Page 20 of A New Year Baby

CHAPTER 12

JACK, SIERRA LEONE, MONTHS LATER…

Our captors have been forcing us to perform medical care on all the people in the nearby villages. While at gunpoint. But the weird thing is that we were sort of doing that already? I guess this way makes them feel cooler, and more responsible for helping their people.

They must have felt pretty helpless this whole time.

Plus, waving their guns around and getting us to follow their orders probably gets them brownie points with the local ladies.

And this way… our help is not temporary.

We are stuck here permanently. Completely under their control. We eat what they give us, sleep when they tell us, and wake up when they tell us. We wear the clothing they provide for us. We can’t even use the bathroom without an armed escort to prevent us from escaping.

At night, the four of us are forced to sleep together in a little hut, with guards posted outside. I have no belongings. Nothing to my name. They took all my money and identification… but they were somehow kind enough to leave me Stella’s photograph.

For years, that photo was tucked away in the back of my wallet, and I hardly ever looked at it. It was too painful to think about everything I lost. But now, when it’s my only earthly possession—the only thing that connects me to the life I used to have before I was captured—I stare at it for almost hours every night.

I wonder how she is—my Stella.

I can’t help picturing her wearing oven mitts. I feel like I would just about kill to taste something she baked, right about now. Not only because the food here is severely lacking. The other day I had disgusting, barely cooked, soggy chicken. I’ve never eaten soggy chicken before, but I didn’t want to insult my hosts and potentially get shot by complaining or asking if I could stick it back in the fire for a few minutes.

Definitely had a bit of a stomachache after that. And we are running quite low on medical supplies. Food poisoning, cholera, or diarrhea can be a killer out here when we have no amenities or medicine. The sanitation and hygiene of the locals, the water sources, and food preparation are a major source of illness.

Stella is the only thing I can think about to calm down.

Not just her sublime baking, but all the love and effort she put into everything she did.

Her passion for the food she created.

The way she would stand over a cake for hours, perfectly arranging every little flower and petal. I remember the way her cake tasted. I remember the wayshetasted.

I fantasize about her so much, for so many nights, going crazy here in captivity, that I begin to wonder if I am remembering her correctly. I might just be making things up in my head. I can barely remember the sound of her voice. Every night, I lay here, trying to remember all the things I’ve forgotten that made life good. I remember the smells of her kitchen, her face smeared with flour, and her laugh. I remember lifting her onto the countertop of the bakery and making love to her while surrounded by the mess of pots and pans. I remember her moaning my name in my ear.

I remember her hands tightly gripping my shoulders and her nails digging into my back as she climaxed. Just flashes of the most vivid memories come to me in the middle of the night when I lie awake staring at her photo.

Of course, some of these memories are a bit awkward to have in a hut with three other guys, because they make my body react more than I would like. It gives me a bit of a problem that I can’t get away to take care of without an armed guard watching me do my business. When he’s standing there with a loaded gun, I don’t really feel like unloading my gun, if you know what I mean.

It’s just not very relaxing.

But I’m just happy that I’ve been forced to remember, at all. Being robbed of my phone and my freedom has stolen my ability to distract myself with all the millions of unimportant details I usually focus on. All I can think about is getting home to my family… and Stella.

I realize it is probably too late.

All the guys were right—enemies and allies alike. They all called me an idiot, and that is exactly what I am. I was such a foolish child, before Africa. If I survive this, I’m going to be less closed off. I’ll spend more time with my loved ones. I’ll do better.

Stella has probably moved on by now. She’s probably married. She probably has a great husband and some cute kids by now, and I doubt she ever thinks of me. All the guys in Snowflake Creek wanted Stella. I heard she went home to Louisiana. I am sure they all wanted her there, too.

But anyway, I do hope I get to see her again. Whether or not she’s moved on.

I could never move on from a love like that, one that lasted most of my life.

I should never have run away like I did.

I hope I can get a chance to apologize, at least.

“Guys, we need to start thinking about an escape plan,” I whisper to the other doctors in the tent.

“Jack, it’s impossible,” says Thomas bitterly. “They can keep us here as long as they want. It’s already been months. We have to face it: we live here now. We are never going home.”

“How did you ever accomplish anything with that defeatist attitude?” I ask him. “We’re running low on supplies, and I think that we can convince them to let us order some medicine from the hospital. If we can just get a message out, maybe someone could come looking for us. Or if one of us could go to pick up the supplies, we could deliver a message then. Get a rescue over here for us.”

“And what happens when they open fire on the rescuers?” Joshua asks. “It’s not smart for anyone to come into these villages by force. It will cause so much bloodshed. We’ll probably get shot in the crossfire, too.”

“Then we can think of another way,” I tell them. “Come on, guys. Let’s just be creative here. We can offer to cook for them one night, and slip sleeping pills into the food. Sneak away then. There must be a way, if we try.”

“Well, we’ve got plenty of time to think of something,” says Rex. “So let’s put our heads together and see what we can come up with.”

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