view. The girl might have been light to start with but she was getting heavier by the minute.
A large body of water stretched across the panorama in front. It wasn’t the ocean. That took up the entire horizon to his left. It was a broad river that came from the mountains in the south. But the river didn’t flow into the sea because it had been blocked by a naturally formed dam. A seasonal phenomenon. During the monsoons, when the river was in full flood, it couldn’t be stopped.
Stratton felt thirsty and hoped that the water hadn’t been invaded by too much of an ocean backwash. He set off down the incline, his neck and back aching. He was looking forward to taking a breather. He felt the girl’s muscles tense.
He stopped a few metres from the water’s edge and lowered her to the ground, placing the trousers under her head as a pillow and covered her body with the shirt to preserve her modesty. She moaned and moved her head from side to side.
He went to the water, cupped a hand and tasted a little. It was brackish but drinkable. After a couple of mouthfuls he brought some over to her and dripped it on to her forehead and across her mouth. Her eyes flickered and her breathing quickened. She licked her lips. She opened her eyes and looked at him leaning over her. She suddenly became afraid and struggled to push herself away.
‘Easy,’ Stratton said, reaching out but without touching her. ‘It’s me. You’re OK. You’re safe now.’
She stopped, her whole body tensed as she came to her senses. Her eyes darted around before finding him again. She was still scared but he was a pillar of strength in a place where they were surrounded by danger. She realised she was naked and held the shirt to her.
‘We’re out of the town,’ he said. ‘It’s just you and me. No one else.’
Her expression changed and she eased off a bit.
Stratton wondered if she remembered what had happened to her. Such a serious trauma could cause short- term amnesia.
But she suddenly remembered. The horrific memories of the past few hours flooded her mind. She fought to control an abrupt emotional reaction and rolled into a ball and began to sob.
‘You know who I am?’ he said. ‘You remember me, right? I’m Stratton.’
She calmed a little and nodded.
‘We can’t stay here long. They’ll be looking for us. We have to get further away. Do you understand?’
She didn’t acknowledge him. He wondered if she was going to make it at all. Perhaps she had become unhinged. He couldn’t help thinking about his next move if she was unable to keep going. He couldn’t leave her of course.
‘Immy?’ he said. ‘You need to get up. You can’t stay here. I can’t carry you any more. Do you understand?’
She still didn’t move.
Stratton felt suddenly tired. He had to get on. Time was running out. She had to motivate herself. It seemed like she had gone into a catatonic state. He felt his patience wearing thin. He needed to find Hopper and get out of Somalia. It looked as if he might have to do it alone.
‘Immy?’ he said. ‘I need you to wake up, right now.’
She remained motionless.
‘Immy?’ he repeated, getting to his feet and standing over her. ‘I know you don’t want to die. But if you just lie there, if you don’t get up, your life is going to come to an end very soon.
‘I’ll spell it out for you,’ he said, getting angry. ‘I can’t leave you here alive. If I did and they found you, they would eventually learn what I know, what we both know. I can’t allow that information to be compromised. They’ll move the missiles and find another way of getting them out of the country. So you see, if you don’t pull yourself together, I won’t leave you here to die. I will kill you myself.’
He held the stock of the assault rifle over her. ‘Don’t make me do this. You either get up now or it’s over. You know I’ll do it.’
He raised the weapon and aimed for her head, resigned to killing her. It seemed a terrible thing to do but the equation was simple enough. It was her or him. And she would probably die anyway, of exposure, or when she was caught.
He looked towards the beach, gauging the distance to the ships. Perhaps he could get her on board. Hopper was doomed. The girl sat up and looked towards the water, her back to him. Like she didn’t know he was there. Stratton felt relief at his own reprieve as much as hers. She got to her feet, clutching the shirt to her, and walked to the water’s edge. She walked into the water up to her waist. She started to wash herself. She took a long drink and then doused her face and her arms and shoulders gently.
She stopped what she was doing, lowered her head and began to cry again. He felt helpless and unable to offer any encouragement that might be of use to her. He decided to shut up and let her get on with it.
She didn’t spend much longer in the water. She pulled on the shirt, turned around and walked towards him. She stopped to pick up the trousers a little unsteadily, pulled them on, rolling down the waist to shorten and tighten them.
‘Sorry, no shoes,’ he said. He looked at the welts on her neck and arms. She had taken a beating. He suddenly felt impressed by her. She had suffered enormously, in a way he could never really understand, but there she was, standing before him, unsteady, yet with a determined look in her eye.
‘How do you feel?’ he asked, grasping for something to say. ‘We need to walk on.’
She looked at the ground, into the distance. Then at him.
‘I can carry you for a bit,’ he said, his guilt not fully receded.
She shook her head. ‘I can walk,’ she said, her voice shaky. She looked around again. ‘Where are we?’
‘East of the town. About six kilometres.’
‘East?’ She looked confused.
‘South a kilometre and then east.’
‘Away from the sea.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Aren’t we going to find a boat?’
‘Not yet.’
She looked at him questioningly.
‘I want you to take me to the Al-Shabaab camp,’ he said.
Her gaze remained firmly on him. She seemed to be thinking, formulating a response.
‘I have to get my friend,’ Stratton said. ‘Don’t you want to help your friend too?’
She looked away again, like the question bothered her. ‘How can we do that?’ she asked. ‘The camp will have many fighters.’
‘I have to at least try,’ he said.
‘They are not like the pirates. They are more vigilant. More dangerous.’
He looked at her, waiting for her to narrow down her options until they equalled his.
She came to a conclusion. ‘Is that why you rescued me?’
He did not need to answer her. It was obvious enough.
‘I am thankful for that,’ she decided.
‘Where is the camp?’
She considered the question for a moment before returning to the water. She crouched to fill her palms and take a drink. Stratton felt his own thirst return and followed her lead.
‘Did you see a road?’ she asked.
‘We followed it. It’s just over there, at the top of the ridge.’
‘It goes south?’
‘Looks like it.’
She looked at the lake and towards the sea, comparing it to a map inside her head. ‘The camp is south from here. Ten kilo metres from the coast.’
‘Have you been there?’
‘No.’
She sat down again. Stratton watched as she tore the bottom of both trouser legs off. But instead of throwing the cloth away, she wrapped the pieces around her feet and tied them off.
