Spark (Bluegrass Fire #1)

Chapter 1

South Sudan . . .

Helena Diakos was born into luxury in New York City.

Her classmates at the posh private schools she had attended growing up would never believe it if they could see her now.

She was riding in the back of a pickup truck that had seen much better days—as evidenced by the bullet holes that riddled the truck’s body.

She didn’t have a single item of designer clothing on her, nor any jewelry.

A black scarf covered her head and most of her face to keep the dust from choking her as she was driven by armed guards, both of whom were in their late teens, through the war-torn South Sudan desert.

Helena hadn’t depended on her father’s money to buy her a comfortable life or to be a socialite, just as her father hadn’t depended on his father’s Greek shipping money to become a New York City real estate tycoon and very wealthy in his own right.

Instead, she’d decided to use her voice to help those who were voiceless.

She spent more time at the International Criminal Court at The Hague in the Netherlands than she did at her law firm in New York City.

Or, like today, traveling to oppressed areas of the world to gather evidence to take to court.

South Sudan was in trouble. Trouble that went beyond anything the average New Yorker could understand without seeing it in person.

Three hundred thousand people had run for their lives in just two months because of the widespread violence between the president and opposition groups.

However, unlike in the U.S., where opposition would go on talk shows and badmouth each other, here, they killed each other and their supporters.

Peace agreements meant nothing. Ceasefires were a joke. Millions of people were forced to flee for their lives. Almost half a million were dead. South Sudan only became an independent country in 2011, and had never known a moment’s peace. In fact, it was only getting worse.

In some cities, the United Nations peacekeepers were the only protection people had against the rampant violence, such as assaults, murders, torture, sexual violence, and starvation of innocent civilians.

Which was why Helena was there. The town she was visiting was in the crosshairs of the opposition led by Kazim Garang.

A former pirate, Garang was new to the scene, having risen to power rapidly over the past two years.

Helena was there to meet with survivors to gather testimony and evidence against Garang.

Her goal was to bring charges against him in the UN’s International Criminal Court.

Would it do anything? Not unless Garang left South Sudan where a warrant could be served and he could be taken into custody.

But the hope was to bring attention to the horrific crimes being perpetrated against innocent women, men, and children by him and his soldiers.

Over nine million people were dependent on humanitarian aid now.

The innocent people of South Sudan needed help and Helena was going to do whatever she could to help them.

“We are almost there,” Abu, her guide and one of the witnesses she was going to interview, told her as he pointed to a city of tents off in the distance.

Abu was seventeen years old. His sister was one of the women Helena was also going to speak with.

“And there is a city under siege from Garang.” He pointed in the other direction from their destination to where smoke was rising way off in the distance.

English was the official language of South Sudan.

However, there were also many indigenous languages spoken, along with Arabic.

But it wasn’t hard to communicate and she didn’t need a translator.

That’s how they found Helena. An interview with Helena showed up among the dance videos and trick basketball shots on their social media account.

It had been an interview about women’s rights Helena had given about countries that were still committing horrible civil punishments against women for simply walking alone or trying to go to school.

Abu had tracked Helena down and told her about the crisis they were in, especially his sister and the women of South Sudan.

It had taken six months to get approval from her bosses, but here she was.

In that time, Abu and his sister had fled a populated city to go on the run.

Abu’s skin was dark from the sun and the dirt, but there was never enough dirt to hide the hollowness of his cheeks from hunger.

He was shorter than he should be too, probably from malnutrition.

He was maybe five foot five and a hundred pounds.

However, the desire to stop the unchecked wrongdoing in his country was clear in his eyes.

He was a fighter and he would never give up.

“We fled from there one week ago. We will have to move again soon,” Abu told her as they turned away from the smoke and headed straight toward the sprawling tent city. There had to be thousands of people there, possibly tens of thousands.

“Are the UN peacekeepers still here?” Helena asked.

Abu shook his head. “They left two days ago. They helped transport the most vulnerable out of the city.”

The truck slowed down at a checkpoint before they could enter the temporary city.

Abu began to speak to the armed guards. Again, one couldn’t have been more than a teenager himself.

The guards came and stared at Helena as they listened to Abu.

Then they stepped out of the way and the truck was motioned through.

The refugee camp was larger than Helena imagined.

There were thousands of people in the streets.

While everything was made from tents, it was a real city.

People were working and bartering, and there was even a school.

Helena watched as a nun kicked a soccer ball with a group of kids in front of the school.

The children ranged from six to sixteen, but seemed happy enough to be playing during a break.

The truck crawled through the so-called streets as it wove its way through the maze of tents. It stopped and three women stood up from where they were doing the wash in a bucket.

Abu leaped over the side of the truck bed and spoke to the young women.

He gestured to Helena, who had removed her scarf from her face so they could see her smile.

Abu then loped over like the gangly teen he was, and held out his hand for her.

“Come. They found some rice and have prepared a meal in your honor.”

Helena took his hand and jumped down from the truck.

Her booted feet hit the ground and sent a puff of dirt up into the air.

The nineteen-year-old who had been sitting in the back of the truck with an AK-47 joined them.

Helena watched as he talked quietly to one of the women.

“Is he related to her?” Helena asked. The teen had stayed quiet the entire ride, his eyes constantly scanning the area around them instead of talking.

Abu nodded. “He’s the only male left in his family so he has to look out for Fiza and Nafisa. They’re sisters, and Kuol is their cousin. Now, come inside so that we can welcome you after your long trip.”

Helena entered the tent to find the three women lined up looking nervous. Abu smiled to try to put them at ease as Kuol kept one eye on Helena as if he didn’t trust her, and the other scanning the street in front of the tent.

“Sister,” Abu said with a smile, “this is Helena Diakos. The lawyer I told you about. Helena, this is my sister, Lamya Hanifa.”

“Do you really think you can help us?” Lamya asked instead of shaking Helena’s hand.

Abu frowned, but Helena shook her head at him when he went to speak.

Lamya looked mature well beyond her young age of twenty.

They all did. It would be easy for Helena to call them kids.

But despite their youth, they had been through and seen more than she ever had.

Abu was a gangly seventeen-year-old, and Kuol looked closer to Lamya’s age.

But they looked much younger due to malnutrition.

“I don’t know, but I will promise to try.

Kazim Garang will have to step out of South Sudan and into another UN country for a warrant to be served.

Unfortunately, the International Criminal Court isn’t powerful by itself.

The ICC relies on cooperation and the police enforcement of member nations.

However, by presenting your case and obtaining a warrant, we can put pressure on your president to arrest Garang and turn him over to the ICC since South Sudan has been unable to prosecute him.

Further, if Garang travels to any of the one hundred and twenty-four countries that are part of the Rome Statute, they’re obligated to arrest Garang.

” Helena hated this next part, but her job was to present the truth, not omit it to get what she wanted.

“However, not all countries will do so, even if they are required to. Because the ICC doesn’t have enforcement powers, it has to rely on member states to do that for them and not all member states will.

But if he’s captured, we can try him and hold him at one of the ICC’s detention facilities. ”

“President Deng has tried and failed. I was born into this war, and I will die in it. So, what is the point? Even if Garang goes down, another one will just pop up to take his place,” the youngest of the women asked. She was probably sixteen. Lamya looked to be the oldest at twenty.