Tom really didn’t know how to answer truthfully without causing her more fear than she had already got to experience.
“Right now, we are not, darling. The rest we will find out in the morning.”
He heard her bare feet on the linoleum as she tip-toed over to his bunk and then felt her tiny body press against him as she cuddled her dad, pulling up the blankets as the morning chill set in.
CHAPTER 11
They didn’t need a knock on the door by the guard to remind them of breakfast. Everyone had been up early, if they had gotten any sleep at all. Mama ‘S’ looked particularly sickly. Barely able to take her eyes off the green wristband, she was pale and distant.
“It will be Ok.” Tom put his arm around her.
They had gathered up under the gazebo in the courtyard, ready to move to the mess hall.
“Now here’s the plan,” Tom began laying out his strategy, “we don’t all want to barge in there and inundate Jimmy. He’s a good guy, but from what I saw last night, he’s a little on edge. So if we want him to help us, we need to be, well, gentle with him. And that means you guys all get your breakfast while I sit with him and break the ice, so to speak.”
“What will you try to get him to do?” Nadia raised an eyebrow.
It was a fair question and one that he had been mulling over in his head for the remaining hours of the night. Truth of the matter was that he didn’t know. They knew too little about the place, Jimmy, and even what he did on a daily basis and, therefore, how he might be able to help them. Help them escape, overcome their captors, find some other way out of their predicament or do nothing at all, it was anyone’s guess.
“I will try to get him to do what he does best: find ways where others can’t see them, move things that can’t be moved, and supply things that don’t exist.”
It was the only truth he knew. Jimmy, when motivated, worked wonders. Nadia didn’t follow up with another question. She knew there wasn’t much he could say, and she had no desire to be labelled the Grinch of the group. For now, she would go along, but they both knew that she would use her red band to her advantage if and when the time came.
They ambled over to the rub tent, making idle chitchat and laughing here and there to keep up the appearance of being nothing but oblivious survivors. The guards tipped their helmets and went back to their own conversations as soon as the group passed. Inside the tent, a dishevelled looking Jimmy fidgeted when he saw Tom and the others enter. As discussed, they went straight to the food line, while Tom casually wandered over to Jimmy and sat next to him.
“How’s the head?” Tom began to break the ice.
“Man, it was good seeing you and all, but I think I might have run my mouth a little too much last night.” Jimmy pressed a cup of iced water against his forehead.
“I don’t think you did,” Tom reassured him. “It was important for me, for us, to know.”
“All good then.” Jimmy smiled weakly and winked. “At least you have your red bands.”
“Actually,” Tom leaned in close, and Jimmy looked back at him in confusion, “that is what I was coming to talk to you about this morning.”
Jimmy may have been from the backwaters of nowhere, but he was not stupid. Tom had said all he needed for Jimmy to understand.
“Which one of them?” Jimmy nodded over to the group, who were trying hard to look focused on breakfast.
“The little one is my daughter Anna. You have seen her baby pictures.” Tom hung his head in sadness.
“No way!” Jimmy exclaimed and slapped his knee. “This is little Anna? You sumbitch! Who knew you ugly mutt could make something this beautiful.”
Jimmy’s compliments had always been rather unusual, but Tom knew how to take them. He managed a forced smile.
“You mean, she don’t got no red band? Oh, sweet Jesus.” Jimmy was way ahead of him. He didn’t need to explain any further. “How many of the others?”
“All except me and the blond woman over there.” Tom felt relieved the conversation had gotten this far. The cat was out of the bag, and there was no use beating around the bush.
“You know what I am going to ask next, Jimmy, don’t you?” It was time to test the waters.
“You weren’t too subtle to begin with. Folk like me might come across like we ain’t got enough sense to pour piss out of a boot on occasion, but I had you figured the moment you swaggered in here this morning.” Jimmy replied with a big grin.
“I should’ve known better than not to come out with it straight up,” Tom acknowledged sheepishly.
“Darn toot’n!” Jimmy laughed and slapped Tom on the back, but then fell silent and stared into his cup for the longest time.
