On the riverside of promise (8 page)

“Have you given up on him already? He’s a
doctor for Christ’s sake, they’d need him alive, too useful to be
killed outright. There’s a really good chance he still lives,
Nicole.”

“I can’t believe that right now. I just
can’t. I saw his eyes, Richard. I saw nothing but emptiness…”

“Please, call me Ethan. Whatever you saw,
it’s just the grief and the pain talking right now. If he wasn’t
dead when you left, he was alive and that’s what I’m counting
on.”

“I want to believe you, I really do. But,
what can we do? I mean… Those people… Even if…”

“You said you had faith. Have faith in me,
please. Did he ever talk to you about Father Mulcahey?”

She rubbed her eyes with both hands. There
was a deep frown on her face when she said:

“The name sounds familiar. Why?”

“Those crosses. We were ten. Well, I was
twelve and Andy was ten. I’d sneaked in Father Mulcahey’s office.
I’d made a bet I could get my mates a bottle of sacramental wine.
When Father Mulcahey got wind off the missing bottle, he roused us
out of bed. He asked nicely which one of lads us did it. I was
about to accept the punishment and the Hail Mary's that went along
with it, when Andy steps out front, says he was the culprit.
Everyone else goes back to sleep, and then the father calls us both
into his office. I was thinking we were going to get a beating
either way. Instead, he opens up this little box and offers us a
set of crosses. Makes us wear them and take a vow. Next month
during the holidays, we had our initials etched. Been on me every
day since then.”

“What was the vow?”

“Never leave your brother behind. That’s what
I’m doing. I’m not leaving Andy behind.”

* * *

The voice on the small speaker sounded
worried and uneven.

“What’s wrong? Why couldn’t you wait for the
courier?”

“There’s a problem.”

The matter-of-fact voice on the microphone
was a woman’s voice. It had a bit of an accent.

“What kind? It doesn’t sound like you to talk
around things.”

“I’m not sure if it’s exactly a problem. I
might have stumbled on your brother.”

“My what?” said the man, his voice full of
disbelief and shocked surprise.

“I met a man today who posed as a journalist
by the name of Richard Owls. Long story short, he says he’s your
brother, Ethan. We were talking and I showed him your cross,
playing the widow part. Thought your death might look good on a
paper. He showed me a cross with his initials on it, E.R.W. He also
told me a story about some priest and how you got these crosses. Is
it really him? Strong, red-haired fellow. Has these piercing blue
eyes. Medium height.”

An uncomfortable silence ensued. Nicole spoke
once more into the microphone with some reservation:

“Andy?”

“That’s Ethan alright. Listen, you need to
keep him busy while I think of something to throw him off course.
He might mean well, but he can be a very single-minded idiot when
he wants to. And Nicole?”

“Tell me.”

“Strict radio silence from now on. He mustn’t
get a whiff.”

“You know me.”

“But you don’t know my brother.”

Blood-red dawn

The hills around the monastery blossomed
golden under the first rays of the sun. The cold, wet night edged
away, hiding under the jungle treetops. The bell of the monastery
started to ring, calling for the morning prayer. A few of the
sisters started to gather in the small temple, rosary in hand.
Their lips moved at a shallow, serene pace, mouthing hymns and
eulogies to their God, Lord and Savior.

Ethan had been awake since before the break
of dawn. He was watching the procession from a small, pane-less
window. The night had been short but courteous; nothing but the
distant sounds of wildlife had bothered him. Again, his sleep was
dreamless.

There was a knock on the door; the stars
above shone their last light for the night. Ludwig stepped
hesitantly inside, holding two cups of tea; it was his way of
apologizing. Ethan offered him a cigarette in kind. They sat
together in the small room. Ethan stood upright in his bed cot,
Ludwig pulled the single chair. They left their cups of tea to
slowly cool off on the window sill. Ludwig cleared his throat,
breaking the uneasy silence:

“We might head back.”

