Peter and Cosmos led Dr. Georgeson to the boat, and he helped them carry Rebekah up a small ridge that had hidden the mission facilities from the boys' view. A large building stood in the center of a cleared area dotted with several small huts, and directly across from them stood a large American style home. The doctor took them to the large building, where Rebekah was taken in and laid on a small cot. The doctor told Peter and Cosmos to go with a man who had just finished his shift in the hospital to eat and find a place to sleep. The man, a short, rotund fellow  about fifty years old, who introduced himself and Dr. James Price, led them to one of the huts and gave them something to eat and found two blankets which he spread on the floor for them. They fell asleep almost instantly, and did not wake until the sun was high in the sky the next day, completely exhausted due to the tremendous stress and tension they had been under for since they fled from home. When they awoke, they discussed what the people at the mission might do with them. Peter and Rebekah had been born in Africa, after their parents had given up their U.S. citizenship. Otherwise, Peter thought that the mission might send them back to the United States. Cosmos, of course, was also not a U.S. citizen, and the three of them were really illegal aliens in the country. However, the only way they could possibly legally gain permission to leave the country of their citizenship would be to petition the dictator, who would have them killed. They saw no real solution to their predicament, now that they thought it over, but hoped that the mission would find some way for them to perhaps live and work there. As they talked, Dr. Price stepped in "Glad to see you're awake, lads," the doctor said cheerily, "Mr. Kosiki wants to talk to you a bit, now that you've had some R&R. This way, boys, here's some bananas to satisfy your hunger first." Dr. Price walked them up to the big house as they ate their bananas. He took them around to a side door, and knocked on it. It opened slowly to reveal a petite woman in her forties, who looked at them and said softly in English, which Cosmos did not know, and Peter knew very little of, " I will tell my husband you are here." Then she opened the door wider, displaying a hall with a door at the end and two doors on either side. She opened the first one on the right and stepped in. They could hear her say something, and then a loud voice which the boys heard clearly, said, "Well, bring them in here! I've been waiting to talk to them all morning!" Peter and Cosmos looked at each other. The voice did not sound at all friendly, and they found themselves not looking forward to the interview that would decide their future. The petite lady, Mrs. Kosiki, stepped softly into the hall and beckoned the boys to go into the room. Then she vanished quietly into another room. Dr. Price left, shutting the door behind him, and the boys entered the room with trepidation. A large man with Oriental looking features sat behind a large desk in a square room with a window behind him. Several pictures hung on the dark red walls of the room, one depicting Jesus' death, another of Mr. and Mrs. Kosiki, and one showing three girls in their late teens, sitting on a log by a clear blue lake. The room had a carpet on the floor, of a mottled pattern, with the red of the walls predominating. Several filing cabinets stood on the left against the wall. Both boys were amazed at the luxury of the room, compared with what they had grown up with in a small African village. They stood and looked around in silent wonder, til Mr. Kosiki broke the silence by thundering in English, "So, I suppose I must figure out what to do with you, eh? You don't look like much, but I suppose your parents didn't think to pack you anything to wear when you left, eh? Tell me how I can contact your church, boy. I suppose they'll want you home, now your parents are dead, eh?" Peter and Cosmos looked at him blankly. Neither had understood anything that he had said, the rapidity of his remarks having prevented Peter from catching a word of it. Mr. Kosiki glared at them. "Answer me, now, I say! We haven't got all day. I'm a busy man, see?" Again they did not know what he was saying, but Peter interjected, before he could continue his tirade, "Sir, I don't know much English, and Cosmos doesn't know any, sir." An expression of horror crossed Mr. Kosiki's face at this. He looked at them and said, in understandable language this time, "Your parents never taught their own son his native tongue?" "Well, sir, " began Peter, but Mr. Kosiki cut in abruptly, "Well, it isn't my problem. Tell me how to contact your church." Peter looked at Cosmos and said, "I don't know how, sir. They all ran away, and" Again Mr. Kosiki interrupted, " Not your little African mission, boy! Your home church, in the States! You ought to know what I'm talking about!" Peter understood now, and said "Sir, I am not a citizen of the United States. My parents chose to give up their citizenship and support themselves in Africa before I was born, sir." Mr. Kosiki's face registered shock and horror at Peter's statement. "Well. I suppose you have at least a passport from your country of choice?" "No, sir," said Peter promptly. "Didn't you need one to leave?" Mr. Kosiki bellowed angrily. "Sir, I didn't want to die for the sake of legality, Mr. Kosiki." said Peter. "So are you trying to tell me you don't have one?" "Yes, sir," said Peter. "Well, run along then." he said, and then added in English, "I suppose I've got to send you back where you came from for your just punishment, and just hope the mission doesn't get in trouble for it!" He waved them impatiently toward the door, and they exited meekly, feeling relieved that they could leave, and yet unsure what he planned to do with them. But just as they reached the outer exit, Mr. Kosiki's wife slipped into the hall behind them and tapped Peter's shoulder. She softly said, "There is something he did not tell you, child. Please, come in here and sit down." Peter