One. “Good job,” Atcho told him. “Now, as the others come over, you take them and position them. I’ll stay here and look out for anything that might be coming down the road.”
As soon as he had said those words, the next escapee ran into the shadows, and Number One took him to his position. Seconds later, the next one came over, and then another one. Atcho watched in wonder. All of their training had been indoors, mainly by brief-back, and within sight of the guards on the watchtower. On a few occasions they had concocted games on the floor of the cellblock for physical practice, but those events had necessarily been few. Atcho marveled that these were farmers, doctors, teachers, engineers – none of them had been professional soldiers. He reflected briefly on the lengths that the human spirit would go to be free, and recalled Jujo’s warning about their probable fates if caught.
Then the last of the escapees was across the road and into the safety of the shadows. Atcho took up the lead again, and they made their way carefully through the shadows. At one point, they thought they heard scuffling feet and froze in place, barely breathing. They were next to a long building that could have been an office or a barracks. Several doors stood at regular intervals, and they watched them warily as they passed. They were about halfway along the length of one building when one of the doors flew open and a soldier staggered sleepily out from a dimly lit interior. He stumbled into Number Nine, grunted in surprise, and then stood back to take a closer look. Another soldier walked through the door, and on the way out, flipped a switch that bathed the area in light, exposing every man in the group. Both guards froze as realization spread across their faces.
The escapees flew into motion. Number Nine shoved the guard to the ground, and took off running after the others sprinting down the trail. At the front, Atcho yelled, “Havana! Spread out!” At that moment, they heard a loud siren, and full lights went on all around the camp. “Havana!” Atcho yelled again. “Havana! Pass it back!” Immediately, the men split off from each other, yelling “Havana! Havana!” Just as quickly, they fell silent again.
Atcho ran as hard as he could, staying in the shadows when he could find any. The moonlight glistened on his wet clothing, and the mud impeded his progress. Occasionally, he turned to his left and right, and saw his fellow escapees running as hard in divergent directions. He thought he heard a couple of screams behind him, but pressed on. Ahead in the distance, he saw more lights flick on at the front gate, and then what looked like a line of soldiers forming, facing his direction. They started moving toward him. At an angle to his right, he saw more buildings with soft shadows, and ran towards them, unbuttoning his shirt as he ran. When he reached them, he tore off his shirt, then his trousers. He now wore only his underwear and everyday work shoes.
Pausing momentarily next to one of the buildings, Atcho wadded the uniform and stuffed it in a space under the floorboards. Then he continued to move toward the front of the buildings. There, he saw the headquarters and main gate clearly, and a line of soldiers advancing toward them. He heard one of them call out and point far off to Atcho’s left. Taking a deep breath, Atcho dashed into the light, and ran in an opposite direction. He heard a soldier yell, and then heard shots fired. Around him, hot lead whizzed by. Atcho ran on a little farther. There was nowhere to go – no shadows and no buildings to hide behind. He threw his hands high over his head and slowed to a walk. Keeping his hands high and panting deeply, he turned and faced his captors. Visions of ‘la caja’ in the Punishment Facility floated in his mind. Very quickly, the line of soldiers formed a circle around him.
PART V
12
March 1962
Atcho’s legs ached their full lengths when he arrived back at
As soon as he had said those words, the next escapee ran into the shadows, and Number One took him to his position. Seconds later, the next one came over, and then another one. Atcho watched in wonder. All of their training had been indoors, mainly by brief-back, and within sight of the guards on the watchtower. On a few occasions they had concocted games on the floor of the cellblock for physical practice, but those events had necessarily been few. Atcho marveled that these were farmers, doctors, teachers, engineers – none of them had been professional soldiers. He reflected briefly on the lengths that the human spirit would go to be free, and recalled Jujo’s warning about their probable fates if caught.
Then the last of the escapees was across the road and into the safety of the shadows. Atcho took up the lead again, and they made their way carefully through the shadows. At one point, they thought they heard scuffling feet and froze in place, barely breathing. They were next to a long building that could have been an office or a barracks. Several doors stood at regular intervals, and they watched them warily as they passed. They were about halfway along the length of one building when one of the doors flew open and a soldier staggered sleepily out from a dimly lit interior. He stumbled into Number Nine, grunted in surprise, and then stood back to take a closer look. Another soldier walked through the door, and on the way out, flipped a switch that bathed the area in light, exposing every man in the group. Both guards froze as realization spread across their faces.
The escapees flew into motion. Number Nine shoved the guard to the ground, and took off running after the others sprinting down the trail. At the front, Atcho yelled, “Havana! Spread out!” At that moment, they heard a loud siren, and full lights went on all around the camp. “Havana!” Atcho yelled again. “Havana! Pass it back!” Immediately, the men split off from each other, yelling “Havana! Havana!” Just as quickly, they fell silent again.
Atcho ran as hard as he could, staying in the shadows when he could find any. The moonlight glistened on his wet clothing, and the mud impeded his progress. Occasionally, he turned to his left and right, and saw his fellow escapees running as hard in divergent directions. He thought he heard a couple of screams behind him, but pressed on. Ahead in the distance, he saw more lights flick on at the front gate, and then what looked like a line of soldiers forming, facing his direction. They started moving toward him. At an angle to his right, he saw more buildings with soft shadows, and ran towards them, unbuttoning his shirt as he ran. When he reached them, he tore off his shirt, then his trousers. He now wore only his underwear and everyday work shoes.
Pausing momentarily next to one of the buildings, Atcho wadded the uniform and stuffed it in a space under the floorboards. Then he continued to move toward the front of the buildings. There, he saw the headquarters and main gate clearly, and a line of soldiers advancing toward them. He heard one of them call out and point far off to Atcho’s left. Taking a deep breath, Atcho dashed into the light, and ran in an opposite direction. He heard a soldier yell, and then heard shots fired. Around him, hot lead whizzed by. Atcho ran on a little farther. There was nowhere to go – no shadows and no buildings to hide behind. He threw his hands high over his head and slowed to a walk. Keeping his hands high and panting deeply, he turned and faced his captors. Visions of ‘la caja’ in the Punishment Facility floated in his mind. Very quickly, the line of soldiers formed a circle around him.
PART V
12
March 1962
Atcho’s legs ached their full lengths when he arrived back at
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