Spirits, Graves and Stones: The Dance of a Child Soldier - Book 3 in the Stones Trilogy Series

By Donna White

Bruce shrugged. “Beats me. But I don’t think it matters whether you have a bow and arrow or a bazooka. I mean, it helps—that’s for sure—but I think it’s more of a choice thing. The soldiers chose to run away ’cause they were more concerned ’bout saving their own lives. That lady chose not to run ’cause she knew she couldn’t live with herself if she did. I know people say you gotta have guts to do these things, but I don’t think so. I think you just gotta live your life so you don’t have any regrets.”

For twenty-three years, Joseph Kony, leader of the Lord’s Resistance Army, abducted more than sixty thousand children, forcing them to be soldiers in his war against the Ugandan government, to kill or be killed.
It’s time for this evil to end.
But how?
Forgiveness or revenge? Peace or hate? Flowers or stones?
Healing can’t begin when there’s so much pain. Broken people can’t mend shattered lives.
In the last book of the Stones Trilogy, Charlie and Eseza set out to right the wrongs committed against them and their people. In the process, they discover that goodness can come from the most unlikely people, in the most unlikely places, and in the most unlikely times.
“Donna White’s latest novel has the ability to change people, much like the magical stones referenced in her title: turning despair into hope; and finding strength even among the most vulnerable. The final revelation that peace is stronger than war is a much needed message for our troubled times, and a fitting conclusion to her compelling trilogy.”
Patrick Reed, Director/Producer, Fight Like Soldiers, Die Like Children

• Language: English
• Publisher: Donna White
• Release date: Jun 14, 2019
• ISBN: 9781999171001

Donna White

Donna White is the author of the Stones trilogy. An avid traveler, she enjoys visiting other countries and experiencing everything each culture has to offer. From interviewing former child soldiers in Gulu, Uganda, to celebrating Shubho Noboborsho in Chittagong, Bangladesh, and sitting amongst a troop of chimpanzees in the rainforest, Donna embraces every experience to the maximum. Her writing takes on a very serious role: to reveal situations in the world that aren’t regarded as newsworthy but should be.She resides in Canada with her husband, children, dogs, cats and horses on their hobby farm in Northwestern Ontario. You can visit her website at www.donnawhitebooks.com to find photo galleries, teaching resources, and much more.

Book preview

Part I

Chapter 1

Arrival: Midnight

Caution is not cowardice: even the ants march armed. ~ African proverb

The lopsided smile of the moon grinned down onto the jungle, casting a silvery sheen. An owl called out, wuhuhu-whooh, wuhuhu-whooh, lifted its wings, and took flight, its silhouette passing over the thin wisps of clouds.

Bruce tried to focus on the surrounding bush and the brief glimpses of a figure running ahead. He called out. Char—

Everything went black. He grabbed at his face and felt the coarse weave of burlap. He drew in a quick breath and inhaled a mouthful of fine dust. Hey! he said, choking.

He felt the rough thickness of a rope wrap around his neck and bite into his skin as it tightened. He gasped. He wrapped his fingers around it and pulled. It was useless.

Do not pull tight tight! You will kill him!

Bruce turned toward the voice. It came at him from below face level.

I am not pulling tight! Now grab his arm and tie them! a second voice called out. It was older and deeper.

Bruce kicked, then swung his fist into the air. He heard a loud crack as his hand connected with something hard.

Ouch!

A blow hit him in the stomach and he doubled over, grasping his middle.

Tie his hand, Peter! Quick!

You tie his hand! I am not going near him again!

I have my hand busy already! How am I going to tie him?

Another blow hit the back of his legs and he fell to his knees. He gasped as two bodies jumped on him and grabbed his arms. He thrashed and kicked into the air as his arms were pulled behind his back.

Something hit him on the head and he saw a bright flash of stars behind his eyelids. Everything went dark.

What did you do that for, Michael Jackson? You may have killed him.

Bruce moaned.

"It would take a lot more to kill this muzungu. Where do they make them so big big like that?"

Bruce felt a rope bind around his ankles and dig into his skin as it tightened. He groaned as he tried to stand.

He is getting up again! Michael Jackson yelled.

Then do something about it!

Like what?

I do not care!

Something hit him on the head again. More stars. He fell to the ground and moaned.

There, that one should do it. And I did not kill him.

Yes, yes. But I think we have lost the rest of the group. Call them and maybe they will hear you.