and Cosmos followed her into the room across the hall from Mr. Kosiki's study and sat down on a sofa that she waved them towards. This room had a connecting door between it and the next room, which stood open. Through it, Peter saw the back of a girl that he recognized as being from the photo in Mr. Kosiki's study. Mrs. Kosiki shut the connecting door and sat down in a rocking chair across from them. Her blue eyes filled with tears, and she said, "Dear Peter, your sweet sister will no longer have any pain. She has gone to live in a place where there is no pain and no sorrow, son." Peter was at first stunned. He had not even thought it possible that Rebekah might die of her injury or illness. Then he began to think what he should have done differently. "I should have taken better care of her. I shouldn't have tried to take her across the lake when she was hurt. I should have tried to take her to some friend who could have healed her before we left." Peter said this angrily. He was angry with himself. "It was my fault whe died. I was her older brother. Her protector. She used to run to me when she saw a snake, or a spider. She trusted me to take care of her. She always trusted me to choose the right decision. And now it's my fault she's dead. If I would have tried to find a friend, someone who could help her, as soon as the soldiers left, she would be alive now. Or if I had run back as soon as I saw the soldier start to chase us. I could've killed him and saved her. Or if I had tried harder to find my parents that night, Dad could have kept her safe. Why did she have to be shot instead of me? I should have run behind her, tried to protect her from the bullets. It was my job to keep her safe. I should have been shot instead of her. It would be just punishment if I'd been killed then. I wish I had been. I didn't do my job. Rebekah should never have trusted me. I'm a coward. A coward. If I had tried harder we'd both be alive. No one will ever forgive me. I failed, and now she's gone. It's all my fault. I wish I were dead, too. I'll never see her again. Never. God could never forgive me for killing my own sister when I called myself a Christian. A missionary. And I let her down. I let my parents down. I failed my religion. I'm a complete failure. And now Rebekah's dead, and it's all my fault." He broke down, sobbing silently. Anger and sorrow filled his being. Mrs. Kosiki was crying freely, now. She leaned toward him and said, "Peter, sometimes we don't understand God's plan for our lives. But God always knows what's best, Peter. In some way, God will turn your actions to good, even if they were wrong. I'm not sure you were wrong, Peter. If you would have stayed, you would all have died, Peter. Give God the glory, son, and someday you will see why this happened the way it did. I can't tell you why God decided to take your sister home now, but I know she is happy, and no one can harm her now. Peter, take your troubles to the Lord, and he will give you strength and courage to face through whatever happens." "No! God didn't have to 'Take my sister home'! Maybe it's God's fault she's dead, after all! He could have saved her! She could be safe at home with us if God had cared about her. Cared about me and my family! God doesn't care about anything! He just lets the world run without doing anything about it. He could've kept my family safe. He could've saved my sister. But he didn't lift a finger to help! And think about all those martyrs they champion? God didn't have to let them die, did he? He doesn't care at all! They should've known better than to die for a God like that! And I don't care about God anymore! I might as well be an atheist for all the good God's ever done me!" Peter ran out of the house, sobbing, but more angry than sad, now. He ignored the calls of Mrs. Koskiki and Cosmos, calling, "Peter, come back!" He ran on, out of the mission camp, into the surrounding groves of fruit trees. He finally flung himself down under a tree, and pummeled the ground, trying to vent his emotions. "Guys aren't supposed to cry," he muttered, but the tears continued to flow for several minutes. Finally he forced himself to stop. A deep pain settled in his chest, sending stabs of pain through him. He sat up and whispered, "I hate God! My parents moved all the way out here, away from their family and friends, and raised my and my sisters here, all for Him, and look what He's done for them in return! They're either dead or running in fear of their very lives, and their oldest daughter is dead, and I'm out here with no plans for the future, unsure of what turn my life could take in the next hour." He looked around him, and the scene reminded him painfully of his home. He felt he had to express himself, if only to the trees and sky. "I remember our house, with the garden in front, as much like "back home" as Mom could make it, . . . And my friends and I used to play games, and work together in the rice paddies, . . . Dad used to help us build toy boats, and we'd float them in puddles, . . . And we flew back to the States when Rebekah was born, and I couldn't understand what people said to me, because I could barely talk and couldn't speak English at all, . . . Then we finally went home, and I was so happy to see our house again, . . . I was afraid we would never come back . . . We were so excited when we adopted Kaguna, but we knew it meant we could never move back to the U.S. . . . I didn't care, though, I'd never even liked learning English, and it wasn't like I even knew anyone there . . . I used to run through all the neighbouring areas to invite people to prayer vigils, and meetings, . . . There was the old man who used to yell at me because I was white . . . Most of the people didn't care, . . . And then, . . ." The pain in his chest deepened as he remembered what happened then. He tried to think of something else, but somehow everything reminded him of the running, hiding, finally making it here and then Rebekah's death. Hours later, Cosmos, with a worried expression on his face, found him, asleep.