Ethan simply nodded and sipped quietly from
his cup. His nostrils flared from the aroma, but he said nothing.
Ludwig went on:

“We’ll talk it over once everyone’s awake. I
think we should press on, otherwise these people would have gone
through all this for nothing. The rest though are probably scared
out of their minds.”

“Can you blame them?” said Ethan and stood
up, stretching. Ludwig continued, tapping his foot nervously, his
tone somewhat apologetic:

“In any case, some should stay behind and
help the monastery, at the least. It might be just as good as
setting up camp elsewhere.”

Ethan’s response was terse: “Makes
sense.”

“Not a lot of it makes sense to me, Richard.
I want to help, but this mess…”

“Having second thoughts?” Ethan said, staring
blankly at the rose red morning sky, hands on his waist.

“Wouldn’t you? I mean, after everything is
said and done, is it worth it? I want to help, these people want to
help but… How can anyone weight that? One’s own life against
another?”

Ludwig gulped down a mouthful of tea
greedily. He didn’t seem to bother that it was still too hot for
comfort.

“Did you get enough sleep?”

Ludwig shook his head wearily. Ethan perched
himself on the window sill and told Ludwig in a very business-like
fashion.

“If you want to move on, you need to get past
what’s happened. If you can’t, you should head back while we’re
still not on the deep end here. Otherwise, chances are more people
will get hurt for nothing.”

The doctor nodded in agreement and lit his
cigarette. He took a few puffs, drew the smoke in deep. He seemed
to relax a bit, the care lines on his face evening out.

“What… What about you?” Ludwig asked with
just a hint of hesitation, as if the answer might not be
forthcoming, as if it were dangerous to know.

“What do you want to know?” replied Ethan
while tapping a cigarette out of his pack.

“I just think it might be safer if you came
along. That’s all I need to know.”

“I’m going in as far deep as you are willing
to go. But at some point…” Ethan’s voice trailed off as he drew on
his smoke heavily. Ludwig closed his eyes and nodded before he
replied:

“I think I understand.”

Silence ensued between them. The sound of
chanting rose suddenly out of the temple’s open doors just when a
swath of sunrays melted away the morning haze around the small
patches of greenery. The heat was building up rapidly; soon they
would be sweating again. Ethan suddenly turned and looked Ludwig
straight in the eye. There was a frown on the doctor’s face, a
mixed expression of fear and hope. Ash from his cigarette fell on
the dirt floor.

“My name’s Ethan. I don’t think knowing that
puts you in any more danger than you already are. I mean, you’ve
trod on a minefield already,” Ethan said and smiled sheepishly.

Ludwig grinned thinly and said to him: “No, I
don’t think it does. I knew when I saw you that you’re a good
man.”

“You don’t want to know the half of it,
doctor,” Ethan replied and offered his hand. As they shook hands,
they heard a dull but disturbing, faint echoing sound that Ethan
recognised all too well: a gunshot.

“That can’t be good,” said Ethan dryly.

“Gunfire?”

Ethan just nodded and rushed to the doorway
to peek outside. He could see through the wide open monastery gate.
In the distance, he could make out a couple of open-top Rovers
slowly coming up the hill. A barrage of rattling sounds echoed;
assault rifles on full auto. They were soon lost behind the first
turn around the hillside. The gunfire went on, echoing faintly.

“Some kind of firefight,” Ethan said to
Ludwig as he reached for his backpack.

“Government or rebels?” asked Ludwig with
startled apprehension, as he took a look for himself.

“Probably neither. Rebels wouldn’t be so
frivolous with their ammo. Government troops would have a column of
vehicles, squads of men fanned out on the roadside, carriers. That
sort of thing.”

“Then who are they? Who’s shooting at whom?”
asked Ludwig, his voice anxious, unsteady.

“That’s not really important. It’s people we
need to run away from, right now,” Ethan said as he pulled out a
Browning High Power pistol from his backpack and drove home a
clip.

