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Fugue for a Darkening Island Page 8
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Because of my rifle, Lateef told me to walk alongside the leading cart, secreting the weapon in the false bottom in which we normally concealed unacceptable materials during searches or interrogations.
By this I could detect a slight reversal in Lateef's attitude towards the rifle. Whereas before he had maintained that it was better to be unarmed as a form of self-protection, I saw now that he acknowledged the need to defend ourselves even if that defence was not itself apparent to potential aggressors.
We came to the village along a minor road that ran across country from the town on the far side of this village until where it joined a major road some eight miles to the east of us. Again, it was from experience that we knew it was better to come to a strange village along a road rather than across the fields. Though we felt immediately more exposed, we believed we were establishing a better basis for the coming barter by doing so.
According to the map the village had no actual nucleus, but was more a straggling collection of houses along two narrow roads: the one we were on and one that crossed it at right angles. From one end to another it was probably more than a mile long -- typical of the villages in this region.
We passed the first house in silence. It had been abandoned and its windows were all broken. The same was true of the next house, and the one after, and of all the houses for the first two hundred yards leading into the centre.
As we rounded the bend, there was an explosion in front of us, and one of the men at Lateef's side was thrown backwards.
We stopped. Those near the handcarts crouched down behind them, the others took what cover they could find at the side of the road. I looked down at the man who had fallen. He was on the ground five yards from where I crouched. The bullet had struck him in the throat, tearing away a large chunk of his neck. Blood spurted fitfully from his jugular vein, and though his eyes stared skywards with the dull glaze of death, he continued to make faint rasping noises from what was left of his throat. In seconds, he quietened.
Ahead of us a barricade had been erected across the road. It wasn't the kind of barricade to which we had grown accustomed -- an untidy barrier of paving-stones, old cars or masonry -- but had been designed purposively and built with bricks and cement. In the centre was a narrow gate through which pedestrians could pass, and on either side of this were two protective raised sections behind which I could just make out the figures of men. As I watched one of them fired again, and the bullet smashed into the wood of the front of the handcart not two feet from where I was. I crouched down even lower.
"Whitman! You've got the rifle. Shoot back."
I looked over at Lateef. He was lying on the ground with two other men, trying to shelter behind a low mound of earth.
I said: "They're too well protected."
I saw that the houses to each side of the barricade had been similarly defended with a wall of concrete. I wondered whether it would be possible to enter the village by going across the fields and coming to it from the side, but the inhabitants were so obviously hostile that there would be little point.
Reaching into the false bottom of the handcart I slid out the rifle and loaded it. I was aware that every member of our group was watching me. Still attempting to keep as close to the side of the cart as possible, I aimed the rifle towards the barricade, trying to find a target I would be reasonably certain of striking.
I waited for a movement.
In the next few seconds a variety of thoughts passed through my mind.
This wasn't the first occasion on which I had been in possession of a lethal weapon, but it was the first time I had ever taken deliberate aim with the knowledge that if I was successful I would kill or injure somebody. It is at times like this that one would try to rationalize all one's actions if it were not for the immediate need for direct participation.
Lateef said quietly: "What are you waiting for?"
"I can't see anyone to aim at."
"Put a shot over their heads. No . . . wait. Let me think."
I let the barrel sink. I had not wanted to fire. As the next few seconds passed I knew I would not be able to fire it in this premeditated way. Thus, when Lateef told me to return it to its hiding-place, I was relieved. A direct order from him to shoot would have created a situation almost impossible for me to resolve.
"It's no good," he said, not just to me, but to everyone in earshot.
"We'll never get in there. We'll have to retreat."
I think I had known that from the moment of the first shot. I realized that to Lateef this decision meant a lot as it was in some ways an abrogation of his authority. The man who had told Lateef about the Nationalist garrison was near him, but he said nothing.
There was a white sheet over the top of the handcart. We had used it on several occasions in the past when wishing to underline our neutrality. Lateef asked me to pass it to him. He stood up, unfolding the cloth as he did so. No one at the barricade fired. I had to admire his bravery; under the same circumstances of leadership I would have risked anyone's life but my own. When I am in danger I have found that my capacity for selfhonesty overrules all my thoughts.
After several seconds Lateef told us to get back in the road and to move away slowly. I stood up myself, crouching down behind the bulk of the handcart. Our little convoy began to move back the way we had come.
Lateef stood between us and the hostile village. He held the white sheet at arm's length, as if to provide cover for the rest of us. Slowly, carefully, he stepped backwards, obviously uncertain what would happen if he turned and walked with the rest of us.
The handcart was half-way round the bend that would take us out of the line of fire, when the last shot sounded. Although some of the men not actually hauling on a handcart scattered to the sides of the road, the rest of us broke into a sprint until we were round the curve in the road. When we were all out of the line of gunfire we stopped.
