Free Out of the Shadows by Melanie Mitchell

nervously to Ben, and Leslie lifted her gaze to where the Cessna waited on the grassy strip. Less than fifteen feet away from the plane three men were lounging near a beat-up truck. They were dressed in olive-colored military garb, and each carried a rifle.
    Her attention returned to Ben when he whispered, “Damn.” She became even more concerned as the focus of her anxiety shifted from the sobriety of the man beside her to the guns of the men standing beside his airplane. Leslie knew nothing about firearms except that they were dangerous, and these looked particularly worrisome.
    Ben and the driver exchanged a few words, then he glanced at her. “Act deferentially to me, and don’t look directly at anyone.” He nodded to the driver, who steered the Jeep toward the three men; beads of sweat appeared on the driver’s brow. As the vehicle came to a stop, Ben said through his teeth, “Help Mr. Bostmati take the bags out, and wait here until I tell you what to do. Mr. Bostmati is going to leave.” He did not look at her.
    Ben’s manner startled Leslie and she studied the men near the plane. She started to question him, but he didn’t pause. Ignoring her, he got out of the Jeep and walked toward the men with a confident swagger. She listened as he addressed them in Swahili. Deciding it was best that she follow his instructions, she helped the obviously frightened driver unload the bags. As soon as he was back in the Jeep, he took off in a cloud of dust, causing Leslie’s concern to edge into fear.
    The conversation between Ben and the three men went on for several minutes. At first, Ben did most of the talking. She assumed he was explaining their purpose for being in the area. As she watched out of the corner of her eye, Leslie saw that soon the men were nodding with him in agreement, and then they were laughing. The men glanced her way as he talked with them, and she got the impression that once again the laughter was at her expense. Unsure of how to respond, she stood in silence, compelled to wait for Ben to tell her what to do next.
    After about ten minutes, he turned to her and said loudly, “Woman, put those bags in the hold of the plane and bring out the two bottles of whiskey stored there.”
    Woman? Her eyes grew wide with indignation, coupled with mounting fear. She opened her mouth to answer.
    Ben saw her hesitation. In an angry tone he belted out, “Just do it!”
    Leslie recognized something new in Ben’s expression. In a moment of intuitive clarity, she caught a glimmer of apprehension in his otherwise nonchalant, bravado-based sneer. With all thoughts of disagreement instantly gone, she hurried to comply.
    Turning his back on Leslie, Ben engaged the men in conversation, and soon they were laughing again.
    As instructed, Leslie loaded the three bags into the cargo hold, then dug through a wooden box and found two bottles of liquor. Quickly she crossed to him and stood a few feet to the side, waiting for him to acknowledge her. One of the men glanced her way, and finally Ben took the bottles.
    Curtly, using precise, clipped English, he said, “Get in the plane and wait for me. I will join you after a break with these men.” When it appeared that she was going to say something, he added, “Now.”
    Without looking at any of the men, including Ben, Leslie obeyed.
    The interior of the plane was hot. Leslie grew more uncomfortable by the minute. From her seat she could clearly see the three armed men, and she watched as they opened the bottles and shared them. Ben pulled the open bottle out of his pocket and took a long swig.
    As time passed, the plane got hotter and the laughter got louder. Trying to be quiet, Leslie partially opened her door to allow air to circulate. Now she could hear bits of the conversation. She caught occasional words that she knew in Swahili and even rarer words of English. As far as she could tell, they were talking mostly about guns and alcohol. Finally she heard Ben say the word