security professional, I was in the military, I've seen action before. You learn to suppress your panic reflex, that's all. I'm just as scared as you."
Veronica doubts it.
Jacob says, "They've got phones."
Everyone looks at him, surprised.
Susan asks, "Phones?"
"Guy over there has a cell phone, I saw it when we got up just now. He was reading a text message or something on it."
"It can't actually work. Not out here," Veronica says.
"It's not impossible. I work at Telecom Uganda, their competitors provide service in the Congo too, with reasonable coverage from what I saw. And radio's a weird medium. If we're anywhere near a town, there might be pockets of service around."
"But I thought - how do they have cell phones here? I thought there wasn't even any government."
"There isn't," Derek says. "But there's still a lot of money out here, and there's not exactly a war any more. Just good old-fashioned anarchy. The UN keeps a pretty good lid on the cities, but we can't expect them to march out here looking for us. It's probably some local warlord's territory, they'd start a firefight if they came in."
"Do you think that's who sent them?" Veronica asks. "The local warlord?"
"I have no idea."
"The point I was trying to make," Jacob says waspishly, "is that if we can get our hands on one of their phones, we can use it to call for help."
Derek frowns. "Remember that mud igloo we passed? This is the middle of buttfuck nowhere. I seriously doubt phones work anywhere near here."
"Doesn't matter," Jacob persists. "They have them because they work somewhere. We get a phone somehow, we write a text message, it goes in the outbox, they recover the phone, they go to town or wherever, and the message gets sent as soon as they walk into signal range."
There is a pause as the others absorb this.
"Not bad," Derek concedes. "But it'll be hard to grab one long enough to write a text. Probably the second most valuable thing these guys own, after their guns."
"Anybody got a better idea?" Jacob asks.
Nobody does.
"Okay. So keep your eyes open for their phones," Derek says. "But remember that priority number one is to make sure nothing goes wrong. We don't necessarily want army troops finding us and storming this cave. The best way out of this is to be traded for a big bag of US dollars. Until then we have to stick together and make sure they don't abuse us. We should go join the others."
Veronica realizes she, Derek, Susan and Jacob have instinctively formed a tight group, a little apart from the other four. This makes sense, their foursome drove from Kampala together, Derek knew each of them before they came here, and they are all in their late twenties and early thirties, whereas the others are one or two decades older - but all eight of them need to be a single indivisible group. They get up and move across the cave, assemble into a rough circle.
"Love what you've done with the nose," Tom says mordantly to Derek.
"Thanks. I always thought it was too straight. Is everyone okay?"
"We're fine," Judy says, meaning Tom and herself. "I may never want to walk another step again as long as I live, but otherwise fine. But Diane -"
Diane doesn't look good. She is sitting slumped on the floor, her back to the wall, breathing shallowly, her head lolling, her eyes unfocused.
"She needs a doctor," Michael says to Derek. His voice is hoarse. "Tell them that. Tell them we've got money at home, lots of money, we'll get them whatever they want. We have to get her to a doctor. If they just give me a phone I can get them half a million dollars."
"I'll tell them," Derek says. "When I think they'll be receptive. That's not now."
Michael looks like he wants to be furious but can't muster the energy. "Listen, you son of a bitch -"
"Come on, man," Jacob interrupts. He points out the line of blood on his neck. "Don't kid yourself. You think they give a shit about us? They came this close to cutting my throat out there. They would have if I couldn't have made it. There's probably no doctor inside a hundred miles anyways. Best case, we're all going to be here for days, probably weeks. Don't start making trouble now. You'll just make things worse."
"Trouble? Trouble? Look at my wife. Look at her. She might, she might be dying here. You have to go