It was dark, warm and slightly musty. He sat down with his back against the wall, but found that this was hard and uncomfortable. Lying down was better and he pillowed his head on his arm. He was asleep without knowing it, nor did he stir when a tractor backed into place and sealed itself to the trailer. The big rig lurched into easy motion and out onto the road; Jan slept on. Waking only when they shuddered to a stop, air brakes hissing. Jan was pulled awake, blinking into the darkness, feeling a cold stab of fear until he remembered what had happened, where he was. He caught his breath as someone outside rattled the bars that sealed the door. When they opened it he would be caught and that would be the end of everything. He crouched there in the darkness, waiting — and relaxed only when the rig lurched into motion again. If that had been the checkpoint, then they were safely through. Tension drained away as they kept rolling, not stopping again. The motion lulled him to sleep and he welcomed it gladly, did not fight against it.
Jan stirred on the hard surface but did not waken completely until the next time the truck stopped. There was a short wait, then they started up again. A police check before entering a city? This was what would have been done in Britain; there was a good chance the same security procedures might be used here. The next time they stopped Jan could hear rattling again at the door seals next to him and he was ready when the door swung open. He shielded his eyes with his hand under the onslaught of tropical light.
“Come on out, Buster, this is the end of the line for you,” a hoarse voice said. Jan slid to the ground and squinted through the glare at the uniformed policeman who stood in front of him. Captured! He turned, started to run, and the man’s large hand seized him by the arm and swung him about.
“No games! Just get into the back of the black and white and lie on the floor. They made me break my cover for you, Buster, and it had better be worth it.” He pulled Jan forward as he talked, then shoved him in the direction of a black and white car that was heavily festooned with lights and sirens, parked behind the tractor trailer in the narrow alleyway. The rear door was open and Jan got in and dropped to the floor as the door was slammed behind him. A moment later the policeman climbed into the front and they reversed out of the alley at high speed, braked to a squealing stop, then shot off down the road. Once they were moving the driver relaxed and looked over his shoulder at Jan.
“Is it true, what you told them, that all of the planets are, like, what do you call it…”
“Free. Yes, they are. It was a rebellion that could not be stopped.”
“Well that’s good to hear. Maybe it’s catching and we’ll get a bit of it here on old mother Earth. They could sure use some of it where you’re going. I’m turning you over to the spooks. I don’t know how comfortable you’re going to be there, but you’ll be safe enough for awhile.”
Spooks? Jan thought. Ghosts? What was the man talking about? “I’m afraid that I’m not acquainted with the term.”
“You sound like a Limey. Are you? A Brit?”
“Yes, I was born in England. I left there some time ago.
“You sounded like one, you know, the way they talk in the flicks. Well I don’t know how things work over where you come from, Mr. Limey, but over here, well, things I guess are different. We’re going to New Watts. When you see it you’ll know what I’m talking about. Take a look. I’ll stop and you just lift your nose up and see for yourself.”
They drove on, slowly, then eased to a stop. “All right, now,” the policeman said.
Jan rose up carefully to see that they had parked beside a row of small homes. They had been attractive once, but now they were collapsed and tumbledown, windows knocked out and roofs sagging. On the other side of the street was a high wire fence with a wasteland behind it, mounds of burned earth with only the occasional bit of grass or weed growing there. A good hundred meters beyond was another, identical fence. On the other side of this were buildings, homes and office blocks. Jan couldn’t see any details clearly but they definitely had a ramshackle look.
“Get back down,” the policeman ordered. “That’s where you’re going. Don’t look so bad from here.” He laughed, not humorously but more of an ironic comment. “Going through a checkpoint now. But all the guys there know me and they’ll just wave. I’ll give him a blast so they’ll think that it’s a call.”
The car surged forward and the siren began to wail. They turned, picked up speed, and bumped over something hard in the road, then went on. After a bit the siren was killed and their headlong pace slowed.
“Get ready,” the policeman said. “I’m going to go along real easy, but not stop all the way. You bail out when I tell you to. You’ll be next to a kind of little back alley between some yards. Walk down it nice and slow and you’ll be met.”
“Thanks for the help.”
“Don’t thank me until you see what you got into. Now!”
Jan pulled the handle and pushed the door open. He stepped out and it was torn from his hand as the car accelerated, the sudden motion slamming the door shut. The police car spun around the next corner and vanished from sight. Jan looked at the wooden, rickety fences stretched away on both sides of a packed dirt lane. He followed instructions and walked down it, feeling that he was being watched, but seeing no one. There were doors let into the fencing and as he passed one it swung open.
“Get in here,” a rough voice said.
Jan turned to look at the man, at the two others with him. All three carried pistols, pointing at him. All three of them had coal-black skins.
Eight
“Are you the one they say come in the starship?” the nearest man asked. Jan nodded and the man waved the gun. “Then come on in so’s you can tell us all about it.”
They crowded around him, pushing him into the house and down a dank corridor to an interior room. Behind him, he heard bolts rattling shut. The room had sealed windows and was airless, unfurnished except for a round wooden table surrounded by ramshackle chairs.
One of the men pulled him by the arm, dragging him to a chair, then waved his long and well-worn pistol in Jan’s face.
“You a spy,” he said angrily, grating the words through his clamped teeth. “You ofay spy…”
“Come away now, nuf of dat,” an older man said, pulling gently at the angry man’s shoulder. He moved away reluctantly and the older man sat down across from Jan.
“Trouble is the bolly dogs brung you here, he don’ like it. Who does? I’m Willy. You called Jan, saw your picture on television.”
Jan nodded, straining to understand the other man’s words. He was speaking in dialect, as thick and incomprehensible to him as Glaswegian.
“The teevee say you from the stars. If that true, you tell us what happening out there.”
Once again Jan told about the success of the rebellion, and while he spoke the man leaned forward, listening intensely, making him repeat things; apparently his accent was equally difficult for them to understand. Fatigue began to catch up with him again and his throat grew dry. When he asked for some water, Willy signaled to one of the men.
“You hungry too?” he asked. Jan nodded and Willy called instructions through the open door.
The food was unfamiliar but filling. Boiled greens of some kind, white beans with black spots on them, and a slab of some sort of highly seasoned meat substitute. The men watched him while he ate and talked excitedly among themselves.