The Escape: A Slave Planet Prequel (The Slave Planet Book 4)

by Seven Steps

  “Speak again?” Roland wondered out loud.

  Yes. Yes. Perhaps I will speak again.

  “Who were those men ridiculing you?” Joanna asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “You should have seen Joanna when she heard them,” Marshall said with a laugh. “She must’ve booed loudest of all.”

  Joanna looked down at the cobblestone, her cheeks darkening, “Well, they shouldn’t have said anything.”

  The small gesture made Roland’s heart skip a beat.

  Nic rubbed the rough fabric of Roland’s suit between his fingers. “Where’d you get this suit?” he asked.

  “Bailey gave it to me. He’s one of the organizers.”

  Deanna rubbed her stomach and pulled on Terra’s dress. “I’m hungry, Terra.”

  Terra nodded at the girl, before looking up at Marshall. “We should go to the bar and get something to eat,” she said. “It’s hot out here, and the children are hungry.”

  “Sure thing,” Marshall replied, his hand moving to his own growling stomach.

  The group headed in the direction of the bar.

  Roland lagged behind.

  Joanna walked next to Terra, but her eyes wondered and searched. When her gaze landed on his, Roland winked at her. He watched with pleasure as she blushed and quickly looked forward again.

  His eyes roved down her slim form, her curly hair now pulled up in a bun atop her head. Her pale, brown arms turned bronze in the blazing sunshine. Small droplets of sweat formed at the base of her neck, and ran down her spine.

  Heart racing, Roland took a step in Joanna’s direction when Deanna suddenly broke away from Terra’s hold and walked back toward him.

  Roland bit his inner lip. He couldn’t go to Joanna’s side now and leave the child, who looked at him as if she had something important to say. Groaning in his soul, he turned his attention to Deanna and waited for her to speak.

  “I liked your speech,” Deanna finally said. She squinted up at him, and took his hand.

  “Why thank you, Deanna,” he replied.

  The girls hand was small in his, delicate. He gave it a little squeeze and smiled at her. She smiled back, a small bounce coming into her stride.

  “When were you a slave?” she asked.

  Roland hesitated.

  I don’t remember. I know that I was, and I know that it was before I came here. Why can’t I remember anything before yesterday?

  “A long time ago,” he replied, trying to keep the panic out of his voice.

  His mind ran through everything that he should have remembered. His childhood, his teenage years, his home. None of it sparked a picture in his mind. There were, in fact, only two things he knew with absolute certainty—that they had to get back to a ship in three days’ time, and that he was a slave at one point in his life.

  Deanna squeezed Roland’s hand again, breaking his frightening train of thought.

  “Are those bad men in the crowd going to get you?”

  “What bad men?” he asked.

  “The ones who were yelling.”

  Roland shook his head. “No. They were just kidding around.”

  At least, I hope so.

  His words seemed to calm her fears, and she looked forward again. “Good, because I don’t want you to go. I like your speech, and I like you.”

  “And I like you, too, Deanna.” He picked the girl up and placed her on his shoulders. She wrapped her fingers under his chin and giggled.

  “It’s even hotter up here,” she said.

  “There’s no escape from it.”

  He felt her chin press to the top of his head.

  Joanna peeked at him, a smile touching her lips.

  He smiled back, trapping her eyes, not allowing her to look away. Though the color in her cheeks deepened, and her breath quickened, her brown eyes communed with him. She stepped on an old woman’s foot as she passed. She turned away from Roland, apologizing to the old woman profusely.

  He pushed down the ball of frustration that had formed in his chest.

  “Roland, is Terra my mommy?” Deanna asked.

  I have no idea, Roland thought.

  “What would make you say that?” he asked.

  “I wasn’t sure.”

  “Well, if you’re well behaved, and do as you’re told, then maybe she will be.”

  “I want Terra to be my mommy. She’s nice. Joanna’s nice, too, but I like Terra best of all.”

