Cross Country

man I had released, the one who’d laughed at me
.
    These Janjaweed were on foot — they had no horses or camels. They had guns and also knives and camel whips; a couple of them wielded spears.
    One man waved the flag of Sudan as if they were here on the state’s business, and possibly they were. Another carried a flag with a white fierce horseman on a dark blue background, the symbol of the Janjaweed.
    The women and children of the camp, who had been laughing and playing just a minute before, were screaming and trying to scatter out of harm’s way now.
    The attack was satanic in its viciousness; it was pure evil, like the murder scenes I’d visited in Washington. Grown men slashed away at defenseless refugees or shot them down. The thatched roofs of huts were set on fire not twenty feet away from me. An elderly man was lit on fire.
    Then more Janjaweed arrived, with camels, horses, and two Land Cruisers mounted with machine guns. There was nothing but killing, cutting, slashing, screaming to heaven — no other purpose to this attack.
    I fought off a few of the bastards, but there wasn’t anything I could do to stop so many. I understood the way the people of this camp, of this country, understand:
No one can help us
.
    But that night someone did. Finally, Sudanese regulars and a few UN troops arrived in jeeps and vans. The Janjaweed began to leave. They took a few women and animals with them.
    Their last senseless and vengeful act: They burned down a grain shed used for storing millet.
    I finally found Adanne, and she was cradling a child who had watched her mother die.
    Then everything was strangely quiet except for the people’s sobbing and the low winds of the harmattan.

Chapter 89
    IT WAS GETTING close to morning when I finally laid myself down in a tent with a straw mat on the floor. It had been provided to me by the Red Cross workers, and I was too tired to argue that I didn’t need a roof over my head.
    The flap of the tent opened suddenly and I got up on one elbow to see who it was.
    “It’s me, Alex. Adanne. May I come in?”
    “Of course you can.” My heart pumped in my chest.
    She stepped inside and sat down beside me on the mat.
    “Terrible day,” I said in a hoarse whisper.
    “It’s not always this bad,” she said. “But it can be worse. The Sudanese soldiers knew a reporter was in the camp. And an American. That’s why they came to chase away the Janjaweed. They don’t want bad press if they can possibly avoid it.”
    I shook my head and started to smile. So did Adanne. They weren’t happy smiles. I knew that what she had said was true, but it was also ridiculous and absurd.
    “We’re supposed to share the tent, Alex,” Adanne finally said. “Do you mind?”
    “Share a tent with you? No, I think I can handle that. I’ll do my best.”
    Adanne stretched herself out on the mat. She reached out and patted my hand. Then I took her hand in mine.
    “You have someone — back in America?” she asked.
    “I do. Her name is Bree. She’s a detective too.”
    “She’s your wife?”
    “No, we’re not married. I was — once. My first wife was killed. It was a long time ago, Adanne.”
    “I’m sorry to ask so many questions, Alex. We should sleep now.”
    Yes, we should sleep.
    We held hands until we drifted off. Only that — hand-holding.

Chapter 90
    THE FOLLOWING DAY, we left the camp at Kalma. Nine refugees had died during the nighttime attack; another four were still missing. If this had happened in Washington, the entire city would be in an uproar now.
    Emmanuel was one of the dead, and they had cut off his head, probably because of his participation when we’d fought back earlier.
    A mutual hunch took Adanne and me to the Abu Shouk camp, the next-largest settlement in the region. The reception there was more ambivalent than we’d gotten at Kalma.
    A big fire the night before had made personnel scarce, and we were told to wait at the main administrative tent until we could be processed.
    “Let’s go,” I said to Adanne after we’d waited nearly an hour and a half.
    She had to run to catch up with me. I was already headed up a row of what looked like shelters. Abu Shouk was much more uniform and dismal than Kalma. Nearly all of the buildings were of the same mud-brick construction.
    “Go where?” Adanne said when she came up even with me.
    “Where the people are.”
    “All right, Alex. I’ll be a detective with you today.”
    Three hours later, Adanne and I had