Mists of the Serengeti(68)

I snaked my foot out, searching for a notch in the louvered sides. My fingers hooked around one of the pipes that ran overhead, and I swung myself around to the outside of the car. The ground under the train rushed by in a blur of gray. I squeezed my eyes shut, the wind beating against my face.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

My fingers trembled as I unhooked them from the pipe and grabbed on to the slits from the outside, first one hand, and then, very slowly, the other.

“What are you doing, miss?” asked one of the kids.

I was clinging to the side of the train, scared shitless, my jaw clenched in fright, but I summoned up my best classroom voice. “I’m going to uncouple the cars behind us, so the bad men can’t get to us. I need you to stay inside. Okay?”

My bones were rattling with the motion of the train, but I held steady until he nodded. I heard him translating for the kids that didn’t speak English. I shut out the part of me that was screaming: Uncouple the cars? Are you out of your freaking mind? You have no idea what you’re doing. You’re going to die out here!

I’m dead either way. At least I’ll die trying.

I inched along, slipping my foot into one opening, then the other, all the while clinging on to the slits above me. I swallowed the fear that was beating thick and heavy in my throat as the gap between me and the men closed. They had seen me. The one in front had the machete tucked in the back of his pants. The other one was glaring at me through wind-blasted eyes. The only thing slowing them down was the fact that their car didn’t have louvered sides like mine, so they had less to hold on to. I made it to the edge before they did. There was a metal ladder, soldered to the side, so I swung around to it and held tight as I tried to figure out the coupler.

Fuck if I know how to do this.

I felt sick. I felt dizzy. I didn’t know if it was from the sense of impending doom that was fast approaching, or from watching the ground disappear between the two cars.

I can’t do this. I don’t know how.

My composure was cracking in fragile shells around me. The mask of bravado I’d put on for the kids was slipping off.

I’ve lost Mo.

I’ve lost Jack.

And now I’m going to lose these kids.

A suffocating sensation tightened my chest as I heard a thud. And then another. The men had hopped onto the adjacent car. It was only a matter of time before they got to us. The endless night had turned to day. We had fought and fought and fought, but it was going to end here. The only thing standing between those men and the kids was me.

You’re my rainbow-haloed girl, and you’re freaking magical. Don’t you ever forget that.

I wiped my tears with the back of my hand and straightened. That’s right. I’m freaking magical.

I could tell the lock from the pin on the coupler. I just had to figure out how to unlink them.

“The lever.”

I whipped around to find Bahati. He was clutching the edge of the car. “The kids told me what you were doing when I came around.” He swung around beside me, still shaky and unsteady.

“Are you all right?” I asked. “God, Bahati, I could kiss you!”

He grimaced. “I’m the reason you’re in this mess, Miss Rodel. I’m bad luck. They don’t call me Bahati Mbaya for nothing. You and Jack would have gotten away if I hadn’t shown up and buggered it all up.” He put his foot out, trying to span the gap between the cars, his fingers wrapped around one of the rungs of the ladder for support.

“Bahati, stop! What are you doing?” I yanked him back by his shirt and for a moment we both teetered over the gap between the cars. My stomach churned at the thought of what it would feel like to be crushed under those thundering wheels of steel.

“The lever can only be pulled from the other side,” Bahati said, after we steadied ourselves. “I’ll have to jump.”

“Wait!” I stopped him again. “If you get on that car, you won’t be able to get back once you unlink us. You’ll end up with those men, and God knows they won’t be too happy about losing the kids.”

“I know.” It was the shortest sentence he’d ever spoken. I wanted him to fill the silence that followed with his ramblings, but we lurched ahead to the rhythm of unspoken things—unexpected circumstances, unexpected sacrifices.

“Bahat—”

“It’s time I earned my warrior name, Miss Rodel.” And then the man who hopped on his bed at the sight of a lizard, who squealed at crickets, and ran from moths, leaped. His lean, long legs closed the gap, even though he faltered when he landed on his battered knee. He attempted a smile, one eye swollen shut, and pulled the lever.

“Kasserian ingera,” he said, as the cars unlinked and I left him behind. How are the children?

“Sapati . . .” I swallowed hard and bit back the tears. K.K.’s men were almost upon him. “Sapati ingera.” All the children are well.

As the rear of the train fell away like the severed body of a giant python, I lost sight of him. “Thank you, Bahati,” I whispered, hoping the wind would carry it to him.

Lonyoki’s vision had come true. He had seen Bahati riding a giant serpent, fighting his own kind, helping the white people. But Lonyoki had not interpreted it right. The serpent was the train, and Bahati was fighting K.K.’s men to get the albino children to safety. At the same time, if Bahati had listened to them, if he had stayed away like his father had told him to, he would still be safe.