The Night Run

by Bali Rai

The air around me seemed to part as the bullet sped past. I heard it twang off the wall, and dived for cover. I fell amongst tall weeds and crawled away. My heart was pounding even harder. I couldn’t let them catch me – not so soon. I had to get to my father.

  The soldiers closed in and I could hear their words clearly. They were calling me names, and insulting my mother. I wanted to jump up and confront them but that would have been foolish. I was the only hope my father had. I couldn’t let pride ruin that.

  The shot had scared the dogs off, but that didn’t help me at all. A pack of rabid and hungry mutts would have distracted the soldiers. Now they had only me to concentrate on. I moved away as fast as I could, but there was nowhere to go – only more weeds. The ground smelt damp and earthy and I could feel insects biting at my hands and face.

  ‘He’s here somewhere!’ the lead soldier shouted. ‘Get him!’

  I took a deep breath and moved on, wishing that I could fall through a hole somehow and hide. Amazingly, God seemed to answer my prayers. My fingers seemed to push through a mound of earth, finding a hollow. It felt deep and wide and I crawled in. It must have been an abandoned fox den or something similar. I didn’t care. I curled up, barely fitting, and waited.

  The soldiers were soon around me, whacking through the weeds with their rifles. Any minute they would find me, hiding like an animal, and then my quest would fail. I cursed my pursuers and myself. Why couldn’t they just leave? What harm could I do?

  ‘Nothing here, sir,’ said one of the soldiers. ‘Just weeds and rubble.’

  ‘He has to be here,’ said their leader. ‘He didn’t just vanish!’

  They searched a while longer before walking away. I waited until I couldn’t hear their voices, perhaps another ten or fifteen minutes, before moving on again. The further away I got, the calmer I became. Soon, I was near the rear buildings and ready to climb up to the rooftops.

  I sat up and looked around. Sensing no danger, I jumped to my feet and felt the wall in front of me. I found a gap and then another and began to haul myself upwards. I moved slowly, careful to make sure my grip was secure. Slowly but surely, I worked my way to the roof, and once there, I lay down and shut my eyes, trying to slow my breathing. My heart pounded in my chest.

  Down below, the soldiers had returned. I couldn’t hear what they were saying but I did hear the whistle sound. They were calling for more patrols. Soon the lanes around the common would be swarming with more soldiers. I would be trapped up above them, unable to get away. Unless I moved before they arrived.

  I stood and made my way to a stone stairwell. The steps led down into a courtyard. I took them, hoping that the street entrance wouldn’t be padlocked. But it was – just like the one at home. I went back up and tried another courtyard.

  After several failed attempts, I was frustrated and angry. I came to the end of the block, and looked down onto a wider street. A patrol stood to my left, some fifty yards away. Another group of soldiers were directly below me, four men, all smoking.

  ‘The area is secure,’ said one of them. ‘Whoever this rebel is, tonight will be his last night on earth.’

  I only had a vague sense of the time. But I knew enough to realise that it was running out. Both for my father and for me.

  Chapter Six

  Heera

  The wait was agonising. I was desperate to get to the police station but couldn’t move. The soldiers didn’t leave for half an hour. By that point, I was almost frantic.

  I imagined them unlocking the cell doors and cuffing my dad. They would take him to the rear entrance and shove him onto a cart. Then they would wheel their way through the night, heading for the train. My father would call out his innocence, and they wouldn’t listen. Once on his way to Lahore, he’d be finished. The British hanged revolutionaries without mercy.

  I blinked back tears and saw the patrol below me set off. They went right, and turned down a narrow lane. The street was clear now but I knew that the other patrols were nearby. I searched the roof for signs of a way down. At the edge, I found a rope ladder that had been pulled up and folded. I unravelled it and said a prayer. Then I descended to the street.

  Across the road, I saw a gap between two shops. I sprinted across and took cover in the shadows. My injured finger throbbed more insistently but I ignored it. I waited and watched – trying to work out a route in my head. The marketplace was five streets ahead, perhaps a half-mile or so. The soldiers were searching the area around me, so I decided to head for the centre of the city. I had lost too much time to consider another long way around.

