“That’s madness.”

“It stopped him, though, didn’t it? I know you saw it, too.”

“That we didn’t die in there doesn’t mean we won’t out here.”

He moved away, unsteady.

“Let me help you.”

“I don’t need it.”

They stood, motionless, in the quiet desert gloaming.

“What happened in there, Julian?”

“I don’t know.”

“But you saw something.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Something happened in there. To all of us.”

“We survived. We were lucky.”

“It wasn’t luck.”

“Believe in miracles, if that’s what you need.”

He continued forward.

She followed him.

Her bare feet gripped into the cold grains of sand making every step a contest of endurance.

To warm her hands she dug them deep into the pockets of her tattered pants. She squeezed the stone anchored there like a talisman. Its pulse, constant in her hand. She believed it had something to do with saving them.

Lights crested over the horizon.

Three vehicles hurtled toward them like beacons from another world. She gripped the stone tighter and prayed.

Julian stood in front of her. Protecting her.

They were vulnerable against a new unknown.

The vehicles grew larger as they got closer. The headlights blinded them.

Gusts of sand, like dervishes, spun upward as the vehicles stopped at close range.

When the haze cleared Dominique saw that they were American Jeeps.

10

10

Vincente Salva sat with friends in a bar not far from Hospital Regionale. Their daily routine was ten hours harvesting coffee beans, a beer with the boys, and home. He’d not seen his friends in a while. It was good to be with them again. He glanced at his watch. It was later than usual, but he had no one to go home to so he stayed longer, and one beer turned to two and three, because Jhana-Merise was still in a coma, and he was worried and helpless, and the beer calmed him. In that gentle fog his world dimmed away. But the loneliness remained.

The doctors had said her brain activity maintained normal function, which was surprising and wonderful, as they’d also told him it could be dangerous if a comatose patient passed more than a few days in that state. Vincente clung to the good news. He hadn’t had much of it in his life.

His buddies were empathetic yet distant. They gave encouragement, but avoided direct mention of his daughter. He wasn’t surprised since that had been their reaction when his wife died. These guys weren’t schooled in grace or vulnerability. Their lives demanded a hard shell, which was another way he was an outsider in his culture, forced to maintain a macho facade when his soul wanted to give and receive love.

The men turned in unison when Arama walked in the door and trained her focus on Vincente.

“What’s happened? Is she out of the coma?” he said, rushing to her.