Need a title still

    Constant hiding for three weeks takes its toll on a person. Tahlia couldn’t imagine what it must have been like during the Holocaust. She had faith this wouldn’t last. Of course no one had ever expected things to get this far. Crouching behind the old rusted car shell, she listened in fear to the pounding boots of the Pursuers. As the army’s steps faded, Tahlia and the other hiding refugees relaxed. One of the older members of the group pulled out what was left of their food supply. 
    As Mammie threw the sparse ingredients into a plausible meal, Tahlia rested her tired, achy body in the circle of her new confidants. Some faces, quite familiar, members of her mission group; a few slightly recognizable were tourists from the same travel group; however, the others were merely strangers picked up as the haphazard group traveled the foreign terrain in search of shelter, food, and freedom.
    "Tahlie, honey, you need to eat something dear.” Mammie spoke with such sincerity Tahlia found it hard to resist her plea.
    Smile fixed on her face, Tahlia accepted the makeshift plate. She had known this trip would be tough, but it was something that had to be done. Her calling barely outweighed her desire to prove she could do something on her own and fleeing a family who relied on her more than necessary. So, despite her mother's pleas and attempts to make her oldest daughter stay close to home, Tahlia Dutton packed her bag and set out for the war torn land.
    Their original purpose was to provide food kitchens, shelter, medical relief, and aid the natives in establishing basic education practices. Tahlia was a last minute addition to head the education progress. The team was from different backgrounds and various areas of the states. The initial twenty-four hour training was a regional affair. The majority of the team’s camaraderie was to be established on the plane ride and trip to the field spot.
    Movement from around the circle jolted Tahlia to her present surroundings. Blayton, the group’s watch-out guy, spotted Pursuers headed their way. Chaos was hitting once again. Tahlia grabbed what she could and began to follow the group zigzagging through the junkyard. Blayton brought up the rear yelling to go faster. 
    The echo of bullets shattered the air above the field they found themselves clearing. Tahlia stumbled and was spared the fall by a fellow missionary, Klark. Her focus was the wooded area the rest of the group was entering. Klark clasped her hand and even in the dimming sunlight their eyes met and determination was the clear message.
    Once safe within the woods, Tahlia collapsed in the hollow of a tree’s huge roots. Total exhaustion reigned her swollen body. She knew she was slowing some of the group down. From frustration, fear, and weariness the tears could no longer be contained. She felt herself begin to loose her breath, just one undesirable effect of crying.
    “Tahlia?” a woman’s voice broke the silence. She felt two cold marks on her wrist. The fear wanted to pull away but weakness won out. Besides a slight twinge, her body was unresponsive. “HEY! Amy! Get Doc! Tahlia don’t look good.” Marsalay, one of the builders tried to get Tahlia to speak.
    Despite her will, Tahlia could not make herself respond. All the hustle around her was received but she could not get the message out—she was okay, just tired and scared. LoNain, one of the locals (the newest to join the group), quickly came with a hubcap turned cup full of a liquid. Mammie forced it into Tahlia. Like promised, LoNain’s drink relaxed her. Klark sat next to her trying to coax her to rest.
    Eventually sleep took over. In place of current conversations, discussions from nearly a year prior slipped into her mind. The team was having one success after another with the small town. Marsalay was almost finished heading the construction of the main building-one week after arrival. In the evenings Tahlia and Brother Roger took care of education. Tahlia had begun with Math-whose language truely seemed to be universal. Brother Roger was leading Bible studies for the team and anyone interested. Mammie and Blayton headed the food preparations. Everyone seemed to be working together wonderfully. If Tahlia had any complaints it would have been Klark kicking into big brother mode. He seemed to watch her every move. Tahlia did not mind; it had been like that since youth group.
    “T, I know you can hear me. I want you to fight this.” Klark was holding her hand. The fever was keeping her from reassuring her dear friend.
    Yet again Klark was stealing Tahlia from death. Tahlia thought back to a time when she had been close to taking her own life. Her family was a mess, love life nonexistent, and turmoil threatened a split in her beloved church. Klark was the only person who saw through her brave façade. He fought with her to get back the joy she once lived. A few months later, he was reassuring Tahlia’s mother he would watch out for her baby. He held her hand during the take off and landing of her first plane ride.
    His voice and familiar touch brought her close to words. She opened her eyes and forced a smile. Klark motioned to Zane. Zane, affectionately called “Doc,” had left his position as a nurse practitioner to join the group.
    He flashed a small light in her eyes. “Girl, you scare us like that and I let Bretnee have your butt when we get home.” Tahlia smiled and closed her eyes. Bretnee was Tahlia’s baby sister. She had wanted desperately to be on that trip with her sister and fiancé, Zane. She still had a year of school and Tahlia refused to let her go. Bretnee finally relented; she knew how important it was for Tahlia to be on this trip.
    “You just rest right now sis.” Zane’s smooth voice calmed her. “Let Klark feed you some broth. You need your strength.” He smiled and affectionately patted her stomach.
    She lay her head back and silently willed Klark away. She wanted to sleep. That was the key to gaining her strength; not the lightly tinted water Mammie desperately wanted to pass off as chicken soup.
    “Klark, we need a pair of strong hands here.” She got her wish. Klark pulled one of the tourists in to help Tahlia sip the broth. The lady looked almost old enough to be her young grandmother. She had a sweet disposition, her gentle mannerism clamed Tahlia even more.
    Politely Tahlia mouthed “Thank-you” signaling she was finished. The lady sat beside her on the root and began talking about their day they got the news of their daughter’s baby. Tahlia’s mind recanted the day she and her team were joined with the group of tourists.
    Days before, Blayton rushed into the “kitchen” with urgent news. Everyone was to meet in the Smith’s hut as soon as the last meal was served-clean up was to wait. One by one the group entered to find Roger Smith, their trusted pastor pacing, wringing his hands furtively. Kortny and Marsalay were the last to enter, their joyous babble interrupted by the anxiety-ridden team.
    “OK, now that we’re all here, I have terrible news. Well, wait, let’s go to the Lord in prayer first.” Brother Smith seemed calmed by the group’s prayer. “…Lord we ask for your protection and give me the words I need to convey this message. In Christ’s name, Amen.”
    Sighing, Roger looked at Bryce, “Well, son, you want to do this or shall I?”

(Ok folks, this was the first two pages of something I started working on a while back. Feedback is greatly apppreciated. Should I continue or stop waisting my time? lol)