And Then Came A Lion (Lions and Lambs Book 1) (10 page)

Easter Sunday, Susannah sat next to Rachel, her hands folded in her lap, watching the happy families sitting together, dressed in their new clothes, obviously eager to celebrate the holiday. Maybe she had too many wants. She needed to learn how to be content, as St. Paul admonished so eloquently in his epistles. She tried, but her heart ached with loneliness and the need to love and be loved in return. Was that so wrong?

Because of a monster, she would never have children. Another monster destroyed what family she did have. Forgive? If lions leapt at her from the walls and bears ravaged her day and night, she wouldn’t forgive – or forget.

The old Indian appeared next to her. “Susannah, are you willing to follow God anywhere?”

She glared at him. She wasn’t in the mood to sacrifice more. Leaving her home and friends, would leave her with nothing.

“Susannah, do you love God?”

She hesitated. Was she angry with God? No, she wasn’t angry with God. She was wallowing in self-pity and blaming God for it.

She nodded.

“Would you follow God anywhere?”

“As in where?”

“If He asked you to go to Africa to save children, would you go?”

“I would go anywhere if it meant saving another child, but why Africa? There are plenty of children here that need rescuing.”

“It’s time we issued a challenge.”

Susannah swallowed. “A challenge? What kind of a challenge, and to who?”

The old Indian smiled. “God’s ways are complex. He sees what you cannot. Do you trust Him?”

Did she have a choice?

The old Indian smiled and vanished.

She bowed her head. How could going to Africa issue any challenge, except to her own faith? Maybe that was the plan all along…

At the end of the service, the pastor made an announcement. “Today, representatives from the World Wide Christian Services are here to speak with you about their organization. They are looking for volunteers for six weeks of service in Zimbabwe, Africa. Please consider this. You will be helping a great number of people, particularly the children.”

Susannah shook her head and smiled.

Rachel leaned close and whispered. “What?”

“It looks like I’m going to Africa.”

“Africa?”

Susannah nodded. “I’ll explain later.”

After the service ended, Susannah signed up at one of the booths set up at the back of the church, gathered the required literature packet, and joined Rachel at a table for coffee.

“So, Molly and Billy are surging through the lawns vying for eggs with the other urchins?”

Rachel nodded. “Yeah. Frank offered to be referee so we could chat.”

“That’s sweet of him.”

“Oh, it isn’t as altruistic as you believe. I bribed him.”

Susannah laughed.

Rachel set her cup down and leaned her elbows on the table. “So, now tell me about this trip to Africa.”

***

In a subterranean ceremonial chamber, the demon howled and screamed in response. The dirt walls rumbled. The torches flickered. The old priest winced and shuffled back into the far corner. The nganga shook off its hook over the fire, flew across the room, and hit the far wall. Its contents rained down onto the old priest. He clawed at the dirt floor in a vain effort to escape.

The world could run red with the blood of sacrifices and none of it would stop the legions gathering at the edge of the demon’s domain.

The demon hissed and snarled. His eyes blazed red. The old priest screamed and writhed on the dirt floor.

“Old man, you are useless. I need a stronger intercessor. A soul that does not cringe, does not flinch, does not feel.” He narrowed his eyes. “I will raise up my high priest and destroy any creature foolish enough to oppose me.”

The walls shook. The old man clutched his heart. The demon’s laughter showered dirt and insects down on the old man’s head.

***

Susannah rubbed Buddy’s ears. “Rachel will take good care of you, and I’ll be back before you know it. You’ll have fun with Billy and Molly.”

He would, and he would probably forget her before she got back, but the dominos were tipped. Besides, whenever she thought about backing out, and she had several times throughout the last few weeks, images of children huddled in fear in some kind of a subterranean chamber, sharpened her resolve. The purpose of the vision was still unclear, but the urgency wasn’t.

When Rachel and Frank pulled into the drive, Susannah put Buddy’s lead on his collar and opened the door. Frank carried her suitcases out and put them in the back of the SUV. Buddy and Susannah climbed in the back seat.

“I really appreciate this. I could have walked Buddy over and taken a cab.”

Rachel turned in her seat. “But, this is much better, right? Buddy gets a car ride. You get a few more minutes with him, and you don’t have to go to the airport alone. Are you going to be okay about this? You don’t have to go, you know. It’s only volunteer.”

“I don’t think I have a choice, Rachel.”

