The Chief's Crossfire

PROLOGUE

I’ve been in life threatening situations before, but never when the life in danger was my own. As a nurse, I should probably care more about the lives I save, but then again, caring too much was what put me in this situation in the first place.

Two tribal men hold their own chief, Jahnu, by the arms. His head lolls forward, knocked unconscious.

I was too late to warn him.

There must be injuries to his face because drops of blood splat on the dirt floor in rapid succession. How can I get to him to check if he’s ok? Jahnu!

Two men argue in their native tongue, their words twinged with anger. There are others, standing like henchmen, encircled around Mimbeck, Jahnu’s uncle—his own uncle! They shift uncomfortably at the exchange going on. They understand the conversation because they speak the language.

Greg and I are the only ones lost in the dark, and dark it is. The torches and lantern light cast the canopy in copper color. Dark shadows dance eerily on the thatch roof of the communal hut.

The arguing stops for a breath and the void fills with the sounds of the jungle at night, a deafening cacophony of high pitched trills, buzzing insects, and wild bird calls.

I glance back at Greg. Greg—my fiancé—would he have been my husband by now if I hadn’t been abducted?

It’s been over four weeks since I was taken from the Makia tribe and brought against my will to the Hundi village.

Greg wipes the continual tears streaming down his face and stands so close—as if the proximity to my body will keep me from disappearing again.

Where did he get a gun? It’s a big gun—one of those AKA47 types. It looks ridiculous in his hands. Does he even know how to use it? His eyes dart back and forth as he shifts uneasily from one foot to the other.

So many emotions clamor for recognition in my mind that I finally settle on feeling numb. It’s easier that way—it’s always been easier to feel numb.

Finally Jahnu speaks and the shudder of relief vibrates my whole body—he’s alive! Arms still pinned, he catches my eye from across the room—hurt and rejection flash across his face. Resignation now that Greg is here.

I’m sorry, Jahnu. I’m so sorry.

Mimbeck punches Jahnu in the stomach while the others uphold his body for the beating. I cry out without thinking, but Greg grabs my arm to keep me back.

Surely his own people wouldn’t kill him—their own chief?

Would the man I’d come to love be killed before my eyes?

Jahnu’s hand makes some sort of signal. It’s so slight I am sure no one notices—but I do. Movement from outside the canopy—the shrubs against the outside walls of the hut quiver. It could’ve easily been the wind, but I know—after knowing him for only a month—I know.

Shrouded by the darkness, Jahnu’s men stand ready to attack. Jahnu has a plan, even trussed up, seemingly helpless, between Mimbeck’s minions, he is still leading. It gives me a modicum of comfort.

Please, God let us make it out of this alive!

With more talk, Hani, Mimbeck’s translator, confronts Greg, “Mimbeck says you must honor your bargain.”

I feel Greg flinch beside me and I turn to plead with him, “Greg! Greg…listen to me! You cannot kill him.”

“I made an agreement, Sid. You for him,” he gestures to Jahnu.

“No!” I shriek. “You don’t know what you are saying! Look, I’m right here. I’m safe.”

With his eyes focused in crazed horror on Jahnu, I struggle to get his attention.

“They are not the enemy, Greg! You can’t do this. You are not a killer, you are a doctor! You took an oath, remember? Do no harm.”

When Greg finally looks at me, he sees me and I see him—the real him—underneath the suffering of the last thirty days.

“I’m not a killer,” Greg agrees, dropping the gun with a clatter, while I breathe a sigh of relief—but it is short lived.

Before I know what is happening, Mimbeck’s heavy arm closes around my shoulders, and locks my arms at my sides. A knife appears from nowhere. I hear myself scream as the blade presses against the vein in my neck.

If he cuts it, I’m dead.

Tears spill from my eyes—I can’t stop their flow and I hate myself for the loss of control.

The nick stings, and a dribble of blood rolls down my neck. My whimper causes him to tighten his grip.

Greg picks up the gun, “Ok…ok, just…don’t hurt her.”

“Don’t do it, Greg!” I plead one more time.

As a doctor, and protector of life, Greg is not someone who takes it and I know if he does kill, he will never recover—I will never recover if Jahnu’s death is on my hands.

The bullet tears through the air.

I scream as I elbow my captor and slip out of his grasp, propelling myself toward Jahnu in a deranged attempt to push him out of the way—but something stops me. Pain explodes in my shoulder while chaos erupts everywhere at once and I’m thrown into a maelstrom.

Time slows as if someone has pressed pause on the movie of my life and I float like I’ve fallen in water. My hair flows around me, arms drift upward as if gravity does not exist. I sink deeper, ever deeper into an abyss that gapes like open jaws hungry for the next meal—and I do not feel.