Payback (22 page)

Government?

Her
heart leapt with hope as she realized they might be here to rescue them, armed
soldiers and men in suits with dark glasses in abundance, none of whom she
recognized from Koroma’s cadre. She began to walk toward one of them when she
stopped, spotting Koroma shaking hands and laughing with a large, rotund man in
what appeared to be an expensive Italian suit.

The way
ass was getting kissed here, it was clear Koroma thought this man was
important, and the size of the security detail certainly suggested it. A
briefcase was handed over to one of the new arrivals by Koroma’s letch of a
driver, unfamiliar words in Krio exchanged with some laughter then suddenly
silence, somber expressions replacing the jovial ones. Hugs were exchanged,
foolish in this epidemic, but if these men were friends, she had no sympathy
for either of them.

The man
glanced in her direction, pausing. He said something to Koroma who looked at
her before replying. He seemed completely unconcerned that she had been
spotted, which proved her suspicions that this man was in on whatever Koroma
was planning.

And this
man was government.

Which
meant whatever was going on appeared to be far bigger than one major betraying
his country.

For if
his actions involved this obviously important man, who seemed to be a member of
the government, then perhaps he wasn’t betraying his government at all.

Perhaps
he was acting under their orders.

Which
means there’s no way they’re helping find us.

The man
climbed into the back of his Mercedes as the security detail quickly loaded
into their own vehicles, most of the procession leaving within moments, leaving
nothing but a cloud of dust and shattered hopes.

And two
vehicles with four men standing in front of each.

I
wonder why they stayed behind.

Koroma
walked over to her, his expression grim.

“Why
aren’t you working?”

Sarah’s
mouth went dry. “I’m not due for another couple of hours. A horn woke me up
then I heard a crowd gathering. I thought I should remind whoever was gathering
that they should avoid contact.”

Koroma
stared at her for a moment then motioned for the new arrivals to join them.

“I have
a job for you.”

Tanya stood near the far corner of the building and watched as Sarah
was led away by Koroma, the new arrivals following. She was terrified for
Sarah, images of gang rape filling her mind as her chest tightened. If it were
to happen to her she knew she would try to kill herself, there no way she would
want to live through an ordeal where in the end they were most likely going to
kill her anyway. She had read enough horror stories of the Janjaweed and other
like-minded Muslim groups raping and pillaging their way across Africa,
repeatedly sexually assaulting women and children until they were dead.

It was
something she had said she’d never let happen to her.

Yet here
she was.

Kidnapped
by murderers with an unknown agenda who had already promised to kill them
rather than let them go, and with at least one man among them that had already
put his hands on her, and if Sarah were correct, spied on her in the shower.

She
didn’t know why Sarah had been led away but she had to somehow tell her what
she had overheard. It was the only ray of hope that she had felt since Koroma’s
daughter had been admitted to Zone One with possible symptoms. She still felt
sick to death with what she had done, but in a moment of weakness she had pictured
her own child without his mother. It had overwhelmed her. She had switched the
samples and had been sick with the knowledge ever since.

She knew
Sarah well enough to know she would do whatever it took to make certain the
little girl was well treated and isolated. They had already discussed isolating
the young children from the sights of the dying around them and the protocol
they had developed also dictated that the newest arriving children would get
the beds nearest Zone One to try and minimize what they would hear from Zone
Three.

Which
meant in her desperately confused mind she had felt even if the child was actually
negative, she would have been reasonably protected from infection.

Reasonably!

It was
probably the greatest regret of her life, a shame she would take to her grave,
a decision she could never take back and right here, right now, if she could
switch places with this innocent little girl she would, even if it meant her
own death.

For Koroma’s
daughter had tested negative.

The
question now was whether or not she was
still
negative, something they
couldn’t know for days, and with every minute she spent in that clinic, her
chances of contracting the disease rose exponentially.

Yet they
couldn’t move her.

Not
without having to explain what they had done.

What
she
had done.

Which
meant certain death.

But if
what she had overheard was true, there might still be hope to save the little
girl even if she had become infected.

The
Americans are coming.

The man
who had arrived in the Mercedes had told Koroma after he had arrived. And they
had laughed. It was as if they had no concern over the news.

Which
meant whatever they had planned didn’t rely on them being dead or alive.

Or
they’re just suicidal like all those insane terrorists.

She
wasn’t sure what was in the briefcase, but Koroma’s words had sent a chill
racing up and down her spine.

She
confirmed it would work just like we thought.

That was
when all joviality had left the conversation, as if a darkness, pushed aside
for the reunion, had reasserted itself, sucking all the joy out of the meeting.
A foolish meeting.

They
shook hands and hugged!

She
couldn’t believe the foolhardiness, after everything she and Sarah had told
them repeatedly about avoiding all unnecessary contact. But then there was
something in their tone, in their demeanor, that told her these people didn’t
care whether they lived or died.

If
only we knew why!

Clearly
Koroma was upset at the West for their lack of response to the Ebola crisis,
that much was clear from the conversations related by Sarah. And he had also
lost his wife and son, which had to affect anyone. Which was why when Sarah had
suggested he might actually kill his daughter rather than let her suffer and
die alone, it had seemed completely plausible.

And
horrifying.

It had
brought home the reality of the crime she had committed, though in the court of
law she’d probably be found not criminally responsible due to her mental state.

That did
little to comfort her now.

These
new events had her mind reeling with new possibilities. Something big had just
gone down, that much was evident. The car was flagged as if government or
diplomatic, and there was simply too much security for the man to not be
important. She had seen the man look directly at Sarah, and it hadn’t prompted
any questions. He
knew
who she was, of that much she was certain.

