Gabriel squirms as the needle comes closer to his arm, and then he flinches as it breaks his skin. Finally the doctor pulls out the needle, places it in a plastic pouch, and then gets to his feet. Gabriel watches as the man picks up his bag, steps around Said, and then leaves the cell without saying another word. The warder seems somewhat surprised by the abruptness of the doctor’s exit, and he hurries after him, first slamming and then locking the cell door.
Gabriel begins to feel warm. He wants to rub his nose, but his hands are tightly bound. He feels a low sigh leave his body, and then he cranes back his neck and looks at Said. Gabriel concentrates hard and stares at his friend, whose own eyes are firmly closed.
Gabriel watches from the cupboard and tries not to breathe. First they will shoot Gabriel’s ageing father. He looks at his father’s tired face, his confidence polluted by the ordeal of having to protect his family during the prolonged absence of his adult son. They laugh as they make the old man lie flat on the ground with his arms spread out to his sides as though they are wings. There are six soldiers dressed in khaki fatigues with red bandannas around their heads. Gabriel soon learns that they all have nicknames. “Cassius.” “Jacko.” “O. J.” “Brutus.” “Big Dog.” “Smokin’ Joe.” But, unlike Gabriel, they are young men. Boys. As the bullets hit Gabriel’s father he jumps, but he does not fly.
Now they line up the rest of the family. “Big Dog” kicks Gabriel’s father until he cries out in pain. He is still alive. “Big Dog” asks him if he will not beg for mercy, like a man? Does he not love his family enough to beg for their lives? Gabriel understands that this is sport. The boys are playing with his father, and then “Smokin’ Joe” puts his gun to the back of Gabriel’s father’s head. While the others continue to laugh and taunt his father, “Smokin’ Joe” casually pulls the trigger and the skull explodes. Small pieces of brain fly in all directions, and Gabriel’s mother and two sisters begin to scream. “Big Dog” shouts in a fake American accent, and admonishes “Smokin’ Joe” for spoiling the party.
“How can you do this, man? Nobody gave you the order to shoot.”
Gabriel’s mother and sisters throw themselves across the body of the dead man. Gabriel is used to the sound of gunfire. The brutality is familiar to him. He looks on without emotion for he knows what is to come. “Smokin’ Joe” raises his voice, and as he does so he appears to grow in stature.
“Fuck you, man. This is business. I don’t have time for no games.”
The shouting among the men becomes louder, and then “Brutus” quietly steps forward and drags Gabriel’s mother and two sisters from the father’s body, and he forces them to lie face down on the floor. “Brutus” unclips his pistol and pumps a single bullet into the back of both sisters. He turns to his colleagues, but nobody dares to offer a dissenting voice.
“Are you all happy now?” They look somewhat sheepishly at “Brutus.” Authority has been restored. “We are not here to argue.” “Brutus” points with his pistol towards the two bleeding girls. “You want your food, then turn them over and take it. But be quick.” “Brutus” knows that the men are not interested in the mother.
“Jacko” is the last to mount the younger sister, but by now “Brutus” is losing patience. He claps his hands. “Enough.” “Jacko” clambers to his feet, and rearranges himself. His colleagues look on and laugh as “Jacko” struggles to make himself appear decent. Gabriel can see that his youngest sister has a thin ribbon of blood running down the inside of her leg, which pools near her ankle. She also appears to have lost consciousness.
“Finish them off,” says “Brutus,” pointing to the sisters, “but you can leave the old woman. She is no use to anybody.”
Two bullets from “O. J.,” the smallest of the soldiers, drum into each girl’s forehead. And then, as an afterthought, “O. J.” shoots Gabriel’s mother in the chest. An irritated “Brutus” shakes his head. The boys laugh raucously, but “Brutus” has seen enough.
“Come, let us go.”
As they leave, each man spits.
As darkness falls, Gabriel realises that he cannot stay hidden for much longer. He listens to the high-pitched chorus of insects, and in the distance he is able to discern the occasional human voice and the frequent staccato of gunfire. Gabriel knows that he will have to make the effort to leave this place, and so he opens the cupboard door and steps carefully into the darkness of the room. His legs and arms are stiff, and he walks with great difficulty. He stands over his mother, and although she is bleeding profusely he can see that she is still alive. She breathes loudly, as though her lungs are filled with sand, but Gabriel dare not remain with her for too long. He crosses to the door and slowly opens it, but there is no moon and the few stars in the sky give off little light. For a moment Gabriel hesitates, and then he begins to run. Out of the corners of his eyes he sees people huddled in doorways and lurking in shadow, but no voice is raised ordering him to stop, and no shot is fired.
