The lime lady takes the bloody wrapping from her son’s leg. You have to look away as the bandages come off the maroon wound.
‘Do you know where the boys came from?’ asks Rahama.
‘They were orphans, all of them. They came from the same place: Bright Dream Orphanage. A false name for a terrible place. The things I could tell you about Bright Dream … but I’ll get to that.’ He sighs.
The lime lady wraps her son’s leg in a clean bandage. She begins to pace around the front of their home, wringing her bony hands. There is a rustle from something in the corner – probably a rat – and she jumps.
If it’s true that her son has run away from his job with al-Shabaab, you know she won’t be able to keep him hidden for long before al-Shabaab return and exact their revenge. You start to feel very nervous, and the dim, stuffy room in the ruin begins to feel airless as Zayd continues with his story.
‘I didn’t want to, but I followed orders and sent the boys into battle,’ he says.
His voice has become slower, and every word seems to cause him pain.
‘I stood by and watched them go off to fight, day after day. At night, they barely slept – just sat there with a horrible, faraway look in their eyes, or sometimes woke screaming from a nightmare. By the end of the second week of fighting, nearly all of them had been killed. But some were wounded: superficial bullet wounds, a broken arm, things that would heal. I asked permission for them to rest and to be treated. These boys had been so brave. But instead, they told me to … to …’
‘What did they tell you to do?’ asks Rahama.
‘They told me to kill all the injured ones,’ stutters the man. He holds his head in his hands. ‘Can you imagine? They said, We don’t have the time and money to treat rats. Stop being their nurse and just shoot them. They’re worthless.’
You feel a cold shudder run through you. These were boys your own age – orphans like you, but without an Aunty Rahama to keep them safe.
‘I said, You can’t ask me to shoot my own troops. I thought you followed Allah’s law, but this is an abomination. You can’t kill these boys like animals.’
Zayd sighs again, and his mother stops pacing a moment to rest her hand on his shoulder.
‘That was when they started beating me,’ he says. ‘They left me for dead.’
You hear a crunch of footsteps coming through the rubble and weeds outside. Everyone in the room stiffens.
‘Zayd!’ shouts a voice. ‘Zayd Tarabi, come and face us!’
You look at Aunty Rahama, stricken. You will both be killed along with Zayd if al-Shabaab finds you here.
‘Quick!’ snaps the lime lady. ‘Into the hole!’ With the strength of a fit young person, the tiny, wizened lady drags a piece of concrete to one side to reveal a hidey-hole in the floor. ‘Get in!’
You, Rahama and Zayd squirm down into the hole. The lime lady shoves the concrete back over the gap, raining pebbles and dust down onto you. You are compressed into a black stew of elbows and breathing and uncomfortable wriggles.
The lime lady bravely stays above ground. ‘I’m his mother,’ you hear her cry, as heavy boot-steps enter the room. ‘He isn’t here. Go away!’
‘Then whose are these bloody rags on the floor?’ snarls a voice. ‘Bandages for your injured son who isn’t home, perhaps?’
You curse silently. Nobody hid the evidence of Zayd, and now it’s right under their noses.
‘I have to tell you about Bright Dream,’ Zayd whispers, ‘before I die.’
You can tell from his voice that he is struggling to breathe from the pain of climbing into the hole with his broken bones and the crush of your bodies next to him.
‘Bright Dream’s not an orphanage,’ he goes on, so softly you can barely make out the words. ‘It’s the key to al-Shabaab’s downfall. You have to tell the world what they’re doing there—’
A scream from the lime lady cuts Zayd short. ‘Let go of me!’ she cries. ‘I tell you, he’s not here!’
Zayd’s body is tense and bristling like a cornered dog. You know he won’t be able to hide in this hole and listen to his mother being hurt. How could he?
‘I have to stop them,’ Zayd mutters. ‘I have to try. Remember: investigate Bright Dream.’
He pushes the concrete above your heads to one side. The room immediately falls silent. You and Rahama are still out of sight as Zayd clambers up through the small gap he’s made.
‘You have me,’ he gasps, his voice tight with the pain of moving. ‘Now put her down.’
The lime lady lets out a sob. You’re trying not to choke from all the dust in the hole. You can see Rahama’s wide eyes shining in the dim light slanting down through the gap. She places a hand on your wrist: Stay here. Hide.
A powerful, wild heat pumps through your limbs.
Should you stay hidden in the hole, and let the men from al-Shabaab take Zayd? They will almost certainly kill him. But at least you and Rahama will survive, and go on to investigate his story.
Or should you make a surprise attack: leap from the hole and try to rescue Zayd? It sounds like there are at least two men in the room above. They will certainly have guns, and you don’t have a weapon. But you have the element of surprise. Could it possibly work?
If you jump out of the hole and try to rescue Zayd, turn
