Healing Love: Saints Protection & Investigation Read Online Free PDF Page B

shift. As we walked over to the medical tent, three SUVs careened around the corner. I thought at first that they were bringing in more medical emergencies, but before I could blink, four armed men wearing fatigues jumped from the vehicles. Bandanas covered the bottom of their faces making their eyes seem blacker. But I barely noticed their faces when my focus was on the weapons pointed directly at us.
    Ordered into the vehicles, we stood numb until one of the nurses turned and ran screaming back toward the chow hall. Three shots rang out in the morning and to my disbelieving eyes, the nurse pitched forward, falling flat onto the ground, her back riddled with bullets. Another nurse bent over and immediately retched as Sister Genovia grabbed her, holding the heaving woman up.
    The shots reverberating through an otherwise calm morning caused other Red Cross volunteers and security to run out of their buildings. Everyone halted when faced with the firepower of the bandits.
    What do they want? Drugs? Before I could react to the events taking place all around, four of the armed men ran over grabbing me, Sharon, Sister Genovia, and another women I had not met yet. The man who had ahold of my arm was surprisingly gently, but firm. Pushed and shoved over to the vehicle we were forced to stand facing away from the crowed. Oh my God, we’re going to die! Someone behind me threw a bandana over my eyes and tied it at the back of my head. Then my hands were tied behind my back and I could hear doors being opened. I was lifted and placed into the seat, feeling someone placed next to me. The door slammed shut and with the wails and screams from the witnesses fading into the distance, the vehicle rumbled forward.
    Fifteen days had passed since she had said goodbye to her family in Richland. Lying in bed, the threat of tears pricked her eyes, but she battled them back, determined not to fall apart. She remembered her last days there at home.
    The family had gathered for our Sunday mid-day meal, when I delivered the news about going to Mexico with the Red Cross. When the local RC called, I did not hesitate. Finally a chance to do something different. The hospital shifts were not boring, but for so long I had felt stuck in a rut. The idea of traveling to another country with a group of dedicated volunteers sounded like just the ticket. The hospital would keep my job available while I was gone and with some money saved up, I would take this opportunity to test myself.
    Of course, the news went over horribly. Mom burst into tears while my brother, Jobe, immediately looked at me and simply declared, “No, you’re not going.” His wife, Mackenna, attempted to placate him but Jobe was determined that I wasn’t going to go. And I was equally determined to do so.
    Rebecca, ever the peacemaker in the family, tried to intervene, but to no avail. Dad finally pounded his fist down on the table and startled everyone into silence. “We will not fight at this table,” he announced. He shot me a look of disapproval, but everyone remained quiet. Staring at my plate, appetite gone, I fought the urge to jump up and leave.
    Several tense minutes later, dad declared the meal over and told everyone to adjourn to the living room. “Leave the plates,” he said gently to mom. “We need to take care of family first. Then you and God can wash the dishes.” Mom never wanted an automatic dishwasher, saying that for every dish she washed, she would pray for the person who had eaten off of the plate. She gave dad a small smile, knowing he understood her heart.
    The family meeting lasted for a few hours, finally settling down when I got on the computer and showed them the Los Mochis area on the internet. “It’s got beaches and farmland right outside. There is an airport that we will be flying into and the Red Cross keeps us all together.”
    Jobe leaned over my shoulder and with a few taps on the keyboard, he pulled up gruesome photographs of drug murders.