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on the roads after dark."

Chapter Four

    I t took all the strength Samantha and Marie Duval had to get Joshua into the front seat of the dark-green Land Rover. His vitality seemed to have evaporated as quickly as the brief afternoon rains.
    "Use your seat belts," Madame Duval ordered. They never used the grimy seat belts. But Samantha dug them out of the crevices of the seat and Joshua let her fasten the belt around him. He slumped against the window in the front seat, while they settled little Kala on a pallet of blankets in the back.
    Madame Duval tucked a lunch cooler behind the driver's seat. "You should have enough money to get more food in the city if you need it. Be sure to go to Hopital Sainte Anne. Nowhere else," Marie Duval told Samantha sternly. "My friend will meet you there. Do you have the map I made? And the note for the hospital?"
    "I have them." Samantha patted her pocket and climbed into the dust-caked Rover.
    "Good, good." Madame Duval repeated the directions to the small private hospital, before closing Samantha's door. "God go with you." She leaned through the open window and kissed Samantha's cheek. "We'll be praying. Call as soon as you can."
    Samantha saw the worry etched on Madame Duval's ebony forehead and she compelled her smile to reflect a confidence she didn't feel. "I will."
    She backed the Rover around and started down the path to the front gate. At the gate, Alex, the caretaker, unfastened the lock and waved as she drove through.
    The roads seemed bumpier than usual. Samantha cringed every time her precious cargo was jerked and jolted as she navigated the dilapidated vehicle over the narrow streets leading to Port-au-Prince. Behind her, Kala moaned, only half conscious.
    Samantha had driven to the market in Brizjanti by herself once or twice, but never all the way into the city. As she pulled onto the main highway, a large truck roared into her lane, passing an oncoming car. The truck's bed was piled high with what looked like fifty-pound sacks of potatoes. She sucked in a sharp breath and swerved out of its path. The Rover veered dangerously close to the edge of the road. One wheel slipped into the ditch. A bridge abutment loomed in front of the grille. She slammed on the brakes. Her heart stopped. She eased back onto the main road, her knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. Another split second and they would have crashed into the bridge.
    As the truck sailed by, inches from the Land Rover, the men perched atop the burlap bags whooped and waved at her.
    Her heartbeat kicked back in gear, making up for lost time.
    She looked over at Josh, still leaning against the window. He appeared to be asleep, but at that moment, he reached out and touched her arm.
    "Be careful," he mumbled. "You know what they say, don't you?"
    "Huh?"
    "There are only two kinds of drivers in Haiti."
    "What are you talking about, Joshua?" Didn't he know they'd almost been killed?
    He turned his head to catch her eye and a slow smile spread over his face. "There are two kinds of drivers in Haiti," he repeated. "Defensive--" he paused for a split second before delivering his punch line "--or dead."
    She rolled her eyes, but couldn't help laughing. "Well, if you don't want me to be the latter, you'd better quit distracting me with your stupid jokes."
    "Okay, okay. I'm done." He started to say something else but his words were lost in a fit of coughing.
    Samantha cut her eyes from him to the road and back again until she was sure he was okay. Finally, gulping for breath, he reached over the back seat and patted Kala before sagging against his door again.
    Samantha prayed under her breath as she drove. Father, help me get there in time. Help me find the hospital.
    Thirty minutes out of Brizjanti, after stopping half a dozen times to let pedestrians and livestock cross the road, she fell in line behind a late-running tap-tap. The lumbering taxi truck was loaded to overflowing with passengers and baggage. The Land Rover