Lateef rejoined us a few seconds later. He was swearing violently. The bullet had passed through the white sheet and scuffed his sleeve. A piece of cloth about four inches square had been torn away from near his elbow. We judged that had the bullet been even a quarter of an inch higher it would have smashed his bone.
When I was in my sleeping-bag that night it occurred to me that Lateef had come out of the day's events in a stronger position. I was glad that my own thoughts were private, for they revealed me to be a greater coward than I had feared. For the first time since she had been taken by the Afrims I felt a strong sexual urge for Isobel, missing and wanting her, tormented by false memories of happiness together.
In the afternoon I spent about an hour with Sally, while Isobel walked into a near-by village to try to obtain food. Money was the greatest problem in this respect, as we had only a pound or two left out of all that we had brought with us.
In talking to Sally I found myself treating her as an adult for the first time. She had no way of knowing what Isobel and I had discussed, but her bearing had the manner of a suddenly increased sense of responsibility. This pleased me immensely.
The evening passed in silence for the large part; certainly, Isobel and I exchanged only a couple of sentences. When night came we laid out in our tents in the manner we had done since the start: Isobel and Sally in one tent and myself in the other.
I found myself regretting that the conversation with Isobel had not come to a more determined conclusion. As it was, I felt we had not achieved anything.
I lay awake for an hour, then drifted into sleep. Almost at once, it seemed, I was awoken by Isobel.
I reached out and touched her; she was naked.
I said: "What. . . ?"
"Sshh. You'll wake Sally."
She undid the zip of my sleeping-bag and lay down with her body against me. I put my arms around her and, still halfasleep and unthinking of what had gone between us during the day, I began to caress her sexually.
Our love-making was not well matched. My mind made indistinct by sleep, I was unable to concentrate and ach
ieved orgasm only after a long time.
Isobel, though, was voracious in a way I had never known her before, the noise of her gasps almost deafening me. She came to orgasm twice, disconcertingly violently the first time.
We lay together linked for several minutes afterwards, then Isobel murmured something and attempted to wriggle out from under me. I rolled to one side and she pulled away. I tried to restrain her, placing an arm around her shoulders. She said nothing, but got to her feet and went out of the tent. I lay back in the residual warmth of our bodies and fell asleep again.
In the morning Sally and I found we were on our own.
There was a policy discussion the next day, stemming mainly from our lack of food. After checking our stores carefully we established that there was now sufficient food to last us only another two days. After that, we would be able to manage on biscuits, chocolate and so forth for another week.
This was our first encounter with a real prospect of starvation, and none of us liked it.
Lateef outlined the alternatives open to us.
He said that we could continue as we had been doing so far: moving from village to village, bartering for food as necessary, and pilfering exchangeable goods from abandoned buildings and cars as we came across them.
He pointed out that the military activity around us was on the increase, and though we were not involved in it because of our vagrancy, we could not afford to ignore it. People still living in towns and villages were taking defensive precautions accordingly.
Lateef recounted to us a story he had not previously told us, about a village in the north which had been taken over by a group of Negroes claiming to be a part of the regular Afrim forces. Although the blacks had not established a proper garrison, and appeared to have no military discipline, the suspicions of the villagers had not been aroused. After a week, when units of the Nationalist Army were reported to be in the neighbourhood, the blacks had run amok, killing several hundred civilians before the Nationalist forces had arrived.
This, Lateef said, was not an isolated incident. Similar outrages had been recorded all over the country and had been committed by members of the armed forces on all three sides of the conflict. From the point of view of the private citizens, all outsiders should be treated as enemies. This attitude was spreading, he said, and made more hazardous our attempts to trade with civilians.
Another alternative would be to surrender ourselves formally to one side or another and enrol into the military. The arguments for this were strong: a rationalization of our existence, the fact we were all reasonably healthy men capable of military duty, a commitment to a situation that had a deep effect on us all.
We could join the Nationalists, the so-called "legal" army that defended the policies of Tregarth's government, but one that was now committed to an overt policy of genocide. We could join the Royal Secessionists, the white supporters of the Afrim cause who although officially non-legal and under continuous sentence of death, had a great deal of public support. If Tregarth's government were overthrown, either from within by a military victory or by effective diplomatic action from the U.N., it was likely that the Secessionists would take or sponsor office. We could join the United Nations peace-keeping force, which although technically non-participating, in effect had had to intervene on many occasions. Or we could align ourselves with one of the outside participants, such as the U.S. Marines (which had taken over civilian police responsibility) or the theoretically uncommitted Commonwealth forces, who had little effect on the progress of the war beyond further confusing the situation.
A third choice open to us, Lateef said, was to surrender ourselves to a civilian welfare organization and return eventually to a quasi-legal situation. Though this was ideally the most attractive alternative, it was doubtful if any of the refugees would be prepared to take it in practice.
