Martin and his group collected plates and headed off to the food table. Koi took a single piece of toasted bread and picked up a long serving spoon. It was layered with scrambled eggs. He started chinking the spoon over and over on the serving bowl.
‘Koi, is everything okay?’ Chris asked.
‘Yeah, the spoon was clogged with eggs,’ he said, before scooping a spoonful to his plate.
Martin pointed to one of the tables. ‘I swear it never came to my attention that there were so many ways to cook an egg until I saw this table. There are at least five or six different egg options over there.’ He began counting and reading out the labels. ‘Fried, sunny-side up, hard-boiled, scrambled, omelette, eggs Benedict, over-easy and poached.’ He scooped a mountain of scrambled eggs onto toasted bread, adding two strips of bacon. ‘I mean, could there be any more ways to cook an egg?’ he asked.
‘I’m fairly certain there are many more ways that aren’t included in this buffet,’ Chris said.
‘No, it’s impossible,’ argued Martin.
‘There are more. In fact, my favourite isn’t here,’ Monica said.
‘And what might that be?’ Martin asked, turning his attention to her.
‘Over-hard. Basically, the egg is fried, flipped and fried again. I love it nestled between slices of toasted bread. Mmm, yum,’ she said with a glint in her eye.
‘So it’s practically a fried-egg sandwich?’ Martin asked.
‘Er . . . yes, if you want to put it that way,’ she said, as though second-guessing his comparison.
‘I wonder who came up with all the names for cooked eggs,’ Martin mused. ‘And all the ways to cook them in the first place.’
‘I don’t know,’ replied Chris.
‘I’m guessing different people all over the world,’ said Monica. ‘As they say, these days the world is a global village. You know, people are open to trying different ways that different cultures cook and are willing to learn the names of the dishes.’
‘Yeah, that’s true,’ said Martin. He filled his plate to the edges, clutching more toast and a massive mug of hot tea in his free hand.
‘Martin, my man, you know you can go up as many times as you want?’ Koi asked.
‘You heard the man, we’re going to have a busy day today. Besides, I’m very hungry,’ Martin replied before going to sit down.
Each boy loaded his plate. Monica had a small bowl of porridge and some fruit; she didn’t usually eat much at all.
After breakfast, the group headed to the educational hall.
‘Oh, look, they have separate classes for the children. Wow, they look so cute,’ Monica said softly as they walked past one of the classrooms. She paused at the window, admiring the children, before Chris took her hand and led her on.
Martin saw Chris leading Monica away fast and wondered why. They all knew how much Monica loved children; she’d even gone ahead and applied for a teacher training but not got in because her papers were incomplete. Maybe Chris doesn’t want Monica to remember the rejection from the teacher-training institute, he concluded.
‘Koi, how would you like to join this group of hard-core athletes?’ Martin asked, looking through the window of the gym with a mischievous smile.
‘Where?’ Koi asked, rushing towards Martin. He peered in the window expecting to see some serious athletes working out. ‘Oh,’ he sighed.
‘Yeah! And that’s the old people’s workout class. Oh, wait! Look what it’s called,’ Martin said, making air quotes as he read the sign. ‘Movement class.’ Morgan joined him in laughing.
‘That’s not funny. We’ll all get old someday,’ Koi said soberly.
‘Man, it’s just a joke,’ said Morgan.
‘Look over there, it’s Zebe and Joe. I’m going over to speak to them,’ Martin said. Before his friends could stop him, he’d rushed off.
‘Hi, I’m Martin.’
‘Hi,’ said Zebe and Joe.
‘Are you guys some kind of astronauts? Have you also been to space?’ Martin asked, beaming with excitement.
‘We are astrobiologists, and yes, we went to space when the new city was constructed,’ said Joe proudly.
‘Wow, awesome! What was it like?’ Martin asked.
‘It was nice,’ Zebe said timidly.
