The Leopard Tree

by Tim Merriman

  “Rosa, I’m sorry but we’re out of time. We want to invite you and your kids back for a follow-up after the rally so we can learn how it went. Will you do that?”

  “We will try, Mark. Thank you.”

  “And we’re gone to commercial,” Lois said.

  Mark turned to Rosa. “You’re a pro,” he complimented. “The offer to come back is sincere.”

  “We will if we can. We’ll see how the rally goes. I really appreciate the coverage. Thanks, Mark.”

  Lois hurried her off the set to where Ilan was waiting.

  “Beautiful, Rosa. You did it. The Alma Show may not work. She wants all four of you to fly to Chicago this afternoon. I’ve explained to her producer that it has to be her coming to New York. We’re talking but it may not work.”

  “It’s okay, Ilan. You’ve been a miracle worker. I need to get back and sneak into the apartment the way I escaped and hope they like the nice things I said on the air about the mayor. I want to be there when they find the kids. I don’t want to create any more trouble for them by being uncooperative.”

  “I’ve got Mickey standing by. He’ll whisk us back and then I’ll drop in and visit.”

  “I’m starting to worry about the kids. I hope they don’t run into any problems in the park.”

  * * *

  Masozi suddenly began to whisper. “Someone is approaching to look in the tree. I hear them, Daudi. What do we do?”

  “We climb, Masozi. Can you climb the tree limb?”

  “I will try, Daudi. I do not want to meet a policeman.”

  Ramla led the way up the biggest limb. She was the best climber of the three and relished the idea of going higher. Masozi held her ankle and used it as a guide while Daudi held his wooden leg to keep it from being tangled. The limb was huge and sloped upward about thirty degrees. Suddenly, Ramla stopped. She wouldn’t go forward and all she said was, “Stop.”

  Daudi climbed over the top of Masozi, whispering in his ear to stay silent. Daudi wormed his way past Ramla and found her dilemma. An old wooden shipping pallet was tied to a fork in the branched limbs. Ramla gingerly poked at a heap of clothing on the darkest end of the pallet. It seemed to be a body with a cloth bag over its head. The discovery sent chills down Daudi’s spine and Ramla pulled backward, shaking her head. Daudi reached out and touched the body once more and this time, it flinched and grumbled.

  “Whosit? What is it?” a deep male voice whispered. He pulled the bag off his head to reveal a wildly bearded man wearing a baseball cap. He had been sleeping. In fact, he looked, and smelled, like he’d been sleeping for weeks.

  “What do you want?” The gravelly whisper poured between chipped teeth barely seen behind the screen of scraggly gray whiskers. One eye stayed closed while the other one glared at the kids.

  “Please, sir. Don’t hurt us. The police are below looking for us,” Daudi whispered.

  “Shhhhhh, shhhhhh,” the strange man said in a whisper, as he looked around wildly. “Don’t want cops. Not supposed to be here.”

  They all silently held their places on the tree as they heard men’s voices below.

  “What the hell’s in there?” one said.

  “Can’t see a thing.” A light flashed among them into the branches.

  “Probably raccoons,” the second voice said. “Let’s go.”

  The men left and Masozi gave a chirp like a young cheetah, the all-safe signal.

  “I am relieved, Daudi. That was serious, very serious,” Masozi said.

  “Crawl on up here. Let me look at you,” the man said. “I’m Toby. Everyone calls me Toby. Name’s Tobias Lane. Call me Toby.” He seemed a little confused about who he was, but the repetition convinced him that he was indeed Toby.

  “I am Daudi. This is Ramla and Masozi, my friends. We come from Africa.”

  “Welcome to my home, Master Daudi.” He made a sweeping gesture with his hand, indicating the pallet strapped to the tree limbs that served as his bedroom, living room and dining room. His tattered, plaid shirt covered a T-shirt riddled with holes. Grizzled chest hair poked through the holes, tangling with the frizzy ends of the gray-streaked beard. The man’s hair, indistinguishable from the beard, could easily house a nest of robins when he removed the baseball cap.

