Blessed Child Read Online Free PDF Page B

back to Jason. He whimpered again and then bent over the man in silence. The circling lammergeyer stopped its cawing. The valley stilled completely.
    â€œWhat’s he doing?” Jason heard himself whisper. “What’s he doing?”
    Leiah didn’t respond. She took a single step forward and then stopped.
    For what seemed like long minutes, but could have only been ten or fifteen seconds, they remained fixed, watching the boy knelt over the man, like a priest administering last rites.
    A thought skipped through Jason’s mind: the thought that the .30-06’s chamber was empty. The thought that he should be thinking things through instead of staring out dumbly.
    The boy stood, turned his back on the fallen man, and began to walk calmly back to them. Still the soldiers did not fire on him—perhaps because he was a child. A hot gust blew across the sand, whipping the boy’s tunic about his ankles.
    Leiah called out in a weak, desperate voice. “Fetan, fetan!” Hurry, hurry!
    But the boy did not hurry.
    A cough suddenly echoed through the canyon. Another. Behind the boy, the fallen man moved on the sand.
    Jason’s heart bolted in his chest. He instinctively jerked the bolt on the rifle, but there were no rounds to chamber. Behind him! The last round was behind him.
    Beyond Caleb’s shimmering figure the fallen soldier sat up and Jason froze.
    Leiah ran out a few steps and stretched her hand to the boy. “Caleb! Caleb, fetan!”
    The man suddenly scrambled to his feet in a defensive posture, like a wrestler facing his opponent. In this case the boy, now thirty feet from him and walking steadily but unhurriedly away. The soldier felt his chest as if rubbing a bruise and then spun around in search of his rifle. He snatched it up and stared after the boy. He patted his chest one last time and then ran for the Land Rover, yelling words in a foreign tongue.
    Still expressionless, Caleb turned back when the man began his yelling. The nurse rushed out, lifted the boy around his chest, and rushed back to the cover.
    Jason watched in stunned disbelief as the soldiers piled into the Land Rover. The truck snorted to life and spewed dust through a sweeping turn. Within seconds it disappeared from the canyon in a hasty retreat.
    Jason became aware that his jaw lay open, and he closed it. Grit ground between his teeth and he attempted to spit it out, but his mouth had dried. He staggered to his feet. Caleb was looking after the Land Rover. Leiah had her hand on the boy’s head. Tears marked trails down her dusty face.
    They remained unmoving for what seemed a long time, staring down the canyon. Whatever had just happened, Jason’s mind was not understanding it so clearly. They were alive, and that was good. That was incredible.
    â€œLet’s go,” he finally said.
    â€œAre they gone?” Leiah asked.
    â€œFor now. But they’ll be back.” He turned to the Jeep. “I guarantee you they’ll be back.”

3
    H E OBVIOUSLY WASN’T HIT ,” Jason said.
    Leiah sat in the front passenger seat and glanced back at Caleb’s frail, bouncing figure staring off at the sharp, angular landscape. The boy hadn’t offered any explanation, at least none that she or Jason could understand. He’d rattled off a string of words in Ge’ez, the language preferred by most Ethiopian Orthodox priests, but they meant nothing to her. She wasn’t even sure if the boy spoke English, although it wouldn’t surprise her. If the priests had taught him Amharic and Ge’ez, they’d likely exposed him to English as well.
    She looked back at the American. “What? The bullet just frightened the soldier and he fainted?”
    â€œNo. But it obviously didn’t cause any damage. Dead men don’t run back to their trucks and drive off.”
    â€œAnd neither do soldiers who have the enemy pinned down.”
    He looked at her with a raised