The Wall

106

It wasn’t much farther to the wall’s ninety-degree corner. Leap, land safely, slow down. Look around. The crazy guy was still in sight, though he was hardly in a condition to follow him. The fire had already consumed a shrub.

New momentum. Over the wall, right leg up. Over the next one, child’s play. Then a hedge and reduce speed. Turn to the right. One last glance back. The white man was standing there. Motionless. The fire had reached the branch of a tree. Speed up again. It couldn’t be all that much farther.

It was getting harder for him to swing his legs over the obstacles. Again and again, and then he stopped. Four or five yards away from the one in which he was standing stood a tall wall that seemed to link the house to the outer wall. That was a good sign. He must be getting very close to the exit.

He carefully made his way to the last house. And discovered that his assumption had been on the mark. The connector between the houses and the outer wall ended here. Something was yelled on the other side of the wall. He could hear engine noise. That was the exit. All the curtains were pulled shut in this last house. It looked unoccupied. Leaves and dirt were scattered across the terrace. No threat should come from inside. He very slowly skirted the house to the street.

An entire convoy of police cars was just driving in. Small and large, a police van, then a prison transport vehicle with cells for arrested suspects. Moses ducked down and saw the exit. How long had it been since he had passed through there? He looked at his watch. 3:12. Over two hours ago.

Two Central Alert people, a man and a woman, were standing at the gate, along with two police officers, also a woman and a man. The gate swung open again for a black BMW with a mounted emergency flasher. Police top brass.

From the other direction, a gray compact car drew up. An old woman at the wheel. The policewoman stopped her with a wave. Opening the trunk, she looked inside. Thank you, keep driving. Shit, they had set up a checkpoint here.

The gate stayed open after the car drove off. Another convoy. Ambulances. All the private companies he had ever seen, one after the other. Had to be ten cars. An old Toyota bus was the last one to drive in. Scratched up, rusty, fumes belching from the exhaust pipe. All the first responders were needed here. Attenborough Ambulance was written on the side. Two of the letters were barely legible. He’d never heard of them.

How was he supposed to get out of here? Moses stared after the last ambulance, watched as it attached itself to the column. And for a split second, he thought he saw Sandi’s face behind the wheel.