CHAPTER 1

ULLMA PULLED THE CHILDREN CLOSER. LIBERIAN-ACCENTED English, mixed with slaps from flip-flops hitting the wood floor overhead, caused the three to huddle closer. A burst of gunfire caused Ullma to jump involuntarily. Oh, why, oh, why did she ever listen to that fool of a husband of hers and come here? Ullma's huge arms, rolls of fat hanging beneath them, enfolded the two children. Dust dropped onto their heads and shoulders. Shadows flickered through the planks of the floor overhead, blocking and unblocking the light from the faint bulb in the dining room.

"Momma, you're hurting me," Selma, her six-year-old said, trying unsuccessfully to push Ullma's arms away.

"Shsss," Ullma commanded. Ignoring the girl's protest, she whispered, "Listen to me, children." She pulled Jamal closer while pressing Selma against her side. Selma gritted her teeth, but kept quiet. "Jamal, you're twelve years old. You know the way to Uncle Nathan's. You gotta take your sister and work yore way to his house. You hear me?"

Jamal leaned back, trying to see his mother's eyes in the dark. The faint light from above reflected off two rivulets of moisture running down her cheeks. "Uh-uh, Mom. Dad said stay here with you." He glanced briefly at the small ground-level basement window a few feet away. Tropical bushes blocked the moonless view of the backyard.

More gunfire erupted from above, followed by shouts and screams that caused the three to huddle closer. The cry of "Allah Alakbar" rose above the cacophony of noises. Three—maybe four—automatic weapons, thought Ullma. Somewhere up there . . . she didn't want to think about it.

"Jamal," she whispered firmly, her voice shaking as she glanced again at the floor a couple of feet above her head. Like an icy cold hand, a deep fear rushed through her. The man she loved, the man she followed, and her oldest son were going to die up there, trying to protect them.

"Mom, I'm scared," Selma said.

"We all scared, honey," she replied. She pushed the young girl away, holding both her arms in her massive hands. Looking into her daughter's face, Ullma continued, her voice trembling. "But you gotta be brave and go with Jamal. Now, you listen to me, Selma. You do what Jamal tells you to do. I don't wanna hear about any arguing with him. You hear me?"

Shouts drew their attention for a moment. Bits of African dust rained from the floor above as more running footsteps pounded by overhead. She was scared. Holy Lord, He knew how scared she was. She released Selma with one hand long enough to wipe the tears from her eyes. Why in the hell did she ever agree to this asinine idea of Jerry's to emigrate to Liberia? Never should have left Mobile. She should have stood her ground and told him that if he went, he went alone. Should have kept the children with her in Alabama.

She looked over at Jamal, who was staring at the floor above them. The fight up above wasn't going to last much longer. Then, those nasty God-baiting rebels would start to loot the house. Eventually, they would reach the basement. She knew from stories she had heard from other American expatriates what was in store for them. She hugged Selma closer. It was better her daughter die than be taken by the Liberian rebels—followers of this Arab bastard they called Abu Alhaul. This Arab proselytizer had issued a Fatwa to clean Africa of the American infidels, proclaiming the Arab and African people were all one, and that those who called themselves African-Americans were not African at all.

There was so much hatred against America out here. It had surprised her to discover just how much. Sure, they were Africans—African-Americans. This Abu Alhaul wasn't. He was another Arab religious nutter trying to kill his way into whatever heaven he could. Why couldn't her family come back to the land of their ancestors who had been forcibly taken away? But Ullma's friend, Christina, had answered that question. "Honey, you can't no more go back to where you ain't never been than you can teach what you ain't never learned."

"Listen to me, Jamal," she said, taking his chin in her free hand and turning his face toward her. Sweat soaked the loose dress she wore. She reached up and wiped the thick perspiration and the tears away from her eyes. Ullma cleared her tightened throat a couple of times, praying she was hiding the fear she felt from Jamal and Selma. She pointed to the dark entrance of the circulation pipe that led away from the basement. "You've gone through this thing before, Jamal. I know you know how to do it. You take Selma and go through it again."

"I don't want to go with Jamal," Selma whined.

She stroked the little girl's hair. "I know, sugar, and if Mommy could she would keep you here with her, but I need you to help Jamal go get Uncle Nathan. Think of it as a game."

"I don't want to play this game, Mommy. I'm scared. I want Daddy. I wanna go to my room," she cried softly, throwing her small arms around her mother's large neck.

"I know, but you're going with Jamal. You hear me?" she asked, pushing Selma away slightly and looking her in the eyes. "Momma loves ya. Mommy loves both of you. And when Uncle Nathan and his vigilantes get here, you can go back up to your room. Okay?"

The darkness of the basement hid her daughter's face. She saw the shadow of the girl's head nod.

"Good." She put Selma's hand in Jamal's. "Go. Be careful out there and avoid everyone you see until you get to Uncle Nathan's. You tell him about the men in the house. He'll come. He'll bring the other vigilantes with him. Tell him we need the vigilantes."

Jamal leaned down toward his mother's squatting figure and kissed her on the cheek. "Come with us, Momma," he said.

A burst of gunfire, followed by laughter, drowned out her reply.

"What?"

"I said, I wish I could, but yore Momma ain't small enough to get in that thing. You and Selma have used it. You know where it goes. I'll be all right here until you return, Jamal, but you gotta tell Uncle Nathaniel to hurry."

"I will, Mommy." He pulled Selma toward the lip of the shaft. "Stop that, Selma," he said.

Copyright © 2003 by David E. Meadows