  I took a deep breath and set off, walking as fast as I could. I took the narrow lanes, and made progress quickly. Soon, I was at the edge of the market – as familiar as my own home. It sat in a square, surrounded by tall buildings that seemed to lean over it, like a canopy. Here, I knew every hiding place, so I relaxed. Even if I saw a patrol, I knew that they would not see me.

  I stopped next to a water pump and rested a moment. The silence stood out again. I missed the loud voices, the twittering birds and the clamour of daytime. The only thing that remained was the smell of spices – chilli, cumin, black pepper and cardamom. Each scent hung heavily in the air.

  I was now five minutes from the police station. And I needed a proper plan. Somehow, I had to get in and out of the station without being seen. And if my father was being held there, I had to help him escape too. For a moment, I felt foolish but then I thought about my mum and the baby growing in her belly. My determination returned and I left my resting place.

  Between the market and the station lay an area of dark passages and lanes so narrow that only one person at a time could pass through. These were where the most immoral of Amritsar’s people lived, and the police refused to patrol them after dark. Evil men and lowly women lived lives of crime here, and the stories I’d heard made me anxious. Even though my journey was short, it was going to be dangerous.

  As if to highlight my fears, I heard a deep growling. Across the square, a pack of four dogs had appeared. The pack leader was big and powerful and my scent had alerted him. I had the knife in my waistband but it wouldn’t help. The blade was too short. I needed a heavy stick to keep the dogs off me. I searched the surrounding area and saw nothing I could use.

  The dogs began to move towards me slowly, their tails down and backs arched.

  During the day, they stayed on the edges of the marketplace, fearing beatings or worse from the stallholders. But at night, the square and the city was theirs.

  I remained calm and began to walk away. A dog had never bitten me and ordinarily they didn’t scare me either. But my hands were sweaty and my legs started to shake a little. I wasn’t a small child but I wasn’t an adult either. And the wild dogs had been known to attack people in the past.

  ‘This way!’ I heard a female voice whisper.

  My breath caught in my throat and my heartbeat galloped. From the shadows, a woman smiled out at me. She wore a simple black shawl of the finest silk and her face seemed kindly.

  ‘Quickly!’ she added. ‘They will tear you apart!’

  I had no choice but to follow her down one of the lanes. I moved quickly as the dogs began to bark wildly behind us. The woman stopped at a wooden door and opened it.

  ‘Inside, son.’

  I did as she said. Just as she closed the door, one of the dogs snapped its jaws and butted against it. I sighed in relief and looked around. We were in a passageway, with stairs opposite us, and rooms to either side.

  ‘What are you doing walking the streets so late?’ the woman asked me. There was no anger in her tone, just concern.

  ‘Nothing,’ I lied, wary of telling a stranger my business.

  The woman led me into a room and lit a candle. Her face was truly beautiful: creamy skin like my mother’s and brown eyes so pale that they looked almost golden. When she smiled, I felt like I had been wrapped in soft, white clouds. A mellow perfume followed her everywhere – fresh, thick cream and ripe, jui
cy mangoes.

  ‘Now, now,’ she said. ‘Mit Singh did not teach his son to lie.’

  I must have gasped because the woman explained, ‘I know who you are, Arjan.’

  ‘But I’ve never seen you before,’ I replied.

  She smiled again. ‘You are a young man. Why would you notice me? But I’ve seen you around the market, handing out food to the hungry and playing with your friends. It’s a wonderful place, isn’t it?’

  I nodded and felt guilty about misleading her.

  ‘I’m looking for my father,’ I said. ‘He was taken by the soldiers.’

  ‘I heard about it,’ she told me. ‘But you are just a boy. Brave, perhaps, but foolish too. How can you help him?’

  I shrugged then shook my head. ‘I don’t know. But I must try. Without him, my mother and I are lost.’

  The woman considered my words a while.

  ‘So you wish to risk your own life to save your father’s?’