  Not knowing what to say, Roland said nothing at all.

  They walked inside the bar, and found a table near the back.

  Deanna sat between Joanna and Terra, while Danny stuck himself between Terra and Nic’s side. Roland sat next to Joanna. Marshall completed the circle, sitting between Nic and Roland.

  “Hey, McAllen!” someone called from across the room.

  A faint notion of recognition went through Roland’s mind at hearing the voice.

  A man walked up to the table. He was no more than sixteen with a lean frame, flaming red hair, freckles, and pale skin. He wore a wrinkled white shirt, un-tucked, and a pair of black pants. He pounded his palms onto the table, and stared at Roland with a strange smile.

  “I liked your speech.”

  His group burst with laughter from several tables away.

  “You’re the man from the crowd,” Roland said calmly. “Why would you come to the event if you didn’t like what was being said?”

  “Because I like to know what the other side is doing,” he replied. That strange smile ticked one side of his mouth, making his lips sync with the ticking clock on the wall.

  “We’re all on the same side. We all believe in freedom, equality, and justice, right?”

  “We sure do, brother. But some of us think that you want it for all the wrong people.”

  “Equality should be the property of all people.”

  “That sounds like something a nigger lover would say.”

  “We don’t want any trouble here, Butch,” Marshall said softly. “We just want to eat.”

  “Well, I want a country where their kind stays on their side,” he jerked his chin toward Terra, the darkest one at the table, “and my kind stays on mine.”

  “Sounds like you want a war. Well, there’s already one going on. Why don’t you join up?”

  “I ain’t fighting for a country where an Irishman can’t sit with other Irishmen without seeing niggers and half breeds.”

  “Then you shouldn’t be in New York,” Marshall argued. “Look around. They aren’t the only ones here. Why don’t you go harass some of them instead of harassing us all afternoon?”

  “Because I don’t like his face,” he replied, pointing a pale finger at Roland.

  Roland scowled at him. “What’s your name, friend?”

  “Patrick Butler. Some people call me Butcher. My friends call me Butch.”

  “Well, Patrick, it was nice meeting you, but my friends and I would like to eat now. Would you care to join us?”

  “Join you?” Patrick asked with a snicker. “Join you? No. I don’t want to join you! I don’t eat with niggers.” He turned around to the rest of the bar. “That’s why there ain’t no jobs. Too many niggers!”

  “That’s right!” one of his friends cried out. “Too many niggers taking our jobs.”

  A few of the darker skinned men and women finished off their drinks, and quickly walked out of the bar. “Why do God fearing Irishmen have to fight in a war that helps the niggers? Why can’t they fight in the war to help themselves?”

  More cheering from his section.

  “I’ll tell you one thing. With all these niggers coming up from the South, soon, I’ll be starving in the streets! Imagine that. An Irishman in the streets while the niggers eat in the fancy restaurants. If that’s America, then I don’t want to be an American no more!”

  His group let out whoops and hollers, and ordered another round of beer.

  “Hey!” Billy called out. His height made him seem like a gian
t in comparison to Patrick. He put his rag down and leaned over the counter to glare at him with his squinty eyes. “I can’t have you talking like that in my establishment. You’re going to drive me out of business!”

  “I’d rather be driven out of business by an Irishmen, then be kept in business by niggers!” Patrick cried back.

  “Well, I’d rather be kept in business by anybody, so either you sit down and drink your beer, or get out!”

  “Whose side are you on, Billy? The white man’s side, or the nigger’s side?”

  “I’m on the side of whoever buys the most drinks,” the man said, standing back behind the bar. “Look: if you sit down and stop all the noise, I’ll give you a round on me. What do you say?”

  Patrick sneered at the bartender. There was a pause while he considered the offer.

  “All right, Billy. I’ll take your drinks.” He turned toward his cohorts again. “Drinks on Billy.”

  Another cheer.

  “Maybe we should find another place to eat,” Marshall said.