Until the military situation quietened down, and the social effects of the Afrim uprising were absorbed, such a recourse would be hazardous. In any event, it would mean ultimately that we would have to live under Tregarth's government, which would automatically involve us in the crisis.
Lateef said that it was our present lack of effective involvement which was the best argument for continuing to stay as we were. In any event, the main preoccupation of most of the men was to be reunited with their women and to surrender ourselves to a participating faction would reduce our chances of this.
A vote was taken and we elected to do as Lateef suggested. We moved on towards a village five miles to the north of us.
Again I detected a feeling amongst the other men that Lateef's position had been strengthened both by the shooting at the barricade the day before, and by his reasoned arguing of the alternatives. I myself had no wish to become involved with him in a struggle for power, but nevertheless my possession of the rifle could not be entirely ignored by him.
As we moved northwards I walked at his side.
By this time I had bought my own motor-cycle and used it those week-ends I went to see Isobel.
My early days of recklessness had passed and though I still enjoyed the sensation of speed, I kept to within the legal limits for much of the time. It was rare for me, when by myself, to open up the cycle and take it to its maximum speed, though when Isobel was on the back she encouraged me to do it often.
Our relationship was developing more slowly than I would have liked.
Before I had met her I had enjoyed several physical affairs with other girls, and though Isobel could present me with no moral, religious or physical reason why we should not sleep together, she had never allowed me to go further than superficial contact. For some reason I persevered.
One afternoon, in particular, we had ridden on the motorcycle up to a near-by hill where there was a gliding club. We had watched the sailplanes for some time before growing bored.
On our way back to town, Isobel directed me away from the road and into a copse of trees. This time, she took the initiative in our preliminary kissing and did not stop me when I removed part of her clothing. The moment, though, my hand went inside her brassiere and touched her nipple, she pulled away from me. On this occasion I was not willing to stop and persisted. She tried again to prevent me, and in the ensuing struggle I pulled off her brassiere and skirt, tearing the latter in the process.
From this point there was no reason to continue, and after she had dressed we returned to her parents' house. I went back to my room at the hall of residence that evening and did not see Isobel again for three weeks.
As the news reached us, there was much speculation about the implications of the war. The main danger was that it would spread from continental Africa to the rest of the world. Though the bombing was over in a matter of days, no one really knew or cared to reveal how many nuclear devices there had been in Africa.
The two main powers were in the process of formal disarmament at the time, with teams of observers in both continents. The main danger, as far as both powers were concerned, was China, which had been stockpiling devices since the end of the nineteen-sixties. Territorial interests of China in Africa were not known, and it was not possible to predict how much of an influence there had been. Fissionable ores were not, by and large, readily available in Africa, nor was the necessary technology to assemble the weapons.
Under these circumstances, it appeared that one or both of the powers had been supplying various countries illegally.
In effect, the source of the weapons was irrelevant; they were present in Africa and they were used.
There was one wave of bombing, then four days later another. The rest of the world waited uneasily, but that was the last of it. Things began to move: welfare organizations launched huge relief-schemes for what survivors there may be, the main powers argued, threatened, but quietened. In Britain, the news was taken calmly: the holocaust in Africa was the embodiment of something awful, but not something that seemed to threaten us directly. And, anyway, we were in the last stages of a General Election; the one declare
d by John Tregarth six months after he had come to power, and the one in which he consolidated his majority.
Meanwhile, reports came back from Africa describing the horrors of the thermonuclear aftermath. Most major cities had been partially or wholly destroyed, some were still intact. But Africa is large; a majority of the population survived the bombing. Many died later from the results of flash-burns, radiationsickness and the residual radioactivity. . . but millions survived.
The relief workers were almost entirely incapable of dealing with the survivors. Many died; perhaps five millions, and not all of these as an outcome of the bombing.
But for all the deaths, millions still survived, and as hunger grew so did desperation. And as it seemed that continental Africa was no longer capable of supporting human life, so there developed a drift away from it.
It started slowly, but within three months it had built up into an exodus. Any boat or aircraft that could be found and made to operate was used.
The emigrants headed for nowhere in particular . . . only away from Africa.
They landed in due course in countries all over the world: India, France, Turkey, the Middle East, America, Greece. In the period of evacuation, it was estimated that between seven and eight million people left Africa. In the course of about a year, just over two millions of them landed in Britain.
The Africans, the Afrims, were welcome nowhere. But where they landed, they stayed. Everywhere they caused social upheaval; but in Britain, where a neo-racist government had come to power on an economic-reform ticket, they did much more.
I reported to the recruiting-station at the appointed time of onethirty in the afternoon.
For several days there had been a saturation of advertisements on television and in the press, stating that entry into the armed forces was still voluntary, but that conscription was to be introduced in the next few weeks. This statement was underlined with an implication that men who volunteered at this time would be given preferential treatment over those who were eventually drafted.