The Rain in April

The clearings

Chapter 19

Patrick walked around the compound before making his way to the door. He pulled it inwards and it opened slightly with a tiny cracking noise. The house was the same as he had left it, everything seemed to be in place; he walked into the kitchen and scanned around, its walls were made of bamboo tightly packed and tied together. How time flew, fifteen days ago he was here, with his mother, discussing what he wanted to be in the future.

“I want to be an engineer,” he said, beaming a smile at his mother who was busy preparing supper.

“Why? I mean, being a doctor isn’t bad,” His mother had said, absent minded.

But now, those were nothing but dreams, dreams that hang on the line most especially with his mother and father dead. He closed his eyes again, he could still picture it all, their death; witnessing it alone was a punishment he would take on for the remainder of his life. He felt sorry for his sister, Keza, he wasn’t sure how she was handling it but thanks to Roselyn, she seemed comfortable and happy at the clearings. He searched the kitchen for a bag and when he found one, he started scavenging the kitchen, picking up food items until the bag was filled. He tied the bag up and carried it on his left shoulder. He walked into the sitting room, his eyes gazing around. His father’s old radio was still there, on the table. He shook his head and tried to fight the tears that were trying to force their way out.

“They are gone now,” he said to himself. All he had to do was to survive. He opened the door and looked around, before quietly walking out of the doorway as quickly as possible. He saw the maize his father planted, most of it dead while some must have been destroyed by the rain. He started as fast as possible, towards the bush close to the house, his heart pounding as he moved. He was already close to the bush when out of the corner of his eyes, he saw two men behind him, they were following him since and he didn’t notice. His heart melted and he wished instantly that the ground would open and swallow him. He remembered the young boy at the centre of the village, his skull bashed and his brain splatter all around. He felt cold water run down his spine. He stopped, walking and noticed that the men stopped. Patrick was breathing heavily and was shaking violently that his legs were weak to support him; he was sure the men saw him but what he was afraid of was the fact that they were close and he had nowhere to run to, nowhere but the clearings. He threw the bag he was carrying on the ground and broke into a run, tearing through the bush as he ran. He heard noises behind him and could feel the ground vibrating. He was sure he was not just being chased by two people alone; he was being chased by the whole village. He didn’t want to scream, didn’t want to shout but when the gunshots came louder than he had ever heard before, he screamed, shouting on top of his voice.

“Help…Help…”

He was running at full speed when all of a sudden, he was pushed from the side by someone knocking him off course. Patrick fell and tried to scream when a hand covered his mouth.

“Shuu… it’s me.”

Patrick at once recognized the old Priest voice as they both dragged themselves to a tree. Sooner than expected, a group of men ran by, some carrying guns while others held cutlasses.

“Calm down, they are gone,” the old Priest said, turning on his side to have a better look.

“I should have listened to you,” Patrick managed to say, catching his breath. He looked at the old man’s leg, it wasn’t bleeding anymore but the blood there had clotted on his skin, there were punctures all over his left foot.

“I’m sorry.” He said, his voice, sounding horsed. Deep down, Patrick blamed himself for what just happened; now the forest was not safe because of his stubbornness and stupidity. The young boy who was killed at the village was enough warning for him but he was adamant. He looked at the old man seated directly across him, his two legs spread out, he tried to read the expression on the man’s face, it depicted nothing but pain. He was the cause of it all, because of him, the priest was suffering. He had always seen the priest as a hypocrite, someone without the ability to love but ten days with him had changed so many things. The man was only trying to protect him all along, instead he found fault with everything the priest said or did, he always blamed the man for what had befallen him and his sister without even considering that everything happened on a large scale; everyone, not only him was affected by this uprising crisis. Everyone had lost a bit of humanity as a result of this g******e and having someone who really cared for you was a rare privilege.

“What happens now? Where do you think these men are headed?” Patrick asked in a calm tone, trying to start a conversation.

“Anywhere, search around the forest for you,” the old man answered with his eyes on his injured leg.

“Do you think they would believe I’m alone?”

The old priest laughed weakly and looked at Patrick and for the first time, Patrick noticed tears on the man’s face.

“I’m sorry; I should have listened to you,” Patrick apologized, his face staring at the ground. The old priest shook his head from side to side before looking up at the sky.

“They will find them and only God, would have mercy.”

Patrick looked at the priest in an irritated manner, he did not understand what the man said; he repeated it in his mind and it didn’t take long for him to understand;

“Keza…the clearings…” he stood up immediately.

“What if they found the clearings? What if they found her?” he asked himself; he would never forgive himself if anything happened to her. Without another look at the old priest, he broke into a run.

He didn’t stop; he just kept on running, tearing through the thick bush as he ran. He didn’t even stop to catch his breath. He had to save her; he had to get to the clearings before anybody else. As he ran, he perceived he wasn’t alone, he was being followed, the air whispered to him, the ground shook because of their boots, the air smelled of their bullets, it had been days, days of hell, and days of bloodshed. He fell down, but stood up almost immediately. He could feel his lungs getting tight but he would not stop, he knew that he might be leading them to her, but it was too late to stop, too late to go back

“Keza,” he muttered, running faster,

The sky was getting darker now, he could smell blood, he looked down and it seemed to him as though the earth was about to swallow him.

“Keza,” he called again. He stopped, leaned against a tree to catch his breath. Then it came, re-echoing through the forest, her screams revealing her deepest fears, his deepest fear, she had been surrounded, she had been taken.

“Keza,” he muttered under his breath, breaking into a run.

“Mankind must put an end to war before war puts an end to mankind.”

JOHN F. KENNEDY.