Read Chasing Freedom Home (Malinding) for Free Online

team, a chain gang. Now they felt isolated, vulnerable, exposed to the consequences of their own actions and so afraid to take any initiative. By noon hunger drove them to action. The priest discovered that the door to their cell was unlocked. The journalist opened it and peered up the staircase. Ed cautiously ventured to the foot, then to the top, of the stairs. He waited, dreading hearing some sound which might herald his death. Only silence threatened him. He walked along the corridor to the canteen, and pushed the door open. The table was bare. His cellmates followed him into the room.
    ‘How we supposed to survive if they don’t feed us?’ one complained.
    ‘Maybe it’s time for God to provide’ said another, looking at the priest.
    ‘God has provided an open door.’
    The Watchers sniggered.  The prisoners moved out of the canteen and along the corridor, away from their cell. Every door was open, every room was empty. The shower room was open but the water was turned off. Next they ventured out into the prison yard. There was a shutter fastened across the opening in the wall, but the large double gates stood slightly ajar.
    ‘What’s going on?’
    ‘Trust me, it’s a trap. We should go back to the cell and wait. It’s the only safe thing to do. I’m going back.’ The medical student turned back, then stopped at the first door. ‘They've shut it. It’s locked. I can’t open it. I want to go back; it’s not safe out here. Let me in’ he screamed. The others gathered round him; the door was firmly fastened against them.
    ‘Maybe,’ said one, ‘there’s been a revolution and the guards have run away. They did that at Belsen, I think, when the war ended.’
    ‘If the guards have gone, who is locking the doors as we go through them?’
    ‘It may be an automatic system of some sort – how should I know? Let’s see how far we can get.’ They turned round, marched back across the prison yard and pushed open the other pair of double gates. The found themselves in another, smaller yard, open to the sky but surrounded by more high walls. They faced another pair of tall gates. As they walked across the gates behind them closed. They heard locks fasten.
    ‘I really don’t like this.’
    ‘I do. We’re being given a chance to escape.’
    ‘Escape? Stark naked black men? Bare-footed? Some chance.’
    ‘It’s a chance, and the only one we’ve got. Trust God, brothers. Follow me.’ The priest strode confidently into the outside world where the sun shone brightly. One by one the others followed him. The final pair of gates closed against their return. They stopped and surveyed their new world. A dusty unmade road, flanked by deep ditches, stretched for about half a mile across empty stony fields to a pine forest, where it disappeared between thick trees.
    The first shot killed the priest.  The others ran. Ed zigzagged crazily, praying to a god he didn’t believe in. He stumbled and fell, saw the dust rise inches from his body, indicating where a shot had struck. He hadn’t heard the report. He rolled, ran again. Another fall, into the ditch this time, and this time a shot grazed his arm. The ditch was deep and dry. He scuttled along on all fours as fast as he could. He heard more shots but none came near him. At last he reached the shelter of the trees. His comrades had disappeared; he had no way of knowing if they still lived. A road or track crossed the ditch by way of a low bridge. He considered sheltering here but decided it was too obvious a place. He crawled on. His ankle throbbed. Somewhere, back there, he must have twisted it. He cautiously felt the joint. It was swollen.
    He lay flat on his back and tried to consider his situation. He heard a car stop nearby. Footsteps. A woman, an old woman, peered down at him. He covered himself with his hands.
    ‘I’m going to dump some rubbish here. Anti-social behaviour. I could receive a stiff fine. There’s a bottle of water among it. Stay covered