Bruce heard the trill of a bird call: Qu keer, qu keer, qu keer, qu keer!

That was a fine call, Michael Jackson. You do that good good.

"Yes, my wora taught me that."

Can you do any other?

Yes. I can do the jackal, and the lion, and the elephant. You want to hear?

Yes, I would.

The boy let out a series of yips and a long howl.

Eeh, that was good! But do listen to this! There was a short pause and then a loud farting noise, the kind that came from tucking your fist under your armpit and flapping your arm up and down.

Michael Jackson laughed. "Eeh, that is good, Peter. You sound like my min maa after she eat too many of the yam."

Peter joined in the laughter.

Bruce shook his head and tried to stand again.

Eeh! He is trying to get away! Michael Jackson said.

"This is one strong muzungu. Here, grab his other arm and pull him to the tree. We will tie him to it tight tight."

The boys groaned as they dragged Bruce a few feet across the ground.

Argh! What is it that make this boy so big? Who is his father that he is so rich and fat? Peter asked.

I do not know, but I wish I could go to his village soon. I would like to have the fat like this. Then the girl will know I am rich, and I will have only the problem of deciding how many I will choose for my wife.

"Come. We must try this again. On the count of three. Acel . . . ariyo . . . adek!"

Bruce felt himself being dragged a short distance, the shortness of the boys’ breaths amplified as they pushed against his chest.

Again!

His back was shoved against a tree trunk, and the coarseness of rope scraped across his chest as it tightened. He leaned his head against the tree, feeling the smooth bark, and winced. He could already imagine the size of the lump on the back of his head.

A sound of parting branches caught his attention. He turned toward the noise.

Eeh? What do you have here, Peter? The voice sounded calm and in control.

We caught him following us, so we took him down.

And why did you do that? Did he appear to be a threat?

Uhh—

We thought it was better to stop him first and ask question later, Jonasan, Michael Jackson said.

I see. Then let us look at his face.

The rope loosened around Bruce’s neck and the bag was removed. Bruce blinked and stared up into three dark, shiny faces, their eyes narrowed and lips pursed. He noted the rifles slung over their shoulders. The older one, the boy who appeared to be in charge, also carried a bow and a quiver of arrows.

Who the hell are you? Bruce asked.

"Such boldness coming from a muzungu. I would think that, since you are the one tied and we are the one with the gun, you would show us a bit more respect, muzungu boy. Jonasan took a step closer to Bruce and stared down at him. He ran his fingers over the bow slung over his shoulder. The arrow or the bullet could find it place in your heart, ka-boy. I am an excellent shot with one or the other."

Bruce glared.

The bush behind the three boys parted and another boy stepped into the clearing. Bruce peered through his captors’ legs and saw a pair of worn-out running shoes: Nike, faded blue, dusty red. Shoes that once were his, given as a gift to protect wounded feet, once worn by a dead soldier and now rightfully back where they belonged. He smiled.

Eeh, why are you calling us, Michael Jackson?

The boys moved to the side and Charlie looked down at Bruce. He grinned.

You came back.

Yeah, I came back. Bruce studied Charlie: his face, his bright eyes, his cropped hair, his torn pants, and bare chest. He was the same Charlie. A lump came to his throat. A feeling of relief? Happiness? His smile turned into a grin. Think I’d leave you alone out here to fend for yourself? He struggled as he tried to loosen the rope. "You mind untying me? Your friends must think I’m some sorta muzungu spy for the Lord’s Resistance Army or something."

Charlie laughed.

Jonasan stepped between Bruce and Charlie and raised his hand. Not so fast. We do not know this boy.

I do. He is fine. He is the one I told you about. My angel. Charlie crouched and rested his hand on Bruce’s shoulder. It is good to see you, my friend. What took you so long?

Yeah, good to see you too, Charlie. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. His face relaxed. You doing okay?

"Yes, yes. I am fine fine. And you, my muzungu Bruce?"

I’d be a hell of a lot better if you took these ropes off.

Charlie untied the ropes and threw them back to Peter. And you two brought down this big big trunk of a boy? he said with more than a hint of admiration in his voice.

Yes. The smiles on the boys’ faces were hard to miss. It is easy when you can sneak up from behind. Even the big one can fall when you have the right weapon, Peter said.

Charlie glanced at the log in Michael Jackson’s hand while Bruce rubbed the back of his head.

Uh-huh, Charlie said.

Bruce groaned as he stood and leaned against a tree to steady himself.

