Rare Earth Read Online Free PDF

bunkhouse. They were joined by two other soldiers and Charles. Five was the standard number for nightly patrols. Any more would attract attention. Marc had disliked the idea of bringing the pastor along. But his plan required a translator.
    They took the central road and padded toward the main gate. Their boots squeaked softly in the ash. There was no moon. The camp was draped in a gentle myth of calm. Somewhere to his left a baby cried. Marc saw no one, but felt eyes on him at all times.
    Marc had no idea if the soldiers could be relied on. He disliked entering an ops situation with an unknown team. His life could well depend on them following orders. The sergeant seemed trustworthy enough. But Marc had only observed him within the central compound’s relative safety. If they faced a free-fire situation, which he imagined they probably would, he would have to take great care.
    They collected the two men on gate duty as they passed. At a signal from Kamal, they left the road and drifted into the woods. The trees all appeared dead to Marc, the limbs leafless and silver-gray in the starlight. But Marc had been in other arid places. He knew how such vegetation adapted to the absence of water. When rain fell once more, the entire world could flash into colorful and abundant life. Marc followed in Kamal’s footsteps, ducking under the occasional limb, and thought how much his own life resembled this landscape. Blanketed by ashes of regret and loss, waiting for that faint blessing of rain. Waiting.
    They were in position before the first light of dawn touched the east. The volcano’s rumble seemed stronger out beyond the camp’s relative safety, a noise filled with anger and phlegm, like the earth was clearing its throat. Kamal handed out energy bars and encouraged his men to drink. The two men off gate duty looked very tired after a night without sleep. But they joined in the soft banter and showed Marc feral grins. Wanting him to know they were ready.
    Kamal squatted down on Charles’s other side. His voice was a soft whisper, the sound of a hunting cat waiting on prey. Charles translated, “He misses the birdsong at dawn.”
    â€œIt is quiet,” Marc agreed.
    â€œThe birds and the rest of the game began leaving four years ago, when the rains failed. Each year the dawns have grown quieter.”
    â€œFour years without rain.”
    â€œYes, so long. Now, with the volcano, the elders ask if the land will ever live again.”
    â€œYour family are farmers?”
    â€œSince the time before time.” Charles’s translation matched the sergeant’s rolling plainsong. “On a plateau above the Rift. We grow millet, corn, melons. Even a few almond trees. Some coffee. Good land.”
    â€œAnd yet you became a soldier.”
    Kamal flashed a rare grin. He was the only one of the team whose smile did not come easily. “One can love the land and not the life.”
    â€œThere is much wisdom in what you say.”
    â€œSomeday I will go back. Raise fat babies. The land is good for children.”
    â€œI wish you success with your dream.”
    â€œAnd you? What is the dream of a Western man in Africa?”
    â€œTo be here.”
    Kamal’s hand swept slowly over the vista of dawn-lit ash. “I am thinking yours is a strange dream, to stand in the shadow of doom. I mean no offense.”
    â€œNone taken.” It became increasingly easy to ignore the pastor’s translations. The American and the sergeant spoke in a cadence that was both friendly and extremely African. “I meant, I wish to be here. Helping others. Doing good in dangerous times. It is where I feel most alive.”
    One of Kamal’s men hissed a soft warning. Charles confirmed, “Here they come.”

Chapter Five
    T he slender shapes only took on true form when they were close enough for Marc to hear their voices. The women spoke anxiously, like the chirp of dawn birds. There were