The Exodus Quest

III

Stafford sighed loudly as Gaille pulled to a stop by the barriers. 'Don't tell me we're lost!'

'I had to get us away from the station,' said Gaille defensively. She leaned forwards. Late afternoon sun blurred like a headache on her dusty windscreen. There was no indication of when the march might end and the barricades be removed. Nothing for it: she pulled an awkward five-point turn in the narrow street, headed back through the bazaar and emerged onto the square outside the crowded train station, the traffic and emerging passengers forcing her to slow almost to walking pace as she worked her way through the crowd.

Two men were laughing good-naturedly as they tussled over a straw hat. 'That's mine!' scowled Stafford. He lowered his window, grabbed for his hat. The two men danced off yelling cheerful insults, bringing the Discovery to general attention. People walked in front, forcing Gaille to a stop. 'What are you doing?' protested Stafford, raising his window back up.

'I thought you wanted your hat.'

'Get us out of here.'

Gaille pressed her palm on her horn, revved her engine until the throng reluctantly parted, allowing her to squirt through a gap and away. But the traffic lights ahead turned red, a three-wheel van blocking their escape. Gaille glanced back. A tall youth was swaggering after them, swinging his shoulders, probably only wanting to impress his friends; but the seconds passed and the lights didn't change, and he drew closer and closer, so that Gaille knew he'd have to do something or look ridiculous. She checked to make sure the doors were all locked, looked around again. The man stooped, picked up a stone the size of an egg from the edge of the kerb, threw it hard. It clanged on their roof, skittered off down the street. Others began to near. A clod of earth exploded on their back window, leaving an ugly brown smear. The lights finally turned. The three-wheeler struggled to get away. Suddenly they were surrounded, people banging on their windows. A man reached beneath his robes just as an explosion, like a firecracker, made Gaille's hands jump on the steering wheel. A wisp of smoke leaked apologetically from the three-wheeler's exhaust as it finally picked up speed. She stamped her foot down indignantly and accelerated away.