The Wall

22

A tall ladder or aluminum foil? Or some other way out? But how?

Moses returned to the street and glanced around. A mail carrier two corners down was busy doing what he was paid for. Sticking letters in slots. No danger there. Or maybe he’d been informed about everything and was keeping an eye out for him.

If he avoided the main street through the gated community and alternated between the street closest to the wall and the wall itself… Maybe he could reach the exit. Then straight out. First to catch his breath and then to take care of his car.

He thought about Sandi again. It was already after one thirty. She had to be really worried by now. People disappeared every day in South Africa. Just like that. Rarely was this a voluntary decision. Most of them reappeared later—though typically not breathing.

However, before he could be in touch with her, he had to get out of here.

“Hey!” someone behind him yelled. Moses spun around and saw the white man with the club. He took off at once. “Stop!” he heard, but he had already slipped between two houses and was only a few meters away from the outer wall. Keep running. Away from the white guy.

This isn’t going to go well, Moses thought as he hurtled over a shrub. Someone would see him. Hopefully, they’d just call the cops and not shoot. He didn’t want to imagine that scenario.

The cops, he thought, leaping over a waist-high wall. As he cleared it, he caught one of his shoes on the topmost edge. He briefly struggled to keep his balance, then everything was all right. That wall had been tall. The cops, he thought again. Why shouldn’t they come to his rescue? He hadn’t done anything. Hadn’t even thought anything marginally criminal.

Over the next hedge. Lift the one leg high and pull the other one up. And he was lying on his stomach, his right hand under his body. He had tried to catch his fall. Left hand stretched out from his body. Right leg bent, left one extended out where it had gotten tangled in the shrub.

Fortunately, he had fallen on a stretch of grass, but his right hand throbbed. He propped himself up and got to his knees. An alarm siren was going off somewhere. Security? That wasn’t a cop siren. As he started to stand up, Moses saw a thin, old woman through the window on the other side of the open terrace door. She was holding a phone to her ear. He took off, clearing the next bush but only with great difficulty.

He couldn’t hear the alarm anymore, which had been replaced by the sound of a motor. Not far away. The next wall. Moses leaned forward. As he slowed down, he caught sight of the crack between the window and its sill. He glanced quickly around the yard. Browning grass, beds without flowers, a child’s bike, patio table and a couple of chairs scattered about. Everything shut. Terrace door and windows. Only one of them wasn’t. He slowly approached the house and looked up at the second floor. The house seemed to be abandoned. Not forever, but just for the day. He carefully raised the window. Children’s room.

Think this through, Moses warned himself. You have to think this through. The siren momentarily went off again. Close by. Moses jumped up, wedged his body through the opening, and took a deep breath. He then squeezed the rest of the way through and landed head-first on the colorful rug. He quickly stood back up and closed the window. For a moment, he just stood there, listening to nothing except his own breathing.