  Ramla leaned toward Daudi and whispered, “Scarecrow.”

  Daudi had the same thought. With his worn clothes, unruly hair and befuddled state, this man could have come straight from the pages of the book. As strange as it seemed to find a scarecrow in the tree, Daudi took his cue from Ramla, who was more curious than frightened.

  “You live here, Mister Toby?” Daudi asked.

  “Live here in summer. Spend my winters in Fort Lauderdale. I am independently impoverished, so I go wherever I flow.”

  “What is that, impoverished?” Masozi asked.

  “I am poor, have no money, beg for food, eat out of garbage cans. But nobody wonders where I am and nobody needs to know. I’m free to do what I want, so that’s exactly what I do,” Toby explained.

  “Daudi, we are impoverished too, are we not? It is a new word for me. We also have no home and no money. We have eaten from garbage cans.” Masozi was delighted to find someone they had so much in common with.

  “Why do you choose to live in a tree?” Daudi asked.

  “Just what you saw. They don’t look up here. They don’t bother me. Everything I need is right here in the park.”

  “If you have everything you need, why are you . . . impoverished?” Daudi asked solemnly. He was thinking that Toby’s lifestyle was not so different from some of the bushmen he knew in Africa and they did not seem poor to him.

  “Good question. I suppose I’m really pretty rich in the ways that count. But I went to Harvard University, important school, speak two languages, French and English, have an M.B.A, business degree. I worked for a big company in New York City, made lots of money. Most folks think that means I had it all, everything anyone could want. Fancy car, fancy house, lots of parties and good times. But I can tell you, good times aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. I started looking for the good times in the bottom of a martini glass and lost everything.”

  “What is martini? I do not understand,” Masozi asked.

  “Alcohol. Too much alcohol. No matter how much I had, it just seemed like I always needed more. Pretty soon I lost my job, lost my wife, lost my home, and ended up sleeping in the gutter wrapped around an empty bottle.”

  “And so you quit the drink and made this fine treehouse,” Masozi said.

  “Not exactly. I’m afraid I still imbibe every chance I get. I made the treehouse to stay out of the way of the cops, but truth? I’d like nothing better than to be back in a real bed with a real sheet. I just lack the strength. I get up every morning and I quit. I’m never gonna drink again. Then I go down into the park and see a half-empty bottle of wine or beer going to waste in a trash bin. I finish it for whoever left it and then I look for more. It’s my weakness.”

  “Are you hungry? We have food,” Masozi offered.

  “I could use some food if you’re sharing that, young fellow.”

  Daudi handed the bag to Toby. He peered into the bag and grabbed a pastry, stuffing it into his mouth and nodding his approval. As he wolfed down a banana, he studied each of the kids in turn, dwelling longer on Masozi, who was listening to the variety of birds sharing the tree with them.

  “What happened to your leg, boy?” he asked.

  Masozi immediately swung his attention to Toby with a big smile.

  “A land mine took my leg and my eyes.”

  “Thought you were blind. I didn’t want to pry about that.”

  “It is not bad to admit to things that are true,” Daudi suggested. Daudi went on to tell him of their life in Africa and their journey through America. When he finished, Daudi said simply, “We all have problems.”

  “You’re right. I reckon you are totally right about that. I wish there was some way to change things. For me, for
you, for everyone. I don’t know how to get that done. Tell you what, you can stay here long as you want. I’ll go poke around in the park and find out what’s going on. I’ll come back and let you know.”

  “Please do not tell them we are here, Mr. Toby. We know they must be looking for us.” Toby straightened himself up and pushed the hair from his eyes. He made a half-salute and smiled.

  “We are comrades in impoverishment, Mr. Daudi. I assure you I will not tell them where you reside. You are my houseguests. You may stay as long as it suits you.”

  Toby climbed down quickly and disappeared through a veil of hanging limbs.“I am hearing many people, Daudi. But it is still early. Do we not expect people to come at noon?”

  “That is what we expect. I am going to take a look. You and Ramla stay here. I will be back in a few moments.”

