Five Ways To Surrender. Elle James

      Alex didn’t like that the reverend wasn’t coming with them. “What about you and Mrs. Townsend?”

      “Martha refused to leave the sick baby.” He looked back at her. “Go. We are in God’s hands.”

      Maybe so, but the ISIS terrorists didn’t believe in the reverend’s God. They believed in killing all foreigners and many of their own people in their efforts to control the entire region. “Reverend, let me help you bring Martha out of the village.”

      He shook his head. “She won’t abandon the mother and child she has been helping for the past few days. They can’t be moved.”

      “Have you considered the fact that you and your wife staying with them might give the terrorists more reason to not only kill you and your wife, but also the woman and her baby?”

      He nodded and repeated, “We are in God’s hands.” He nodded at the children running toward the hills. “Go with them. They need someone to ensure their survival.”

      Torn between saving the children and saving her mentor, father figure and friend, Alex hesitated.

      “You can’t help everyone,” the reverend said. “Martha and I have lived long, productive lives. No regrets. You and the children have not.” He waved her toward the children. “Go. Live.”

      Alex hugged the reverend. “I’ll go, but once the children are safe, I’m coming back for you and Martha.”

      He patted her back. “Only if it’s safe.”

      An explosion rocked the ground and was followed by the sound of gunfire.

      Her pulse hammering in her veins, Alex hurried after Fariji and the children running through the village streets toward the hills.

      She counted heads, satisfied she had all of her little charges. Some of them clustered around her, while others ran ahead. One little girl tripped and fell.

      Alex scooped her up and set her on her feet, barely slowing. She clutched the child’s hand and kept moving.

      More gunfire sounded behind her. She didn’t look back. She had one goal: to get the children to safety. Only then would she think about what was going on in the village.

      At the far end of the community, they neared the base of the bluffs rising high over their heads.

      A shiver of fear rippled through Alex. She had never hiked in the hills because she was afraid she wouldn’t find her way back out. Now she was purposely heading into unknown territory—with children. For a moment, she hesitated.

      Then another explosion shook the earth beneath her feet. She glanced over her shoulder. A plume of dusty fire and smoke rose up into the air near the road leading into the village.

      She didn’t need any more motivation. Bullets were bad; bombs were even worse. “Hurry!” she yelled.

      The youngest children had slowed, their little legs tired from running through the village.

      Alex despaired. How could she get all of them up the steep slopes? And if they did make it, where would she hide them?

      She’d heard from some of the elders that there were caves in the hills. In the past, when their village had been invaded, the people had fled to the hills and hidden in the caves until the attackers moved on.

      Alex lifted one of the smallest girls and settled her on her back. She started up the hill, holding the hand of a little boy, small for his seven years. She tried not to think about what was happening down in the village.

      If the threat was the ISIS faction, the reverend and his wife were in grave danger. Alex’s heart squeezed tightly in her chest. The elderly couple were incredibly kind and selfless. They didn’t deserve to be tortured or killed.

      Ahead, Alex caught glimpses of other villagers, climbing the rugged path upward. She felt better knowing they were heading in the right direction. Hopefully, the men terrorizing the village wouldn’t take the time or make the effort to climb into the hills to capture villagers and orphans. What would it buy them?

      However, Alex, being an American and female, might be a more attractive bargaining chip. Or she’d make for better film footage on propaganda videos. She had to keep out of sight of the ISIS terrorists.

      Once they could no longer see the village, Alex breathed a little more freely. Not that they were out of danger, but if they couldn’t see the village, the attackers couldn’t see them.

      Ahead and to the north rose stony bluffs, shadowed by the angle of the sun hitting the ridge to the south.

      Alex paused to catch her breath and study the bluff. Had she seen movement? She blinked and stared again at a dark patch in the rocky edifice.

      A village woman slipped from the patch and climbed downward to where Alex stood with her little band of orphaned children.

      Another woman followed the first, and then another. Soon five women were on their way down the steep slope to where Alex and Fariji stood. Each gathered a small child and headed up to what Alex realized was a cave entrance.

      Alex, burdened with the girl on her back, started up the path, urging the other children to climb or crawl up the slippery slope. By the time she reached the entrance, she was breathing hard.

      She slipped the girl from her back and eased her to the stone floor of the cave.

      More than a dozen women and children emerged from deep in the shadows, their eyes wide and wary. They gathered around Alex, all talking at once.

      “Where are the others?” Alex asked in French.

      “Scattered among the caves.” A woman called Rashida stepped forward. “There are many caves. This is only the first one.”

      “They will find us here,” a younger woman said. “We must go deeper into the hills.”

      “We can’t,” Rashida said. She tipped her head toward three older women sitting on the ground, their backs hunched, their eyes closed. “The old ones will not make it. It was all they could do to come this far.”

      Alex’s heart went out to the old and young who couldn’t move as fast or endure another climb up steep hills.

      “None of us will last long without food and water,” the other woman argued.

      “We can’t go back down to the village.” An old woman called Mirembe glanced up from her position seated on the ground. “We would all be tortured or killed.”

      Alex didn’t want to argue with the women when the reverend and his wife were down there with no one to help or hide them. With the children safe in the cave, Alex couldn’t stop thinking about the elderly missionaries. She drew in a deep breath and made up her mind. “I need you women to care for these children.”

      Again, the women gathered around her.

      “Where are you going?” Rashida asked.

      “Don’t leave us,” another woman pleaded.

      “If you go back, you’ll be killed,” Mirembe predicted.

      “I have to go back. Reverend Townsend and his wife stayed behind.”

      Mirembe shook her head. “They are dead by now. They must be.”

      A sharp pain pierced Alex’s heart. “I choose to think they are still alive. And I’m going down to see if there is anything I can do to help.” She glanced around at the women. “Will you care for these children?” she repeated with more force.

      Rashida nodded. “We will look after them until your return.”

      A tiny hand tugged at her pant leg. “Miss Alex, please don’t go.”

      Alex glanced down at Kamaria, the little girl she’d carried up the hill. She had tears in her big brown eyes as she stared up at Alex.

      Her