Beneath the Darkening Sky Read Free Page A

hair, but the blade didn’t go all the way through. He pulls and twists for a moment, and then hacks down with his machete, once, twice. I open my
mouth to be sick, but nothing comes out. The rebel offers Papa’s head to the little boy, who is still wiping the blood off his face with his sleeve.
    They hand the little boy my papa’s head. His eyes are closed, but I can see his bright teeth shining. His mouth screams, but no sound comes out.
    God kill them all. And kill me too. Then I can be with Papa.
    Mama holds my youngest siblings close to her skirt and wails. Her eyes have vanished in wrinkles, tears run through them. Akot stands, watches, his whole body shaking, fists clenched.
    The rebels circle and sing songs. Another man is brought in, and another and another. They make the young ones kill first. Heads are tossed into the burning huts and bodies are thrown. Just like
the butcher, only he never killed so many animals at once.
    I sob, but no one hears me because everyone’s sobbing. The women pull at their hair and wail at the sky. Children cry and cling to their mothers. Some look about, trying to make sense of
what they see. Others just sit and bawl with their hands over their eyes. This isn’t happening, it can’t be.
    The rebels disperse. They behead men at random. Akot and Otim and Akidi are held back by some of the guards, but most of the grown-ups ignore the men and go to the women. I can see one of them
grab my uncle’s wife. She screams and cries, tears soak her face and baby Nini holds onto her. My uncle’s wife is screaming and reaching out. The other women reach for her but the
rebels hold them back, pushing and kicking, hitting them with their guns. Her dress is ripped off. Children are pushed and thrown and kicked. What happens to the women is nothing like what
I’ve glimpsed in our village at night, or even seen with the animals in the fields – it is not from this world. They rip, and push, and cut.
    The fires rise higher and come closer, spitting red. They crack and spread, glowing orange. When the hut crashes, the yellow and red flames sparkle into the sky and then fall back down again,
raining fire.
    I can barely see because I’m crying so hard. It’s the worst smell – burning flesh and fresh blood and shit. Mama whimpers like a little girl. Two of the rebels come and drag
her out. Mama screams. One of the rebels spins and hits Mama in the face with his gun. I reach out.
    No!
    ‘Mama!’
    As if on cue, the beasts turn. All eyes on the mango tree.

Taken
    Darkness stalks me in the tall grass on the far side of the field. I can almost hear it growl and see it quiver, as if it’s breathing. What does it look like? Does it
have big teeth? Or tusks? As I crouch behind the smelly goat, catching glimpses of the shadow, the sour taste of fear fills my mouth.
    ‘Hey!’ Akot yells. ‘Quit daydreaming!’
    I turn. Akot whips the goats with his long stick. We’re supposed to be driving them home. Akot’s clothes are so clean and white. They always are after Mama washes them.
    ‘I’m not daydreaming,’ I say. Quietly, in case the dark thing gets spooked. ‘There’s something over there.’
    ‘It’s probably a jackal,’ Akot says. ‘If it gets too close, it’ll eat you.’
    ‘I want to see it.’
    ‘You’ve already seen jackals! Come on, let’s go home.’
    ‘I want to see it up close.’
    ‘Why? Do you think they get cuter up close? The closer you get, the uglier it’ll get and then it’ll eat you. Come on!’ He walks up behind me and whacks my shins with his
stick. ‘Come on.’
    ‘Ouch! Akot, that hurt.’
    ‘Then hurry back to Mama and tell on me. Just help me get these goats back first.’
    I give one of the goats a hard whack on the rear and scowl at Akot. He doesn’t care, he just wants to get home and eat. Back in our village, we put the goats in their pen. A man stands
near the gate. He is wearing dark-green army clothes, almost black. He leans against