At last she reached the outskirts of the city and drove towards her house on autopilot. Once clear of the centre, the world began to look more normal again. Please let Jonathon be at home, she prayed, please let him be there.
There was no one on the roads leading out to the suburbs. It was if all humanity had simply disappeared. The houses and shops were still intact and to her amazement, even the traffic lights were working, although this only vaguely registered in Amie’s mind as she deliberately drove straight though the red lights. There were no other cars to be seen anywhere; she had the road to herself.
Amie had never been so glad to arrive home. Abandoning the car outside on the front lawn, she unlocked the gate and rushed into the house. It was deserted. Neither William nor Pretty was there and Amie realised Jonathon’s car wasn’t there either. She ran into every room, calling out for Angelina, for Pretty, for anyone, but there was no response. She ran back out into the garden and looked under bushes and behind trees, but there was no one there. Part of her knew she was being irrational, but maybe she was still in shock, she just felt as if she had to keep moving, as if that would protect her from being shot or harmed. It was eerie, her home seemed so normal, such an enormous contrast to what she’d just seen and experienced.
She paced around inside the house and even started to make herself a cup of coffee, but gave up half way through. She couldn’t just stay here, she had to do something, but what?
They would fly them all out now surely? Somewhere safe, somewhere away from the city, the country. Pack, yes, she should pack their most precious belongings and she would have them ready for when Jonathon came home. They could then leave immediately for the airport. Never had Castle Bridge seemed such a haven.
Still in shock, Amie collected a chair and climbed up to get down the suitcases from the top of the wardrobe. The large ones she threw to one side, the two smaller carry on sized cases would be easier to manage. She flung them open on the bed and then hovered indecisively for several moments. What should they take, what was most precious? She ran back into the lounge and picked up their wedding photographs from the sideboard and then realised how stupid that was. Her family had copies of those; they could be replaced. Underwear, yes a couple of pairs each, she talked to herself as she rifled through the clothes drawers. And a change of clothes and the passports of course and food, now that was sensible and a spare pair of shoes and money, yes as much of it as they had in the house, and bottles of water and what else …?
Amie knew she was gabbling to herself, her hands and whole body were still shaking, but the constant running backwards and forwards round the house seemed to help. Then she had a brainwave as part of her rational thinking clicked back into gear. Her cell phone, of course, it was still in her bag! Why hadn’t she thought of trying to phone anyone before now? She ran back into the living room and grabbed it. It took several attempts to press the right buttons, her hands were still shaking. Then she remembered the flat battery. She searched frantically for the charger cable, plugged it in, but the signal light didn’t come on. It was only then she realised there was no electricity, there was no way she could phone anyone. She collapsed onto the sofa in defeat, stifling the tears that threatened to overwhelm her, and tried to get a grip. What was the best thing to do? Stay at the house in case someone came back? Try and drive to the airport and see if there were any embassy staff trying to round people up? Go to the Club and take refuge? Her mind went around and around in circles, and every time she closed her eyes, the image of Kate’s dead hand swam before her. Kate’s final look of shock, the shop walls tumbling, the roof caving in and Kate buried beneath the bricks and concrete beams.
Oh God, don’t let that happen to me, thought Amie, though she’d not thought of God in a long while, and it was even longer since she’d been to church. She began pacing up and down, up and down, and it was then she became aware the far distant shots and explosions were getting nearer. They were louder than they’d been a few minutes ago? She couldn’t just stay here like a sitting duck, somehow her mind told her it was safer to stay on the move. She was so distraught, she didn’t even think to change her clothes, take a shower or clean up the scrapes on her arms and legs. She could only think about getting away. She’d try the school first, it was the closest familiar place, see what had happened there. Other people – she needed to be with other people – they would know what to do.
Still shaking, she dragged the two small cases out to the car, threw them on the front passenger seat and climbed in behind the wheel. She sat for a moment trying to breathe deeply, willing her mind to wake up and tell her what to do. Oh God, she must think clearly so she could make sensible decisions. She set off for Spring Glen Primary. The streets were still deserted and Amie couldn’t decide if there were people hiding in the houses or if they had fled. Had they received instructions at home she had missed because she’d been in town? Or had the attack on Apatu taken everyone by surprise? As she raced down the street she wanted to kick herself. Why hadn’t she thought of running next door and trying to find her neighbours? But logical thought seemed to have deserted her for now.
As Amie screeched round the last corner and slowed down outside the school, she was horrified to see it looked totally deserted. There was no guard on the gates which were wide open, and she drove straight in and up to the front door. Jumping out and leaving the car door open and the engine running, she ran inside the main building, calling out to see if anyone was there. She ran to the Head’s office, but there was no sign of Marian Edwards, nor any staff and certainly no children. Was Angelina still here? Was she hiding out somewhere? How could everyone vanish so quickly?
Her breath became ragged as Amie ran from classroom to classroom, hoping in vain to find some signs of life, but subconsciously she knew she was wasting her time.
Outside again she jumped into the car, and raced off towards the Club. It wasn’t feasible to try to get to the British Embassy, that was right in the centre of town, and she’d just escaped from there, so goodness knows what had happened to the building and the staff. The Club was her last hope. She couldn’t be the only one left! Why, oh! Why, had they never discussed what to do in case of an emergency like this?