Gabriel arrives at his uncle’s house and discovers that everything is shrouded in darkness. He waits at the back door and tries to catch his breath, but his chest continues to heave. Gabriel imagines that his uncle is inside, but anything could have happened. As his breathing returns to normal, he places his head against the cold stone wall to calm himself down. The wall is pock-marked with bullet holes as though some giant bird has furiously pecked at the masonry in a desperate attempt to find a weak spot. Gabriel stands back upright and then he wraps his palm around the door handle and quietly turns it. He closes the door behind him and then, in the darkness, he reaches for the banister and edges forward until he can feel the first step of the wooden staircase. As he puts his full weight upon the stair, it fires off a volley of snapping sounds which causes his heart to leap. Gabriel hovers on this lowest stair and then decides to climb quickly, ignoring the sounds. He remains light on his feet, but he knows that people must be able to hear him. At the top of the stairs, he gropes his way towards the door in front of him, but he already understands that this door will be firmly barred.
“Joshua?” he whispers, but there is no answer. The cloying night heat is beginning to overpower Gabriel, and he can feel his head spinning. He calls again, “Joshua?”
And then, from behind the door, he hears Joshua’s whispered voice.
“Who is it?”
“Gabriel. I am here by myself.” There is a momentary pause, and then Joshua opens the door a few inches.
“Gabriel?” He opens the door a little more, and now Gabriel can clearly see his uncle’s face. He is a dark-skinned man in his late fifties, with a short-cropped mesh of grey hair. His uncle’s teeth are slightly too large for his mouth, and he has a tendency to lift a hand to his mouth before speaking. And, true to form, he lifts his hand. Joshua glances quickly all about himself and then whispers, “Come in, come in.”
As Gabriel squeezes past Joshua he can see that this small storage room at the top of his uncle’s warehouse has been transformed into an eerie chamber of light and shadow by small stubs of candle whose flames flicker in the fetid gloom. Scattered about the room are a dozen or so men who squat on the floor, some with their heads held in their hands, others with heads thrown back against the wall. In the corner there is a single bucket for bathing, and another, somewhat filthier, bucket for the men to relieve themselves in. Joshua closes the door behind his nephew and then turns to face him.
“Gabriel, why are you here?”
Gabriel looks at the older man, but the words will not come. He feels his lower lip begin to tremble, and then the pain of what he has just witnessed begins to rise through his body. Joshua places his hand on Gabriel’s shoulder and encourages him to sit. They both squat beside the door, and Joshua decides to wait a few moments until his nephew has regained his composure. Gabriel stares intently at the space between his feet, and as the silence deepens, Joshua realises that the situation is his to repair.
“Did they find your family?”
Gabriel looks up at Joshua.
“They were not hiding.”
“Gabriel, did they kill everybody?” Gabriel ignores the question, but he knows that through the gloom Joshua will be able to see that tears are now streaming down his face. “Gabriel, you must tell me. Did they kill everybody?” Gabriel shakes his head. “Your mother?” Gabriel shakes his head. “But everybody else, is that it?” Gabriel nods quickly. “And your mother, where is she?”
“At the house.” Gabriel wipes his tears with the back of his hand.
“Gabriel, what will you do? They say you massacred innocent women and children, and then ran away. You know they will keep looking for you.”
“I did nothing wrong, but I know I have to leave this country. If I stay here they will kill me.”
Joshua nods, and under his breath he speaks to himself. “You know, Gabriel, how can God ever forgive us for this shameful situation?” Gabriel looks at his uncle, who is temporarily lost in his own thoughts.
A few moments later Joshua climbs slowly to his feet. Gabriel watches him, and then he also stands. A weary Joshua takes his sister’s man-child by the shoulder and he gestures to the other men in the room. He speaks in a whisper.
“Blood is blood, Gabriel. I want nothing more than to take you in as family, but these men have all paid two thousand dollars to leave. They have sold everything that they have.”
