Recoil - Andy McNab [66]
The rain had become a steady drum roll on the canvas, but never quite overwhelmed the cries of pain beneath it.
Tim put a hand on her shoulder, and she reacted by leaning in to him. I tried not to let it get to me, but it did.
He turned to her. ‘Nick’s right. You go with him. You’ll be safer in the mine.’
Great. Sanity was prevailing.
I started to turn, and kept my hand stretched out behind me. ‘Let’s go.’
She didn’t take it. ‘I’m not going, Nick. I can’t.’
Fuck this. I was starting to lose patience. I spun round and took the first two steps towards her. It wasn’t like I could threaten to shoot her if she didn’t come. The only option was to drag her away.
Beyond them, in the tent, I saw a large group of kids, all huddled together under blankets. The oldest could only have been about twelve.
‘They the orphanage kids?’
Tim turned back towards them and nodded. ‘They lost their huts in the collapsed fault line and came when they heard the guns.’
‘Listen, both of you. You’ve got to bring this lot to the mine.’ I pointed at Silky. ‘Look behind you. Look at them. When the LRA turn up they won’t just kill the adults, they’ll keep those little fuckers. Tim, any girls there you don’t mind seeing raped? Any boys you don’t mind being turned into killing machines?’ I shook my head with disbelief. ‘Are you really going to let that happen? When you two are dead, but feeling all virtuous and pleased with yourselves because you’ve not moved from your posts, I’m sure these little bastards will really be singing your praises.’
Tim stared into the tent. He knew I was right.
He didn’t look back at me, just walked inside, calling to everybody in French.
Silky had her hands up to her eyes. ‘You shouldn’t have come, Nick. This just complicates things.’
Did it really? Well, things were going to become a whole lot more complicated if she wanted to hang around and cheer the LRA into town.
6
The inside of the tent stank of shit and antiseptic, but at least the ground was marginally less wet. Chaos spread as confused old men tried to get off the ground and old women wailed as they tried to gather up what belongings they had with them. Those who could walk enough to reach him swarmed round Tim to ask him what was going on. This was going to take for ever.
There were a couple of rapid bursts of gunfire in the distance, audible even over the racket around me, then a really long, sustained one. They were out there, and they were getting closer.
I joined Silky, who was with two other guys dressed off the same rack. The three were trying to help an old man gather together a few rags and a cooking pot. I put my hand on her shoulder. ‘You and I have to go. Let this lot follow. Everybody knows where they’re going. All they’ve got to do is follow the river.’
She didn’t look up at me, just continued helping the old man. She seemed so different with her hair wet and greasy after the long walk in and her nails grimed with mud. That faded lemony smell had been replaced by the stink of wet clothing and sweat. ‘Nick, I’m staying until we get these people moving.’
I stood there in frustration as people ripped off what little covering they had over their igloos and bundled it under their arms. Fuck them, they could sort themselves out. I just wanted to drag her away, get her back to the mine, collect the other two and go for it.
I pulled one of the kids to his feet so hard I nearly threw him into the air. I grabbed bundles of clothes and shoved them at him. ‘Allez, allez, allez! Let’s go!’
At last some of the walking wounded were up and moving. They didn’t need to be told twice about getting to safety. ‘Faster! Go! Go!’
They shuffled through the mud towards the river, by which time I was almost pushing the confused and frightened kids out of the tent.
Tim rushed around, getting anyone who seemed remotely healthy to grab a bag of rice or anything useful.
There was another long burst, a fraction louder. It wasn’t a trick of the terrain: they were getting closer.