Tom was just about to say something when Jimmy downed his water and looked him square in the eyes.
“I guess we’ll just have to drive you on out of here then.”
The casual delivery of Jimmy’s suggestion seemed only outweighed by its improbability.
“I know,” Jimmy tried to assuage Tom, who listened intently with furrowed brow, “it might seem impossible to you, but then you don’t know this place the way I do.”
He winked and turned, getting ready to leave, with Tom looking on dumbstruck.
“Oh, of course,” Jimmy slapped his forehead. “Guess I better fill you in. Have your folks ready at 0930 hours. Oh, and now that I think of it, if you still have keys for that eggbeater you arrived in, leave ‘em on the table when you head back to the dorms.”
And with that, he walked out of the tent and back to his part of the compound. The others held their breath, their eyes following the scrawny soldier’s every step as he passed them. Then they huddled around Tom, who directed everyone back to the courtyard. Suspense was palpable among them, but he couldn’t risk one of the guards or anyone else for that matter eavesdropping on their conversation.
“We need to be ready by nine-thirty this morning,” Tom announced quietly as soon as they had gathered.
Anticipating the next part of his briefing, they all leaned forward in expectation, but he had nothing else to give them.
“That’s it?” Nadia asked sceptically.
“Yep, that’s it. You still have the ignition keys for the helo, right? He said to leave those on the table, as well. I wish I could tell you more, but that’s all he said: ‘Leave the keys and be ready by nine-thirty,’” Tom shrugged. Mystified and worried, the others looked at each other.
“I know it doesn’t give away much, but I have worked with the guy in situations which, although perhaps not quite like this, were just as dangerous. If he says ‘be ready,’ I am not going to ask questions.” He tried to reassure everyone as best as he could.
“If you trust him, that’s good enough for me,” Amadou replied and relaxed a little, leaning back in his plastic chair.
Nadia crossed her arms, and her eyes burned into Tom as if trying to read his mind, but she didn’t dare argue. After all, there was nothing to argue about, at least not until nine-thirty came and went. They spent the next hour trying to figure out what to do if indeed they found a way out, only to again agree that none of them knew enough about the situation within and without the perimeter to form any kind of concrete plan. Their best option was still the coast, and beyond it, one of the vessels Jimmy had mentioned the night before that were moored just offshore. Mama Samaki had been to Mombasa several times, and from her recollection, once the tide was out, it was an easy walk across the sandy bottom to the edge of the deep water, where boats were likely to anchor just beyond the break. But of course, all this would remain theory until they found out what Jimmy’s plan actually was. They still had an hour to kill, and so everyone retreated to their accommodation. Nerves were beginning to show, and although the guards were far from the cream of the crop, they would work out that something was afoot sooner or later.
Just before it was time, Tom stepped out into the sun, the heat already unbearable with the refreshing coastal breeze now noticeably absent. Nothing mo
ved, nothing stirred, and the guards at the entrance were sweating in their little box, occasionally walking around to the rear to catch the last remaining shade before noon, when the whole place would become a furnace without reprieve.
Tom sat on the front step and looked around the other accommodation containers. He could see the others peeking through their windows, not daring to gather before whatever was supposed to happen, did. Tom’s watch showed 9.35am when he heard something just behind the registration and examination tents. The familiar sound of rotor blades wooshing into action, quickly increasing revolutions. The chopping blades unleashed with a hurricane of dust and paper created by the machine’s downdraft stung his eyes and quickly reduced visibility to almost zero. The startled guards turned towards the noise and immediately raced off to investigate, covering their eyes from the clouds of sand that were being kicked up all around them. Shielding Anna, Tom crouched behind the steps to their accommodation. Amadou yelled something, but it was impossible to hear him above the rotors and the sudden bursts of tracer rounds streaking high into the sky.
“I told you I’d be here!”
Tom turned in the direction of another voice, coming from somewhere near the fence line. There, like a ghost, one second visible and the next disappearing into the passing clouds of dust, was Jimmy. Donning a pair of enormous goggles and holding the biggest pair of wire cutters Tom had ever seen, he stood larger than life, grinning from ear to ear.
