Page 29 - Archangel

hades twice in a day

The ‘Gift’, that Low Country Geechee premonition which had both
plagued and preserved him through +30 years, hit Skye with the figurative
force of a charging rhino. He had to go back – now. He was never more
certain of anything. Dizzy and breathing deeply, he prayed for either
regained sanity or a sign. It was then that MacIain’s friend and fellow
Operation Moses boat Captain Ndara Kenyatta came striding down the
dock. Hugging his edgy Scottish American friend, Ndara entreated,
“A tough run I hear. God give you rest for the weary.” A retired Kenyan
Special Forces medic and military boat operator, Kenyatta had worked
with Skye for two months. The Captain had been a great coach for
MacIain and Collins on everything from logistics to tribal relations.
He had come to know, respect and occasionally fear the decisive PFW
humanitarian aid leader.
Noticing that Skye not only failed to answer but was transfixed by the
moon, Ndara touched him gently on the shoulder. Slowly shifting his
gaze eastward, MacIain shared matter of factly, “I’m going back. I’ve got
to.” Before Ndara could either hide his shock or begin to talk sense into
his mzungu [white man, Swahili] friend, Skye grabbed Kenyatta by the
shoulders and said, “It’s Layla, buddy. She gave us her son, shared a final
farewell, and ran back into the forest so no one on shore could vector
our location before we departed. That can only mean she and the route
were burned, compromised. I don’t know how. Maybe one of those Hutu
Interahamwe bastards posing as refugees in the camps. She gave us her
baby to save him. I can’t abandon her, Ndara, in case she could make it
back to the beach exfil site. She’s saved hundreds of our refugees.”
Realizing MacIain was serious and his fears warranted, Ndara moved
quickly to jump into his own bateau already packed and prepped for his
scheduled voyage the following night and untied the ropes.
Watching in amazement, Skye challenged, “What the hell do you think
you’re doing?”
Ndara responded in mock shock, retorting, “Going with you, you
Madman. We’ve got three hours at best if we leave now, and that’s with no
cover of darkness for half of our return. And for God’s sake, we cannot tell
or bring Dr. Sean. As I came to greet you, he tripped, fell in the reception
center clinic, and gashed his head on a gurney. I’d guess exhaustion and

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