So the stones have brought you back again, Charlie said.

Bruce looked into the dense jungle brush and rubbed his hand across his face. The feeling was surreal. A few minutes ago, he was in the staff room at the London museum with his friend Scott and Sam, a girl he had met less than an hour ago. A girl who, like him, had discovered the power of five smooth green stones and had been whisked to Uganda. And now he was back. For the third time.

Yeah, Scott and I met up with your friend, Sam, and she shared the stones she found in the museum so we could all come back.

Eeh? You have seen Sam, then? And you are all here? Where? Charlie asked as he peered into the bush.

Bruce called out, Scott!

Charlie clapped his hand over Bruce’s mouth. Sh, there is a better way. He jumped onto a tree trunk and scrambled to the top. After scanning the surrounding area, he shook his head, then slid to the ground. No. There is no one. I do not see them.

Then where are they?

Maybe they did not come, Charlie said.

Oh, they came. I’m sure of it. Scott was all happy ’cause we’d be together. And Sam was looking forward to seeing Eseza again.

Maybe that is what happened, then.

What?

Sam is now with Eseza.

And Scott?

That I do not know. But we cannot wait for them, Bruce. We have to foot it while it is still dark.

And where exactly are we going? ’Cause according to Sam, you’re on some sorta kamikazi mission to rescue someone.

Yes, we are going to the LRA camp to find our friend, Naboth. He was taken a few day ago. But we must hurry hurry, Charlie said as he turned to the bush. He is an Arrow Boy, and Kony will have him tortured until he tell them everything. And he know many thing: the cache we found and the gun we have, the name of all in our group, and the plan we have to defend our village. Charlie cleared his throat. They will use the stick and the machet—they will beat and they will slice. We must find him soon soon.

With the mention of Kony’s name, Bruce balled his hands into fists. This was the man responsible for all of the pain and suffering in northern Uganda. This was the madman who, in just a few years, had abducted tens of thousands of children and forced them to be soldiers in his army. To fight and torture, to maim and kill their own mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers. And the girls, young girls, had it worse. Forced to do all this and be wives for the commanders. The anger welled up in Bruce until he spat on the ground. He spun Charlie around. Okay, I got it, but hold on. He drew in a long deep breath. If I’m coming with you, then I need to know the plan. I wanna stick it to Kony as much as you do.

Plan?

Yes, a plan. I see four of you and four guns, and you know as well as I do that’s nothin’ against Kony and the LRA. So how are you gonna rescue your friend?

Eeh? We go to the camp, and while it is dark we sneak in and free Naboth and we carry him home.

Bruce stared down at Charlie, thinking he was nuts. That’s it?

Yes.

And I suppose you’ll just shoot the soldiers who try to stop you.

They will not see us. We will be quiet as the jackal as it sneak up to the hare, and they will not know we are there. Charlie grinned.

Really?

Charlie’s smile disappeared. Okay. We do not have a good good plan. We will do what we do. That is all our plan for now. We do not have many choice, do we?

Bruce shrugged. Yeah, you’re right. But I’m coming with you. He smirked. You’re gonna need some brains in this operation.

Charlie’s smile returned and he nodded. Let us go, he said, stepping in front of Jonasan. The sun will be showing itself in a few hour, and we must get to the camp quick quick if we are to use the darkness to cover us.

Charlie led the way down the path while the Arrow Boys followed. Bruce took up the rear. He rubbed the back of his head, feeling the throbbing bump.

Yep. Looks like it’s happening all over again, he said with a sigh. But maybe I can keep my belt this time.

Chapter 2

You learn how to cut down trees by cutting them down. ~ Bateke proverb

Charlie stopped at the edge of a field.

What the hell is that? Bruce asked.

The clouds fell away from the moon, shedding light onto large skeletons, creating an eerie glow.

Is that an elephant graveyard? Bruce asked.

Elephant graveyard? said Michael Jackson.

"Yeah, you know. Like in The Lion King movie. Where all the elephants come to die."

Michael Jackson shook his head. "I am sorry, muzungu boy. There is no such thing as an elephant graveyard."

Then what’s that? Bruce gazed over the field. Skulls, rib cages, and elephant bones littered the ground.

That is one way Kony get the gun.

What? How does he . . .? Bruce stopped as he put two and two together. Oh. The ivory. The dickhead kills the elephants to get the ivory and trades it for guns.

Yes.

They walked past the skeletons and stared at the massive rib cages and gray skins that were strewn across the ground like giant deflated balloons.

