Chapter One

Elsie:

They chased us. I couldn’t breathe. I was gasping for air. They chased us. We ran. We ran for our lives, for dignity, our rights, our beliefs. We were Christians. Persecuted for our faith. Hated. Mistrusted. Our only hope was Under-ground Zion. I was frightened. Scared. We all were. The four of us; Orlando, Bruce, Kora and me. We were running.

It was night; dark night. And cold. Very cold. Raining, and windy. We were wet and shivering. The leather bags, containing our only possessions, slid uncomfortably on our backs.

I slipped and fell on the wet ground. Orlando stopped.

“We must keep going my love,” he said.

“No I can’t, just leave me.” I gasped, “I would slow them down.”

“No!” Orlando shouted, “I will not leave you, if I had the strength I would carry you.”

I shook my head. He pulled out of his tatty pocket a pearly pebble, white as snow, smooth with no flaws.

“This is our only hope,” he said.

I looked at the pebble and then took his hand. He pulled me up and we rejoined the others.

An hour later we paused to catch our breath.

“Do you think we lost them?” Kora asked.

Bruce shook his head. He was older than the rest of us. Much older. He was our pastor and mentor, but also our friend and carer. He was in his fifty, but fit for his age. Deep lines etched his face and his hair was already grey. He had lost many friends, many family, and we were the last. The last Three, of his flock. We were still young, but our faces showed the stress and fear we had endured.

We looked behind us but could not discern movement. No lights. No moving vehicles. But we were still wary, our enemies could be right behind. It started to rain.

Suddenly something moved in front us and there was a shout. On instinct the four of us crouched down into the grass and camouflaged into the night. But it seemed we had already been seen. A youngish man rushed into view. He came right up to us, holding out a gun. Wary he was, and alert.