FIRESTORM:
One by one, the villagers returned to the table with sharp knives, spears, axes, and mallets. Some had small handguns.
Their excitement electrified the warm summer air.
“Zayne, I’m scared.” Grace grabbed his arm for protection.
“If Father and Mother are in trouble,” he assured her, “we will save them.”
Grace didn’t look so sure.
He offered her a knife, but she declined it.
“I can’t.” She folded her arms and shrunk within herself. “Zayne, how do we stop the violence?”
He didn’t hear her. Instead, he joined his fellow villagers as they chanted, “Finem maluma, finem maluma, finem maluma….”
“What does that mean?” Grace asked.
“Evil lives here no more.”
“To the complex,” Tinga shouted.
The angry mob of villagers roared and moved swiftly into the woods as the sun set behind the dense trees.
Only the children stayed back with Nannu.
The swell of the crowd took Zayne and Grace with them. He chanted passionately with his people as they marched down the well-trodden path to the complex on the lip of the volcano.
“Finem maluma, finem maluma, finem maluma….”
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Zayne was ready for revenge, so much so in fact, he nearly forgot Grace was with him. He didn’t consider how all this made her feel.
Someone needed to pay for his captivity and torture, for what they did to him. No one in the village would be safe until they restored balance with the Bennu birds.
They stomped quickly through the forest, chanting all the way.
Night fell as they reached the path leading to the complex.
The villagers lit torches, and the fire illuminated the hatred in their faces as they looked at the compound that had taken over their island.
The low-paying jobs consumed their time, but left the villagers with a lower quality of life. Their ecosystem was out of balance, their children were disappearing, and the sacred birds of the land grew savage and unkind.
They had to break the invisible cage that had cast a shadow over their lives ever since outsiders took over their land.
Their chanting grew deafening with every angry step they took. “Finem maluma, finem maluma, finem maluma….”
Grace pulled Zayne’s arm. “There has to be a better way,” she pleaded.
But it was too late. Zayne wasn’t in control.
They reached the tall barbed-wire fence protecting the massive concrete complex.
Their chant fell to a whisper. “Finem maluma, finem maluma, finem maluma….”
Many villagers had DNA Identifier access because they worked there, including Tinga. Others climbed the fence.
Grace hung back and begged Zayne to stay with her. “Please don’t go any further. Camp Claudi has tight security, and the guards will shoot anyone attempting to enter illegally.”
“This must be done.”
“Don’t you see? The guards will kill everyone you love.”
“Stay close,” he told her. “I’ll protect you.”
Grace screamed when gunshots pierced the air.
The guards protecting their post shot at the villagers that stormed the complex.
Some fell off the fence from the force of the bullets. They destroyed others at close range inside the gate.
The villagers who got through swung their weapons, ready to kill the guards who represented their oppressors.
Blood splattered onto the gravel. Anyone inside that compound was their enemy and must die if they were to live freely on their island; the birthplace of their ancestors and the sacred Bennu birds they worshipped and now feared.
The battle had begun.
Which side will win the battle?
