Chapter 30
Tuesday, June 30th, 1998
Senga Village
30 Miles North of Kambala
Sierra Leone, Africa
14:00 Hours
Once Marcus’s strength had returned and he was able to walk, his level of fitness recovered remarkably fast. Sambako had successfully cleaned the infection from his wounds, and been able to keep them clean. Within less than four weeks of the ambush, all that remained of the life-threatening injuries were rippled, white scars that striped the back of Marcus’s legs.
Marcus had started doing work around the village. The sun darkened his skin to the point that in a crowd, he was able to blend quite well, as long as no one studied his face too hard and saw that his features were not indicative of purely African lineage.
Talk around the village was that Sergei had escaped being captured by the Nigerian forces and was prowling the area. Sarandoka, a small village fifty miles to the east, had its inhabitants massacred and was burned to the ground. The people of Senga were in a state of terror. Many had already packed their belongings and were planning to make the trek across the jungle hills to a refugee camp thirty miles away, on the other side of the border in Guinea.
Sambako was pleased with Marcus’s progress, and expected to see his patient, who had since become his good friend, leave soon to find the way back to his own home.
“You are much better, my brother,” he said in his deep voice. “You must start your journey to find a path home to America. You should leave before Sergei’s men arrive.”
“I will leave. But not yet,” Marcus replied.
“Not yet?” Sambako asked. His voice rose in surprise. Marcus had told him much about home and had spoken frequently of his love for Lonnie. Sambako, being a pastor by training, listened intently to Marcus’s stories and counseled him at length. He had fully expected the Marine to want to rush home quickly to marry this wonderful woman who was waiting for him in Alaska.
“Why would you not want to leave? Have you changed your mind about your woman?”
“No, not at all. She can wait a little longer, though.” Marcus stopped and squatted down, surveying the land past the rows of small houses at the edge of the village. “I definitely want to go home, but I can’t leave, with Sergei roaming around here.”
“There is nothing one man can do alone against his army!” Sambako protested. “He now has almost two hundred men following him, thugs and murderers, some of them trained soldiers.”
“And there are dozens of children and women in this village who will die if that army comes here,” Marcus responded. “I cannot let that happen without a fight.”
“I understand,” the minister said. “You are a man like David.”
“David? From the Bible?” Marcus asked. “I’m not looking to kill a giant with a stone, I just want to make sure these innocents get to safety before the giant kills them.”
“Yes, exactly. David was more than a boy who killed a giant. He was a warrior who ruled Israel and drove back his enemies until Israel expanded from the Euphrates River to the Red Sea. For more than forty years, he fought like a beast in battle, yet was filled with mercy for the innocent and would go out of his way to protect his people and allies, as opposed to simply conquering his enemies. He was a warrior, whose enemies feared the mention of his name. The Bible says he was a man after God’s own heart. Did you know he was also a poet? He wrote most of the book of Psalms, which is full of songs and poetry.”
“Well, I’m sure I am not a man after God’s own heart. But if He helps warriors protect the innocent, then I need to get to know Him better,” Marcus replied.
“You should get to know Him now, Marcus. Your life will depend on it,” Sambako said with sincerity.
“I only know what I learned in Sunday School at the little Baptist church back home,” Marcus answered. “Maybe you can pray to Him for me.”
“My prayers will help some, but only those from you will truly help you,” said the African minister. “And I suggest you start making them right away. I heard from the village elders today that some of Sergei’s men were seen about ten miles south of here yesterday. They were most likely a scouting party looking for good villages to raid. It is only a matter of time before they arrive.”
“I need a weapon and ammunition. What’s around here, in the village?” Marcus asked.
Sambako nodded pensively and answered, “Several of the men have AK-47’s. There always seems to be a supply of those at hand. But we are not an army here, not even a militia. The weapons may not be well maintained.”
“Show me what you have. Both in weapons and men who know how to use them.”
Sambako called together the men of the village and told them that Marcus was going to help them defend the village, and, if necessary, lead them in an escape.
Of those left in the village, there were only about twenty-five boys and men healthy enough to fight. Several of the older men offered their rifles for Marcus to use. When they brought them out, he carefully inspected each one to ensure they would actually work when needed. Most were in very bad shape, with rusted barrels and receivers. Two were in fair condition and had been cleaned at least a few times in the past year. One that was offered was immaculate.
