Free Collision by Stefne Miller Page B

and almost caused me to tinkle in my britches.”
    “I would run away screaming like a girl. I’m not gonna lie. I would not do well with that kind of thing.”
    “It was mad. And we had a group of people with us who were visiting from the States. Their eyes were the size of half dollars. It scared them to death. They talked about it all the way back to the mission house, and everyone was completely gutted that they didn’t get it on video.”
    “Wow.”
    “That’s pretty much the craziest that I’ve seen with my own eyes, but I’ve heard a lot of other stories. Like I said, I’m not permitted to go into the places that end up being the strangest.”
    My curiosity was so piqued that I couldn’t wait to hear more. “Like what have you heard?”
    “Well, several of the team members swear there’s a village in Southern Sudan that they go to sometimes where the tribe members are heavily into voodoo.” She grabbed another worm off the blanket and ripped one end off with her teeth. “When they need more workers for the fields, they get the witchdoctor, or whatever it is they call them there, and he goes into the graveyard and does a spell, and they come out and work in the fields and then go back to the graves at the end of the day.”
    “Who does? The dead people?”
    “Yes.”
    “No!”
    “Yes. I swear. That’s what they’ve told me.”
    “I would never go back. I’d leave saying, ‘You weirdoes can burn in hell for all I care. You start waking people from the dead and you’re all on your own.’”
    “Then you’d make a horrible missionary.”
    “I’d get over it.”
    “Of course, I don’t know that I’d be able to handle it either. But they talk about it as if it’s not an issue, as if they see it all the time.”
    “What else?”
    “I’ve personally seen a multitude of demon possessions. We pray over them all the time.”
    “Seriously?”
    “Seriously.”
    “How do the people act? What do they do?”
    “No possession is exactly like another. Some are silent and don’t move at all. Some, their eyes roll around in their sockets, and some growl or hiss.”
    My body shivered, and it wasn’t due to cold because it was hot as…well, Africa, or at least how hot I would imagine Africa would be.
    “You’re freaking me out,” I admitted.
    “I’ve had several go into convulsions. A lot scream in your face in a guttural voice. Most of the time you know you’ve finished because they just fall down completely limp”—the upper half of her body acted out the events as she explained them—“as if all the energy has drained from their body.”
    “And you don’t find this weird at all?”
    “I’m accustomed to it.”
    “Okay. Can I just admit how crazy it is that I’m sitting here with a girl who’s telling me about watching demon-possessed people and talking about it like it’s an everyday occurrence?”
    “It is an everyday occurrence. I’m odd. What can I say?”
    “You’re not odd. Your life is odd.”
    “I suppose that’s true.”
    “What else?”
    “Um…one time, we were all sitting down at dinner and one of the team members came running in and announced that my father was needed at one of the villages. So he got up and left. A few hours later, he came back home and said that the village had been under spiritual attack and the roofs of several of the huts were bursting into flames for no reason. So he got the prayer team together, and every time a hut would burst into flames, they would run over to it and start praying. Within seconds, the fire would completely go out. And then, right before they left for the night, the witchdoctor’s hut burst into flames and was completely destroyed. He denounced witchcraft that night and became a Christian.”
    “You’re lying!” I yelled, causing an echo to fill the valley.
    “No. He’s actually part of our team now.”
    “You’re making this up!”
    “I am not! I swear to you, Cabot, I’m not. I’m not imaginative enough