RANDALL WAS ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE FLIER WITH A STRANGE LOOK ON HIS FACE, A MIX OF FEAR AND DESPERATION. HE WAS FEELING AROUND THE POCKET OF HIS SHIRT AND HE SEEMED TO BE IN A PANIC. THIS COULD NOT BE GOOD.
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SUMMARY: THE STORY SO FAR…
Josiah, a young slave 12 years of age, lives in a cabin in the slave quarters of a Virginia tobacco plantation with Auntie Bee, Mose, the plantation handyman, two young children, Randall and Emily. He notices Mose leaving the cabin in the middle of the night and follows him to his secret workshop in the woods where Mose is building some sort of strange contraption. Mose tells him it is a machine that will fly him to freedom. Now that he knows Mose’s secret, he stays to help build the flier. After mishaps, false starts and setbacks—the flier tumbles down the mountain and is seriously damaged—they are attacked by snakes—mountain lions lurk all around them—they realize someone has been spying on them and they think their escape plan has been discovered. Finally, their time has come. Now they are in the air, riding on the wings of the wind.
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The broiling sun was enormous, twice the size as I remembered it from the ground. If you looked at it, or if your eyes happened to glance anywhere near it, the light was blinding—you had to turn away.
Of course, the sun is supposed to be high up in the sky and far far away. But now, somehow, it seemed awfully close, almost on top of us. I felt its fiery rays burning through my clothes. It was like we were trapped in a giant furnace, cooking like slabs of meat in this oppressive heat.
We were lying flat on our stomachs on our narrow little carpet, floating high above the ground. Even if we wanted to move there was no place to go. We had to remain nearly motionless, adding to our misery.
Even though I was getting used to the putrid smell of rotten eggs, it was still disgusting. We had to swallow often, reflexively, because our mouths were dry and dusty. We were hot, tired, hungry and thirsty and trapped like pigs in a poke. All the excitement and adventure of the morning was gone.
I checked the basket to see how much of Auntie Bee’s cornbread we had left and was relieved to see we still had some, as well as two bottles of water.
Good, because I was hungry. I broke off a chunk of bread for Randall and Emily and took one for myself. We ate in silence. Nobody felt like talking. The paltry food in our hands was quickly gone and we were still hungry. The two little ones looked at me, their big eyes begging for more. So I broke off the rest of the bread and we devoured that too. We ate it all, fast and furious, until every last crumb was gone.
We were out of food but at least our stomachs were full. I felt a powerful thirst so I picked up a water bottle and took a few swallows. The water was warm but at least it was wet and soothing. I passed it on, watching closely to make sure they didn’t take too much. We had to save what we could.
The heat made me sleepy. My eyes were closing. Once or twice I nodded off. I don’t know if I was awake or asleep but soon I didn’t have a choice. Sleep came over me and everything went dark. I don’t ever remember another time when I slept during the day. We could never do such a thing. But I have to tell you, it sure felt good.
I don’t know how long I was asleep. When I opened my eyes my mind was a little hazy. I had to shake the cobwebs out of my head to figure out what I was looking at. There was Randall on the other side of the flier with a strange look on his face, a mix of fear and desperation. He was feeling around the pocket of his shirt and he seemed to be in a panic.
This could not be good. The last time he reached into his pocket a frog popped out.
“What you got in there?” I asked him.
“Nothin.”
“Let me see.”
His hand went protectively to his shirt pocket and he turned his body away from me.
“Come on. I know you got something. Probably something you ain’t supposed to have.”
“Well,” he said, “you can’t see it.”
“So, you got somebody in there,” I said. “Is it one of your little creatures?”
“They ain’t hurtin nobody.”
“Let me see,” I said, reaching for his pocket, wary of what might jump out.
“Leave me alone,” he cried.
I did not like this. I could see trouble ahead but I had to pull back and try another tack. “Why don’t you just tell me what you got?”
“No.”
“Come on. I won’t do nothing to him. I promise.”
“You’ll throw them away just like my frog.”
I felt a flash of anger. “Hey, I didn’t throw the frog off. That stupid critter jumped by himself. He don’t belong here anyway. You should never have brung him.”
“He ain’t no stupid critter neither,” Randall said, hurt that I would say such a thing. He brought his hand to his shirt pocket and held it there.
“I gotta know what’s in there,” I said. “It could be dangerous. Let me see.” I made a grab for his shirt and tried forcing my hand into his pocket but he pushed me away.
I smacked his hand so I could get in. That made him furious. He went crazy and pushed me and started swinging at me. I shoved him back to protect myself and soon we were having a full blown rassle up there.
I held his arms and tried to pin him down but that only made him madder. He started kicking and thrashing his body, all the time hollering bloody murder.
“Stop it!” I screamed. It didn’t do any good. He didn’t care that we were a hundred feet up and if either one of us rolled another couple of inches the wrong way, we’d fly right off.
“Hey!” I yelled at him. “Watch it! You’re gonna fall!”
He didn’t hear me. He was too busy flailing away, mad as a hornet.
Then, suddenly, he was gone, at least half of him. His head and shoulders disappeared through the hole that caught me earlier that day. Only his two legs were sticking out, still kicking madly. The poor boy was hanging upside-down under the flier and screaming for his life.
Posted By: Richard Kigel
Saturday, June 5th 2010 at 11:03AM
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