Page 29 of Pierre
“Henri, you’re lucky I didn’t shoot you,” said Pierre. “How did you know we were here?”
“The man who gave you a ride is my man. He was late arriving to pick me up and take me to our camp, and when he told me why, I knew I needed to come and find you.”
“What happened here? What happened at St. Francis?” asked Pierre.
“I wish I knew. I was prepared to write off St. Francis as just being a casualty of the rioting and chaos. But when this church was emptied as well, something in my gut didn’t sit well with me.”
“They had something hidden below the church,” said Ham. “Any idea what that might have been?”
“No. It could have been something simple like hymnals or church artifacts.”
“The boxes were big and heavy,” said Frank. The man’s face darkened, and he looked around the church, shaking his head. “What? What are you thinking?”
“What if they had the children in those boxes? What if someone found them, and it was the children that they were hiding in those boxes?”
“Shit,” muttered Pierre. “Why would they do that?”
“I don’t know. There’s nowhere else for them to hide. I’m guessing that they had no choice. I just don’t know.” He looked tired, exhausted even, and Pierre felt sorry for him.
“You said you and your men were camped near here,” said Ham.
“Yes. We were working our way to the other side of the island toward St. Mary’s. The government, what’s left of it, is threatening to call in additional troops from the Dominican, Cuba, and even the U.S. to control the rioting and chaos. They will sweep in, control things, clean everything up, and help for a while. Then someone will get tired of being here, and they will leave. It will all start up again, and it will be worse than before. Whatever happens, it will be bad. It’s always bad. I’m not sure why, but nothing seems to save this place. It won’t end well if they do this. It never ends well.”
“We know that,” nodded Frank and Ham.
“Come. You can camp with us tonight, and we’ll move together in the morning.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
As they walked toward Henri’s camp, Frank stayed at the back of the line with his son.
“How much do you trust this man?” asked Frank.
“As much as I trust anyone here. He’s proven himself to be honest and helpful. When we arrived, he was our target, but nothing about that fit. I know what you’re thinking. It seemed odd that he was here and so were we.”
Frank said nothing, just nodding at his son.
“Believe me, I thought that as well. But he’s given me no reason to not trust him. I’m being careful, Dad.”
“I know you are,” nodded Frank. “I just remember when we were here. We could trust no one, and those we did trust weren’t exactly completely trustworthy.”
“This whole place needs to be leveled and started over,” said Ham, walking with them. “There’s a reason it’s been on the government’s list of places tonotvisit for years.”
“Well,” smirked Pierre, “I don’t think the Army got that memo.”
Up ahead were three dozen men and women seated around an open campfire. They were talking quietly, not yelling, no one drinking, and no one appeared to be doing anything strange. At least nothing they could see.
“These are friends,” said Henri. “You’ll treat them with respect and help them if you can. They are on our side.”
“Can you find our children?” asked a woman.
“We’re trying,” said Pierre. “Is your child missing?” The woman looked away from the group, and Pierre turned to Henri.
“She had one daughter and three sons. All four are missing. They were walking home from their school, one of the few that still has daily classes. She always met them halfway, just to be certain they were safe. That day, she was held up by someone who stopped to speak with her.”
“Who?” asked Ham. The others stared at him, then the woman looked up at him. “Who stopped you to speak with you?”
“Lavergne. She is a member of the church,” said the woman.
