Page 26 of Pierre
“It’s okay, we’re ready,” said Marjorie.
“Ajei, this is my commanding officer, Major Marjorie Witten.”
“Just Marjorie,” said the woman.
“Great. Just Marjorie and Ambry, you guys take this line here. Minor cuts and bruises, a few need stitches. Pierre! You and your boys do some triage for us. Those who need more attention put in the lines to the left. Urgent care, take them through the gate to the tent.”
“Who’s in the tent?” he frowned.
“We are asshole! Move it!” yelled Doc, standing in the entry with Cruz, Kennedy, and Virginia.
“They came,” smiled Pierre.
“What the hell did you think we’d do?” growled Ajei. “Get moving!”
“Yes, ma’am. You heard her,” said Pierre, nodding at his men. “Let’s figure out who needs what.”
By the time they figured out who needed what, it was nearly midnight. The lines were thinning as people were bandaged up and moved along. There was a tent full of nearly thirty people who needed more than just a quick bandage, and another tent of about ten people who would need surgery. Whatever had happened, created chaos in the city once again.
“What happened?” Pierre asked the young man lying on the table. He stared up at Pierre, surprised that he spoke his language. When Frank repeated the phrase, he realized that these weren’t average Americans. They knew Haitian French.
“We were trying to save the boys,” said the young man. “They take our boys. The children.”
“Who? Who took the boys?” asked Pierre.
“We don’t know. We were just trying to get them back. A group of men and women came toward us with knives, slashing at us. We didn’t have any weapons.”
“Were they Haitian?” asked Frank.
“I’m not sure. Some were dark, some were lighter, all spoke our language. But that means nothing. They were taking boys from the church, the one on the hill in the old part of the city.”
“That’s where we were this morning,” said Butch. “How many children did they take?”
“A dozen. Maybe more. The woman was yelling, screaming for help, and we just ran toward her. That’s when all this happened.” Frank frowned at the young man, then looked around at the patients still being treated.
“Is the woman here? Did anyone bring her here?” he asked.
“There wasn’t a need to. She’s dead.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Frank and Ham followed one of the injured men to the church to search for the woman. She wasn’t difficult to find. Amidst the rubble of the church, her body was tangled with the broken beams, pews, and artifacts. She hadn’t been beaten, but she’d definitely been trampled in the melee.
“Is there a coroner?” asked Ham.
“Coroner? Sir, we know how she died. There is no reason to take her to such a place. We can bury her in her gardens. She would have liked that.” Ham looked at Frank, who nodded.
“Alright. Can we trust you to do that for us?” he asked.
“Yes. She was well-liked in the neighborhood. We knew she was trying to save the children.”
“Who else knew that?” asked Frank. The man looked at him with a strange expression. “Who else knew that she was trying to save the children? Who knew that she offered them shelter and sanctuary?”
“Everyone.”
The man left them, finding several neighbors to help with her burial. They buried her in her garden, which had also been trampled. By the time Frank and Ham made it back to the ship, the others were settled down, exhausted but working on getting to the other churches.
“Did you find her?” asked Marjorie.