  Daudi climbed down and crept to the edge of the limbs on the grassiest side of the tree. He peeked out, astonished by what he saw. He scurried back to the platform in the tree.

  “Masozi, Ramla. There are thousands of people with blankets and boxes with handles. It is a working day. Why are so many here?”

  “I believe we invited them,” Masozi said.

  * * *

  Mickey drove Rosa to the Starbucks. She stopped in and bought muffins and chilled mochas before climbing back into the hands of the law. She made the reverse journey easily, descending into the patio area to find Nancy facing her through the patio door. Captain Lennon had his back to the door, talking with Nancy in earnest. Nancy winked at her and led the captain around the corner to the kitchen. Rosa crept in and ducked into the bedroom, just before Nancy and the captain left the kitchen.

  Nancy knocked on the bedroom door. “Aunt Rosa, are you up yet? I thought you were going to nap the rest of the day away.”

  “I’m here, just trying to unwind a bit.”

  “Miss Carson. I must tell you that I just heard you were on the morning news. I’m wondering how that could have happened with you here?”

  “Hmm. That does seem unusual, doesn’t it?” Rosa stalled for time. She realized that without actually arresting her, there was nothing they could legally do to detain her, but she didn’t want to antagonize the police when she needed them on her side.

  “It might help you to know that there is an officer on the roof of your building now.”

  “Busted. Oh well, no sense in hiding these then.” She ducked onto the patio and brought back the bag of Starbucks food.

  “Like a muffin, Captain?” Rosa offered.

  “You are . . . something, Miss Carson.”

  “Call me Rosa, please. I’m sorry, Captain. Truly. I’m not trying to be difficult, but I’m in a difficult position. These kids need help in ways you can’t even imagine. I’m just trying to be whatever help I can along their very challenging way. If I’m in trouble with the law because of it, so be it. What happens to me from this is of no consequence. I want these kids to have just one dream come true. They’ve come so far to try to speak to the U.N. These are not ordinary kids. They deserve to be heard.”

  “Rosa, I don’t think you’ve done anything terribly wrong. And I agree with you. Off the record, I’d love to hear them myself and I don’t fully understand why they were turned away at the U.N. I’m fairly sure my department is not going to pursue any charges, but INS is a different story. I recommend you get that attorney. Also, I need to tell you that while you were, uh, taking your nap, we searched the park thoroughly and didn’t find any sign of the kids. We’re starting over, but no one we’ve questioned has seen them. The vendor at the food stand across Central Park West remembers selling them food earlier this morning but paid no attention to where they went.”

  Rosa gave a sigh. She had reached the point of knowing that they had started something that may have gotten way beyond their control. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and tried not to imagine all the terrible things she had heard could happen to children on their own in Central Park. She focused on the officer and gave a weak smile.

  “I just want to know they’re safe.”

  “They have food, Aunt Rosa,” Nancy reminded her. “If they’ve eaten, they’re probably just holed up somewhere waiting for the rally, don’t you think?”

  “Wherever they are, we’ll find them, I promise you, Rosa. It’s just a matter of time. I’m going back out to coordinate some additional search teams.” He gave Rosa a stern look, softened by the hint of a smile. “Please don’t climb the ladder again.”

  “You got it, Captain. I promise.”

  The captain left and let Ilan in just as he went up the steps. Ilan came bearing deli sandwiches, soft drinks and a bottle of wine.

  “Ladies, I come bearing gifts. Nancy, you should have seen your aunt. She dazzled the audience.”

  “Duh, I watched the news, Ilan. I’m not as dumb as I look—and don’t you say a thing.”

  “I hear the kids are still missing in action. I’m guessing they know how to hide in the woods better than the police know how to hunt.”

  “What should we do now?” Rosa asked.

  “Let’s call Alma’s producer on the speaker phone and see what happens. I happen to have her cell number,” Ilan said.

  “Alma, wow!” Nancy said. “I watch her show every day of the week. Can’t believe you might be on there.”

  “It’s iffy at best. They want us to go to Chicago,” Rosa explained.

  Ilan dialed the number and Amy Daniels answered quickly.

