“The guide outside has a jeep two miles outside of the village. He’ll take you to the site where the Baptists were attacked this morning. If my visions are correct, I think you’ll gather all you need to know when you get there.”

Remy knew that anything he said from here on out would conflict with Garammond’s beliefs but he also knew that there was no use in disguising his true feelings. “Sir, no offense, but I’m not sure I believe in visions. They seem sort of outdated. In the Bible, if someone has a vision from God, they’re thought to be prophets. But if someone makes such a claim in present times, they’re considered to be insane.”

Garammond nodded in agreement. “Well put,” he said. “But we don’t have time to argue about such things right now.” He reached onto the table that sat by his bedside and picked up a piece of scrolled paper that Remy had somehow overlooked when he came into the shanty.

“Take this with you,” Garammond said. “All that I ask is that you take this with you and keep it safe. When you get to the site of the attack, if you find that you don’t feel compelled to continue onward, you may return to your village with no hard feelings between us.”

“Onward to where?” Remy asked. His interest was definitely peaked and he couldn’t lie to himself and pretend that the old man’s claims weren’t freaking him out.

“To America,” Garammond replied.

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