Tom and the others ducked low, and within seconds Jimmy had clipped enough of the cyclone mesh for them to squeeze through the fence. Without losing a beat, he flung open the rear hatch of a Humvee parked just out of sight, and everyone piled in. Mama Samaki was first and recoiled no sooner than she caught a whiff of the interior. Wanting to vomit, she turned back but was pushed back in by the others jumping in behind her.
The vehicle’s engine roared, and it lurched forward instantaneously just as Tom tried closed the hatch, but having missed the handle, he lost his balance on the slippery floor. The Humvee bumped and jolted across the badly maintained dirt road, and the survivors were tossed about in the stink and sludge that covered most of the vehicle’s interior. Mama Samaki couldn’t hold back any longer. Chunks of vomit mixed with blood and guts and coagulated body fluids slushing around the metal floor, the stench making it almost impossible to breathe inside the confined space. After what seemed like an eternity of violent motion, the tires skidded across gravel. The vehicle finally sled to a halt, and the chaotic ride ceased. An eerie silence momentarily descended as the engine noise reduced to a grumpy purr. The temperature inside the vehicle was stifling and the air thick with the smell of decay and rot and, thanks to Mama S, vomit. Coughing, sputtering and spitting, the survivors untangled themselves until they managed to sit upright in the bed of the truck. Wiping human tissue and blood off their faces, arms, and clothes, they grimaced, looking around in bewilderment.
“Sorry, folks. It was the best I could do at short notice.” Jimmy’s giant goggles appeared in the small window separating the Humvee’s bed from the front cabin. He looked around the back, covering his nose with two fingers.
“You should try and sit back here,” Tom gagged.
“What the hell is this thing?” Amadou covered his mouth and nose with his blood-stained sleeve.
“It’s the truck we use to pick up the dead from the facility. You know, the ones they are done with at the lab”, Jimmy shrugged. “But we just call it the meat tumbler.” His face disappeared from view for a few seconds before he returned with his usual grin. “I think it’s safe to open the back for a few minutes and let the funk out.”
Tom threw open the hatch before Jimmy had finished the sentence. Like near-drowning victims, the survivors clambered to the opening and gasped for air.
“This has to be a new low-point,” Nadia grunted, picking human remains from the strands of hair that caked her face.
Tom grabbed Anna with both arms and lifted her onto the hatch frame. Looking around nervously, he pulled down her sleeve over the exposed scab of the quickly healing bite on her forearm. Her face was pale, and she was shaking, but the warmth and strength of her father’s arms soon had her relax a little and join the others in their effort to clean themselves as best as they could with the rags Jimmy had produced from the front cabin.
“So far, so good,” Jimmy smiled, inspecting the group. “Looking almost normal again.”
“We will be fine. Been through worse”, Tom cast him a sideways look. “I take it though we are not out of the woods yet.”
Jimmy winked and exited the vehicle before joining everyone at the rear.
“You are right, this is just a pit stop. We’re in no-man’s-land at the moment. The secondary line of defence between the first checkpoints and labs and the rest of the city. Thanks to my friends and their little diversion we have just a little bit of a jump start, but it won’t take long before these goons notice their chickens have flown the coot.”
“So, what’s the plan then?” Amadou interjected impatiently.
He had spent the better part of his life in makeshift camps, and the prospect of being trapped in yet another one filled him with immeasurable dread. He was grateful for the jailbreak but equally keen to put as much distance between them and the camp as quickly as possible.
“Well,” Jimmy scratched his unshaven chin, “with y’all officially on the run, they will lock down every checkpoint from here to Timbuktu, at least for tonight. So what I suggest is we pay a little visit to my friend Omar and his print shop just a few klicks yonder. His place is pretty comfortable, thanks to yours truly, and you will get a good night’s rest before we head to sea tomorrow.”
“Head to sea?” Tom raised an eyebrow. He was in the dark about the plan as much as the others, a fact he neither liked nor endeavoured to embrace for longer than he had to.