Frank looked in the rearview mirror at Susannah.

Rachel patted his arm. “I’ll explain later, Honey.”

He looked as though he was going to ask a question and then shook his head.

Rachel and Susannah looked at each other and smiled. Poor Frank, he was obviously confused. Well, so was she. She had no idea why it was so important that she go so far away. Sounded a lot like that story about the man who asked a Roman centurion if he was afraid to go on such a dangerous mission. The centurion replied, “It is not necessary that I live, only that I go.”

Was that what she was doing, obeying a command she wasn’t expected to survive?

Trust, Susannah.

She couldn’t see the old Indian but felt his presence. “Do I have a choice?”

“
You always have a choice, Susannah. But, choosing God’s will always leads to the greater good.”

“I’ll have to take your word on that.”

Was he laughing?

Frank pulled up to the front doors of the airport terminal and parked. Susannah hugged Buddy and got out. It broke her heart to see his face pressed against the glass.
Oh Lord, I am trusting that this will be worth all the sacrifice.

Rachel hugged her. “Take care my friend.”

Susannah nodded and brushed back a few tears. She grabbed the handle to her luggage, took a deep breath, and walked into the terminal. She was already homesick and she hadn’t even left town. The next few weeks were going to be tougher than she thought.

Taking another deep breath, she raised her chin, squared her shoulders, and marched over to the group of other volunteers. She had met several during the numerous pre-trip meetings and had taken an immediate liking to Barbara. Plain in comparison to many of the other women, she had an inner beauty that drew Susannah to her.

Dr. Forrester, their volunteer coordinator, was a big man with graying hair, somewhere around his early sixties, incongruously soft spoken for a man with such an imposing stature. He possessed a quick wit, a gentle spirit, and a deep faith. Susannah was surprised he had chosen a secular career rather than ministry, studying the world’s religions rather than preaching.

The disembodied intercom voice announced their flight was boarding. Susannah followed her fellow travelers through the doorway and onto the plane and settled into her window seat, courtesy of Dr. Forrester. Within a few minutes, they were taxing down the runway. She watched everything she knew and loved recede from view. She prayed, asking for the courage to face this new future.

***

Brian stuffed his hands in his pockets and shifted his stance.

Charlie glanced at him and then looked back at the knot of men standing around the black SUV. “So, Falun. Are you having second thoughts?”

“You aren’t?”

Charlie shrugged. “So far, so good.”

“Yeah, so far. Best stick to the rules, Charlie.”

Charlie glared at him. “What are you talking about?”

Brian shook his head. “It’s your choice, but be sure and leave me out of it. I don’t want any part of it.”

“Part of what?”

Brian scowled.

“Okay, okay. So you know. So what?” He nodded toward the others. “They sure aren’t saints, and neither are you.”

“Discipline, Charlie. You have no self-restraint and that is what gets you into trouble. I don’t want you taking me down with you. I won’t tolerate that, Charlie.”

“Whatever.” Charlie said and turned away.

Brian saw the fear in his eyes. Good. Charlie had his uses, but those were wearing thin, and Brian had eliminated other associates for far less, something he knew Charlie was acutely aware.

The profilers were right. Most criminals were stupid, Charlie being a good example. The smart ones got away with murder. He smiled at his own pun.

Regardless, it wouldn’t be long now before he could move on. The heat had died down enough he could move around easily, which would now allow him to handle that little matter with the witch. He had her address, but had not the chance to act on it ― yet.

The demands on his time ― and certain skills ― were getting a bit restrictive, but his cash pile was growing. If he juggled just a bit longer, he’d bow out enough cash to keep him comfortable for years.

The knot of men untangled and one man signaled it was time to go. Brian had no qualms about doing most of the things they asked, as long as they left him alone afterward. So far, they had, but they were taking more and more notice of his abilities. That could be good, or very, very bad. Bigger payouts would be fine, but he preferred not to get too close to their inner circles. He was hearing more and more about this religious stuff and he wanted no part in it.

Brian climbed in the back of the SUV, on the window side, forcing Charlie to squeeze in between him and another man. Brian didn’t know the man, having seen him only once before, and then briefly. That was fine too. He wasn’t the sort to seek friendship, especially from the likes of these.

The big doors of the warehouse lurched up and the vehicle slid out into the street, followed by two vans. This time they were heading further up state to the Canadian border to pick up the latest cache of drugs, other illicit commodities, and some young women. Neither he nor Charlie could touch these. They were paid merchandise. He and Charlie were just part of the delivery crew.