Michael Jackson stopped and ran his hand over a skull, then a smaller skull of what Bruce assumed was a calf. The mother are very protective of their baby. They will charge at anything they think is a threat—any animal, be it a pride of lion or the croc that may come to the watering hole. They will even charge the truck and the men with the gun. He paused and touched the short stubs where the tusks had been sawed off. But many men with many gun win all the time.

Bruce stared into the distance. He counted, One, two, three . . . ten, eleven, twelve. Thirteen carcasses lay on the ground.

"Have you seen an elephant before, muzungu boy?"

No. On TV, but never for real.

Then it is sad sad for you to see this terrible thing. Of all the creature in Uganda, it is the elephant that make my heart stop and my eye want to linger on it beautiful sight. Michael Jackson closed his eyes for a moment and breathed deeply. I hope you will be able to see one, Bruce. Then you will see and know why I say this. He stood. Come now. We have far to go and we cannot linger.

Charlie led the way.

***

Bruce crawled on his belly and glanced at the clearing below. The first rays of the sun, lifting above the horizon, brought the scene into a dim focus. A group of huts stood beside a narrow creek, and a girl with a baby wrapped to her back leaned over a fire, stirring a pot.

Charlie ran his tongue over his lips as he watched the girl throw several chunks of meat into it. Commander breakfast, he whispered. Probably goat meat. Best cut too.

Bruce nodded. Do you see your friend?

No. But he is there. There are other group of hut. Charlie shimmied backward. Come. It is getting light. Let us hear what the other have seen.

They crawled on their hands and knees and returned to the thickness of the bush. Only a minute later Peter, Michael Jackson, and Jonasan returned.

Well? Bruce asked.

I saw him. Peter spoke in a strained whisper. He is tied to a tree in the middle of a yard. On the other side of the creek. It is all clear around him and the bush is far far from the tree. There are two boy watching him and they are wearing the gum boot.

Bruce nodded. He knew what gum boots meant. Higher status. Higher rank. More skilled.

Then we gotta figure out a plan and get him out soon, Bruce whispered. But we can’t rely on sneaking through the bush and taking him. Not if the bush is too far away from the tree. And not with two guards there. Bruce paused. Come on. Let’s go farther into the bush where we won’t be heard.

The group inched away as Jonasan led them toward a dense patch of trees on the other side of the hill.

Michael Jackson passed out a handful of dried plantain and peanuts to each of the boys while Charlie shared his water with Bruce.

I would love to have a taste of that goat meat down there, Charlie said as he finished his last peanut.

Peter looked into the trees and at the plants closer to the ground. He spied one with small purple flowers. I found the sweet, he said as he picked several of the colorful blooms. Here. They are good.

Peter bit the tips off the end and sucked the nectar from the flower. Bruce did the same. Hmm. Not bad. Think you can find me something that tastes like chocolate ice cream or caramel pudding?

Peter looked into the bush as if he was searching for such a plant. No. I am sorry. But I can find you a nice tea, and some spice, and something to get rid of the itchy head if you have it.

Bruce laughed.

Jonasan found a small clearing and motioned for the boys to sit in a circle. Show us what the area look like around Naboth, Peter, he said.

There are three hut standing like this, he said, placing three small stones on the ground. Naboth is here, and the bush is more than a stone throw away. And right here—he pointed to the place that designated the bush—is a trench. I could not see how deep it was, but I know it was over an arm length wide.

A trench? Bruce asked. A real trench?

Yes. That is one of the first thing we did when we set up the camp, Charlie said. Dig the trench. Dig all day and into the night until it was done.

And would there be soldiers in there? Bruce asked.

Yes, of course.

Bruce sighed. This is gonna be a lot harder than I thought.

And what shape was Naboth in? Jonasan asked.

He was bad bad. He lay there just, still as a panting kob in the hot sun, and his face was all blood. Even his shirt was dark with it.

The group was silent.

Jonasan cleared his throat. You were scouting the area beside Peter, Michael Jackson. What did you see? He pointed to the ground next to where Peter had placed the rocks.

Not much. Just a hut guarded by two gum boot.

Two. Charlie said. That mean a commander sleep in there or . . . or it is where they are storing the gun. There will always be the guard there. And they will be the best of the guard, not the new boy—that is what I know.

And over here, Jonasan said as he pointed to another spot on the ground, is a small clearing with a group of forty or more children sleeping. They have the rope tied around their wrist and there are three guard on them.

