Darkest Before Dawn (KGI 10)

“Where do you seek to go, sister?” the man asked.

“The river,” she said simply. “I have need of washing and to get enough water to travel back from where I came.”

He studied her a brief moment, clearly weighing the truth of her words.

“I’ll go retrieve the water for you. I have containers I can offer.” He said so as if he knew that her containers were not those used here, that they were plastic bottles that looked decidedly out of place. “You go find what it is you seek in the village and I will return to you when I’ve gotten the water.”

She nodded and inclined her head in a gesture of respect and of gratitude. Then she turned and shuffled slowly down the street lined with booths and all manner of things for sale. She needed to find someone who offered not only preserved food but also clothing or at least material she could fashion into a garment as she’d done with the large bolt of material she’d uncovered in the relief center, because she had only one thing to use as payment, which meant if she couldn’t find a vendor who offered both, she would have to make a choice.

She stopped at several, pretending interest and even exchanging pleasantries in their language fluently, always mindful not to allow the natural youthfulness of her voice to slip in and to maintain the cracked, rough voice of a much older woman.

All the while she scanned the area, meticulously studying the crowd for anyone who looked out of place. The residents of the village didn’t seem uneasy, which told Honor that her pursuers were being very discreet, just waiting for their prey to be seen.

Finally she found a vendor that offered not only a variety of flavorful, preserved food that would last her many weeks if she consumed only what was necessary to keep her going, but also bolts of material. Hijabs and long flowing robes in a variety of styles and colors were on display. It was all she needed apart from the water her anonymous protector was collecting for her. She needed to wrap this up and leave this place before she brought disaster on the innocent people who made their home here. She wouldn’t trade their lives for hers. How could she ever live with herself afterward, knowing she’d sacrificed an entire community of good people just so she survived?

No, she would leave immediately and find a place to hunker down until nightfall so she could begin her journey again. Each day brought her closer and closer to safety, so much so that she could taste the sweetness of victory. But she wasn’t arrogant enough to relax her guard no matter how close she was to safety, because such a grave error would get her killed.

An older woman tended the booth, and she was reserved but had an air of welcome and friendliness that put Honor at ease. Careful to not make a mistake in language, she concentrated hard on the words forming in her mind and was extremely conscious not only to ensure that she had the sound of an older woman with a harsher voice but also to hold the accent and render it as flawlessly as she was able.

To her advantage, the entire country had many spoken languages, despite its small size, and many of its people spoke multiple dialects, so as long as she got close to the correct accent and didn’t betray her American roots, if the woman detected any subtle differences she would just attribute it to originating from a separate region.

With deference and respect, she told the woman what she required and then pulled out the intricately fashioned decorative piece of jewelry and asked if this would suffice as payment for the food and clothing she asked for.

The woman took the piece from Honor and inspected it closely, turning it over and over to catch all angles in the light. Then she looked back at Honor, honesty reflected in her gaze.

“It is too much for what you ask. Please, choose something else to your liking. This is a most valuable piece.”

Honor’s gaze flickered to the other offerings the woman had, weighing what she could logically carry with her. The load of an extra outfit would be heavy enough. The food would be inconsequential. But then she remembered she needed a bowl to boil the water from the river and a source of flame to start a fire in case the fluid ran out in the lighter she’d picked up from the clinic. Thank God for the addiction of one of the workers to cigarettes and the fact that he routinely sneaked them during slow periods.

“A bowl,” Honor added. “And a flint for making fire. Do you have those things?”

The woman’s shrewd gaze swept over Honor, her eyes probing deep as if uncovering every secret hidden within. Her scrutiny made Honor feel uncomfortable and vulnerable, neither a pleasant emotion to endure.

“You look as though you have pain,” the woman said matter-of-factly. “With age comes pains and aches we have no control over. Come with me to my home and I’ll collect the items you requested, and I will also give you a medicinal paste to apply over the muscles or joints that pain you the most. It will give you relief yet won’t impair you in any way. My husband will watch over my display while we are gone.”

Paranoia filled Honor. It was as if these people knew exactly who she was and for whatever reason sought to aid her. Okay, so two people didn’t constitute everyone, but it was not a coincidence that the only two people she’d come into direct contact with seemed to know her plight—and had offered safe passage.

Though she appreciated the gesture and it brought tears to her eyes to know there was so much good in a world that seemed to be ruled by evil, the very last thing she wanted was for these people to suffer because they not only had not turned her in, but had offered her help and were in effect hiding her.