After two hours of driving, they pulled into Laurier, a small community on the Washington and Canadian border. The driver turned off onto a dirt road, drove several miles, and stopped. Another vehicle approached from a side road and parked in front of their vehicle. The driver opened his door, signaling it was time to move.

The exchange was quick. Within minutes, the vehicles headed out in different directions. Interestingly enough, the van Brian and Charlie drove was destined for Spokane. That suited Brian just fine. From what he understood, Spokane was a distribution point for commodities sent to points south and east. Commodities, the word included even the living flesh, and that was just fine too. It all paid a nice wage.

He refused the occasional offers of one of the girls. There was no thrill in that. Like any hunter or predator, much of the excitement came from the pursuit.

Susannah’s group arrived at the Minneapolis airport three hours after leaving Spokane. With only one hour before their flight to Atlanta boarded, she gained a true appreciation for packing light and felt she had greatly missed on that score. Her carry on piece was heavy and running with it proved a daunting task.

She had listened to one of the other women, Carol, and had packed extras. Her shoulders ached and her legs were cramping. By the time they reached the terminal, she was less than a happy traveler. She was hungry, tired, sore, and cranky.

Barbara led her toward one of the few cafés not overly crowded, shuffled her to the closest table, and ordered coffee and scones.

Susannah devoured the pastry and downed the coffee.

Barbara smiled “Feeling better?”

“Some. Sorry. I don’t mean to be so crabby.”

“Ready for the next leg?”

“No.”

Barbara gave her another smile. “Well I don’t see as you have any choice at this point.”

Susannah nodded, picked up her carry on, and followed Barbara toward the boarding gate. If she could get some sleep, her attitude would improve, and she might enjoy the travel rather than drag along like a condemned prisoner. She remembered the centurion and sighed. At least he knew why he was making his journey. God often demanded sacrifices that didn’t make sense until afterward. She just hoped hers didn’t involve martyrdom.

The two-hour flight to Atlanta was smooth and quiet. Susannah managed several short naps and disembarked, ready to tackle the enormous Atlanta airport. It was large enough to require express trains to shuttle passengers from terminal to terminal. Traveling at seventy miles an hour, Susannah felt they should be required to supply safety harnesses. Even seats would be nice. Instead, she held onto a vertical pole and tried to keep her luggage corralled in a somewhat close proximity to her body.

Exiting proved almost as daunting as trying to stay on her feet. Both boarding and disembarking passengers crushed her between them. Her luggage barely cleared the doors before they closed and the train exploded away from the platform.

At the South African gate, Dr. Forrester gathered them around. “This will be the longest part of our flight. It is seventeen-hours from here to Cape Town, South Africa. We will not be disembarking there. It is only an hour-long stop for boarding and un-boarding passengers. We’re flying onto Johannesburg where we will change planes for the trip to Bulawayo. A driver will pick us up at the airport there and drive us on to the first mission ― about a six hour drive.”

Susannah groaned.

Barbara leaned close. “It’ll be worth it, trust me.”

“I’ll take your word on that, and that may come back to haunt you.”

Barbara laughed and turned her attention back to Dr. Forrester.

“And, there is a time difference. We will cross the International Date Line before we reach Cape Town. Our nights and days will reverse. Jet lag is real, folks. Be prepared. Also, remember to move out of your seats and stretch your legs often.”

Susannah turned to Barbara. “He sounds like a travel documentary, one giving only the bad news.”

Barbara grinned. “It’s all the same from here on out, Honey. But remember, it’ll be worth it.”

“So you said.”

Susannah edged out of her seat only twice during the long flight, both times only to use the restroom. She eyed the flight monitor, appropriately shaped like a plane. It barely seemed to move.

She leaned over to Barbara. “I think they lied. This isn’t an airplane, it’s a hover craft.”

Barbara laughed.

“So, tell me again why I volunteered to do this?”

Did she volunteer? That might be a subject for debate. Instead of sitting cramped in this plane, she could be home, cuddled in her chair with Buddy, or out walking the path ― well, maybe not that. She still did not feel comfortable walking through all the dense vegetation, not until Brian Falun was locked up.

