I chose not to watch Timorese get shot at as they escaped to Dare. Instead, I marched back towards the buildings, leaving Ralph to vainly yell at them not to run. I passed Timorese families sitting on the ground near the buildings. They were just looking at one another as if trying to memorise each other's faces, as if trying to say their goodbyes. I could see their look of hopelessness. Others were dancing closely for the last time. I had to block out my emotions to prevent myself from crying for them.
Mitch was racing towards the rear of the compound. He detoured towards me. 'What do we do if they come over the wall and attack?' he asked, breathlessly. He was wide-eyed. Frightened. Maybe I looked the same.
I glanced back at the Timorese, the hills. 'There's nowhere to run. What can we do? It's over.' We'd placed ourselves in this position. We'd chosen to stay.
I surveyed the nearest building. From it, artificial lights illuminated rectangular sections of the ground where Timorese huddled near the exterior walls. The roof behind them seemed a good option. I scanned the length and width of the other rooves. I didn't know why. We could just as easily be shot there. I decided then that I would position myself at the front of the prayer room. It would be fruitless, but it seemed better than doing nothing while waiting for death.
'Take a set of keys to a UN vehicle,' Mitch said, cutting into my irrational plans. 'There's keys in Brock's room. Drive to the sea and start swimming. Militia have overrun a Catholic church in Suai,' he rambled on. 'Two-hundred were inside. Military and police backed the militia. They threw grenades into the church and finished those trying to escape. They burned their bodies in a pile in front of the church.'
The lights went out. A hushed stillness suddenly fell upon the compound. I gazed around, not knowing what I was searching for. The mournful wailing drifted on, like a peculiar tune accompanying the continued weapon fire. The eerie atmosphere had shut Mitch up. Good. Why on earth did he feel the need to tell me those details? A throbbing started. The drumming of the engines of our diesel generators. Lights flicked back on.
'Militia have cut off our power,' Mitch said, starting up again. 'How long can our fuel hold out? Our water supplies