Chapter 22: It's settled then...

Jill's eyes swept back and forth between the stack of papers on her desk and the door leading to the suffering patients beyond. Her gaze then returned to Franklin, weighing his offer against her skepticism. "I don't believe your story, but we do desperately need food," she conceded grudgingly.

At that moment, Bach, slightly inebriated and seemingly detached from the tension filling the room, interjected with a slurred remark. "Food you say? I could definitely use some!" His voice was light, too light for the gravity of the situation.

Jill's attention snapped to Bach, her eyes narrowing at the sight of the empty bottle in his hands. Her anger boiled over as she realized what he had done. "You vile Christian pile of rubble! You call yourself a priest? That isn't for drinking! We needed that!" she shouted, her voice echoing off the cabin walls.

Bach, too drunk to fully grasp the severity of his mistake, merely hiccuped and giggled in response, oblivious to the chaos he had stirred.

"That's it! I knew this was a bad idea. We can't take any more people in! Out! Leave us and never return!" Jill's ultimatum was fierce, her patience finally snapped by the continuous disappointments.

Franklin, witnessing the rapidly deteriorating situation, facepalmed in despair. Bach, realizing perhaps too late the consequences of his actions, awkwardly put the empty bottle back on the shelf and scooted away, a picture of discomfort.

It was then that Sumi stood up and took a tentative step towards Jill. With a brave and gentle grip, she took Jill's hand. "He's all I have left," she said, her voice soft but filled with resolve. "I wasn't able to hear most of what was said but please... Let us stay. I'll help where I can too." She glanced towards her father, then back at Jill. "Regardless of what you think, Franklin has helped us get here. He's fought for us, protected us... And Bach may be a helpless drunk but he cares about others too. He can be a huge help to the Christians here."

Jill's expression softened slightly as she looked into Sumi's hopeful eyes. The rage that had fueled her moments ago seemed to ebb as she considered the young girl's plea. Holding Sumi's hand, she took a deep breath, letting the silence stretch between them as she surveyed the group anew. Each face told a story of desperation, of battles fought and ongoing struggles.

In that moment of quiet, Jill was forced to reconsider her stance, to weigh the potential benefits against her deep-seated mistrust. The decision she was about to make could change the fate of both her village and these weary travelers, linking their futures together in unexpected ways.

Jill issued her terms with a finality that left little room for argument. "Fine. But please for the love of Jesus, stay away from the alcohol. Our supplies are already diminished." Her voice carried the weight of authority and a trace of pleading.

Bach, clearly embarrassed by his earlier indiscretion, nodded in agreement, his cheeks tinged with shame.

Franklin, sensing an opportunity to be of use, quickly shifted the conversation towards practical matters. "What kind of supplies do you need? I can take the plane and go fetch them," he offered, ready to make himself useful.

Jill's response was swift and dismissive. "Everybody out. Tito will help you find your places around here." She paused, her eyes lingering on Franklin. "Franklin stays."

As the others left the room, Sumi cast a weak smile back at Franklin, a gesture of solidarity and concern before she closed the door behind her.

Alone with Jill, Franklin ventured cautiously, "How can I help?"

Jill's gaze was unyielding, her voice stern. "Do not for one second think that I'm letting my guard down around you. For the record, I don't believe your sob story with the angel. You won't be donating anything around here other than your time." Her skepticism was palpable, filling the small room with tension.

Franklin sighed, nodding in submission, acknowledging the boundaries Jill had set.

"Now that we've got that straight," Jill continued, her tone slightly softer but still firm. She leaned over a map spread out on her desk, pointing to a marked location on a nearby mountain. "There's an outpost here where soldiers have reaped the cities nearby of all its supplies."

She met Franklin's eyes again, her look pointed and serious. "But I don't trust you enough to go there yet. Go hunt for us and gather some food. Take Tito with you. He may be young, but he's a fast learner."

Franklin shrugged, accepting the task without argument. It was clear that earning Jill's trust would be a slow process, one that required patience and tangible contributions. If hunting could prove his worth and help feed the hungry mouths of the village, then he was more than willing to start there. As he prepared to leave the room to meet Tito, Franklin felt a renewed sense of purpose, mixed with the daunting awareness of the long road ahead to redemption.

"You don't want me to take one of your other scouts?" Franklin asked, eyeing young Tito with doubt.

Jill's refusal was firm. "The people here have been through some rough things. Men have a harder time opening up and reporting things. Kids seem to be candid regardless of what they want to hide." Her words painted a picture of a community bound by shared traumas and secrets, a place where trust was hard-earned and easily broken.

Franklin's frown deepened, confusion and concern etching his features. "What would they need to hide?" he asked, not fully grasping the depth of the villagers' experiences or the complexities of their survival.

Jill scoffed, a harsh sound in the quiet of the room. "If you win them over... If a scout went with you, perhaps he could hide it. Tito would never lie. Even if he tried, I'd be able to tell." Her confidence in the young boy was clear, underlined by a hint of stern protectiveness.

Franklin nodded, understanding the unspoken rules of trust and transparency that governed Jill's decisions. As he turned to leave, Jill called out to him one more time, "Wait."

He paused at the door, turning to face her again.

"No boars, no rabbits. Grab a deer," Jill instructed, specifying her requirements with a practical tone.

Franklin raised an eyebrow, his response laced with a touch of humor. "You picky with your food in this desperate time?" he queried, challenging her seeming fastidiousness amidst their scarcity.

Jill rolled her eyes, a brief flicker of exasperation crossing her face. "Just... please..." she muttered, her plea carrying a mix of urgency and fatigue.

Acknowledging her request with a simple thumbs up, Franklin exited the room, leaving Jill alone with her thoughts. As the door closed behind him, Jill's gaze drifted to the shelf where the empty bottle sat, a reminder of earlier tensions and the ongoing struggles within her community. Her expression, a blend of resolve and weariness, suggested the weight of leadership and the constant balance between survival and humanity in these trying times.