Vain (The Seven Deadly, #1)(32)

Charles rushed off to fetch something and Karina stuck to my side, taking my hands in hers. “The men will not prepare you for this, Sophie, so I feel I must. What you’re about to encounter will revolt you. I’m not exaggerating. I want you to steel yourself. Put all emotion toward the back of your mind. Get in there, get them out and come back in one piece. I’m relying on you.”

“Of course,” I told her, swallowing the knot that had formed so rigidly in my throat.

Karina ran toward the schoolhouse, shouting at everyone who had begun to run around in preparation to receive the children I would be helping bring back. I ran to the truck and Dingane had opened my door for me, allowing me to slide in without a moment to lose. Charles and Solomon jumped in the back, armed to the nines and I almost burst out sobbing. Fear, real fear crept through my body at an alarming rate.

Dingane’s engine rumbled into the otherwise quiet night. and I jumped inside my skin, burying my hands in my lap.

“What’s happened?” I asked as we tumbled through the large gates. I turned around and saw them close behind me.

“They were attacked in the night, unprepared.”

“How many survivors?”

“We’re not really sure. We’ve been told only to hurry and that there may be more than nearby aid may be able to handle.”

I swallowed audibly, turning toward Dingane. His eyes met mine briefly and they were alive, full of anxiety and fear. “I will never be able to forget what I am about to see, am I?”

“Never,” he said quietly, turning toward me again.

The remaining two-and-a-half-hour drive was met with silence. Thoughts circled my head and I tried so hard to imagine, to prepare myself for what I was about to witness but nothing could have readied me.

I smelled the burnt straw of the village homes before I actually saw them and it enveloped the cab, making me cough violently. Dingane threw a t-shirt at me to cover my face so I did. Finally, after rounding the bush that the little village must have tucked itself into in attempt to camouflage themselves, little piles of remaining flames flickered and twisted throughout the open field before us. I saw no one but heard faint screams and wails tear throughout the night. My gut tightened and my hands gripped the dash in front of me, my knuckles white with strain.

Dingane stopped the truck abruptly and ran into the center of the village. I jumped out and followed suit behind Charles and Solomon but stopped short at the terrifying sight before me.

Groups of small children sporadically spread throughout the camp, bent and weeping, cried into the night over the corpses of their burning parents. I immediately fell to my knees in want to vomit but could only dry heave at the sheer horror. The smell of burning flesh seared into my own and I had to cover my mouth in terror.

“Sophie!” someone screamed harshly beside me. I looked up toward the voice and Dingane stood above me. He grabbed my arms, picking me up and brought me close to his face. “Can you do this?” he asked but his eyes were sympathetic. He brushed a tear away with his thumb but one more fell in its place.

“Y-yes,” I sputtered, pushing all emotion away, thinking on Karina’s advice.

“Follow me,” he yelled over the blazing fires and bawling children.

“But they need help,” I hiccupped, pointing to the boys and girls sprawled in panic around us.

“And we will get to them, but we must tend to the hurt now. They’re priority.”

“Okay,” I told him, racing beside him toward what looked like a felled little girl around seven.

We passed Charles pumping a woman’s chest up and down to get her to breathe again and I quickly inhaled a sharp breath. Dingane and I both fell to our knees beside the little girl; her tunic was covered in splatters of blood across her chest.

Dingane pulled it back and exposed the wound. Small holes peppered her torso and they appeared to go deeper than anything considered superficial.

“Oh my God,” I whispered. “Please, tell me what to do.”

“We’ll bandage her tightly. Here, press this gauze here,” he told me and turned toward the kit I’d seen him carry earlier.

As he rummaged through it, I pressed the gauze tightly against her bleeding wounds and bent over her tiny head.

“It’ll be fine,” I soothed, knowing damn well it would never be for her again, even if she lived.

My free hand ran across her baby cheeks. Sticky tears mixed with red dirt stained that innocent part of her. Dingane added more gauze to the wound and I sat opposite him, trading the wrap and covering the girl’s torso carefully. I know we had hurt her every time we had to lift her small frame to allow the bandage to wrap around completely but not a single whimper was heard from her lips and all I wanted was to gather her in my arms because of it.

Dingane picked her up carefully and brought her to the back of the truck, laying her down across a blanket then covered her up with another. He spoke to her in Bantu and I guessed he’d assured her we’d return because she nodded once.

We ran back toward the village and found two more children in dire need of attention. We wrapped them, transported them to the truck and went back over and over. We’d tended to six wounded children within half an hour.

Dingane pointed toward a cluster of children nearest us and we ran toward them, calling them toward us and encouraging them to get into the truck quickly. Most obeyed save for one who refused to leave his father’s side. Dingane pulled the small child off his dead father and wrapped his arms around the young boy, speaking into his ear as tears streamed down his tiny face. I couldn’t help the tears that fell quickly on my own as we gathered more and more motherless children. I counted twenty-three orphans in all, not including the ones who had died during the ambush.