  “I agree,” Terra replied.

  “No,” Roland said. “Let’s eat here.”

  “Roland, they hate us here,” Joanna said.

  “No.” He jerked his chin towards Patrick’s table. They had begun singing loudly. “They hate us. Not everyone here is like them. We can’t let one group of people control our lives.”

  “Roland, that’s Patrick ‘Butcher’ Butler,” Marshall said. “He doesn’t have a lot of money, but he has a lot of friends. He can make things very difficult on us if we stay.”

  “He’s drinking. We’ll be fine. He’s done with us for the night, I think.”

  “All right,” Marshall said. “I’ll go get us some food.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Nic replied, standing up. Little Danny trailed behind.

  ~()~()~()~()~

  After an hour, Patrick and his gang left the bar, nodding to Roland with a sarcastic smile as they went.

  Roland nodded back.

  “Why is there so much hatred here?” Nic asked.

  “What do you mean?” Marshall replied.

  “From what I can see, there are almost as many darker skinned people here as there are lighter skinned people. So, why can’t they get along with one another?”

  Marshall paused, and ate a piece of bread thoughtfully. “I guess it is all about fear and power. The whites are afraid that they’ll lose power if there are too many niggers around, so they make things hard for them. The niggers are afraid of the whites and the power they have, so they just take the hardship and hope that things get better. Fear and power.” He took another bite of bread. “Plus, people are scared. White men are getting drafted by the thousands, while everyone else is exempt. That’s not fair. It’s not the nigger’s fault; it’s the governments fault. It’s those people sitting on the benches in Congress. They’re the ones who are failing us, and we’re the ones who have to pay for it.” He took a final angry bite out of his bread and looked around. “I shouldn’t even still be here. I wanted to leave this morning. Look: tomorrow morning, at the crack of dawn, I’m gone, all right?”

  “All right,” Terra said. “Thank you, Marshall, for all that you’ve done for us.”

  “Yes. Thank you, Marshall,” Roland added.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “We hope that you find peace in Canada,” Joanna said.

  Marshall polished off the last of his beer from his glass tumbler.

  “What will happen to you guys?” he asked. “Where will you go?”

  “Well, we have to get back to the ship tomorrow,” Terra said.

  “With all of this stuff about the draft, I don’t think that the docks will be very safe for you right now. Or for the kids.”

  “We’re not going to the docks,” Terra replied.

  Marshall looked at her with his eyes wide and inquisitive.

  “Where are you from?” he asked.

  Terra looked at each one of her friends, then back at Marshall.

  “I don’t know,” she replied.

  Marshall opened his mouth to form a word, but was cut off by Ian’s dark hand reaching for Roland.

  “The man of the hour!” he said.

  Roland reached his hand up and shook Ian’s hand.

  “That was one of the biggest crowds that I’ve ever seen!” Missy sang.

  “Everyone was talking about you. Everyone!” Bailey added.

  “We are planning the next rally right now, and we want you to be the keynote speaker.”

  “You were really moving!” Missy said.

  Roland looked around at his friends, his face turning red. All of the attention was beginning to embarrass him.

  “When is the next rally?” he asked.

  “We don’t know yet, but when we do, we’ll let you know. It’s going to be big.”

  They began to leave the bar.

  “Aren’t you staying for dinner?” Roland called after them.

  “No. We’re staying in tonight. Too many whispers in the air,” Ian replied.

  “Maybe you should think about turning in early, too,” Missy said. “Folks are planning things, awful things.”

  Ian gently placed an arm around her shoulder, and she touched it softly.

  Roland nodded, and they left.

  “What did they mean by too many whispers?” Nic asked.

  “Who knows?” Marshall replied.

  They spent the next few hours in Billy’s Bar, talking to both Billy and the men and women who walked through the doors and greeted Roland with handshakes and hugs. Finally, the sun began to set.

  “Maybe we should go,” Terra said, standing up.

