The Echo of Violence Read Online Free PDF Page A

eight-year-old Haitian boy. She’d bought his first dress slacks and tie. He was wearing them now. And Daniel and Faye were brother and sister, the children of one of her teachers. A single mother. Kate didn’t think Daniel andFaye’s mother had been taken, but the woman would be worried sick. And Joselyne was the oldest child at age ten, the daughter of a local Haitian fisherman. None of these children should have been here. Their families didn’t have money.
    Why had they been traumatized like this? What were the assailants after?
    She avoided making eye contact with the angry men who shoved them down the dirt path to a street behind Dumont Hall. In the dark she stumbled, but she never gave the men a reason to punish her. She had to stay with the children. And judging by the behavior of the other hostages, she knew they understood the importance of sticking together and the gravity of falling behind.
    One of the armed men grunted and pushed them, the international language of intimidation. They appeared to have limited English and no French. The weapons in their hands spoke for them.
    “Where are they taking us?” one of her missionaries asked.
    “Do as they say. And don’t ask questions,” Kate kept her voice low. She hated to deny the woman an answer, but now was not the time. If they survived, they’d have to play it smart.
    “My little girl…I don’t see her,” the woman cried, clinging to her husband. “Where is she?”
    Count your blessings , she wanted to tell the woman, but she kept her mouth shut. To insinuate their plight would not end well wasn’t what Kate wanted to convey, even though she harbored dark feelings about whythey’d been chosen. Hope would be a fragile commodity, given their circumstances.
    Once they got to the dirt-covered street, the men led them toward two dark vans and a couple of sedans. Neither van had windows. And three more armed men stood watch over the vehicles. When they approached, the men opened the van doors, and the hostages were separated into two groups. Her fellow teachers and members of the generous Port de Paix community who supported her school were taken from her sight.
    They were led to the second vehicle, leaving Kate to face her fate with those nearest her. Without ceremony, they were shoved inside the first van. And almost from the start Kate realized they wouldn’t all fit, but she didn’t want to think about what the men would do if that was the case.
    “Please, Lord…have mercy,” she offered a hushed prayer and drew the children close to her, putting them first. If anyone were forced to stay behind, she vowed it would be her.
    “My wife is inside. I gotta be with her.” A man dressed in a suit nudged Sister Kate aside and crawled into the van ahead of her kids.
    Kate made the sign of the cross for the desperate man. Fear made people do terrible things they wouldn’t normally do. She wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, hoping that he hadn’t thought about what would happen to those left behind. Judging by the shamed look on his face, she knew better. The man knew exactly what he’d done.
    From inside the dark van, hands reached out for thechildren. One by one they were lifted inside and squeezed into every spot. In the end, two adults remained standing outside the van, with no room remaining—Sister Kate and an elderly woman from town.
    Kate clenched her teeth and prepared herself for what would happen, but the other woman cried and tugged at the shirtsleeve of the nearest armed gunman.
    “Please…I won’t take up much room,” she begged. “I can fit. Please let me try.” The woman was pleading to stay with them.
    Kate shut her eyes and filled her mind with prayer. Her lips trembled with the effort and her heart pounded. Two other men came forward and laughed, amused by the older woman’s begging. They exchanged words that Kate didn’t understand, and time slowed to a painstaking crawl while she waited to see what the men would