“You have a gun?” asked Ludwig, as if he had
never imagined he’d see one up close. Ethan loaded a bullet in the
chamber and clicked the safety off.

“It’s American but it’ll do nicely. Gather
your people and just go. Pack nothing, just follow the ravine
eastwards till nightfall. If all goes well, I’ll try and meet up
with you by morning. If not, wait it out another day before coming
back,” said Ethan with a grave expression. The echoes of gunfire
grew apart in time.

“What? That’s preposterous, we can’t leave
everything behind! What are you saying?” exclaimed Ludwig, arms
raised in dubious protest. Another rattling sound echoed, this time
stronger, closer than before. The sound of motors revved up high
could be heard, faintly but clearly.

“I’m saying these folks are trigger-happy
bastards. Can’t guarantee they’ll just take your stuff and
leave.”

Ethan felt like he had to shout to make the
doctor listen: “You’re wasting time, go! Now!”

Ludwig hesitated for just a single moment,
but then ran to the door. He barely paused in his stride to
ask:

“What about the wounded and the sisters? What
about you?”

Ethan wiped the sweat of his forehead, gun in
hand: “I’ll sell them bastards a front-page story they can’t
refuse. I’ll do my best, promise. If it comes to it…” he said and
nodded at the gun. “Now go!” he shouted. Ludwig nodded and ran off.
He could be heard rousing people, urging them to put on their boots
and just follow him. Dumbfounded, groggy voices mixed with the
shuffling of feet, thuds and protests. From the sound of it though,
they were on the move.

The gunshots could be heard, growing weaker
and further apart. The fight was dying out. Ethan packed a couple
of clips in an ankle pocket. He grabbed his Leica, and tucked the
gun away in his trousers, behind his back. He went looking for
Nicole; he knew that his real priority would be to keep the two of
them alive, if it all came down to that.

The chanting from the church had stopped. A
few of the sisters were crowded together outside the church doors.
They stared through the wide open gate at the hazy hillside, as if
waiting for some sign. Some were praying softly.

The sound of roaring motors had became
clearly closer. Mingled with the sounds of churned dirt and gravel
from the Rovers’ tires, it was an uneasy, threatening sound in its
own. The absence of gunshots meant they were moving up towards the
monastery again, unhindered.

Nicole rushed outside the small hall where
the wounded and the sick lay. She was wearing a plain work apron,
her hair tied up in a bun. Ethan saw her then and rushed towards
her, his camera swinging wildly from the strap around his neck. She
barely seemed to take notice of him; she was staring at the shabby
road and the approaching rovers with a cold, crisp fixation. Anger
seethed clearly through her. Ethan told her with urgency in his
voice:

“You need to keep calm. I think I can handle
this. Follow my lead when you can, and don’t just hand over
everything. If they sense we’re scared shitless, they’ll stop at
nothing. I’ll try and sell them a news story, front page on the
Times. You just stay firm. They might want to check up on the
infirmary. Let them.”

“Keep calm? That’s your advice? Stay firm?
What makes you think you can talk things over with them? We can’t.
We can’t just talk.”

Ethan was taken aback. It was an unwelcome
surprise; he hadn’t expected her to be so rigid. Feisty was one
thing, but not playing ball when guns were involved was childish,
even stupid and possibly lethal.

“Listen, the head doctor is already trying to
make a run for it in the ravine. They’ve left everything behind.
Maybe all that stuff from the caravan will be more than enough to
keep them satisfied. There’s morphine in there and lots of canned
-”

“You think they’re looking for a fix? And
some corn beef? You just take care now, Ethan.”

She gave Ethan a cold dismissive look and
shook her head slightly, disapprovingly. Ethan frowned and was
about to say something when a Rover zipped past the gates
haphazardly. A dozen men armed with AK-47s rode on the back, most
of them wearing combat fatigues. Few piece of clothing matched
their size and most were certainly at least a size or two
larger.