‘I bet you guys must have seen lots of aliens,’ Martin asked.
Joe and Zebe exchanged a look and smiled, but said nothing.
‘Have you?’ Martin asked with widened eyes but, to his disappointment, they said no. Martin was sure they’d seen some but they were not saying.
They arrived in the hall, where a few people had already gathered. Some were speaking to Rogers, who looked bright and happy. He looked to be in his sixties, still very quick on his feet. He was about one meter seventy-eight in height. His wavy, fly-away hair had taken on three colours; although it was predominantly white, there was still plenty of black hair, which had half turned ginger due to hair dye.
When he saw their group, he greeted them cheerfully: ‘Good morning! I trust you’ve all had a good first night here at the camp.’ His greeting came as a surprise because Martin and his friends felt he disliked them; they were not sure how to respond, not knowing what his motives were. However, judging from his face, he didn’t look like he was expecting a response.
More people trooped into the hall, chattering until they heard Rogers’ voice.
‘Welcome everyone, gather round. Today, our lesson will be about physical activities and will be completed outdoors. But let’s start by introducing ourselves. As you all know, my name is Atta Rogers and I trust you’ve met my two assistants. Now, let’s start at the front,’ he said, pointing to a person standing close to him. In turn, everyone said their name.
There was a sudden silence while the group waited for a young girl to introduce herself. When she realised what was happening, she stuttered. ‘I’m Carrol Spoff,’ she said shyly.
Martin and his group started giggling and whispering amongst themselves. Carrol saw them but pretended she was looking somewhere else.
Mr Rogers spoke. ‘Oh, wait, let me guess. These guys – you’re Koi, right?’
Koi nodded and mouthed a silent, ‘Yes, sir.’
‘And you are Chris,’ Rogers said, pointing.
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Okay, here comes the difficult one. Which of you is Martin?’
‘I am,’ said Martin, raising one hand in the air.
‘And then, last but not least, Morgan.’
‘Yes,’ Morgan answered.
Rogers pointed at Monica and she said, ‘My name is Monica Lamb.’
‘That’s not bad for a first attempt, eh?’ Rogers said proudly. Everyone finished introducing themselves and then they all walked outside through the same door they’d come in. The sun was shining brightly.
Martin looked around, drawing in a long breath and letting it out slowly. His eyes darted around. He saw many groups scattered around the camp doing various activities with their instructors.
‘You will be separated into two groups of twenty-five people for the obstacle-course challenge,’ Rogers said. ‘Everyone on the team has to take a turn to compete. The team that completes the challenge first is the winner!’
Hearing that, Martin and his friends quickly grouped together. Martin was sure that Rogers saw them.
Rogers divided the group into two, without allowing the migrants to select who they’d prefer to be with in a particular group. Martin and his friends were displeased about that, as they didn’t want to compete against each other, but said nothing.
‘Now, what name shall we call the groups?’ Rogers asked, looking around for suggestions. Nobody said anything. ‘Okay, we will call one group, “The Sun” and the other “The Stars”. How does that sound?’ he asked. A few of them flashed a smile and said nothing, while others nodded.
He explained the ten obstacle challenges and two obstacle stations. ‘Someone from each group must be competing at any given time,’ he co
ntinued. While he was speaking, the wind rose and howled, obstructing his voice. Even though Martin tilted his head to hear better, he noticed that some of the other migrants couldn’t hear from the way they were cupping their hands around their ears to shield them from the wind. Rogers also noticed the effect of the wind; he cleared his throat and spoke a little louder to counter it.
Other than the whistling wind, Martin thought it was a perfect day, breezy and sunny. The branches and their crowded green leaves gave shade. Sunlight still cast its rays past openings in the dense leaves, shining on the murky waters of the canal and leaving patches of silver to twinkle. In an instant, something reminded Martin of his home: it was the smell of the murky canal water that hit his nostrils. Most Saturdays, Martin went fishing with his father and his two brothers. They’d never caught anything that made it to the dinner table, but their cat Whizzy, had had a few skinny fishes for afternoon snacks from those fishing trips. Most Saturdays, his father would take them not because of the fish but to spend time with his boys. Martin felt bad that he would never have that experience again.