And he
hadn’t cared.

None of
them had cared that the Americans were apparently coming, and if they were
coming, she had to assume they’d be here soon.

Which
meant whatever was going down was going down in the next few hours, perhaps
even minutes.

Which
meant Koroma might murder his own daughter at any time.

I
have to save her.

She
turned to head toward the clinic rear entrance, part of her satisfied that this
act might in some small way make up for the unspeakable one she had committed
when she cried out in shock, a large hand suddenly slapped over her mouth,
silencing her scream.

“You
listenin’ to tings you should na,” hissed a voice in her ear, the breath hot
and foul, Koroma’s driver wrapping his other hand around her front as his groin
shoved into her side, his free hand finding a breast and squeezing painfully.
“I tink it be time to teach you a lesson.”

She
screamed into his palm but it was no use, her voice too muffled. And even if she
could scream aloud, would anyone who heard it care? With a rough jerk she was
spun around on her heels and pulled toward the rear of the building, her shoes
making two long lines in the dirt, pointers to where her ultimate humiliation
would come to pass.

I
deserve this!

It was
God’s way of punishing her for what she had done. Sacrificing the safety of an
innocent child to save her own neck. She could imagine no worse sin, not even
murder or suicide.

Suicide!

She had
sworn she would kill herself if something like this were to happen, if she
found herself powerless to stop her attackers. She wondered if Koroma had given
the order, if the eight other men who had followed Sarah were now doing to
Sarah what was about to happen to her.

You
poor girl!

They
reached the rear of the building, it backing onto a sparse area of yellow grass
with no one in sight. He let go of his death grip on her chest and a gun was
suddenly placed against her temple.

“Get on
your knees.”

She knew
what was coming and her mind began to shut down. As she dropped to her knees,
shoulders sagging in resignation, she listened for Sarah’s screams but heard
nothing. Instead all she heard was the sound of her assailant’s zipper opening,
a musky, unwashed stench immediately causing her to gag in disgust.

“You
know what to do.”

And she
did. She gripped him, tight, and began tugging. The man’s moans were nearly
instantaneous and the gun left her head, resting at the man’s side as he tossed
his head back in ecstasy. Reaching into a pocket on the thigh of her scrubs,
she pulled out a large scalpel she had found among the stolen supplies.
Gripping it tightly, she pulled hard on the man, exposing the thick member then
sliced, tossing away the resulting flesh as blood spurted from what remained,
her assailant screaming in agony. She jabbed the scalpel deep into his inner
thigh, yanking it downward, toward the knee, slicing vertically along the
femoral artery, blood gushing over her hand, a pool of blood pumping onto the
ground as the enraged man shouted at her in Krio.

“What
have you done!” he cried, the gun swinging toward her. She knew it was now only
a matter of moments. If she could survive long enough, he would be no match
within thirty seconds. She launched herself from her knees, her right hand still
gripping the scalpel, her left hand reaching for the arm with the gun, her
countdown begun the moment she sliced the artery still ticking in her head.

Seven…eight...

Her hand
wrapped around his wrist, still powerful, he easily overcoming her attempt to deflect
the weapon. She sunk the scalpel into his stomach, jerking up.

Another
cry of pain, this one turning into a whimper then a growl.

Twelve…thirteen…

His free
hand wrapped around her throat, squeezing tight. She pulled the scalpel out,
jabbing upward, catching the bottom of his chin, hitting hard bone. The grip
tightened around her throat as she struggled to pull the blade free, it jammed
in tight.

Sixteen…seventeen…

Her left
foot slipped in the blood and she dropped to the ground, the grip on her throat
loosening, her own on the scalpel lost. She grabbed at the gun hand with both of
hers, the barrel now pointing directly at her head.

Twenty…twenty-one…

She
pushed it aside, the man’s strength weakening. His grip on the gun loosened and
she did what all of her training told her could be a death sentence, but
covered in the man’s blood, she knew it was already too late for her if he were
infected.

Yanking
down on his gun hand, she sank her teeth into his wrist, clamping down as hard
as she could.

Twenty-three…twenty-four…

The gun
dropped and he collapsed to his knees. His free hand swatted at her face,
making contact, the sheer mass of it still enough to stun her, but the energy
behind it now weak.

She held
on tight as another blow landed, this time even weaker.

Twenty-seven…twenty-eight…

He fell
over to his side and she loosened her jaw, letting go of his hand, instead
scrambling back in the large pool of blood, grabbing the weapon and pointing it
at him.

Thirty…thirty-one…

His hand
slowly reached out for her, his eyes wide with fear, then slowly closing as
every muscle in his body relaxed, the outstretched arm finally hitting the
ground with a splash of his own blood.

Tanya
looked to her left then her right. She was still alone, it appearing the man’s
screams had brought no one. But for how long, she couldn’t know. She jumped to
her feet, wiggling the scalpel free from the now nearly dead lump of flesh and
rushed to the corner of the building. Peering around the corner, she saw no
one. The door that led to the showers was only twenty feet from her. She rushed
back to her attacker and grabbed him by the arm, attempting to drag him toward the
side of the building but she soon gave up, the man simply too heavy, especially
as a deadweight.

I’ll
need Sarah’s help.

If
she’s still alive.

She
peered again around the corner then darted toward the doorway leading to the
showers. Stealing a glance through the glass, she yanked it open and jumped
inside, racing for the shower room. Pushing the button to lock the door, she
immediately stepped under the shower and turned it on, the cool water soaking
her still clothed body as she collapsed to the floor, shaking uncontrollably as
her rapist’s blood washed off of her then spiraled down the drain.