Page 63 of Protecting Maggie
“That’s good,” MacGyver praised. “Where are your parents? Mom and Dad?”
Both boys frowned again.
“Dead,” Artem said woodenly. “Bomb came and made the house flat.”
“Oh no,” Maggie whispered.
Preacher had been watching the entire exchange, and something about the matter-of-fact way Artem had said the word “dead” made his heart break. War was hell, he knew that better than most people. But he was an adult. He’d signed up for what he did. But these kids, and the other innocent civilians caught in the crossfire of wars around the world during whatever power struggle was happening, they were innocent. These three siblings were the epitome of the consequences of man’s greed and need for control and power.
“I’m so sorry. My mom and dad are still alive. They live about an hour from where I live now. I have two brothers and two sisters,” MacGyver told the kids. “I’m in the middle, but I did my best to protect my sisters when I was around your age.”
He kept talking, telling stories about when he was young, saying anything he could to keep the children calm. It seemed to work. Preacher could see their muscles beginning to relax. Their shoulders were no longer hunched up around their heads, and they seemed to be leaning toward MacGyver rather than away.
“This is breaking my heart,” Maggie said quietly. “What will happen to them when we’re gone?”
Preacher swallowed hard. “Hopefully there are people around here who will take them in.”
“But wouldn’t they have done that already if they were going to?” she asked.
“I don’t know. War does strange things to people. It makes them more…selfish. That’s not really the best word, but when food gets scarce, when shelter is iffy, it’s human nature to hoard what you have and not let others in.”
“But they’re kids,” Maggie whispered fiercely. “That little girl is only four! How could someonenothelp them?”
“I’m not condoning anyone’s behavior, just trying to explain it,” Preacher said calmly.
Maggie nodded and snuggled up against him. “I know,” she muttered into his chest. “I just hate this for them.”
“Me too,” Preacher told her. And he wasn’t lying. There was something about these kids that hit him hard. The older boys had obviously taken their job of protecting their little sister seriously. And the way they’d fought silently, so they didn’t bring any attention to themselves, it was…wrong. On all levels.
“Can we take them with us?” Maggie asked.
Preacher’s stomach clenched. He wanted to, but he knew that wasn’t something they could do. There were many times when he and his team had wanted to save the children they came across on their missions. They’d done what they could, left food and water, but taking them backto the US was definitely against military policy. And something that could result in severe punishment.
“I’m sure they’ll be all right,” Preacher said. The words sounded lame to his own ears, but he had no good answer to make Maggie feel better.
He heard a strange sound, and he looked over at MacGyver and the kids. Somehow his friend had gotten all three children to sit around him, and they were now playing tic-tac-toe in the dirt. There were three games going at the same time, and MacGyver was doing his best to keep up with all three.
The sound Preacher heard was little Yana giggling.
These kids had suffered, werestillsuffering, and yet they’d managed to lower their guard enough to play a simple game with a foreigner in the dirt, in a bombed-out building, in the city they’d probably grown up in that was now nothing but rubble. Their parents were dead, and who knew how many other adults they’d known had been killed as well.
This was why feuds never really ended. Thiswarwould end, as they all did, but the things these kids had seen and done would stay with them. Hatred would fester, and in a decade or more, tensions would rise again, and it was likely Artem and Borysko, and possibly even Yana, would be some of the first ones to sign up to fight.
It sucked.
“Want to play tic-tac-toe?” Preacher asked Maggie, desperately needing to help shine some light in the kids’world, even if it was just playing the simple game for a while.
“Yes,” she said, looking up at him sadly. Preacher wasn’t surprised she was on the same wavelength. She’d just been through hell, and yet, all her concern and attention was on these kids, not her own situation. She impressed him, and he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her by his side.
They shuffled over to where the kids and MacGyver were playing and asked if they could join. The boys looked wary, but eventually relaxed enough to let them play.
After half an hour or so of playing the game over and over again, Preacher took a break, glancing over at Maggie. At some point, Yana had crawled into her lap and fallen asleep. Maggie was leaning against a slab of concrete, also out cold. Yana’s head was against her breast, her body curled into a tight little ball.
A thought flashed through his brain right then. Of Maggie holding their own little girl the exact same way. The vision was so real, it took his breath away. He wanted that. So damn bad.
The sound of Borysko’s stomach growling had both MacGyver and Preacher looking at the little boy. The kid didn’t acknowledge his hunger in any way, obviously used to it.
Which was just another thing that upset Preacher.
