Rudd and Father Norman find Tim and Jacobus at the back of the truck, loading it with belongings. Both men look exhausted.

“Such a mess out there,” says Jacobus as he closes the back.

“Any idea how many dead?” Rudd asks.

“No. Still discovering bodies.”

“Plus hundreds of families without anything. Everything gone. Just like that.” Tim clicks his fingers, the sound snapping between them.

Father Norman shakes his head sadly. “You two must have been a godsend.”

“Perhaps, but we couldn’t do much,” says Tim. “We’re heading to Mutare now. Guess the roads are okay if you’ve managed to get through?”

“Not easy, but you’ll do it,” says Father Norman.

Jacobus nods. “Good. We’ll get some kip in Mutare, and catch up with Hansie and the others. Then bring in more supplies.”

“Should be back first thing tomorrow,” says Tim, swinging his backpack into the cab.

“I’ll be here,” says Rudd.

“I won’t. I’ll be at the mission, roads permitting. All the best with your plans,” says Father Norman, shaking both men by the hand.

“Thanks for your help Father, and big thanks to whoever saved this baby,” says Jacobus. He pats the top of his cab, and then settles himself into the driver’s seat.

“Good luck Rudd,” says Tim.

“Thanks.”

As the truck edges away slowly down the hill, Father Norman claps his hands together. “Right. I must go, if I want to get back before it’s dark.”

“I’ll come with you. Don’t know what the road’s going to be like up there. You may need a hand.”

They set off in slow convoy, heading deeper into the mountains, away from the lower levels of the tea estate. The further they go, the easier and dustier the journey gets. They reach the track leading to the mission without incident. The deep red walls of its church are the first thing Rudd sees through the trees. As they approach children scatter out from the shade, laughing and jumping, while two women try to gather them back.

Rudd switches off his engine and sits quietly, watching as Father Norman gets out to touch heads and hands. When the general chat, and exclamations over the state of the truck, have calmed a little, Rudd walks over to join the excitement.

“Can we give you a cup of tea?” Father Norman asks.

“No thank you. I’d better be getting back.” Rudd extends his hand to say goodbye, and Father Norman seizes it, wrapping it in both of his own, his gaze so intense that Rudd has to look away.

“Thank you. And may God bless you boy,” says the priest, finally releasing his hand.

“And you,” Rudd mumbles, climbing back into his truck.

He drives away slowly, eyes on the rearview mirror, watching Father Norman at the centre of the growing group, with the church behind. It’s like a painting he thinks, untouched by the cyclone. He stretches his arm out of the window in a final farewell.

He takes the journey back slowly, enjoying the viewpoints, and wondering with each whether his decision to leave is the right one. He knows he will never know, but he is certain of two things – he feels relieved to have made the decision, and he is certain that he will be back.

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023