Resurrection (Blood of the Lamb) by Mandy Hager Page B

and let the whisperings of your heart lead the way. But was it true that faith andtrust were one and the same? All Maryam had observed of faith first-hand was truth and trust abused. Come on, now. Focus…Did she trust the old woman's cure to work?
    From somewhere deep within her a sigh burst forth. She realised she didn't really have a choice. If she wanted to go forward with her plan, she had to believe it would work. Had to have faith.
    She had no time to stew over this further, for Aanjay was taking her to meet Jal Sutti, who'd been detained after the interception of his self-built raft. For the next hour he led Maryam through the intricate details of the building process, even sketching her specific features of his plan. Despite the fact that Aanjay had to translate every word, Maryam found his concept more understandable and potentially achievable than she had imagined. It would be time consuming, there was no denying that, but it seemed to her that the two biggest challenges would be the felling and transport of the timber that would form the raft's platform and mast, and how she'd transfer the craft from dry land to the water once it had been built.
    Jal Sutti seemed quite happy to impart his knowledge of the raft, but when Maryam explained, via Aanjay, the reason for her interest, he shook his head and waved his hands angrily about him as his eyes filled up with tears. Aanjay refused to translate his words and Maryam didn't press her—what could he tell her of the potential risks that she didn't already know?
    Afterward, her head near bursting with information and what she could only assume was Jal Sutti's heart-felt warning, she bade goodbye to Aanjay and made her way to the main gates. There was no point delaying her decision to request deportation, even though it was Charlie's day off. If she didn'tdo it now, before the thought of leaving Ruth blighted her plan, she'd lose her nerve.
    She approached the wire and called out to the nearest guard. “Excuse me. I'd like to speak with Sergeant Littlejohn.”
    The guard cast a suspicious eye over her, and she recognised him as one of the men who'd seen her feign madness so she could get access to a cure for Lazarus. “Bugger off.”
    She held her ground, standing a little straighter as she tried again. “I wish to speak to the leader of this camp. It is my right.”
    “And it's my right to tell you to shove it, little miss loony-bin. There's no way I'm gonna open the gates for you.” He swaggered a little closer, standing right before her with his legs astride and hips thrust forward like a threat. “Now piss off or I'll lock you in the cells.”
    Maryam took a step backward, considering her options as she scanned the goings-on beyond the fence. The door to the administration block was open wide, as were all its windows—including the window to Sergeant Littlejohn's office. She shrugged, pretending she was cowed by the guard's words, and slowly made her way down the fenceline until she was as close to the open office window as possible.
    Now she cupped her hands around her mouth to pitch her voice. “Sergeant Littlejohn!” she hollered, dredging every scrap of air from her lungs. “I need to see you NOW!”
    She could feel the guards’ attention swing toward her, but didn't falter. “Sergeant Littlejohn! I need to talk to you! Can you please come out?”
    The same belligerent guard jogged over to her, his whole bearing so infused with fury that for a moment the force ofit stole away her breath. But she had little time: if she didn't raise the sergeant's interest right here and now, they'd shut her down.
    “Sergeant Littlejohn. Please! I really need your help!”
    From somewhere inside the building she heard a crash, and then for a split second she saw the gleam of the sergeant's bald head as he peered out the window. One flash, but then it was gone.
    “Please! Sergeant Littlejohn. We have to talk!”
    The guard dashed back to the gates and wrestled with