Джон Гришэм - Sooley

Beatrice asked him if he had seen Angelina but knew the question was useless. He did not know her. His own family had been slaughtered by the rebels — mother, father, three older brothers. If he had a gun he would go back and kill the rebels. Going back might be suicide but they still wanted to see their homes. Maybe there were survivors. Maybe Angelina had somehow been spared. And maybe Ayak had escaped and was looking for them. Beatrice desperately wanted to go search for her daughter and husband.

Emmanuel said that he had escaped into the woods and climbed high into a tree on a hill, and from there he had watched the village burn. There was nothing left. The gunfire had continued as the rebels executed the men.

Weak and bone-weary, they followed Emmanuel along the creek bed, hoping to find a pool of water or even a puddle, but it was the dry season and the ground was parched and cracked. The sun was up and getting hotter, but mercifully the creek ran beside the woods and there was shade. Emmanuel turned onto a dirt path made by livestock and they walked half a mile and stopped. He told them to sit and wait while he approached the farmer and asked for help. They waited in the shade and listened for sounds of other people, possibly soldiers. They prayed for food and water.

Emmanuel came back with nothing. The farmer had little food for his own family and he was out of water. He said they were about six miles south of Lotta and that other villagers had stopped by in the night, begging for help. He felt sorry for them but had nothing to share. There was a camp further south and he had heard the rumor that there was water and shelter there. That sliver of hope lifted their spirits somewhat, and they began walking.

And walking.

The coaches were up early. They ignored the free breakfast in the lobby and took their coffee to the conference room where they opened their laptops and began searching. There was nothing on the U.S. sites, nothing out of Johannesburg. The BBC was reporting a fierce conflict in and around the city of Rumbek, but the story was not significant. After decades of conflict and massacres, and broken peace accords, and countless dead civilians, more bad news from South Sudan was not worthy of coverage.

On the fourth try, Ecko got the lieutenant on his sat phone. According to him, the battle had shifted and their army was gaining on the rebels. They hoped to reclaim the villages in a day or so. Lotta was still controlled by the rebels and it was in the hardest hit area.

The lieutenant asked about Samuel, and Ecko said things were awful. No, he did not know if Samuel had relatives in other parts of the country.

Ecko called a coach in Juba but the guy knew almost nothing. They were fighting in and around Rumbek, but there was plenty of bad news across the entire region. The coach promised to work the phones and call back if he found something.

After an hour, they had learned little. Evidently, Samuel was the only player touched by the fighting. The other nine from the country had all spoken to their families the day before.

Frankie said, “I sort of hate to bring this up, but we have a game at two o’clock.”

“Oh yeah. That. Any ideas? Our team is not exactly in a competitive mood right now.”

“But we have to play. Right?”

“The boys will want to play, I’m sure of it.”

“And Samuel?”

“Let’s talk to him.”

Game Seven: South Sudan versus the United Kingdom

There was no chatter in the vans as Ecko and Frankie drove the team to Rollins College for the seventh and final game. None of the usual banter and joking, no singing. The players had convinced Samuel to dress out and sit with them on the bench, so they could stay close to him. He had no desire to play and just wanted to leave and go find his family.

It was Frankie’s idea to start the five from the States, including Dak Marial and Jimmie Abaloy. Perhaps they might not be as affected as their teammates from home. Besides, it was their strongest lineup and a rousing start might inspire the others. The U.K. team had won three straight and its two losses had been by a combined six points.

Watching his team warm up, though, Ecko knew they were in trouble. They were listless. The smiles were gone. He tried to fire them up with his usual pre-tip-off pep talk and warned them of what they already knew. A loss would send them packing.

Fortunately, the U.K. came out cold and missed its first four shots. Dak hit his first two short jumpers and yelled at his teammates on defense. When Jimmie Abaloy took a low-percentage shot from too far away, Ecko yanked him out of the game and chewed on him. Anything to get their attention.

Samuel sat between his coaches and tried to encourage his friends, but the bench was flat. After the first 10 minutes the game was tied at 14, and Ecko sent in his B squad. Midway through the second period, the U.K.’s star forward took charge of the game and couldn’t be stopped. His name was Abol Pach, and, to rub salt in the wounds, he was one of them. He had been born in London to Sudanese parents from Juba, and he had verbally committed to Michigan State. Pach hit from everywhere — behind the arc, the top of the key, inside, outside. When pressed he streaked to the basket and slammed down impressive dunks. Pach scored 14 points in the second period alone and his team led by 10.

The sky was falling and there was no way to stop it. Ecko put in his best players and they chipped away at the lead, but Pach was on fire and wanted the ball. When he hit back-to-back bombs, the air left the building for the boys from South Sudan.

There were tears in the locker room and little was said. Ecko and Frankie talked to them, told them how proud they were, what an honor it was to coach such great people. Samuel sat in a corner, blaming himself for everything. But his thoughts were back in Lotta and he just wanted to go home.

They walked for an hour and stopped when they found shade. Emmanuel went ahead to look for water and came back with nothing. But he found a gravel road and saw other people from the village moving south and east. They decided to follow it.

Beatrice tried not to think of what was behind them. She tried not to think of Samuel. James and Chol complained of headaches and hunger, and she kept promising them that they would find water soon. Their crying had stopped and they, along with the others, moved in silence, their gazes fixed on the path in front of them, dazed, traumatized, and frightened.

The group followed Emmanuel to the gravel road and saw a dozen or so mothers and their children. The sight of more people was not comforting. They, too, were desperate for water, food, and shelter. There must be hundreds if not thousands searching for help, and even if they got lucky there would not be enough for everyone.

They rested again and Emmanuel disappeared. He returned, smiling with the news that a camp was not far away. He was told there was water.

On the gravel road, they heard a truck and quickly ducked into the bush. Peeking through weeds, they watched and listened as it approached. There was gunfire, the familiar sound of Kallies, and the children began crying. It rolled past them with dust boiling in its wake. A troop truck full of soldiers. Rebels. For fun, one of them aimed his rifle in the air and fired a few shots. They were laughing as they disappeared in the dust.

Ecko was tired of Orlando and ready to leave. As the players hung out by the pool, he and Frankie put together a plan. There was some expense money left and they decided to spend a couple of days sightseeing in Washington. Frankie called their travel agent, who booked rooms and changed their flights.

The following day, they packed and went to the airport where they said goodbye to the Americans. Jimmie Abaloy and Dak Marial boarded a flight to Newark. Nelson Wek was headed to Omaha, by way of Chicago. Nyal Roman boarded the same flight and would go on to Akron. Ajah Nyabang had the longest flight, to San Francisco. Before breaking up, the players huddled around their coaches and Ecko offered a short, emotional prayer. There were long hugs and sad farewells and promises to keep in touch.