  I shrugged again. ‘I cannot let my father die.’

  ‘The people here call me Heera,’ she said. ‘Perhaps I can help you.’

  ‘How?’ I asked, getting excited.

  ‘Patience,’ she replied. ‘Now let’s see to that injury, shall we?’

  I looked down at my wounded and swollen finger. How had she known about it? I hadn’t even mentioned the rat bite.

  ‘I notice things about people,’ she said, as though she could read my thoughts.

  When my confusion showed, she laughed gently.

  ‘Not everything out at night is evil,’ she said. ‘Now, where did I put that ointment?’

  Chapter Seven

  Breaking Into Jail

  The ointment stopped the pain almost immediately, and I asked her what it was made of.

  ‘Herbs and corn oil,’ she said. ‘It’s a secret blend.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to be rude but I have to keep going. My neighbour thinks the Engrezi will take my father to Lahore. I have to find him before that happens.’

  ‘And I will try to help,’ she said again.

  ‘I don’t understand who you are,’ I told her. ‘Are you a rebel – is that why you were out so late?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, I was helping a friend. Someone in trouble, just like you.’

  ‘Like me?’

  She nodded. ‘Not the same problem. But a problem nonetheless.’

  She asked if I had a plan to save my father and I shook my head.

  ‘I didn’t think that far ahead,’ I admitted. ‘I just knew I had to do something.’

  Heera thought a moment before replying.

  ‘The night train to Lahore passes through Amritsar in just over an hour,’ she told me. ‘It comes from Delhi and is heavily guarded because of the revolutionaries. If we are going to save Mit Singh we must do it now. Once he’s on that train, your father is lost.’

  ‘Then we have to get moving,’ I said eagerly.

  Heera stood at the door and closed her eyes. She reminded me of the holy men I’d seen meditating at festivals.

  ‘They are gone,’ she said once her eyes were open.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The dogs,’ she replied. ‘Come!’

  As we went back into the night, I wondered who she was, this strange woman. I hadn’t planned on having a companion. I hadn’t planned at all. But being with her made my confidence rise.

  * * *

  The police station was a tall building that took up the whole block. Its walls were white but had weathered over time and there were sandbags piled around the doors, each guarded by sentries. We stood in the shadows next to a bakery, watching them.

  ‘Two at each entrance,’ my new companion told me. ‘We’ll have to avoid them and go to the rear.’

  I nodded.

  ‘The cells are back there,’ I replied. ‘I’ve seen the criminals being taken in.’

  I followed Heera from shop to shop, careful to match her exact footsteps. When it was time to cross the wide thoroughfare, Heera found a rock and gave it to me.

  ‘You see the tin sign above the surgery in the distance?’ she asked.

  I peered into the night but could only just make it out.

  ‘Sort of,’ I told her. ‘But not clearly.’

  ‘Can you hit it with that rock?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m not sure but I can try.’

  She gave me another of her warm smiles. ‘Only those who try can ever succeed. Have a go.’

  I played throwing games with my friends all the time. From rotten onions to rubber balls, I was a good shot. But this was something else. All I could make out was a rectangle, sitting in darkness. I felt the weight of the rock in my hand and considered the distance. Then I stepped back, took aim and threw. The rock arced through the air, and for a moment I thought it was too high. Only, at the last minute, it seemed to lose height and clanged against the metal sign. In the quiet, the noise was almost shocking.

  ‘What was that?’ a guard shouted, raising his rifle.

  Heera ignored them and handed me another rock.

  ‘Now this one,’ she whispered. ‘Same place.’

  The second rock flew out of my hand and this time the noise was louder still. Every guard rushed across, leaving us to make our way down the side of the station unseen.

  ‘We must hurry,’ I said to Heera. ‘If he isn’t here, we’ll have to run to the barracks.’

  At the rear, a single sentry guarded the door. He looked sleepy and Heera told me to hold my ground.

  ‘I’m going to remove him,’ she said.

  ‘How?’