Without thinking about it, Amie had chosen to check out the school first as it was closest to home, but the Club was much closer to the town centre. Briefly, she wondered if it was wise to drive towards the fighting. Then she had another idea. The orphanage school, she would drive out to Tamara and try and find Mrs Motswezi, it would be safer than going to the hospital too, that was also close to town. Yes, she would keep her distance from the troops and the bullets, and try and get help at the orphanage.
Amie did an illegal U-turn over a solid white line, not that she cared or was even aware of it, and took the road to Tamara. Ten minutes later she spied the grove of trees that surrounded the north side of the compound, which was now enveloped in a large cloud of black smoke. She jammed the brakes on in shock. Where only the day before yesterday, there had been a row of classrooms, hostel and office buildings, now there was nothing. The black clouds of smoke rose over the deserted playground, as fire consumed the last of the buildings. The whole compound had been torched and there was no sign of life. Amie noticed a torn exercise book lying by the gate and a melted plastic lunch bowl by the large tree which had miraculously escaped the flames. There was nothing left of what had once been a school and refuge, housing hundreds of small, friendly, cheerful little children, who never did anyone any harm.
Amie burst into tears. “The bastards, the bastards,” she repeated over and over as she drummed her fists on the steering wheel. “What had those poor orphans ever done to hurt you?” They must have been herded off somewhere, there was no sign of bodies lying anywhere and they wouldn’t have locked them in the classrooms and burnt them to death, would they? But Amie was not convinced of this, she had come to understand the extent of the cruelty in Africa. It was a possibility, and she prayed they hadn’t been s
laughtered. For a brief moment Amie considered trying to drive into the compound to look for any survivors, but then rationalized if anyone had been there, wouldn’t they have rushed out the moment they saw her car. Her eyes were stinging from the effects of the black smoke, her throat was dry and sore.
Defeated, she turned the car round and stopped to consider what she should do next. What if she drove around the outskirts of town and tried to get to the desalination works? The problem with that was if these were rebels from the north, the works site was also on the northern side of the city. She would drive straight into the advancing troops. Her mind wandered to Colonel Mbanzi. Where was he in all this? Where were the government troops? Were they fighting to defend the city, or had they joined the rebels? From the little Amie had seen in town, no one appeared to be defending the capital, it was a mindless slaughter of anything that moved.
That only left the Club. Amie didn’t think there was any point in trying to get to Diana’s, Anne’s or Kate’s house, as they all lived in the northern suburbs, and if Spring Glen was deserted, then Brianwood was unlikely to be buzzing with activity.
No, the Club was the best destination, it was the central focus for all of the expatriates, so why hadn’t she gone there first? Amie gave herself a good mental shake and put the Fiat into first gear.
The closer she got to the Club, the slower Amie drove. The noise from the bombs and explosions was a good deal louder now, and she could hear gunshots as well. She wondered if it might be wiser to leave the car and go the last part of the way on foot. She could hide by the road and sneak in, but then, she reasoned, if she were seen, she didn’t have the protection of the car and the choice of flooring the pedal and driving out of harm’s way. Why, oh why, can’t I make up my mind about anything, Amie screamed at herself.
A sudden thought made her look down at the gauges in front of her. It was unlikely she could get very far, she was incredibly low on petrol, and if to confirm her discovery, the emergency fuel light lit up and winked cheerfully at her. Amie groaned, now she had even less choice. No chance she could drive out of town and try to sit it out. How long did these revolutions last? Sometimes for years?
Gritting her teeth, Amie made her way slowly to the Club, it was already beginning to get dark – the short period of twilight that turns into night very quickly in Africa. She was only two roads away from her destination, but when she turned the last sharp corner, she drove straight into a manned barrier.
The troops had put wooden planks across the road with large nails protruding skyward and they punctured all four of Amie’s tyres. The Fiat fishtailed to a stop, and immediately a large black face filled the driver’s window. He thumped on the glass, then flung the door open.
Amie glanced fearfully at the small group of soldiers who were clustering round the car. The one who looked to be in charge, indicated she was to get out. Initially, she shook her head and shrank back into her seat. Although her Fiat couldn’t take her anywhere, it still seemed her one and only refuge.
Quite gently, the soldier took her arm and pulled her out of the car. He then gestured she should take what she wanted from inside. Amie hesitated then picked up her handbag and the smaller of the suitcases into which she had packed the fruit and water. She reluctantly cowered in the roadway blinking at the bright lights that shut out all but her immediate surroundings.
Perhaps they’re going to escort me to the Club and everyone else will be there she thought. Surely, they won’t hurt me, I have no quarrel with either side and they must know that. The thought gave her courage and she stood up straight again, waiting to see what they were going to do. She clamped her teeth together to try and stop them from chattering, and held her arms stiffly by her side.
The captain, if that’s what he was, pointed to a group of people huddled by the side of the road and he gave her a push towards them.
