The woman tried to smile, but all that came of it was a hint of a grimace.

“I relieve it every single night when I go to bed. I relive it every single rising. I relive it every hour of every day. There is no banishing it from my mind.”

Honor closed her eyes, long-held-back tears leaking down her cheeks. She would have to rub more henna on her face just in case before she left the woman’s dwelling.

“My son was sickened. The truth was revealed to him in a vision from Allah himself. Allah revealed to him the group’s true agenda. That they were instruments of evil and not good. Never good. And that my son should leave at once.”

She sucked in an unsteady breath, her voice cracking, and she had to swallow back a keen of heartbreaking sorrow.

“He should have just left. Waited for the right opportunity. But he didn’t do that. So convinced was he after receiving the word of Allah that what the group stood for was wrong and not in keeping with the teachings of the Qur’an that he confronted the leaders. He told them of his dream and that they must stop or face eternal damnation. They didn’t kill him on the spot. Nor did they detain him. They toyed with him. They told him in absolute seriousness that they thanked him for sharing the word of Allah and that he must be a devout man indeed for Allah to have spoken to him and that they would take everything he’d told them into account and gather the members and discuss changes. And they let him go.”

The woman glanced at Honor as if judging whether the younger woman believed such a fantastic story. But Honor stared back at her in earnest, absorbing every word. Still, the woman must have felt she needed to back up her wild claims.

“If you wonder how I could possibly know of such things in a group that is so secretive, my son kept a journal of every detail of his experience as a member of A New Era. He had it sent to me right after he confronted the leaders. Maybe he knew what was going to happen. Maybe he sensed they were lying and wanted someone to know what they truly are. And as for my knowing what happened after—the last journal entry was of his confrontation with the leaders—one of his friends in the organization, one who like my son, didn’t like the actions of the group, came to me and told me what they did to my son.”

This time, the mournful sound poured from the woman’s mouth, soaring from the very depths of her soul. Tears ran freely down her face and her features were so stricken with grief that Honor couldn’t even look at her without responding in kind, without remembering the horror of that day when every one of her friends and coworkers had been killed. She knew exactly how this woman felt. They were bound by a bond that no two people should ever have to share.

“They came in the middle of the night. My son had packed his belongings and had planned to leave at dawn to come home to me and his father. They pulled him from his bed and dragged him outside where all the others were already gathered. They gagged him so he couldn’t speak, couldn’t defend himself, couldn’t denounce the organization and their agenda and possibly strike a chord with other followers.

“They told the others that he was a traitor to his brethren. That he’d committed an unpardonable sin by giving their location to an opposing military faction. He’d been bought off and had betrayed every single one of his brothers for money. He was an abomination not only to Allah but to their cause—Allah’s cause. By the time they were finished denouncing him, the others were only too happy to participate in his torture. They were angry—furious—that he could do such a thing. They called him evil. Possessed by evil spirits.

“They tortured him endlessly for an entire week,” the woman whispered, tears still spilling in endless trails down her cheeks. “And in this instance, they didn’t behead him at the very end just before he’d die on his own as is their custom. They said that a traitor such as he didn’t deserve the mercy of a quick and painless death. He was left there to slowly succumb to the torture they’d inflicted on him. He had no food or water in all that time. It took three more days!”

The woman put a fist to her mouth, biting down hard, her grief a terrible, tangible thing in the tiny dwelling. Honor couldn’t help it. It was her nature to comfort others. To help them. No matter the cost to her. It was why even now she was fleeing for her life. Because she’d chosen a dangerous place to render aid. But it was also the area that was most in need because so many others didn’t dare come here to help.

Honor wrapped her arms around the other woman and simply held on as they both shed tears for so many horrible, senseless deaths.

“I am sorry for your loss,” Honor whispered next to the woman’s ear. “He sounded like a good man and not at all like the mindless puppets these monsters command who embrace the promise of riches and power. He tried to right the wrongs. He is safe with Allah now. You must know that.”

The woman pulled back a wan smile. She wiped at the tears with the back of her hand, and it shook as she lowered it to her lap once more.

“Thank you for saying that. I admit at times I’ve feared for his soul. I’ve prayed that he finds peace in the arms of Allah. But yes, he was a good man.” Her chin notched upward, her gaze more determined. “When he learned of the true goals of A New Era, he fought back. And I admire him for that. But in my heart I wish he’d simply walked away.”

Honor nodded her understanding. Knowing her time was limited and that the man collecting water for her was likely searching for her, she leaned forward to take the woman’s hand again.

“Thank you for your aid. I can never hope to repay such kindness. But I must go now. A man who escorted me into the village and who is getting me water from the river said that the group is here, in the village. At least some of them. They surround it and even mingle at the market. Looking for me. I must find a way to leave undetected and without drawing suspicion. And then I must find a place to rest. I sleep by day and journey by night to lessen my chances of detection, but this morning I had to come into the village to get more supplies. I was nearly out, and was completely out of water.”

The woman’s eyes gleamed a moment and the first true semblance of a smile lit her face.

“You will stay here,” she said triumphantly, as though she’d just solved an enormous dilemma.

Alarm took hold of Honor and she shook her head automatically. “No. Absolutely not. I won’t endanger you and your husband—or the rest of the villagers—that way. It’s best if I leave this place as quickly as possible so I draw attention away from you and the rest. You’ve been so kind and I will not repay such kindness by getting you killed for harboring someone they hunt for.”

The woman’s smile didn’t falter. “They will not find you here. Even if they come inside to search.”

Her expression was smug and more importantly confident. There was no hesitation, no fake confidence to falsely reassure Honor.

Honor looked at her in puzzlement. “How is that so?”

“Years ago when the fighting was so bad in this area, we feared we would be bombed on a daily basis. The attacks would only come at night. They were too cowardly to face their victims during the day. So my husband dug a shelter underneath the flooring of our home. It’s deep and wide enough to fit two people. It’s where we slept every night when we had the threat of bombing looming over us for months. You can go get your water and bring it here. I’ll boil it to cleanse it while you sleep. When night falls I’ll awaken you and you can be on your way once more with Allah’s blessing.”