  ‘Leave that to me,’ she replied. ‘But whatever you do, don’t move until I call you. Understood?’

  I nodded. Heera turned and walked towards the guard. He didn’t see her until she was right next to him. He was startled and began to raise his gun. Heera leant in and whispered something to him. His hands fell to his side and he looked down at his feet. Then, just as she’d promised, he walked away, heading for an alleyway opposite. Heera turned and gestured for me to join her. I moved quickly, wondering if she was some kind of witch. How had she made the policeman walk away? What had she said to him?

  ‘Nothing for your young ears,’ she replied when I asked.

  ‘But if the chief finds out, he’ll be in trouble,’ I said.

  Heera grinned.

  ‘Not half as much trouble as he’ll be in at home,’ she said with a wink.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Our friend has been visiting the wife of another officer.’

  ‘Eurrgh!’ I said. ‘Sorry I asked.’

  The two rear gates were each ten feet high and eight feet wide. They were made of thick dark wood and looked heavy. Heera turned the handle on one and it moved about two feet. Just enough space for us to squeeze into the yard behind them. The floor was compacted dirt covered in straw, and the place smelled of farmyard animals and their dung. Twenty feet ahead was the back of the main building. To the left was a pen for horses, and to the right a locked iron door and stairs down to the cells.

  ‘How will we open the door?’ I asked her.

  ‘There is a key,’ she told me. ‘They hide it in the wall.’

  She led me over and felt the wall. Very quickly, a single block moved and she pulled it free. Behind were two iron keys on a large ring.

  ‘How could you know that?’ I said, amazed but excited too. If my dad was being held here, we would be able to get him out.

  ‘The guard told me.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said. ‘That was a silly question, then.’

  Heera shook her head. ‘There are no silly questions. Now let’s see if Mit Singh is here, shall we?’

  She opened the iron door and we descended the steps. My excitement grew stronger and I wanted to run. Could my dad really be so close to freedom?

  Chapter Eight

  Fire!

  Most of the prisoners were asleep, and the guard had passed out at his post. An empty bottle of whiskey sat on the floo
r next to him.

  Where is my dad?’ I whispered, as we walked between cells.

  I was desperate to see my dad’s face amongst the others, but he wasn’t there. Heera checked the last cell before shaking her head.

  ‘Let’s go,’ I said, all my excitement gone. I felt as though someone had ripped my stomach out. Tears began to form in my eyes.

  ‘I have someone to see,’ she said quietly. ‘Patience.’

  I wanted to shout and scream that my dad was running out of time. Something in her face calmed me down. She walked back to the first cell we’d passed. The air was thick with nasty smells and I could hear damp trickling down the walls. Mice sat by the walls, watching us for signs of threat. Huge cobwebs hung from every corner, throwing scary shadows in the lamplight. It was like a dungeon from my nightmares.

  I watched as Heera whispered to a sleeping prisoner. Six men shared the tiny cell, asleep on filthy straw mattresses. I thought she might wake all of them but only one opened his eyes.

  ‘Ssh!’ Heera warned. ‘Come quickly!’

  The teenager, maybe seventeen at most, stood and rearranged his clothes. He picked up his turban and edged to the door.

  ‘I do not understand,’ he whispered. ‘Who are you?’

  Heera shook her head. ‘Not now. I will explain later. We need to leave immediately.’

  She used the stolen keys and within seconds the young man was free. He joined us as we ascended the steps. At the top, we waited. I heard loud voices from the back gates, and one of the horses was startled. It whinnied and whined, and stamped its feet.

  ‘They’re everywhere,’ said Heera, looking to the teenager.

  My confusion, already deep, became bottomless. Why were we rescuing a stranger? It made no sense at all, unless Heera had lied to me, and she was a rebel. I didn’t care if she was – I just wanted my dad.

  ‘The train!’ I whispered. ‘We’ve got to go.’

  Heera shook her head. ‘If they catch us, we will be finished. You go on ahead, Arjan. We will follow.’

  She turned to the teenager. ‘Are you fit?’ she asked him.