The Wall

73

Leaden legs. Moses turned back toward the street with the thought that he would never again run as long as he lived. There was no point to any of this here. What had he run away from in the first place? A poor white man who hadn’t accepted the political transition. A caretaker whose responsibility it was to repair faucets. A couple of security guards who didn’t understand the difference between democracy and dictatorship. They were stuck in jobs that had no real productive value as it was.

Pull yourself together, he admonished himself. Everyone was just doing their job, just trying to survive. Except for the white guy with the club. And then there were the cops. They were after him, too.

He didn’t want to run anymore.

Looked down the street to the right. Empty. Left. Empty.

How in the world was he supposed to get out of here?

One more glance to the right. Shit. The white man with the club. And he had already caught sight of him.

So to the left. A security car was now driving toward him. The same bakkie again.

Moses turned around and ran. Past Flower’s house to the wall, and then left down the hill. Toward the exit. However, a guard was standing in the yard a few houses down. With his back to him, yelling something or other. Had to have seen him.

Moses whipped back around, running back the way he’d come. Once again the wrong way. Away from the exit. Away from rescue. Away from Sandi. Was she on her way yet?