  “You guys want to walk around the city?” Marshall asked. “I could show you some of the sights. You could see the real New York.”

  “Marshall, it’s getting late. Let’s just go.”

  Marshall rolled his eyes. “You guys are no fun. Do you know that?”

  “Can we see the real New York tomorrow?” Deanna asked.

  “But I’m leaving tomorrow, honey,” he said, smiling at her.

  “Maybe you can stay.”

  “But if I stay, some really bad men will get me.”

  “Like Patrick Butler?” Deanna asked.

  “Worse than that! The federal government might try to lock me up and throw away the key.”

  Deanna thought about that for a second. “Marshall, I don’t like the federal government.”

  Marshall smiled. “Nobody does, honey.” He ran his hand through her hair. “My little future anarchist.”

  They walked out into the moonlit streets of New York. The night was still warm. Around them, the streets had begun to buzz with whispers. Some of them were in English. Some of them were not. As they passed, the whispers would silence themselves, and when they walked on, they would start again. Men and women huddled in corners, around steps, in doorways, and under streetlights, whispering unknown facts to one another.

  “What’s going on?” Nic asked.

  Danny pulled his sleeve, and Nic picked him up and allowed the boy’s head to lay on his shoulder.

  “Something,” Marshall said.

  “But what?”

  “I don’t know. But I think we should get inside.” He quickened his pace, and they followed him toward the boarding house. “Tomorrow, I’m leaving at first light.”

  ~()~()~()~()~

  Nic, Terra, and the children went into their own room and closed the door tightly.

  “Time for bed,” Nic said.

  “But we’re not sleepy.” Danny yawned.

  “Yes; you are,” Nic replied, pulling off his boots and shirt.

  “Are we leaving tomorrow?” Deanna asked.

  “Yes. We are.” Terra pulled her own boots off. “And it’s a good thing, too. Something’s about to happen. Something big.”

  “What’s about to happen?” the little girl asked.

  “I don’t know. But you better get some sleep now, okay?”

>   “Whatever happens, if someone tries to hurt us, Nic is going to punch them in the face. Right, Nic?”

  Nic smiled at the boy.

  “Sure, Danny. I won’t let anything happen to you or to Deanna.”

  “I knew it!” Danny replied.

  “What’s going to happen when we get back to the ship?” Deanna asked.

  “I’ll tell you tomorrow,” Terra replied. “Now go to sleep.”

  The little girl looked at her for a moment longer, before turning on her side and closing her eyes.

  Terra turned out the light and sat on the bed, watching Nic pull off his boots. He wiggled his toes in the cooler air for a minute before laying his head on the pillow. Terra followed suit.

  Her mind was working. She couldn’t sleep. She listened to the whispers that floated up from the streets below. There was nothing decipherable about them, but she heard the voices, and she was afraid.

  The moon light shined brightly into the room, hypnotizing her. It was pure white, and full. It seemed close, like someone was hanging a large, white orb from a string right outside her window. She wanted to stand up and touch it. She wanted to go to the moon and see what it’s surface was like. She wanted to fly right up into space, and see what the earth looked like from above. She heard the children snoring softly, and sighed.

  Where will we go once we reach the ship? Maybe we’ll go to another place like this one. Maybe we’ll go someplace where everyone is free. Maybe we’ll go someplace where no one is free. Maybe—

  “What you thinking about?”

  She turned her head toward Nic.

  “I thought you were asleep.”

  “I can only go to sleep when you do,” he replied.

  “I’m thinking about what we’re going to do tomorrow. We have to go to the ship, but I can’t remember why. I just know that we have to leave this place, but I don’t know where we’re going.”

  “I’m sure we’ll figure it out once we get there.”

  “Can you remember where we came from?” she asked.

  He paused. “No. I just know that it was some place far away.”

  “Why do you think that none of us can remember anything that happened before we stepped off the ship?”

  “I don’t know,” Nic replied. “But, maybe we’ll remember once we get back.”