Page 16 of A New Year Baby

CHAPTER 10

Our captors are looking at our wallets and talking quickly amongst themselves. I can’t make out the Kri language clearly when it’s that fast, despite it being so close to English. I frown as I try to listen.

“…de doctor dem,” says one of them, gesturing to the wallet, then a bunch of stuff I don’t understand.

“…fetch a high price. We ransom dem…”

“…ask for de US dolla…”

“…how much dey wort? Tink we get a million dolla?”

“…man, wait—me daugtta sick. Ask dem a fa help.”

“What are they saying?” Joshua asks, leaning closer to me.

“Oh, the usual,” I answer in a lighthearted way. “They’re going to keep us as prisoners indefinitely. Try to ransom us off for a high price to the US government.”

“But I’m Aussie, mate,” says Josh with a grunt.

“Then you’re definitely screwed. No way these men are going to let us live for worthless Australian dollars,” I tell him. “Better say your goodbyes now.”

“You’re so helpful,” Joshua responds grouchily.

Our captors finish talking amongst themselves, and move back over to us, trying to switch to normal English so we can understand better. They don’t entirely succeed.

“You all get one lass text message,” the leader is saying, “before we take de phone dem away. No funny business—no ask fa help. One lass ting fa ya wife dem, ya kids. Who ya text?”

I swallow.

Sadly, the person I want to text most hasn’t spoken to me in years. But she jumps immediately into my mind, anyway, making this unpleasant situation a bit more painful.

Beside me, Joshua is calling out the name of his wife. “Text Joanna—she’s saved in my phone as JoJo. Just tell her I love her. Please.”

“JoJo, JoJo,” says the kidnapper, finding her name and then texting slowly. “I… love… you. You wan me add some heart emoji?”

“Yes, please,” Joshua says, nearly in tears. “Add lots of hearts.”

“Okay, done. Take him phone,” he says, giving the phone to his friend, who immediately removes the SIM card. They will surely get a pretty penny for selling it.

My other colleagues tell the kidnappers what they want to text their wives, and I sit here like an idiot, looking down at my shoes.

When it comes to my turn, the man shoves my phone in my face. “Who ya text?”

“Uh. I guess just text my mother,” I tell them. “Tell her I won’t make it home for Christmas.”

The man stares at me in amazement. Then he laughs. “Yer mudder? You wan me text yer mudder about Christmas? Eh, boyz. Check out dis fool.”

All the kidnappers have a good laugh at me.

But who else would I text? I don’t really want my family to worry. I don’t want to message my sisters, especially Eve, because she’s a bit too smart. Being a writer and all, I am sure she would be able to tell from two words that the text was written by someone else. And she’ll freak out, and freak everyone else, and they’ll cry, and stress.

No, it’s better if they just think I’m a neglectful jerk who is missing Christmas… again.

And maybe it’s true. Maybe I have been a bit of a neglectful jerk. It’s been hard for me to go back to that town, because everything reminds me of Stella. It’s better if they are angry at me than worried about me.

Sitting here in my underwear, with my ankles and wrists zip tied, I am definitely wishing I had spent more time with my family in recent years. I miss my sisters. I miss my parents. I miss home.

But we’ve also done a lot of good work here. We saved a lot of lives.

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