His eyes softened with emotion as he glanced across the canal towards a magnificent forest. He glimpsed excitement on the migrants’ faces as they took in their surroundings. Despite the whistling of the wind, they could still hear the birds singing; up on the branches, squirrels chattered as they swung from branch to branch.
Martin watched the dragonflies and other water insects move across the canal, perching on the willow grasses that thrived on its bank. Some of them were very colourful, having produced elongated, lance-like, mid-to-dark leaves. The small pink-purple flowers in dense clusters on erect stems did not attract the colourful butterflies but the snapdragon flowers were like a magnet for them. Stinging nettles along the bank were also budded with tiny, fuzzy, white flowers.
Seeing the nettles made him wonder if they were what had stung his younger sister, Carlan, and scarred her memory of going fishing. When they’d returned from fishing that particular day, her body was covered in bumps and she cried and itched all night. Martin felt sorry for her; he’d even wished they’d stung him instead of her. He checked up on her all night until she was sound asleep. He loved his only sister so much, and Carlan loved Martin more than her other two brothers, Anthony and Jacob. When their mother saw the bumps, she’d suggested that perhaps Carlan had been bitten by dragonflies or other water insects. She’d applied some cream for insect bites.
A brown-and-white butterfly flew in front of Martin’s face. He moved his head back, waving his hand in front of him. His eyes followed the butterfly to a cluster of purple Sedum flowers. All these heightened the memory of the family he’d left behind… I wonder what Mother is doing now, since it is around ten o’clock in the morning. Maybe she’s at work. If she isn’t working today, she is most probably tending her lovely flower garden in front of our house, he concluded.
Just then, he heard Rogers’ voice. ‘Everyone, please take a moment to observe the courses in front of you.’ Rogers stepped back to allow them to look around.
The course was well-laid out on the field, very close to the canal. Martin was used to these kinds of courses, which he had encountered during his school days. He looked at the most difficult sections, which were built over the canal. Even though he’d never completed this type of challenge, seeing it didn’t faze him. The chunky beams that were erected on both sides of the canal, two on each side, caught his eyes. He could have sworn they were real tree stumps because they blended in well with the rest of the trees but they were unnaturally rounded at the edges.
‘Oh look, they used those artificial poles that telephone companies use to erect their masts in urban areas – you know, trying to make them look as natural as possible,’ Chris said. ‘The telephone company I worked for before my last job used them,’ he continued.
‘I was just thinking about how well they fit into the surroundings. The trunks look exactly like tree trunks. It’s a clever design,’ Martin said. He looked around; most people seemed to be admiring the course, too. Each of the poles had metal hooks which held some distressed-looking ropes that went over the canal and were attached to other hooks on poles. The ropes reminded him again of his life at home. He recalled how he and his brothers competed, running down the small wooden bridge with rope handles that led to their fishing spot.
Here the ropes were looped through some planks, placed one meter apart. They were also used to form part of the handgrip of the overhead walking bridge, which was made from ropes and wood. Martin was used to visiting a low wooden bridge most Saturdays during his fishing trip with his father and his two brothers, but that bridge had never captured his imagination like this one did. The only things they had in common were the wood and the distressed-looking ropes.
Looking around, he thought the courses blended in very well; they looked like part of the landscape. There were two of them, five meters and twelve cm, apart. By now, each team was grouped below them.
He heard Rogers’ voice again. ‘As you can see, there is a ladder to the middle. Each participant will climb the ladder to the landing station, which is where the game will start.’
Martin looked up; the starting point had a wooden platform that could support up to four people at a time.
