my short story - "where to now brother?"

The sun shone brightly in the cobalt blue, Somalian sky. The blaring music rapped through the shimmering heat haze as the diesel rumble of badly maintained Rebel trucks grew increasingly louder. South of Mogadishu, the remote coastal village, had been nervously expecting the Rebel soldiers for some time. As a truck appeared over the sandy rise, the Rebel General could be heard bellowing instructions.
“Go, go! Get them! I want every boy child here!”
The Rebel soldiers piled out of the smoking trucks - guns and machetes in hand. Choking, yet still yelling war and death, the Rebel soldiers spilled into the frightened village. Babies and mothers’ screams rented the thick, hot air as the young were torn from their mothers.
“This way Sam...we need to get out of here,” Nahval whispered to his brother. The two brothers crept breathlessly from their hiding place in the lush, green undergrowth.
“Hurry up! We don’t have much time,” Nahval hissed fiercely, as the brothers moved towards the cool beach.
“Ok! I’m coming. Remember I’m only…,” Samaira froze, a look of abject terror crossing his face.
“What’s wrong...?” Nahval asked with anxious annoyance. Nahval turned around slowly to find what he had been dreading.
“Come here, boy!” commanded the reeking, overweight Rebel general. As he spoke, his bellowing mouth revealed rotting, broken teeth in grey, spongy gums.
The soldiers grabbed the shaking boys effortlessly and tossed them carelessly into the back of the spewing, spluttering truck.
Nahval shook in terror, as the Rebel leader lumbered off in search of more boys.
“We are going to become boy soldiers,” he whispered to Samaira, trying to break the news gently.
“What will we do? How will we escape?” Samaira begged trustingly.
Nahval had no plan of escape with which to comfort his younger brother.
“…….We’ll think of something.” Nahval replied unconvincingly, looking around the rusting truck.
The boys sat in scared silence for what seemed like hours. The noise of the frightened children wrenched from their homes grew louder and more wretched with every additional body piled into the truck’s makeshift cage.
‘Ah!..I have it!” Nahval whispered triumphantly. “Come and listen carefully brothers! When the truck’s engine’s start to mutter, we will rock our bodies together until the cage begins to move towards the back of the truck. As the truck gathers speed, we will rock faster and nudge the cage off the back of the truck. It will all be in the timing! Beware the Rebels’ guns and only go when I tell you to. Wait until the soldiers are smoking their cigarettes before we rock the cage,” he implored.
Finally the raid came to an end. Sweating rebels clambered back into the truck and its engine roared to life.
Nahval yelled “Now!’ and the boys began to rock and squirm in their wooden prison.
The more the boys heaved against the wooden bars, the more the structure shifted. Slowly, grindingly the cage slid towards the back of the truck.
One last heave. A deafening thump.
The wooden bars of the cage splintered as it fell from the truck. Struggling to break free from the cage, the small boys ran deftly towards the beach and the cool breeze. Each panting footstep moving them closer to their longed for escape.
As the brothers reached the undergrowth at the edge of the beach, the weathered tip of a villager’s outrigger canoe was peeking from the bushes. The small hands grabbed at its end and manoeuvred it out into the lapping water of the lagoon.
“I’ll push. You guide. Wait for my signal before you start to paddle,” Nahval firmly instructed the younger boy.
“Were they really going to escape?” Nahval wondered with heart pounding.
The trembling brothers paddled shakily out into the ocean... not knowing where to go... but relieved to have escaped the shouting, stinking Rebel soldiers.
“I am glad we’ve escaped, Nahval, but where are we to go now?” asked Samaira.
Nahval replied, “to freedom my brother, to freedom.”


Megan Sandeman