On that thought, maybe being out of the country for a while wasn’t such a bad idea. With a little luck, he might be in prison by the time she returned. That would be one less issue to face. Loneliness would still be too close of a companion, but then, perhaps she would adjust to that, find another purpose, like the children.

***

The Bulawayo terminal in Zimbabwe was tiny and it took mere seconds to find their luggage. Their driver, Phillip, was a paid employee of World Wide Christian Services and a personal assistant to Dr. Forrester.

After the initial introductions and their luggage was secured in the back of the van, Phillip pulled away from the terminal. The temperature gradually rose to nearly a hundred degrees. Thankfully, the van’s air conditioner worked. Phillip explained that wasn’t always the case.

They left the city, driving through arid grassland, low growing bushes, and termite mounds. In Bietbridge, Phillip pulled into a restaurant and turned off the van.

“We’ll eat dinner here. It is the last piece of civilization before we reach the mission.”

“How much further?” Carol asked.

“We’re probably about half way.”

Susannah stifled her groan. Halfway?

Wimpy’s was a hamburger shop very similar to any fast food chain back in the States, but the similarities ended with the menu. It listed hamburgers and chips. Susannah didn’t want chips. She wanted fries.

She smiled at the server. “I’d like a hamburger and Coke, but I can I have French fries instead of chips?”

The server scowled. “We don’t serve
French
fries. We have chips.”

Barbara whispered in her ear. “Chips are the English word for fries. Zimbabwe was an English colony, not French.”

“Oh. All right, please give me the
chips
then.”

She was already tired and cranky, but was even crankier when she received her food. The burger was small, sitting in the center of the bun, leaving at least two inches of bread all the way around, and the meat tasted funny. Then, after the drama over her fries, she was disappointed to find out that the ketchup wasn’t ketchup at all. It was tomato sauce mixed with vinegar. She ate the potatoes plain, and nibbled on the bread.

The Coke was the only thing that resembled anything familiar. The next time she saw that old Indian, they were going to have words, divine messenger or not.

She spent the rest of the trip in alternate states of sleep and drowsy wakefulness, vaguely remembering pedestrians illuminated by the headlights. Without any light other than the vehicle’s headlights, or the occasional cooking fire, the night seemed endless. By her calculations, they had been traveling seventy-two hours since leaving Spokane. She was tired of traveling and had yet to see anything that made it worth it.

After hours of jostling, choking dust, heat, and black night, they finally pulled into the first mission. Susannah peered through the dust-encased window at the small compound lit by a few electric lights and a campfire. Phillip parked in front of a row of large tents and stopped
.
Susannah shuddered. She’d seen a documentary once about lions dragging people from tents.

Phillip gestured to the right. “There is one chalet, which we’ve designated for the women. The men will bunk in the tents.”

Barbara laughed and nudged her. “Lions won’t be dragging the men out of the tents.”

Susannah’s face felt like someone hit her face with a blowtorch.

“It appears you have been reading the wrong books, Susannah.”

“No books, just some documentaries, and they claim there are a lot more lion predations than people admit.”

“I’ve been to Africa numerous times, Susannah, along with a lot of other volunteers, and have never heard of any problems.”

“I hope you’re right.”

The camp staff sprang into action, whisking their luggage away to their various quarters, and offering food and drinks. Susannah declined all, her last meal still sitting undigested in her stomach and she headed directly to the chalet.

It was rustic, but accommodating. There was running water, and so no need to go out at night. However, the door was made of exceptionably thick wood and the hinges were ten times what she considered a normal size. Was that a good thing or a warning? Before another slew of images could fully form, she turned away and studied the rest of the room.

Each bed had a nightstand with a bottle of water, a glass, and a candle with matches. The beds looked immaculately clean, but resembled landscapes more than sleeping pads, with numerous hills and valleys, the valleys lying predominately in the middle. Valleys or not, it was a real bed and Susannah couldn’t wait.

After some rudimentary nightly oblations, she pulled back the bedding and climbed in, found a reasonably comfortable position ― and then noticed the thatched roof. What denizens of the insect world lay hidden, ready to drop on top of her while she slept?

Carol noticed her staring at the ceiling. “Phillip assured me this is the dry season and the nights are cold enough to keep the insect life down. And the camp staff sprays the thatch on a regular basis.”

Right. Should she believe that?

Fatigue numbed all further concerns of extraneous bed partners, and Susannah dropped into a deep, dreamless sleep the moment her head touched the pillow.