SUVs and one pickup mixed with the loud cacophony of waking Africa. They weren’t going fast. He leaned forward and saw the speedometer wasn’t even registering a speed. The car hit a hole, throwing everyone up off their seats. If he hadn’t been belted, his head would have hit the ceiling. As it was, the edge of the rifle barrel clipped his chin, bringing water to his eyes from the brief burst of pain. He touched it, discovered no blood, and moved his jaw back and forth. It was sore. Mom told him he bruised easily.
The wheels tore up the slight vegetation, sending gray dust whirling around the vehicles to settle on the ones following. Jamal rolled the window up another half inch, shut his eyes again, and waited for sleep to come again. At least with his eyes shut, nobody bothered him with cute questions grown-ups enjoy asking kids his age. He didn’t feel like a kid his age anymore. And, he sure didn’t want to feel forced into a series of Yes’ems and No’ems with a bunch of grown-ups. He concentrated on slowing his breathing as his cousin taught him. She told Jamal that you could go to sleep if you lay on your back, relax your muscles until they feel like jelly, and slow your breathing. He never figured out if it worked because he always fell asleep. With his eyes shut, and morning wakefulness fighting off further sleep, thoughts and travails of last night whirled around his twelve-year-old mind. After several minutes, Jamal decided having his eyes open was more comforting.
He turned in the seat to look behind them. Selma should be in that Land Rover. The dust was thick across its windshield. Jamal could only make out the outline of the driver’s face. It wasn’t only dust that made it hard to see. The jerking of the vehicle made his head bounce, and the light haze of the African rain forest morning wavered a few feet above theground, almost at eye level. Probably wouldn’t have been able to see the driver if the man hadn’t been leaning with his face nearly against the windshield. Jamal faced forward again, resting his hands on his knees.
The driver had the window down with an elbow propped through the window. He had turned off the air conditioner hours ago to save gasoline. They had two choices: roll down the windows and suffocate on the dust, or leave them up and suffocate from the heat. Jamal was hot and dirty. He held his hands up, amazed at the dirt caked on them. He’d never thought he would wish for a bath.
The SUV slowed, and then stopped to the sound of emergency brakes being set. Uncle Nathan got out and walked back along the convoy.
His uncle leaned down at the driver’s window. “Richard,” he said to the driver, patting him a couple of times on the arm as he looked around at the others inside the SUV. “Rest of you, just talked with the radioman at Kingsville. They know our situation and will try to keep in contact with us. It’s going to be hard during the daylight according to Beaucoup Charlie. Sunspot activity and all that. We should be able to regain contact tonight. Meanwhile, we keep moving. Richard, how is your gas situation?”
“They going to come out and meet us when we get closer?” the man sitting on the other side of the nice lady asked. He was heavyset; a slight paunch hid his belt. The short-sleeve shirt revealed a dark tattoo on the deep black skin. “Don’t he know how few we are and how we need some help?”
Uncle Nathan looked at the man, but didn’t say anything.
“You’re leading this bunch, aren’t ya, Nate.”
Uncle Nathan nodded. “Yeah, George, I guess I am leading this bunch. But this back road— this trail, or whatever we are on —none of us know. You know where it goes?”
“Nope, guess not,” George replied, leaning back.
“George, if you haven’t traveled it, you know none of the rest of us have.” Uncle Nathan sighed. “We’re all in the same boat. All I can do is keep following this trail we call a road and keep an eye on the
The wheels tore up the slight vegetation, sending gray dust whirling around the vehicles to settle on the ones following. Jamal rolled the window up another half inch, shut his eyes again, and waited for sleep to come again. At least with his eyes shut, nobody bothered him with cute questions grown-ups enjoy asking kids his age. He didn’t feel like a kid his age anymore. And, he sure didn’t want to feel forced into a series of Yes’ems and No’ems with a bunch of grown-ups. He concentrated on slowing his breathing as his cousin taught him. She told Jamal that you could go to sleep if you lay on your back, relax your muscles until they feel like jelly, and slow your breathing. He never figured out if it worked because he always fell asleep. With his eyes shut, and morning wakefulness fighting off further sleep, thoughts and travails of last night whirled around his twelve-year-old mind. After several minutes, Jamal decided having his eyes open was more comforting.
He turned in the seat to look behind them. Selma should be in that Land Rover. The dust was thick across its windshield. Jamal could only make out the outline of the driver’s face. It wasn’t only dust that made it hard to see. The jerking of the vehicle made his head bounce, and the light haze of the African rain forest morning wavered a few feet above theground, almost at eye level. Probably wouldn’t have been able to see the driver if the man hadn’t been leaning with his face nearly against the windshield. Jamal faced forward again, resting his hands on his knees.
The driver had the window down with an elbow propped through the window. He had turned off the air conditioner hours ago to save gasoline. They had two choices: roll down the windows and suffocate on the dust, or leave them up and suffocate from the heat. Jamal was hot and dirty. He held his hands up, amazed at the dirt caked on them. He’d never thought he would wish for a bath.
The SUV slowed, and then stopped to the sound of emergency brakes being set. Uncle Nathan got out and walked back along the convoy.
His uncle leaned down at the driver’s window. “Richard,” he said to the driver, patting him a couple of times on the arm as he looked around at the others inside the SUV. “Rest of you, just talked with the radioman at Kingsville. They know our situation and will try to keep in contact with us. It’s going to be hard during the daylight according to Beaucoup Charlie. Sunspot activity and all that. We should be able to regain contact tonight. Meanwhile, we keep moving. Richard, how is your gas situation?”
“They going to come out and meet us when we get closer?” the man sitting on the other side of the nice lady asked. He was heavyset; a slight paunch hid his belt. The short-sleeve shirt revealed a dark tattoo on the deep black skin. “Don’t he know how few we are and how we need some help?”
Uncle Nathan looked at the man, but didn’t say anything.
“You’re leading this bunch, aren’t ya, Nate.”
Uncle Nathan nodded. “Yeah, George, I guess I am leading this bunch. But this back road— this trail, or whatever we are on —none of us know. You know where it goes?”
“Nope, guess not,” George replied, leaning back.
“George, if you haven’t traveled it, you know none of the rest of us have.” Uncle Nathan sighed. “We’re all in the same boat. All I can do is keep following this trail we call a road and keep an eye on the
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