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PROLOGUE
The bus jostles me and I try to hold in a groan. My body aches everywhere. The pain is almost too much to bear, but I bite down on my tongue and rub my hand over my belly knowing I need to be strong. These people are risking their lives to help me get out of the country. A country where no one who cares about me knows I’m in. Everyone who was with me is gone. Everyone I worked with is dead. I was hurt in a country I told my mother I wouldn’t go to. She had warned me it wasn’t safe, but I couldn’t pass up the assignment. My career was more important than the danger.
I’ve spent my life not only filming but also studying the biggest land mammals. When I had a chance to go on this expedition, I knew I would risk everything for it. It was supposed to be a trek into Botswana to then follow a herd into Zimbabwe. I didn’t know that I would be left with an impossible choice, but a choice I don’t regret making. I also didn’t know my life would irrevocably change in a moment.
My papers, passport, everything was destroyed. My only chance is to get to the consulate in Pretoria. My mother works there, and I know she will help me. If I can get there, we will be safe.
I drift off for a moment as the bus travels toward the border crossing in Groblerbrug. The family helping me could be arrested along with me if this doesn’t work. At the last safe house, they colored my hair with a temporary dark dye to cover the brilliant red. My skin is currently caked in makeup and dirt to cover my pale complexion. I need to get across the border into South Africa and to Pretoria. There I will be safe. There I will get the help I need to get away from the men hunting me. I will be able to get new papers so I can escape the country I’ve called home for years. The Brigade will not give up hunting me, just like they hunt the animals I protect and study.
The bus starts to slow and the young girl, Gorata, moves toward me. She’s about eighteen and helping her family with my escape. It feels like I’ve known this family for years instead of just a day. The eleven-hour drive from their small border town village near the Botswana-Zimbabwe border has cemented them into my heart and soul. A friendship has been formed that I will cherish forever. I’ll never forget.
“Keep your face to the wall. Act like you’re sleeping.” She unhooks the IV bag replenishing fluids in me and carefully pushes it between the wall of the bus and my body. Her beautiful reddish-brown sepia skin is flushed because she’s nervous. She starts to pat my shoulder but stops when she sees the bandages exposed. She covers my body as I roll away from her. I pray this works; I hate jeopardizing their lives. When I stumbled into their village yesterday, I didn’t know they would end up helping me in this way. I only wanted to find someone to get a message to my mother before I died. Instead, they got a local villager who was a nurse to bandage me up. Together they helped me escape and we’ve been driving ever since to get me home. Well, back to my mother at least. Although I’ve lived in South Africa for about sixteen years, my home is really back in America.
After this I will have to make a choice about my life. I didn’t expect the changes, but I can never return here. I’d be a target for the Brigade for the rest of my life if I lived here. This family has sacrificed too much helping me, and for them I won’t risk it again. I won’t take that chance.
We come to a stop, and I hear the border patrol asking about where we are going and who we are. The guard asks who I am, and they explain I am their cousin and I’m sleeping. I hear the heavy tread of the guard’s shoes approach me.
“Who are you?” he says in English as he pokes me in the back with something. I groan in pain from the contact. Hopefully he thinks it’s from me waking up. But I answer his question while keeping my face covered and away from him.
“Rinda. My name is Rinda,” I say in Tswana, using the alias the family gave me of a relative. I hope the accent that many say they still hear in my speech isn’t heard by this guard. I keep my head down under the covers; my dirty, knotted hair makes it look like I have long dreadlocks. I stopped worrying about how I smelled days ago. It took me over a day to get to the village after the attack.
“Okay.” The border patrol officer moves back to the front of the bus, which was renovated into a home. The family borrowed it from another relative to take me to South Africa. “Pass,” the guard says just before I hear a door close. I don’t relax yet because I’m still scared. Until I’m in the consulate and safe, I won’t breathe a sigh of relief.
