Page 38 - Archangel

Dane quipped, “You mean, IF you can depart? Watch your ‘6’, Skye.
It won’t do to have the family’s ‘do gooder’ dying alone in an African
backwater, no matter how many lives you’re saving. I’d rather put a
sword in your hands, kill you myself and send you to Valhalla like a good
Norse Gael. You’ve been in seven wars over two decades! Usually unarmed,
you dumb ass.” Breathing deeply, Dane said, “Okay, I’m finished and feel
much better.”
MacIain retorted, “That’s rich, coming from a retired SEAL with over 20
missions, working for God knows who in the shadows. Oh yeah – part of
the ninth-ranked sniper team on the planet in his spare time, with a two-
mile shot through a stop sign-sized target to his credit.”
“Well, the whole blessed family would disown me if I let the
humanitarian among us come to a violent end,” Dane shared soberly.
“Especially after the disappearance in Bukavu of that Irish aid worker, Dr.
Liam Kelly. And don’t give me some bullshit justification that it won’t
happen to you.”
Lightening the mood, Skye laughed and said, “I heard that! Anything
you can dig up would help that cause, Dane. I owe you one, for what, the
15th time?”
“Twenty first but who’s counting, Cousin?” Dane bantered. “Just
remember to put in a good word with that God of yours who protects you
with His own spiritual SEAL team. Tell Him not to forget the well-meaning
pagan who bailed out His wayward favorite – again.”
As Dane’s genuine love and Southern accent evaporated into static,
Collins, Kenyatta, and Ngetti came flying down the path. “Jesus, Mary and
Joseph!“ intoned Sean, bent over breathlessly with hands on his knees.
“We thought you’d wandered into the shallows in some medicated bliss.”
Ensuring the small satellite phone remained concealed, Skye rose
gingerly and joked Isa, “At least I wobbled downhill.” Changing the
subject, MacIain asked, “Can we eat? I’ll need some of Iza’s gumbo
and red beans if we’re going back to the Bukavu camps tomorrow.”
Turning to the Kenyans, he barbed, “I need more spicy fuel than our
favorite leprechaun.”
Sean promptly beaned him in the head with a palm tree date, smiled
and chirped, “Pog Mo Thoin” [Kiss my ass, Gaelic], as Kenyatta and Ngetti
cracked up over the antics of the craziest mzungus they had ever met.

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