Children of Paradise: A Novel by Fred D'Aguiar Page B

and she smiles back.
    —You’ll get me bread? I don’t want you to run that risk for me.
    —You have no say in it, Trina. The choice is mine, and I’m going to do it right now.
    —I don’t want you to steal bread for me.
    —It’s not stealing if you’re hungry.
    —What if you get caught?
    —I’m hungry. We’re all hungry, right?
    The children in the dormitory nod at Ryan and ignore Trina. All except Rose.
    —But the guards will hurt you.
    —Only if I get caught, Rose, which I won’t. We all want some bread, right?
    Ryan extracts a promise from each of them that they won’t ever tell anyone. All agree. Trina says she felt strong back in the tent because of them; otherwise she would have wet herself without a doubt. She says her mother told her that as long as they think of one another and behave as if they are together and help one another, they are bound to make it through the nights and days in this jungle.
    Adam submits to the tug of the rope around his neck. Three men grip it. He allows them to drag him back to his cage. He is glad to be left in peace. He feels drowsy and cannot keep his eyelids from drooping. His arms belong to some other creature with poor aim. How else was he unable to grasp a banana held up in front of him? His mind did not belong to him. It still feels that way. He tried to do what the preacher wanted of him and failed. Take a treat offered by a child and a woman. Follow the lead he was strapped to for the safety of everyone. Watch the preacher and do what was asked of him. But in his drowsy state, he could not think. His body is numb and heavy. A weight presses against his muscles and makes movement slow and his aim poor. He wants to be left alone. He needs to sleep. In the morning everything will feel better. A good sleep will recharge his body, sunlight invigorate him. The children at play with their speed and happy noises will surely lift his spirits. Adam surrenders to sleep that stakes its claim on him. He allows sleep to take him wherever it wants. His last thought of the night is of Joyce, Trina, and the preacher, three people he feels he has to obey from this night on no matter what they ask of him. And with that, Adam finds himself bounding through the trees with his legs and arms, able to run along a lane cut through the air, a headlong straight line forged through the jungle. He moves in this effortless way at high speed without colliding with a single object. He overtakes flocks of parrots. Crows swerve from his path. He runs in the air high in the trees and drops to just above the height of the man without slowing. The jungle blurs as he runs, and he does not feel tired or breathless in this sprint without end. At the precipice of a waterfall, all he has to do is run in the direction of the headlong plunge of the water, since its downward trajectory continues this lane for his rocket arms and legs. He wishes never to wake from this sleep, where his cage is no more and nothing and no one impedes his path, his will. Coming up in front of him, only a speck to begin with, he can just about make out a figure, another gorilla, waiting for him as he gallops near. The head and body look familiar, and before he can put a name to the form, he finds himself tumbling through the air into the arms of his mother.
    Trina, Ryan, Rose, and the rest of the children in the dormitory sit up in their beds in the dark and talk about hunger. About the small last meal of the day, said to be shredded beef and rice but in actuality masses of rice and ladles of gravy with nothing in it but colored water. A paltry meal digested hours ago. What they wish for ranges from entire roasted pigs to chocolates with three layers to the box. The smell of the bakery begins to drift into the dormitory. Ryan shifts the talk to cutting a fresh loaf and spreading it with creamy butter. What would it be like to watch that butter run off a slice and catch the runoff in a wide mouth and bite into the not too hot but