  “Amy, it’s Ilan and I have Rosa Carson with me. Do you want to talk with her?”

  “Absolutely, Ilan. Thanks, put her on.”

  “Hi Amy. I’m Rosa.

  “You are a hard lady to catch,” Amy said.

  “Hmm. Tell that to New York City’s finest. I’m sort of in protective custody right now.”

  “We wanted to fly you to Chicago, but Ilan says that’s not possible. Where are the kids? Are they with you now?”

  “They went out to get breakfast early this morning. I think they probably spotted the police in the park and panicked. No one has seen them since. I’m sure they’re probably in Central Park still, but don’t have a clue where.”

  “Let me talk to Alma and see if we can get a crew to you. I’ll get back to you, okay?”

  “Sounds good to me, Amy. Thanks.” She hung up. “I guess we wait, Ilan.”

  “How about you write an update article and I get it edited and out on the wire. It can’t hurt. And let’s flip on GNN and get some news.” Ilan turned on the TV and found GNN right away.

  “Good grief. It’s showing the park and there are zillions of people. Look at this.”

  Ilan sat down, opened a soda, and passed out sandwiches.

  “We just ate muffins, Ilan,” Nancy complained. “I’m going to have to go on a diet after this siege.”

  “Eat, enjoy. Humor me.”

  “I guess I’ll take a soda. We can save the wine to celebrate when we find the kids,” Nancy added.

  GNN reported more than forty thousand people were already in the park at ten a.m. The doorbell sounded and Nancy let Lou Morgan back in.

  “Ms. Carson. You have created a monster,” she said with no sign of amusement.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Morgan. I guess I sort of did. Did you catch me on the news?”

  “Yes, we all did. You were very kind to the mayor.”

  “I know the mayor has a good heart and would want to help if he really understood what was at stake here.”

  Lou glared at Rosa.

  “Now he has no choice. New York City is commandeering the big stage, giving you a permit, and you can have your rally. But it won’t be available until two p.m. Nobody ever expects anything to start on time, but it’s the best we can do.”

  “Why didn’t you say you had good news, Ms. Morgan?” Ilan chimed in. “I’m Ilan Cohen with Global Press.”

  “Charmed, I’m sure,” Lou said with a hint of sarcasm. “Look, you got your way. Don’t thank me. I didn’t vote
for doing this. But since it’s going ahead, here’s the way it’s going to be. The mayor gets to be the hero. He will personally open the microphone at two p.m. and he’s contacted Kamau Akama on your behalf, asking for Akama to make a personal appearance.”

  “You are going to look back at this moment and be thrilled you are making this all happen, Ms. Morgan. I know that for a fact,” Rosa said, smiling.

  “Whatever. I’m leaving. You be at the stage by one p.m. Somebody has to keep the crowd calmed down and Captain Lennon thinks you may need to appeal to the kids through the central P.A. system in the park. They may hear you and come in if they feel they’ll be protected.”

  “Is that what you call it, Lou? Protection?” Nancy asked.

  “Look, the mayor is talking to INS and has sent an e-mail to former President Clinton. He still has administrative contacts in the INS. There’s a way to get humane treatment, if you’ll just be patient. I can’t believe what’s happening here, but for whatever reason, the mayor is throwing himself into this. Just be grateful.”

  “We are. Truly. And I think you’re handling all this quite well under the circumstances,” Rosa said. She gave Nancy a look that said “don’t push it” just as Nancy started to jump in with another biting remark. Nancy backed off and watched Lou head out the door.

  “One p.m. Be there,” Lou threw over her shoulder.

  “It’s already almost noon, auntie. You may want to gussy up for the press if you’re heading out on that stage. I’ll entertain Ilan,” Nancy said, winking at Ilan.

  He blushed and said, “I’m staying with you but I need to call the office and catch up. Please use some of this time to write an article, Rosa.”

  “Ilan, enough. I don’t even know what to say at this point. I feel like we’re just getting swept along at this point. We started something that’s been taken right out of our hands and I wouldn’t know where to begin with a story right now. I’ll write when I have something specific to write about.”