scooped the boy into his arms. “We’ll follow the path toward the hills,” he said. “The rebels won’t expect us to head that way.”
Lexi grabbed the small satchel containing her dwindling medical supplies and followed him out into the night.
The trail through the thinning jungle, which led up into the hills, was illuminated by the faint moonlight, yet hidden from the village below. Patrick, Moyo in his arms, went first. He grunted under the strain but kept putting one foot in front of the other. Lexi stayed close, her eyes drawn to the shadows, her ears prickling at every rustle in the foliage.
Behind them, the faint glow of the village fires flickered in the distance. Shouts carried on the wind—angry, guttural voices that sent a chill down her spine.
They were close. Too close.
“Faster,” Patrick urged, between pants.
Lexi pushed harder, her legs burning as she fought to keep up. The trail was gravelly and slick with mud in parts, making her slip every few footsteps. How Patrick remained standing, she had no idea. Branches snagged at her clothes, scratching her arms and face, but she didn’t dare slow down.
A sudden burst of gunfire cracked through the air, sharp and deafening. She froze, looking at Patrick in alarm. “They’re in the village.”
His tone was grim. “We need to keep moving.”
They pressed on, the telltale sounds of the pursuing rebels growing louder. Lexi’s lungs burned, her body screaming for rest, but the thought of what would happen if they were caught kept her going.
Moyo whimpered in Patrick’s arms, his small hands clutching at the man’s shirt. He was scared, and in pain. Lexi’s heart went out to him.
“It’s okay,” Patrick murmured. “We’ll keep you safe.”
She glanced back and caught a glimpse of flashlights cutting through the trees.
Oh, God.
They were closing in.
“Patrick,” she hissed, her voice trembling.
“I see them,” he replied, his pace quickening. “We’ll lose them in the hills.”
The vegetation got even more scarce as they began to ascend, the ground growing steeper and rockier. Her legs felt like lead, but she forced herself to keep climbing. Each step brought them closer to safety—or so she hoped.
The gunfire faded behind them, replaced by the relentless chorus of the jungle. Had they lost them? Had the rebels taken a different path?
She didn’t dare breathe a sigh of relief.
Not yet. Not until they were far, far away.
“Almost at the peak,” Patrick gritted, perspiration dripping down the sides of his face, although she wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure her or himself.
Lexi didn’t respond, all her energy was focused on putting one foot in front of the other. They couldn’t stop until Moyo was safe.