This story contains violence, kidnapping, incest, and anal sex.
^^^June 1st, 2020^^^
"I thought it would be hotter," Trent whispered to his sister.
She ignored him.
"It's June, and we are in Africa," he continued in a low voice. "I thought the temperature would be 105, not 85."
"Shhh," she said.
"Have you noticed that we, our family, are the only white people here?" Trent spoke quietly and snickered.
"Behave!," she chastised him.
Trent and Barbara, known as Babe to family and friends, were standing on a makeshift stage in the courtyard of a school. Their sister, June, her husband, Horatio, and their mother, Gemma, were with them, along with school officials and local dignitaries.
They were in a small town in Nigeria, accepting an award from a local government official.
A black man said, "For one hundred years, the Tarkington family has been a good friend to our town. Reginald Tarkington single-handedly started the mining industry in our country. First, with gold and then coal.
"He brought jobs, money, and dignity to our people, and, more importantly, he founded a school. That is why we are here today, to celebrate the one-hundredth anniversary of the school. The mines are gone, but the school remains due to the generosity of the Tarkington family."
The crowd of townspeople applauded.
Trent whispered to his younger sister, "He's talking about the family trust that great-grandfather set up. You know, that pot of gold we can't touch until we graduate college and are thirty years old."
"Be quiet," Babe whispered. She sounded annoyed.
Gemma twisted a ring on her right hand. It was her wedding band that Booth had given her twenty-five years ago.
"He should be here!" she said to herself for two reasons. One, she missed him and was still heartbroken that he had died in a car accident. And two, because it was his family who had built this school and funded its operations all these years.
As the applause died out and the official picked up a scroll to present to Gemma, there was a loud
BOOM!!!!
and a flash of light.
Waves of sound, air, and shrapnel stuck many people. Some screamed. Some fell, some ran, and others looked around confused. Many were injured and bleeding. Others were dead.
The explosion knocked the people on the stage off their feet. Horatio wiped his cheek, looked at his hand, and realized the sticky wet mess wasn't his blood but the blood and flesh of some poor soul.
He checked on his wife and shouted, "June, are you all right?"
June opened her eyes, and he saw fear and pain.
She didn't hear his question. Neither did he. The explosion had made them deaf.
He spoke slowly, hoping she could read his lips, and asked, "Are you okay?"
She grimaced, shook her head from side to side, and grabbed her stomach. He saw spots of blood irregularly spaced on her lower abdomen and upper thighs.
Small pellets had penetrated her skin. The spots grew darker and larger.
Horatio reached out to touch his wife, and he saw a similar pattern of blood spots on his hand and arm, and he felt pain. His wounds were less severe. He kissed his wife and held her.
The speaker lay on the stage, bleeding from many wounds. He appeared dead.
Ambulances and emergency personnel showed up and assigned degrees of urgency to the wounded. The most serious cases, like June, were taken to the hospital. Gemma, Horatio, Trent, and Babe were treated at the scene. Their injuries were not severe.
Their hearing returned.
A nurse bandaged Horatio and said, "Go to your hotel and rest. If your condition worsens, go to a doctor, not the hospital. It will be too overwhelmed to help you.
"I understand your wife is injured and at the hospital. I know you are worried about her and want to see her. You will not be allowed to visit your wife today or tomorrow because the hospital will be too busy working on the injured. Understand?"
"Yes," he said wearily. "Do you think I can see her the day after tomorrow?"
"Probably," the nurse said. She frowned, shook her head, and said, "Unfortunately, the terrorists who did this are evil and cruel. There are likely to be more attacks, more people killed and injured."
Trent, Babe, Gemma, and Horatio joined a group of thirty people leaving the school grounds. As they walked to their hotel, a group of disheveled young men on cheap, noisy motorcycles encircled them. They shouted, fired their guns in the air, and herded the group to three open-back trucks.
Everyone was told to climb in the trucks. Anyone who resisted was hit with the butt of a rifle. A few attempted to run away. They were shot and left to die on the street.
"What's going on?" Trent asked.
"We are being kidnapped," one villager said. "If you want to survive, do as they say. Get in the truck."
"What'll happen to us?" Babe asked, sounding frightened. She grabbed her brother's arm and clutched it tightly.
An elderly man said, "Our kidnappers are part of Boko Haram."
"The group that kidnapped all those school girls?" Horatio asked.
"Yes. Two hundred seventy-six girls were taken from a school nearby. Our fate is probably similar to theirs. If you join their cause, the men become soldiers, and the single women are married to one of their fighters. If you refuse their invitation, you become their slave."
"Forever?" Trent asked.
"Yes," the old man said. "Unless you escape, are rescued, or ransomed."
"Quiet!" one of the guards shouted in the local dialect. He struck the elderly villager with his rifle, knocking him down.
Horatio helped the gentlemen to his feet and into the back of the truck. Everyone got into the trucks and they were driven into the jungle.
They stopped at a sad excuse for a camp in a clearing. Everyone got off the trucks, and were put into a pen. There were buckets of water. No food. No bathrooms. Armed guards watched over them.
The sun set; the Tarkington clan huddled together and slept poorly.
^^^
The next morning, the kitchen staff placed a bountiful display of food on tables on the other side of the fence from the prisoners.
A man wearing clean clothes who walked with an air of authority smiled and addressed the captives. He said in the local dialect, "Good news, friends."
He spotted the four white people and said, "Someone translate for our visitors, please."
He started again and paused after each sentence. The old man who had spoken to the Americans the day before translated his words.
