Andy McNab - Recoil

'I was just passing. You gonna get the kettle on or what?'

I kept waiting for her face to break into a happy smile but it wasn't happening.

'But… I've left you a message…'

I stopped five or six paces away from her. This wasn't the time for a love-in or an in-depth discussion about our future. Her eyes ran up and down the drenched figure in front of her and finally came to rest on the AK in my hands.

'We'll talk about that later. The LRA – they're nearly here.'

She and her companion, who I presumed was Tim, wore matching dark green cargoes and shirts from the in-country aid-workers' rack. He also had the top of a sat phone in his map pocket. It had the purpose-built, clear plastic cover on it. No Prudence for this boy.

He was beside her now. He was small-framed and had fine features that almost made him look delicate. 'You're Nick?'

She'd just said so, hadn't she? 'Listen in – the LRA are within spitting distance. You'd better get this lot into the mine, now.'

He made no effort to hide his disgust for the weapon and everything he presumed I stood for. His voice was very calm, however; very assured. 'You think we don't know what's going on? I don't need your warning messages, or you coming here to tell us. Look around you.' He pointed at the people covered with dressings.

It was definitely Tim. I recognized his voice. Considering his size, he should have swapped vocal cords with Crucial. He knew the situation – so what? That wouldn't help this lot in the tent.

'Just tell them to get to the mine as fast as they can.' I held out a hand for Silky. 'Come on, we're going.'

She hadn't put hers out to mine. 'Nick, I'm not going anywhere. Everyone who can run has already left. These people have been deserted. I'm not going to do that to them, or to Tim. We've discussed it. We're staying here and taking our chances.'

The rain beat on the canvas like a bass drum.

'Silky.' I pointed to the red cross on the top of the tent. 'You think that thing's going to save you? This isn't some Hollywood movie where everything works out OK and then there's a nice sunset. You think those fuckers out there are just going to wave hello and carry on by, just because you're patching up a few locals? They're going to rape and kill them, then do the same to you. What the fuck do you think I'm here for? You really think I've come all this way for a fucking brew?'

She and Tim exchanged a glance. She might only just have arrived, but there was a real connection between them. They were old friends, I knew it. I could tell by the way they looked at each other; the fact there was no need for words.

So what? Right here and now nothing else mattered apart from getting her out of this shit-hole. It was time to calm down, try a different tack. 'Look, come to the mine, all of you, please. The guys there will protect you. The villagers are going. You can't stay here – it's suicide.'

A tear fell. She was scared now. Good. I hoped she'd remember all the posters on her office wall and see I was making sense.

Tim reacted calmly but forcefully. 'Those animals up at the mine, they're the reason these people live in fear in the first place. They rape and destroy the land, and let these people live like this.'

The rain had become a steady drum roll on the canvas, but never quite overwhelmed the cries of pain beneath it.

Tim put a hand on her shoulder, and she reacted by leaning in to him. I tried not to let it get to me, but it did.

He turned to her. 'Nick's right. You go with him. You'll be safer in the mine.'

Great. Sanity was prevailing.

I started to turn, and kept my hand stretched out behind me. 'Let's go.'

She didn't take it. 'I'm not going, Nick. I can't.'

Fuck this. I was starting to lose patience. I spun round and took the first two steps towards her. It wasn't like I could threaten to shoot her if she didn't come. The only option was to drag her away.

Beyond them, in the tent, I saw a large group of kids, all huddled together under blankets. The oldest could only have been about twelve.

'They the orphanage kids?'

Tim turned back towards them and nodded. 'They lost their huts in the collapsed fault line and came when they heard the guns.'

'Listen, both of you. You've got to bring this lot to the mine.' I pointed at Silky. 'Look behind you. Look at them. When the LRA turn up they won't just kill the adults, they'll keep those little fuckers. Tim, any girls there you don't mind seeing raped? Any boys you don't mind being turned into killing machines?' I shook my head with disbelief. 'Are you really going to let that happen? When you two are dead, but feeling all virtuous and pleased with yourselves because you've not moved from your posts, I'm sure these little bastards will really be singing your praises.'

Tim stared into the tent. He knew I was right.

He didn't look back at me, just walked inside, calling to everybody in French.

Silky had her hands up to her eyes. 'You shouldn't have come, Nick. This just complicates things.'

Did it really? Well, things were going to become a whole lot more complicated if she wanted to hang around and cheer the LRA into town.

The inside of the tent stank of shit and antiseptic, but at least the ground was marginally less wet. Chaos spread as confused old men tried to get off the ground and old women wailed as they tried to gather up what belongings they had with them. Those who could walk enough to reach him swarmed round Tim to ask him what was going on. This was going to take for ever.

There were a couple of rapid bursts of gunfire in the distance, audible even over the racket around me, then a really long, sustained one. They were out there, and they were getting closer.

I joined Silky, who was with two other guys dressed off the same rack. The three were trying to help an old man gather together a few rags and a cooking pot. I put my hand on her shoulder. 'You and I have to go. Let this lot follow. Everybody knows where they're going. All they've got to do is follow the river.'

She didn't look up at me, just continued helping the old man. She seemed so different with her hair wet and greasy after the long walk in and her nails grimed with mud. That faded lemony smell had been replaced by the stink of wet clothing and sweat. 'Nick, I'm staying until we get these people moving.'

I stood there in frustration as people ripped off what little covering they had over their igloos and bundled it under their arms. Fuck them, they could sort themselves out. I just wanted to drag her away, get her back to the mine, collect the other two and go for it.

I pulled one of the kids to his feet so hard I nearly threw him into the air. I grabbed bundles of clothes and shoved them at him. ' Allez, allez, allez! Let's go!'

At last some of the walking wounded were up and moving. They didn't need to be told twice about getting to safety. 'Faster! Go! Go!'

They shuffled through the mud towards the river, by which time I was almost pushing the confused and frightened kids out of the tent.

Tim rushed around, getting anyone who seemed remotely healthy to grab a bag of rice or anything useful.

There was another long burst, a fraction louder. It wasn't a trick of the terrain: they were getting closer. 'Tim, let's get a move on! Let's go!'

It was another twenty minutes before the last patient was on their feet and the confusion had died down. Finally everybody knew what was going on, and everybody was being helped. Some kids were too fucked to move on their own, even though they weren't injured, really skinny bodies, swollen bellies, but somehow they were all gathered up in cloth wraps or in people's arms along with the odd scrawny chicken and a handful of other prized possessions.

I wanted to grab Silky's hand and drag her to the front of the column, but she was too busy helping everybody else. Fuck 'em. Why didn't she and Tim just make their own way now? Why couldn't they be happy that everybody was moving towards the mine and leave them to it?