“But I must leave,” protests Gabriel. “This is not my home any more.”
Joshua stares at his nephew, but he knows that words are all that Gabriel has to offer.
“Gabriel, if you can bring me two thousand dollars then you too will be leaving. But you have only a few hours. This is all that I can do for you.”
Gabriel looks at his uncle. He understands that Joshua is both accepting him and rejecting him at the same time. And then Gabriel glances at the other men in the room, all of whom are staring back at him. Gabriel averts his guilty eyes and concentrates on the dark water stains on the walls, where mould is growing and forming strange shapes and patterns. He knows that it will be impossible for him to travel with these men unless he does so on equal terms.
As Gabriel steps into the street he senses that dawn will soon break. The sky is still black, but buildings are beginning to recover an outline, and the noises of animals stirring and cocks crowing are a herald of what is to come. Gabriel walks quickly, but without fear, for he knows that the government soldiers prefer to operate under the cover of darkness. He passes a man who is wrapped in the national flag and pushing a wheelbarrow in which there is a computer. And then, in the distance, he sees a government soldier whose arm is held in a sling and whose legs are swaddled in blood-stained bandages, but he knows that this man will not trouble him. The lamps that line the street do not work, and until the city has regained electricity the street lamps will remain as mere ornaments. Gabriel passes by the city’s one luxury hotel. Even at this distance he can smell the rotting carpets, and peering through the wire fence he can see beer bottles and furniture floating in the stagnant water that fills the swimming pool.
When Gabriel reaches the shop he sees that the shutters to the hardware store are already open and his friend is in the process of displaying, on a table outside the door, what little stock he has left. Ill-matching saucepans, metal pails, batteries, garish neon torches; once upon a time Felix’s store was the place to come if you wanted any household or electrical item. If Felix did not have it, then it did not exist in the country, but Gabriel can see that since the onset of the war his former employer’s stock has been severely depleted. Gabriel walks towards his elderly friend who, although a member of the ruling tribe, has never displayed any prejudice against those, like Gabriel, whose blood marks them off as the nominal enemy. As Gabriel moves closer, Felix looks up and then sets down the pile of white crockery that he is holding. He stares at Gabriel as though looking at a ghost, and then a small smile creeps across his weather-beaten face and he lets out a short laugh of astonishment.
“Gabriel? It’s really you?” Felix holds his hands out in a gesture of disbelief. “Gabriel?”
Gabriel smiles now and takes Felix’s small hands in his own.
“But Gabriel, I heard they were looking for your family.” Then Felix remembers himself. “Come inside, come inside. You really should not be out on the streets.”
Gabriel hesitates. “Please, I do not wish to cause any trouble.”
Felix hooks his arm through Gabriel’s and pulls the younger man through the door.
“First, we have to find a place to hide you.”
“But your wife and daughter, they still live upstairs?”
Felix looks puzzled. “Of course.”
Gabriel is crestfallen. “Felix, I must go. I cannot put your family in danger. It is only a matter of time before they come here and search your place.”
“Gabriel, they have already been.” Felix laughs and shows Gabriel the bruises on his arms and the scars on his legs.
“Felix?” Gabriel speaks slowly now, but the one word hangs foolishly in the air.
Felix raises both eyebrows, urging his young friend to continue.
“Felix, I need some money. I am sorry that I have to ask you.”
Felix says nothing, and so a nervous Gabriel continues.
“I must leave the country. If I pay him, my uncle will arrange it.”
Felix puts a finger to his lips and he glances upwards. Gabriel understands that he must lower his voice.
“I am sorry.”
They stare at each other, but neither man says a word. And then, after what seems to Gabriel an age, his former employer nods, having reached a conclusion to whatever private debate he was conducting.
“Please wait here.”
Gabriel feels Felix’s hand on his shoulder, and then his friend disappears downstairs and into the basement. Gabriel knows that Felix keeps his money in a metal box that he hides beneath three loose floorboards, and he knows also that Felix scatters dirt on top of the boards to make it look as though the filthy basement contains nothing of any value. Moments later, Felix returns with his right fist tightly clenched. The nervous man slowly opens his heavily veined hand, and he reveals a small bundle of United States dollars.