* * *
Kristi satwith her back against the mud brick wall of the little hut, Jidda sleeping on the mat beside her. She hadn’t dared close her eyes last night, even with the scalpel hidden in the pocket of her scrubs. She’d been afraid that the men who shared this hut with Jidda might take advantage of his drugged state to assault her. She also hadn’t relished the thought of lying amid rodent droppings, which in this part of the world, carried some terrible diseases, including Lassa Fever.
Six other men slept in here, their bed mats rolled up during the day. Jidda had told her that he was their leader, but he failed to say whotheywere. She had figured out that they weren’t Boko Haram when several of his men had crossed themselves just as she’d begun to extract the bullet. They must be bandits. They roved the forests, stealing cattle, kidnapping people for ransom, robbing, raping, killing.
At least she had her IUD. No matter what they did, she wouldn’t get pregnant.
She hugged her arms around herself, hollow with hunger and aching with thirst.
If she’d known she was being abducted, she would have tried to bring food and water for herself, not to mention doxycycline to prevent herself from contracting malaria. The medication was probably out of her system by now, making her vulnerable.
Had she truly believed they would drive away with the stolen medical supplies and leave her behind? She ought to have known by the questions the asshole had asked her and the way he’d looked at her that he’d had plans for her.
Are you a doctor?
No, I’m a registered nurse.
You take care of the sick?
How stupid could she be? Fatally stupid it seemed.
If she came down with malaria out here, she would most likely die.
Yeah, if they don’t kill you first.
Jidda had promised to let her go unharmed, but she had no idea whether he would keep his word. For him to have any chance at that, he had to survive.
She crawled over to him, pressed her palm to his forehead. His fever had gone down, but that could be from the ibuprofen and acetaminophen and not the antibiotics. She’d pulled a bullet and a piece of fabric out of his leg. There’d been a lot of pus, so she’d wet a four-by-four piece of sterile gauze and tucked it into the wound to keep it open so that it could drain. Then she had wrapped his thigh in sterile plastic wrap.
Jidda’s eyes fluttered open. “It feels better today.”
“That’s the pain-killers. I need to check it again, and I’ll need more boiled water.” Her stomach growled loudly enough for Jidda to hear it.
“Have they brought you no food?”
She was glad he asked. “I haven’t eaten since yesterday, and I’m so thirsty.”
“I will have them bring you food and water from the river.”
She shook her head. “I can’t drink river water. It must be boiled for at least three minutes, or it will make me sick.”
He frowned, then called out a name. “Peter!”
The man who’d abducted her appeared in the open doorway.
So that was the bastard’s name.
Jidda spoke to him in angry tones, then switched to English. “Bring our guest something good to eat, and boil more water for my leg and some for her to drink.”
“Fetch and boil water?” Peter glared at Kristi. “Am I a woman? Get Obi to do it. It is not my job to make her comfortable. She is our captive, nothing more.”
“Your job is to do what I tell you to do.” Then Jidda switched into his other language, a rush of angry words spilling out of him.
Looking sullen, Peter left to do as he’d been asked.
“What is your name?” Jidda asked.
“Kristi Chang.”