Mind Of A Slave

"Some a us gotta leave"

I HEAR A gunshot but neither of us falls to the ground. I don't feel any pain. I check for blood on Amos's body but there isn't any. The soldiers either missed, or the bullet wasn't aimed at us.

We run to the edge of the field, where people are still roaming the land, eating and talking.

I see Jack standing with his Papa in the doorway of the cabin.

"I need to see somethin'" I tell Amos.

"What?"

I get up and walk over to the cabin.

Jack's Papa has gone inside but Jack remains by the door. When he catches sight of us he sticks his arm out to the side to block the entrance.

"If you's askin' for more, there ain't none," he says coldly.

"I don't want no more food," I reply.

I walk around the side to the cabin to the window. It's high up on the wall and I'm not very tall, but if I stand on my toes I can see inside. I peer over the window sill. Jack's Papa is sitting cross-legged on the floor, staring at the food on the table, motionless.

I cough to get his attention. His head turns slowly to the side as if it pains him to move. His face is marked by anger and despair.

"Go," he says.

I lower myself back down to my heels. I feel dizzy so I hold onto the wall. I take a deep breath.

Amos is looking at me inquisitively.

"What's you seen?" he asks.

I step aside and nod my head towards the window. He can see into the room easily because he's taller than I am.

I watch his expression change but I can't name the emotions he feels.

"Tell me its gone be okay," I demand of him.

He swivels round to face me. There is more sweat on his forehead than there was before.

"It's gone be okay," he says.

I hear a crunch behind me. It's Jack's Papa. His foot crushes a dead leaf as he comes towards us.

He looks withered and tired like an old man but I know that he's not very old.

"You's seen it," he says in a low, anguished voice. "You's seen it jus' now so I ain't gonna lie to you. That's all we got lef'. Alla it. It don't feed one man for a month. It ain't ever gone feed fifty."

"What we gone do?" Amos asks the question I want to know the answer to.

"If we all stay, we's gone die real soon."

"So some a us gotta leave."

Jack's Papa nods solemnly. His mouth is turned down at the corners and his eyes are barely open. They look like black slits in his taught skin. "Jack!" He calls out to his son, whose head appears around the side of the cabin. "We's leavin'. Get Pompey and the others, any'un else who wanna come wid us. Be real quick."

Jack scurries away.

His father turns his attention back to us.

"There gotta be people somewhere who gone help us," he says, as if giving an explanation for such a rational decision. He reaches over and rubs Amos's shoulder with thin, wrinkled fingers. "You comin'?" he asks.