In as dignified a manner as she could, Amie walked towards the small crowd, searching frantically for a familiar face, but there was no one she knew. All the other people were black, so none were likely to be expatriates or speak English. She was dismayed that not one of the Africans she had met at the school, or while filming for the colonel was there either.
There was nothing else for it but to sit on the ground and wait to see what would happen next. Without thinking, Amie got out one of her water bottles and took a sip. Immediately a murmur ran round the crowd and hands reached out to grab it from her. Before she even had a chance to quench her thirst, others were fighting over the bottle, pushing and shoving so half the water was spilt, before a few lucky ones managed to take a brief swig. Idiots, Amie thought briefly, why didn’t they share it sensibly? There wasn’t enough for everyone, but the wasted water would have helped a couple more. It dawned on Amie it was the survival of the fittest, and she hugged both her handbag and the small case closer to her chest. If she wanted food and drink, then she would wait until she was alone. I will survive, she thought, in a sudden burst of fury.
Over the next couple of hours, a few more cars came around the corner and were stopped, and the occupants forced out. Each time Amie hoped it might be someone she knew, and each time she was disappointed. It felt as if they had been sitting there for hours and hours. The dew began to fall making everything damp. Amie ached all over, partly from sitting on the wet ground, and partly from the places where she had bruises and grazes from the falling buildings earlier in the day. She wanted to doze off, she was exhausted, but she was too scared to in case someone grabbed her bag and her case. To keep herself occupied, and stop herself from feeling very anxious, she began, very slowly to slide a few things out of her bag: her passport, money and a few of the boiled sweets Angelina loved so much. She would hide these in her bra and panties, so if they grabbed her bags, she would at least have something. Maybe her driving licence and her residence visa as well? Hang on a minute, she reasoned, there is only so much you can hide in your underwear! Despite her precarious situation, she smiled. If she ever survived this, there had to be a book in it some day?
Despite her wise and sensible intentions, Amie found her mind drifting and she almost dropped off, worn out by the events of the day, when she felt her case being tugged gently. Immediately she sprang into full alert and tightened her arms around her possessions. She tried to twist round to glare at the perpetrator, but the people were all so tightly packed together, it was difficult to look behind her.
A short time later, one of the soldiers came over and shouted at them. All the others began to stand up so Amie struggled to her feet too. She squinted through the gloom at the gang of armed men. Were they government troops? They were all in fatigues, and none of them looked smart, but that didn’t tell her anything; the regular army was pretty scruffy at the best of times.
Amie noticed they were walking away from the Club as they were herded down the road, and she wondered if her friends were barricaded inside. She allowed most of the others to push past her, hoping that if she dropped to the back, she might be able to slip away and make for the Club on foot. But the rebels, or whoever they were, had thought of that, and kept them huddled together within a tight cordon of men on all sides. Amie trudged wearily on, jostled by the people all around her, assailed by the smell of unwashed bodies and the fearful mutterings from the crowd. She understood for the first time that fear has a smell of its own.
When they reached the crossroads, they were told to wait and a few minutes later, several large trucks arrived. Using their weapons, the men poked and prodded the prisoners and urged them into the vehicles. Amie scrambled up the makeshift steps and elbowed her way to the side of the truck, perching on a narrow ledge that ran the length of it. She was determined to watch carefully where they were going, so that if she got a chance to escape, she would at least know which way they’d gone. But as soon as her truck was crammed full, they lowered a tarpaulin over the rear and set off at a brisk pace.
As much as she tried to work out where they were going, Amie soon lost all sense o
f direction, as they swung around one corner after another and the truck bounced over the potholes and swerved to avoid obstacles in the road.
While they’d been sitting on the roadside, the sounds from Apatu had momentarily ceased, but now there were renewed sounds of explosions and more rapid gunfire. Amie shivered, was this nightmare ever going to end? She lost all sense of time and direction, as the truck drew further and further away from the city. Her bottom first became numb and then sore, as they were bounced around like peas on a drum. It was only because they were packed in so tightly, they didn’t suffer greater injuries. On one side of Amie was a large woman nursing a young baby who had loud fits of crying, and on the other, a young teenage boy, who deliberately leaned and pushed against her, breathing his foul breath in her face. One of the women began to cry and soon another one joined in, and the wailing got louder and louder until there was a wild cacophony in the back of the truck. If Amie could have moved her arms, she would have covered her ears to shut out the sound, but eventually harsh voices and a loud banging from the front of the truck, frightened them into silence.
At long last the trucks drew to a halt. They were told to get out and the soldiers herded them towards what looked like a large hole in the ground. The bile rose in Amie’s throat at what she perceived to be an enormous grave. There were several more soldiers still shovelling the soil away on the far side.
The captives were poked and prodded as they unwillingly slid down the sides of the large crater and told to sit. As Amie fell rather than walked down, she was suddenly filled with a deep despair. She would never see Jonathon again, she would never see her family either, get to hug her father or have a cuddle with her mother. She was totally alone and she didn’t know what to do. Any moment, she expected one of the soldiers to raise his gun and start firing. She couldn’t stop shaking. She still had hold of the one small case and her handbag, would these be buried with me, she thought irrationally? She was surprised the soldiers hadn’t confiscated them.
Amie in Africa Box Set 1 Page 26
