Though Sam wasn’t the least bit hungry, he knew he needed to eat. If the weather prevented them from doing an air search, he was going out again on foot.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
Do not follow a person who is running away.
– KENYAN PROVERB –
As soon as it was light, though it was still raining, Remi led the girls out onto the ledge. The path continued between two massive boulders twice as high as the others, flanking either side of the trail. The flat-topped rocks created a natural overhang that gave some protection from the rain. Remi had the girls wait there while she continued on a short distance to see if the Fulani were still waiting below. Heading down through the meadow and then up the other side would save significant time. When she climbed out far enough to see into the valley, she realized that avenue of egress was no longer an option. The river was rapidly encroaching across the meadow, the current too strong to cross. Their only choice was to continue onward and upward.
Back when Wendy and Pete had first proposed the school, Remi recalled them telling her about the location they’d found, an isolated plateau that would protect the compound from any flooding during the rainy season. Out here in the wilderness, what might flood was anyone’s guess, especially considering the nonstop rain.
She returned to the girls, looking at the overhang and the rivulets of water coming down from the mountain above. They couldn’t depend on the search team finding them in time. If they didn’t get off that cliff, they’d soon be standing in a waterfall.
The higher they climbed, the more she regretted her decision. The realization she’d made a terrible mistake came too late. What had been tiny rivulets earlier were turning into wide swaths ripping down the cliff. The path they were following was now inches deep in water. “We need to go back,” Remi said.
“Where?” Amal asked.
“What was that?” one of the girls asked.
Remi heard shouting from the path below. They’d run right into the kidnappers.
Amal stared in horror. In the few seconds they’d stood there, the growing runoff turned brown, then thickened, as water and dirt rushed down from the mountainside, turning the tiny stream into a swirling current of mud and debris.
They were trapped.
Remi searched for a location to hide the children so that she could draw the men away. “There,” she said, pointing to the top of one of the massive boulders.
“How?” Maryam asked, craning her neck. “It’s too high.”
“Amal,” Remi said. “You first. You can help the girls.”
Remi kneeled and Amal climbed on her shoulders, using the boulder to balance herself as Remi stood, lifting her. Amal then pulled herself onto the boulder. Remi repeated the process with each girl, Amal gripping their arms as they scrambled up.
It wasn’t until they were all safely on top that they realized Remi had no way up herself. A couple of the girls started crying. Remi put her finger to her lips. “Be brave and stay flat, out of sight. I’ll be fine.”
The kidnappers’ voices grew louder, one of them complaining about the muddy trail.
The water was now several inches deep, swirling around Remi’s ankles. She was taking a calculated risk, hoping that centuries of runoff would continue in the same direction as it always had, between the mountainside and the boulders. With the rain beating down, she poised herself near the craggy rocks. As the four kidnappers rounded the corner, she started running through the shallow stream. One of them ordered her to stop. Halting, she slowly turned, saw their automatic rifles pointed toward her. Remi planted her walking stick to balance herself in the quickening torrent. “Help,” she called out.
Pili and his men trudged up the hill toward her. A sound like the far-off surf of the ocean grew in intensity. Before they realized what it was, a muddy river roared toward them. They turned, trying to outrun it. Remi scrambled up the rocks, using her stick to brace herself against the boulder as the current rose to her knees. It wasn’t the water she worried about, it was anything carried along with it. Within moments, tree branches and rotting logs swept down from the mountain, some getting stuck in the rocks, until the force of the surge knocked it loose. A tree trunk as thick as a telephone pole hurtled straight toward her, missing by mere inches as one end struck the massive boulder. The other end angled toward Remi, creating a barrier that protected her for a few short minutes, until the far end swung out. The onrush sent it slamming against the mountain on the other side, bridging the flood. Seconds later, fast-moving debris caught against it, the water rising and threatening to rip her into its swift current.
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
With a little seed of imagination, you can grow a field of hope.
– NIGERIAN PROVERB –
High above the forest, Sam lowered his binoculars, leaning forward to look out through the rain-splattered windshield. A downdraft caught the helicopter, sending him back against his seat as the pilot wrested control of the craft.
“Sorry, Mr. Fargo,” he said.
“Circle around again.” Sam scrutinized the valley. They’d made two trips over the area, seeing nothing but cows slowly moving through the floodplain to higher ground. What he couldn’t see was anyone attending them. The Fulani herdsmen had either abandoned their stolen cattle or they were taking shelter from the storm.
One of the soldiers pointed. “I see someone. In the tree near the waterfall.”
The waterfall that hadn’t been there yesterday, Sam realized.
The pilot maneuvered the helicopter around. Sam caught sight of a man draped high in the branches of a tree growing at the base of the cliff as though he’d been swept down the precipice.