“I know, I know,” Jimmy smiled, recognising his friend’s impatience, “I’ll give you the low-down when we get to Omar’s, don’t worry. I think my plan is pretty sound, I’ll say that much. But for now, if y’all don’t mind all that much, we need to keep moving. Oh, and I am truly sorry, but we’re gonna have to close the hatch again.”
Without waiting for an answer, Jimmy slammed it shut and jumped back in the front, barely able to yell ‘Hold on tight’ before the Humvee sprang back into action. Within another mile of breathing the foul air and rot, the vehicle slowed slightly as it approached the next checkpoint. The survivors cringed as the boom gate, and armed checkpoint personnel came into view. This was not something they had planned for or been instructed on. Tom got as low as possible, as did the others, with Jimmy waving out the side window at the handful of checkpoint personnel. Much to their surprise, though, just as they thought the vehicle would stop for inspection, the boom gate flung open, and the Humvee passed without a second glance from the guards.
“What just happened?” Tom whispered from the rear.
“Nobody likes to stick their head into the meat tumbler, my friend. I could transport Kim Jong-Un’s very own nukes in this thing, and nobody would ever know!” Jimmy’s grin was wider than ever.
Tom couldn’t help but smile. As much as the ride had been an atrocious one, he had to give it to Jimmy: the man could plan and execute just about anything he set his mind to.
“Adapt and overcome, baby. Adapt and overcome. Yeehaw!” Jimmy let out his battle cry as the vehicle, now heading into Mombasa City, once again gathered speed.
There were a few more checkpoints to navigate, but the story was always the same. Jimmy and his vehicle were known and feared throughout the forces. Each time the Humvee approached, men at the post stepped back and instinctively covered their mouths and noses. None of them even dared to look inside the ‘carriage of gore’ as Jimmy’s vehicle was referred to among them.
Soon the streets turned more civilian, the absence of sandbagged gun emplacements, barracks, and ops tents distinctly noticeable. Now the sea of containers, camouflage netting, and the hive
of activity that accompanied them gave way to the tranquillity of historic coastal architecture, palm tree-lined ocean promenades, and the lush greenery of tropical gardens. Jimmy reduced speed, and they almost idled along, the hatch open and the ocean breeze dispersing the pungent aroma inside the vehicle.
Tom longed to stop and stretch his legs even just for a moment, allowing him and Anna to absorb the precious rays and fill their lungs with the air of freedom. But time was not on their side. Soon the tranquillity would be broken by teams searching for the escaped ‘patients,’ at least if the tumult their departure had caused was anything to go by.
“What will happen to your friends in the helicopter?” Tom poked his head into the front cabin and shouted over the engine noise. “They will have some explaining to do, won’t they?”
At this, he could see Jimmy chuckle.
“I don’t think they’ll be coming back to their unit anytime soon! And by the way, I ain’t neither!”” Jimmy lifted his goggles and winked, then replaced them and went back to watching the road.
“Ya’ll better close that hatch again. We’re just about to hit city centre, and it won’t be as friendly as things are around here.” In the rear-view mirror, he could see Tom looking at him inquisitively. “This here area? We call it the Copa. You know, like that beach Copacabana? The Copa is a no man’s land. We don’t go in from the north, and neither do the BMO’s from the south.”
“BMO’s?” Tom raised his eyebrows.
“Black Moving Objects. BMO’s. It’s what we call them Al-Shabab brothers shootin’ up half the coast. When them pus-bags flooded into the streets and turned half the country upside down, these guys saw their opportunity. And they took it, too. Before you could say ‘Military Intervention,’ these guys ploughed through from Somalia and took the city by storm. Now their black-clad asses pretty much own everything south of here. Or at least they got a good hold on it.”
Jimmy rolled up the window and put on his helmet as the vehicle passed what appeared to an invisible threshold. Within seconds, the surrounding buildings no longer resembled impeccably maintained luxury villas with the kind of ornate architecture that breathed the Portuguese and Islamic influences that had once been an integral part of the very fabric that made up the coast and its unique culture.
The Virophage Chronicles (Book 2): Dead Hemisphere [Keres Rising] Page 25