‘Before a participant starts the game, a team member will help them fasten the safety belt, which is hooked on a single rope in the middle, above. The safety hook will glide alongside the participants as they walk carefully on the piece of wood held by ropes to complete the course and return to the starting point. It’s that simple,’ Rogers said.
Some of the migrants stepped back; perhaps they were scared of heights, or they didn’t like the game.
‘Okay,’ Rogers said, pointing at the obstacle course above the canal. ‘Each group is required to select five people who they deem capable of completing this course in good time. As you know, time is of the essence in order to win the match.’
The migrants looked at each other. Martin, Morgan and Monica were in (The Stars group), while Koi and Chris were in (The Sun group). Martin looked around his group members, sizing them up.
Rogers was silent for a while, allowing them to make their selection. Martin and Morgan nominated themselves for this course and, because Martin was very competitive, he somehow placed himself in the centre of the team as its leader. He chose two other men and a woman. Not everyone in his group was entirely happy with his selection but he was forceful enough for them to agree with him.
When they’d finished their selection, Rogers moved along the bank about six meters. ‘Everyone, gather round. Here is another course that involves going over the canal. As you can see, there are some similarities,’ Rogers said.
This course was built with wood and rope, like the bridge over the canal. The wood ran from bottom to top, measuring three meters by two meters and forty-four cm. The wooden sections were placed at an angle to form a triangular-shaped corridor with a pitched top. On the bottom, a thick rope wove a net attached to the wood, which formed the footpath of the bridge. It spanned from one end to the other. However, the ropes barely touched the water. Above, in the middle of the triangular corridor, there was a long beam.
Martin was distracted when he saw Zebe and Joe from the corner of his eye. They reminded him of his plans to investigate if Rogers was an alien. He wondered how he could get close to them to see if they would give him any information about their time on Mars.
His attention soon returned to the courses in front of him. The participants would have to use this beam as a support when walking on the netted ropes to stop their feet from going into the water if they slipped from the rope. There was no safety belt on this course because it was low to the ground and there was no chance of anyone falling in the water because of the net. The worst that could happen was that someone might miss their footing and step into the water, but the rest of their body would be caught on the net.
‘You are expected to select five people to complete this cou
rse.’ Rogers said. ‘Please note, the first five people you selected for the first course will not be allowed to participate on this one.’
Martin and Morgan looked at each other and then at their group; they were still hopeful they would win the games.
‘You may now start the selection process. As you know, these challenges will not be judged individually; the team that finishes all the courses first wins. Here is our land-obstacle course. As you can see, in one course there are twenty tyres in total, ten on one side and ten on the other. In order to complete this, the participants must put a foot into each tyre, like so. You must not miss a tyre.’ Rogers stepped inside the tyres while they watched. ‘This is very easy, anyone can do it. You have fifteen people remaining in the team and eight courses to complete. Each person will complete a challenge. It’s up to your group to decide who completes what, as long as everyone in the group takes part.’
There was rope climbing on the ground, jumping over lines of low bars, crawling through tunnels and more. Each group had to select a member of the group to complete each task. In the other group, Chris and Koi were also selected to complete this course.
Everything was going well as the game started; everyone was trying their best to help their group win. An occasional shout of joy or moan of disappointment arose.
Martin and Morgan ran the course like ravenous lions but a man in Martin’s team completed in half the time it took everyone else, including Martin and Morgan who were among the fastest.
‘Well done, James Carna,’ Rogers said to the man. James beamed and his eye caught Martin’s; they smiled at each other and quickly looked away.
By this time, Martin’s team was winning and they began cheering, applauding and shouting loudly. They quickly started the land course and were still in the lead. Each member completed the tasks; soon there were only two people remaining to complete their challenges.
Martin stared at the other team’s line, which had six people to go. He was excited, anticipating a win. After a few seconds, he looked back at the last two people in his own line and his heart sank at the sight of the girl at the back of the queue.
The Gate Page 7