Impossible Odds

more time, at a large man-made watering hole that had gone completely dry. The image crystallized our environment. The dry hole was surrounded by towering termite stacks six and seven feet in height. They were intact, although the insects who once benefited from the water there were probably gone. The fact that the stacks were still standing turned out to be the point of our stop here, not the dry watering hole. Jabreel clambered up onto the miniature hill and got a cell phone call through to Mohammed, the man claiming to speak for our NGO and our families, but whose identity we couldn’t confirm.
    This was our second proof-of-life call, supposedly made to our NGO’s communicator. No one was telling us anything about that, however. What I knew for certain was I could hear the loud crackle of static and a male voice broken into bits by the shaky connection.
    There was nothing to do but play it out for real. Poul and I were each allowed to speak to the man calling himself Mohammed. I didn’t bother quizzing him about his identity. If he was a fake he was probably prepared. It can’t hurt to send a message, I thought. The worst that will happen is it just won’t go through. No harm done.
    “This is Jessica.”
    “This is Mohammed speaking, and I have authority to speak for the families and the employers. Do you have a message I can pass along to your people?”
    “Yes, I have a message. Tell my family I love them. Ask them all to pray for us.”
    “Your family, yes.”
    “And my husband. Erik. His name is Erik. Tell him I love him.”
    “Tell your husband you love him.”
    “No, Erik. His name is Erik!”
    “I understand. His name is Erik.”
    “Tell Erik I love him. And we will see each other again. It’s important to tell him that. We will see each other again. Tell him that! ”
    “Yes, yes. Rest assured I will tell Erik. Now let me talk to Jabreel.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
    Erik got the call from Dan Hardy in the late afternoon, informing him the Crisis Management Team communicator had just spoken directly to Jess. They could confirm she was alive, but the captors were making insane demands. Like so many phone calls since his wife was taken, this one ended with another question mark. He hung up relieved over the proof of life, but frustrated by the risk that still surrounded her.
    There was nothing else to do but sit down again and write to her. He hadn’t missed a day yet, so he began another of the letters he hoped one day to give her to read.
    Jess, I’m back on the tightrope. It’s already becoming familiar, and I’m certain others who love you in their own way feel their own version of this. I balance gratitude and elation you’re still alive with my outrage that we should have to wait here for little sips of news, for whatever they permit you to say. It doesn’t seem unreasonable to pray anymore, and I pray for your safety most of all. I try to project the idea of a bubble of safety around you. From this foxhole, prayer is a logical alternative to the random cruelty that seems to be driving these people.
    In the evening of that same day Dan Hardy called again with more details about what Jess said. They were dribbling out information to him in little spurts, each one screened by the CrisisManagement Team. Dan had needed to get official clearance to release this information about her before he could elaborate beyond what he’d told Erik that afternoon. There was official concern over how much Erik was permitted to know, because of the CMT’s concern that he might try to go get her.
    Hardy didn’t need to elaborate. Erik felt a wash of gratitude for the sense of release Jessica’s few words gave him. For him, the next best piece of news after hearing of her survival was her assurance of love, after his worst fears and self-recriminations held him responsible for letting her make the trip. Her gift in those words was to reveal that the guilt was coming from within himself, not from her. She revealed the heavy sense of burden to be nothing worse than the question of how much guilt he was going to carry.
    He only knew his fears couldn’t be allowed to dominate his thinking or he would be lost. He kept busy by remaining in constant contact with their family on the phone, and locally with a few trusted friends. Secrecy was still basic to the family’s plan. The people holding Jessica obviously had at least one cell phone, therefore they could somehow get online. He was certain they had