Bruce took a long, deep breath and sighed. More kids, eh?

Yes. There are always more kid. Charlie nodded.

The group was quiet again.

Finally, Bruce spoke. Well, I have no clue what to do. We got guards all around us, nowhere to hide, and it doesn’t look like our boy is gonna to be able to walk out on his own two legs. He rested his head in his hands. Anyone got any ideas?

Jonasan, Peter, and Michael Jackson shrugged.

We could wait until the late of the night and sneak in. I am sure they must fall asleep sometime, Peter said.

Bruce shook his head. No. Way too risky. They’ll have the night guards out.

How about we put the bag over the head? It worked with you. We come up from behind . . .

Still too risky, Jonasan said.

Charlie stood and glared down at them. You are not looking, and you are not seeing. Your mind are clouded and dulled! We cannot leave him there to die! They will torture him again and again until he tell them everything they want to know. And then they will hang him from a tree until his body is rot and the vulture rip the flesh from his bone. That is what will happen! He turned his back to the group. His body shook.

Bruce rested his hand on Charlie’s shoulder. No one’s saying we’re giving up, Charlie. I’m just saying we need to think this through. There’s no sense in us walking in there, getting shot, and then having no one left to rescue Naboth. We gotta come up with a plan. A good plan.

Charlie looked up at Bruce. Yes. We will come up with a plan. But if we do not have the plan by nightfall, I am going in. If anyone want to come, they can. If not, I go alone.

Charlie sat beside the map of the camp and stared at the outline. Peter, Michael Jackson, and Jonasan leaned against a tree, deep in thought. The soft drone of the crickets and the tweets and trills of the birds filled the jungle air. One by one, the boys closed their eyes and nodded off to sleep. Charlie continued to stare at the ground.

Bruce sat beside Charlie and studied the map with him. So this Naboth guy . . . is he a good friend of yours?

No. I do not think you can say we are friend.

So why the big deal to get him out?

Charlie gave Bruce a questioning look.

I mean, yeah I get it. You wanna free him. Just like you wanna free everyone there. But why the recklessness, Charlie? The Charlie I know is pretty levelheaded. He’d never set himself up like that.

Charlie cleared his throat. His voice wavered. About a year after I was taken, my commander, Otti Lagony, was given order by Kony to take us to Atiak and set thing right there. Kony heard the people there mocking him, saying all his gun were ‘rusty.’ He wanted to make an example of them. We set out that day, and by early next morning we surrounded the town and gathered up many people. I went to one of the school and was responsible for finding all the older boy and girl and teacher and bringing them to the river. Charlie paused and inhaled.

"Once we had them by the shore, Otti told everyone to lie down. Everyone except the women and young children and the really old. They were told to stand . . . and watch. And not to scream or cry or . . .

We shot three time, sweeping our gun back and forth, emptying the clip. I remember the smell of the blood as the bullet sent it splattering onto our face. His eyes closed briefly, then flew open. "And I remember the stillness of all the body as we walked away.

"Otti was a cruel cruel man. He told all the mother of the son and all the wife of the husband we had killed just that they must now ‘Applaud the work of the LRA.’ And that is what they did. After we killed their loved one, they clapped. They clapped, Bruce. Like we had done a song or a dance just.

Of those many hundred people we killed, Naboth father was one of them. Naboth lay beside him, but for some reason he survived. The bullet missed his heart but filled his leg.

Charlie looked up at Bruce and held his gaze.

I do not remember Naboth or his father. I look into my memory and I do not see their face. And I wonder if it is because I am losing the memory or because of something else. And then I realize, I killed many people. There are too many to count. Too many to remember.

Bruce shook his head. He looked away.

And that is why I must free Naboth. Do I need to say more?

No. I get it.

Then you will help me?

Of course. I said I would, didn’t I?

Got any idea?

Yeah. Some.

Then tell me.

Bruce took a stick and pointed to the drawing in the dirt. The way I see it, there’s no way in hell we’re gonna be able to sneak in. We got too much going against us. So why even try?

Eeh?

Why don’t we just walk in there? Like we’re part of the LRA. I mean, you guys of course, not me. I’d stick out a bit, you know?

Little little, yes.

You already have the guns, and with the number of soldiers there it would take nothin’ for you to blend in. And when it gets dark and . . . Bruce stopped.

And?

I haven’t been able to think that far yet. I’m still working on it.

Charlie yawned. "Yes.