them moved or made a sound, but waited.
It started as a soft sound, like sand spilling onto the ground. Then it grew into a rhythmic beat. When it arrived, Anne Marie felt a gentle wind and heard the sound of shuffling and fabric. In her imagination, she’d thought it was some sort of an animal herd migrating past them. She turned to her father, just making out his face in the low light. He nodded for her to go forward, and he stood with her. Anne Marie cautiously stepped out into the open. Something brushed past her and another stepped around. As they came closer, she saw now something she couldn’t understand. Hundreds of children were walking along a dirt road in the black and silence. Their dark brown faces and sunken eyes spoke only of sadness.
“The invisible children,” Geert said. “Every night they leave their homes to sleep on the city streets.”
“Why?” Anne Marie asked.
“So that the Lord’s Resistance Army can’t conscript them and turn them into child soldiers,” Geert replied.
Anne Marie put out a hand, gently touching the arm of a boy as he passed. A little girl reached up and touched her, and then another after her. She lost count of how many of them reached out from the gloom.
“We will get as many of them as possible, to come to our camp,” Geert said. “We will give them a place to sleep and food.”
Martin stepped forward speaking to the children in Swahili and French. Geert repeated the same thing in English, “We have free food and beds.”
There weren’t many who were willing to trust them; just over a hundred. Martin led the line of children back toward the camp. Anne Marie walked with him while her father brought up the rear.
“We did very good tonight,” Martin said to Anne Marie. She looked at him questioningly. “They don’t trust adults, having you with us was a big help.”
Anne Marie let a slight smile play on her lips. She was beginning to understand why this was so important to her father.
Martin stopped suddenly. For the longest time, he said and did nothing. There was a rustle of leaves nearby and without seeing anything he knew what was happening.
“Run,” Martin shouted. “LRA. Run.” He spun and grabbed Anne Marie by the shoulders. “Run.”
A rattle of machine gunfire sent the children screaming. All the voices of the night were calling out in fear. A bullet pierced Martin’s chest spraying blood in Anne Marie’s face. She was afraid, but not panicked. Anne Marie thought about her mother, somewhere out there. Then she put that out of her mind, because the boy standing next to her was frozen in place. With a hard shove from Anne Marie, he started moving. She pushed and grabbed anyone she could as she ran from the gunfire. But the LRA had them surrounded; the shooting started from both sides. The children stopped, unsure where to go. Working her way through the crowd, Anne Marie felt a sudden urge to find her father.
Her instincts led her straight toward him. Geert was kneeling on the ground, with his hands in the air. A man with a gun was standing behind him. When he saw his daughter, terror rushed through his veins. He would not let them get her, no matter what. With no hope of winning, Geert jumped up and reached for the man’s gun. The machine gun tore through him at point blank range.
Anne Marie didn’t cry out or shout. That would have been stupid, and so the man didn’t see her. And even if he had, he wouldn’t have expected what happened next. Anne Marie didn’t either.
Her senses flared like wild fire. Time seemed to slow. She could feel the air, hear the children behind her and smell the three soldiers in front. And at her hands she felt a power; the primal sensation of destruction.
One clawed hand slashed through the man’s neck, spurting blood into the night. He went down quietly, struggling to scream. Anne Marie leapt onto
It started as a soft sound, like sand spilling onto the ground. Then it grew into a rhythmic beat. When it arrived, Anne Marie felt a gentle wind and heard the sound of shuffling and fabric. In her imagination, she’d thought it was some sort of an animal herd migrating past them. She turned to her father, just making out his face in the low light. He nodded for her to go forward, and he stood with her. Anne Marie cautiously stepped out into the open. Something brushed past her and another stepped around. As they came closer, she saw now something she couldn’t understand. Hundreds of children were walking along a dirt road in the black and silence. Their dark brown faces and sunken eyes spoke only of sadness.
“The invisible children,” Geert said. “Every night they leave their homes to sleep on the city streets.”
“Why?” Anne Marie asked.
“So that the Lord’s Resistance Army can’t conscript them and turn them into child soldiers,” Geert replied.
Anne Marie put out a hand, gently touching the arm of a boy as he passed. A little girl reached up and touched her, and then another after her. She lost count of how many of them reached out from the gloom.
“We will get as many of them as possible, to come to our camp,” Geert said. “We will give them a place to sleep and food.”
Martin stepped forward speaking to the children in Swahili and French. Geert repeated the same thing in English, “We have free food and beds.”
There weren’t many who were willing to trust them; just over a hundred. Martin led the line of children back toward the camp. Anne Marie walked with him while her father brought up the rear.
“We did very good tonight,” Martin said to Anne Marie. She looked at him questioningly. “They don’t trust adults, having you with us was a big help.”
Anne Marie let a slight smile play on her lips. She was beginning to understand why this was so important to her father.
Martin stopped suddenly. For the longest time, he said and did nothing. There was a rustle of leaves nearby and without seeing anything he knew what was happening.
“Run,” Martin shouted. “LRA. Run.” He spun and grabbed Anne Marie by the shoulders. “Run.”
A rattle of machine gunfire sent the children screaming. All the voices of the night were calling out in fear. A bullet pierced Martin’s chest spraying blood in Anne Marie’s face. She was afraid, but not panicked. Anne Marie thought about her mother, somewhere out there. Then she put that out of her mind, because the boy standing next to her was frozen in place. With a hard shove from Anne Marie, he started moving. She pushed and grabbed anyone she could as she ran from the gunfire. But the LRA had them surrounded; the shooting started from both sides. The children stopped, unsure where to go. Working her way through the crowd, Anne Marie felt a sudden urge to find her father.
Her instincts led her straight toward him. Geert was kneeling on the ground, with his hands in the air. A man with a gun was standing behind him. When he saw his daughter, terror rushed through his veins. He would not let them get her, no matter what. With no hope of winning, Geert jumped up and reached for the man’s gun. The machine gun tore through him at point blank range.
Anne Marie didn’t cry out or shout. That would have been stupid, and so the man didn’t see her. And even if he had, he wouldn’t have expected what happened next. Anne Marie didn’t either.
Her senses flared like wild fire. Time seemed to slow. She could feel the air, hear the children behind her and smell the three soldiers in front. And at her hands she felt a power; the primal sensation of destruction.
One clawed hand slashed through the man’s neck, spurting blood into the night. He went down quietly, struggling to scream. Anne Marie leapt onto
Similar Books