We make our way into South Africa and continue on. I struggle with consciousness as the blood loss is getting to be almost too much. The fever is causing me chills. The nurse gave me some pain meds before we set out, and the family was able to get me a second dose. But now the meds are wearing off and the pain is so intense that I’m nauseous too.
When we arrive outside the consulate, I have to walk to the entrance and ask for my mom. I have to stand on my injured leg again. Just the motion of swinging my legs off the bunk causes my stomach to roll. I choke back the vomit that rises and breathe through my nose. I’ve barely eaten because of the pain and nausea.
I’m almost there. I’m almost to safety. My vision is haloed from the fever and dizziness. Gorata slips several of her bracelets off her wrist and hands them to me. I shake my head to decline them, but she slips them on my wrist anyway.
“You keep, to remember me.”
“I’ll never forget everything you’ve done for me. You and your family will always be in my heart. Thank you,” I softly say to her and the family, hugging them all. I’ll never forget them. I hobble off the bus and limp over to the guards at the gate. They lift their weapons in caution. I raise my hands in the air.
“I’m an American. Sharon Parrish is my mother.” Those are the only words that come from my mouth as my body goes lax and I collapse to the ground. A guard pulls me to him and holds me.
I force my eyes to stay open. I won’t pass out until I see her. My mom needs to know that I love her. That she was my last thought.
“Sydney,” I hear her cry out, and my eyelids fall closed.
CHAPTER1
SYDNEY
MURFREESBORO, TN
Nine Months Later
The drive has taken about four hours, and as I pull through Murfreesboro, the memories of my childhood here roll through my mind. The last time I was home was for Gram’s funeral. She raised me while my parents worked their way up through the State Department after they went to law school.
I was a whoops baby. But not to my gram; I was her little bean. She attended my parent-teacher conferences, met all my teachers, and was for all intents and purposes my parent. Until my father figured out a family would benefit his career and he got stationed with the consulate in South Africa. I was eleven when we moved away from here, but Murfreesboro has always been my home.
As I drive through town, I take in the growth but am happy to see some of the mom-and-pop places too, especially the steak restaurant Gram would take me to when I got straight A’s. I continue on to the new neighborhood. I can’t wait to expose my own little girl to this community. For the last four months, Marinda, my almost four-month-old, and I have lived between Pretoria and Atlanta. Marinda is starting to get restless, so this is perfect timing me getting here now. The moving van will be at the house in a couple of hours.
I pull into the driveway of the white ranch-style house and park in front of the garage. I take a deep breath and exhale slowly, taking it all in. For months I have bided my time waiting for the perfect house to come on the market. But I couldn’t see it in person until now. I stayed away until my lawyers said it was safe for me to come out of hiding. I also needed to wait until I was healthy, and Mari was too. I couldn’t chance her life or mine. I spent months in the hospital fighting for both of our lives, and finally it’s all paid off.
Marinda whimpers in the back seat. She isn’t going to stand being restrained in her car seat much longer. She enjoys her tummy time. I made sure I left Atlanta while it was her nap time, but that put us in morning rush-hour traffic. We’ve been staying at a friend of my mother’s, who is also one of my attorneys. She helped me get this all organized. She came and looked at the house for me, and she watched Mari when I drove up to Nashville last week for my job interview. I can’t wait to start work in two days. There’s a daycare nearby other employees use, and I’ve already registered Mari. I just pray our life here is good and long.
As has become habit in the last nine months, I check my surroundings to make sure I’m safe before I open my door. My life changed completely that day not so long ago. But I won’t let it cause issues for Mari. It’s why I moved here. Far enough away from my old life. I remove my sunglasses from the top of my head and drop them on to the dashboard before stepping out into the cooler December weather. Other than the house, furnishings, and clothing, my new Buick Enclave SUV is the other major purchase I’ve made. I wanted something safe, reliable, and not too expensive. Since I graduated from college and never had big expenditures, I was able to save all my money and build a good nest egg. All that money was supposed to be for the day that I decided to retire, and as far as everyone knows that’s what I did. It was easy to fall back into a normal life with Mari.
