CHAPTER 1

Sarah Lawson and her parents walked nervously down thecrowded streets as dozens of ragtag gunmen carefully scrutinizedthe crowd from both sides of the road. In the cool morning mistshe could feel the warm blood running through her veins. Herheart rate seemed to triple, and the muscles in her stomach andlegs grew tense. She was sweating heavily, the drops rolling downher skin under her jean jacket and pants.

In spite of her fear and discomfort, Sarah tried to lookcomposed. The traumatic experience of the previous night wasstill fresh on her mind; the deafening sound of guns and bombsstill reverberated in her ears, as if the action were taking placenear her. Never had she been so frightened and confused. Herthoughts ran randomly.

She had been begging her parents to leave the capitalamidst rumors of rebel advances toward its suburbs. The rebelswere reported to be extremely fierce and heartless, institutinga reign of terror in the areas under their grip. Everywhere therewas whispering about panic-stricken government soldiersdeserting their posts and fleeing before the advancing rebels.The rebels were tactically superior, physically strong, andwillfully courageous—qualities allegedly enhanced during theirtime of training abroad, when witch doctors injected powerfulcharms into their veins. This made them fearless, reckless, andunrivalled, especially before the poorly equipped and demoralizedgovernment soldiers. Such constant rumors created a forebodingatmosphere that dampened the hopes of even the most optimisticloyalist of the regime. Many residents were already evacuating thesuburbs for fear of being caught up in the web of events.

All this made Sarah nervous. She began to fear for the safetyof her family. But her father, Peter Lawson, was headstrong,presumptuous, and perhaps brainwashed by the waves ofgovernment propaganda that adorned every newspaper headlineand punctuated every radio and television broadcast. He wasconvinced that the rebels would never reach the capital andadamant that he would never evacuate just because of somebaseless gossip being spread by enemies of progress.

Sarah's mother, Decontee, was perceptive, calculative, andsober. She always looked at all sides of an issue before formingan opinion. Though she wasn't one who took things for granted,she was not one to easily cave in to panic. This pragmatism wasprobably due to her missionary background, which had givenher more than just faith and religion. She had been adopted andbrought up by missionaries who had visited her village when shewas only three years old. They had fallen in love with her oneevening when they were conducting an evangelistic service andlittle Decontee was moved to do a solo in her vernacular. Theyhad negotiated with her parents to be allowed to take her alongto the city so that she could go to school and further develop hertalent.

Like Sarah, her mother had taken a keen interest in thepolitical unrest around her and had some feelings of foreboding.But she knew that it was useless trying to change her husband'smind. She had been married to him for nearly twenty-fouryears and knew him too well. Once his mind was made upabout a particular issue, it would take nothing short of divineintervention to dissuade him. Decontee had often joked withSarah that her father's head was as hard as a steel wall. So whenSarah started becoming frustrated over his intransigence, hermother just patted her on the back and consoled her with one ofher religious sayings: "God is in control. Let's give it all to him."

Sarah had obeyed sheepishly. Somehow she had borrowedsome of her mother's faith. Decontee's words might have beenclichéd, but they were difficult to argue against. Perhaps I'm beingtoo hysterical, Sarah had thought. I am only twenty-one years oldand naïve. Perhaps my mind is needlessly manufacturing fear andanxiety. Sarah had promised herself that she wouldn't air herfears anymore. Not until the events of the previous night, andher family's forceful eviction from their home, did she finallyconvince herself that her fears were, after all, justified—and thather parents, especially her father, were fools.

Hell had broken loose exactly ten minutes after the Lawsonshad said their evening prayer. At first they heard the faint soundof bombs echoing in the distance. As the clock ticked, the boomsgot louder and louder, closer and closer. With every bomb blastthe earth shook, shattering windows and sending householdobjects crashing to the floor. Soon the sound of bombing gaveway to an exchange of gunfire coming from every direction.Empty bullet shells fell on the roof like rain. It seemed as thoughtheir neighborhood had suddenly turned into a war zone, andtheir house was at the battlefront. Pandemonium broke out.Sarah's father dove under his bed. Sarah felt like her bowelswere about to break loose, but she was too afraid to go to thebathroom. Instead she and her mother threw themselves downon the red living room rug to avoid being hit by stray bullets.

Sarah looked at her mother and was surprised to see thatDecontee wasn't as shaken as Sarah had expected her to be. Infact, her mother's eyes were closed and her lips were moving,noiselessly reciting something. She's praying! Sarah thought. Iwish I had her faith, she sighed to herself as her eyes filled withtears.

The shooting went on for what seemed like an eternity,until the Lawsons heard strange voices in the yard. Soon therewas a loud banging on the front door, followed by threateningcommands.

"Who's here? Open up or I'll burn the house down!"

Sarah froze, not knowing whether to answer or run for cover.There was a brief silence followed by another bang and morethreatening commands. Decontee answered in a clear, calm tonethat told Sarah that her mother was not a bit scared.

"We are in here. Just wait a minute. I'm coming to open the door."

"Hurry up!" the person outside yelled.

"I have to find the keys. I'm coming," she replied. She pickedup the keys from a nearby table and started for the door, but thenshe hesitated. "Go get your father," she said to Sarah.

Sarah could not understand. Why had her mother askedher to go and fetch her father? Decontee obviously knew thatthe people outside were rebels who wanted nothing but to seeblood. She wanted to argue but thought it wasn't the proper timeand place. So she reserved comment and only shot her mother acutting glance before heading for the room where her father was.

"Daddy?" she half-whispered as she entered her parents'room. She got no response. A sheet was still neatly spread on theking-sized bed, over which hung a white night curtain to preventmosquitoes. The room was cold even though the air conditionerwas turned off. The scent of pineapple air freshener infused theair. Sarah called to her father again and peered underneath thebed. He wasn't there.

She opened the door to the master bathroom on the southend of the bedroom, but he was not there, either. Sarah wasnervous. She called to him again with a trembling voice.

"Shhh!" Her father gestured to her with his finger againsthis lips. "Where is your mother?" His voice was shaking too ashe emerged from the closet where he had taken refuge behind acluster of coats.

"She wants you outside," Sarah said straightaway.

"Outside?" he asked nervously. "Is there any trouble?" Helooked bewildered and visibly overwhelmed by the sudden turnof events.

Sarah was trying to remain calm. She...