Chapter 11: Free by Morning

Chapter 11 · 8 min read

That night, the iron horn blew across the camp.

“Up! Everyone to the yard!” Guards went from shed to shed, banging on every door with their sticks.

Jabari jumped up and almost knocked Kofi over. Lumani caught him by the arm. Then everyone hurried out into the cold fog.

In the crowd, Ayo took Kofi’s hand. She held it all the way across the yard.

Mama Leki carried Jojina on her hip. The women from the drying mats stood close together to keep warm.

Captain Mbala stood on a high wooden platform. He held a rolled paper sealed with red wax.

“Listen, worms!” he shouted. “The Shadow Lord’s guests are coming to visit Camp Seven in two weeks.”

Everyone went quiet.

Next to Lumani, an old woman shook her head. “No one from the palace has ever come here.”

“For the next two weeks, there will be no heavy work,” Captain Mbala read on. “You will receive new clothes, the camp will be cleaned, and you will look strong and healthy for the Lord’s guests.”

“No work?” Jabari said under his breath. “I like these guests already.”

Ayo did not smile. “Nothing here is free.”

Lumani looked at Jabari. “Then why does it feel like bad news?”

Captain Mbala pointed at the prison.

“The Lord says all prisoners must be set free before the visit. They will be free by morning.”

“More good news,” Jabari said.

“Kamau,” Lumani said. “Kamau is coming back.”

Kofi squeezed his arm so hard it hurt. Lumani did not mind.

The captain’s voice turned hard.

“This is not kindness. Anyone who breaks a rule while the guests are here will be punished right away. Now go back to your sheds.”

The crowd started to move. Lumani stayed still.

He did not know why the palace guests were coming. He did not know what they would do. But by morning, Kamau would be home.

Before the sun came up, Lumani and his friends waited near the gate. Mama Leki waited with them.

Other people waited too. A woman stood on her toes, looking for her son. An old man held a blanket over his arm.

“What if they changed their minds?” Kofi asked.

“They did not,” Ayo said.

“How do you know?”

“The guests want a clean camp. Prisoners are not clean.”

The gate opened.

Three men came out. Then two more. The woman on her toes cried out and ran to one of them.

At last, Kamau walked through.

He walked slowly. One cheek was bruised and dark. There was dried blood on his shirt. He held one hand on his side, but he stood straight.

When he saw them, he stopped.

Lumani took one step forward. Ayo caught his sleeve.

On the wall above the gate, a guard was watching.

So they did not run. They walked. Lumani reached him first and took his hand. Kamau’s fingers were cold and rough, and they held on hard.

“You are here,” Lumani whispered.

“I am here.”

Kofi pressed his face against Kamau’s side, just for a moment. Then Ayo touched his shoulder, and he stepped back.

“We saved your bread,” Kofi said softly. “It is very dry now.”

“Then it is perfect,” Kamau said. For a moment, he could not say anything else.

He looked at each of them. Then his eyes found Lumani’s and stayed there.

Jabari looked him up and down.

“You look terrible.”

“Thank you, Jabari.”

“I mean it in a nice way.”

“I know.”

“Normal,” Ayo whispered, as they let go.

Mama Leki came over and only touched his arm.

“Come inside,” she said. “You need to heal.”

Inside the shed, nobody had to be normal.

The door closed, and Lumani threw his arms around Kamau’s neck. Kofi cried into his shirt. Jabari held them both. Mama Leki put her arms around all of them at once. Ayo stood with her back against the door, and her eyes were wet.

Kamau made a small sound of pain, but he did not let go.

“I thought I would never see you again,” Lumani said.

Kamau held the back of his head. “You stayed hidden.”

“You told me to.”

When they finally let go, Mama Leki cleaned the cut on his cheek. She put a cool cloth on his bruise. She made him drink water before anyone could ask questions. Kofi held the water cup. Jabari held the cloth. Ayo watched the path through a gap in the boards.

“Did they hurt you?” Kofi asked.

“A little,” Kamau said.

“A lot,” Mama Leki said.

Lumani sat close. His hand moved to the stone under his shirt.

“Kamau,” he said quietly. “The names—”

Kamau shook his head, just a little. “Later.”

Lumani looked at his swollen cheek, at the way his hands shook around the cup. He let go of the stone. Kamau was carrying enough already.

That afternoon, while the children ate, Mama Leki checked Kamau’s hands for broken bones.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Do not thank me,” she said. “Just do not do it again.”

“I cannot promise that.”

“I know,” she said.

She wrapped a clean cloth around his hand.

That evening, Mama Leki carried an empty bucket to the water barrels by the outside wall.

Two guards stood at the corner, where the shadows were long. They did not see her kneel by the last barrel.

“Two weeks,” the young guard said.

The older guard stared at the wall.

“Do you know what happened at the Kusu border camp? When the palace guests came?”

“I do not want to know.”

“People say every worker there was gone by morning. All because one man broke a rule.”

The young guard said nothing.

“And the captain there?” he asked at last.

“They found his uniform in the yard. Nobody ever saw him again.”

The young one looked out at the camp.

“I have a wife in Lubunda City. And a little girl. She is seven. If I can keep my head down for two weeks…”

“Then keep it down,” the older guard said. “That is all any of us can do.”

Mama Leki filled her bucket very slowly, so the water would not make a sound.

Then she walked back to the shed, and her hands were not steady.

The next morning, the brick frames were gone. Buckets stood in their place.

“Scrub!” a guard shouted. “Every board. Every step.”

Lumani and Jabari scrubbed the steps of the guardhouse. At the drying mats, the women fixed shirts with gray thread. Jojina sat in a tub of cold water while Mama Leki washed her hair.

“Why do the guests care if I am clean?” the girl asked.

“They care about everything,” Mama Leki said.

Jabari scrubbed the same spot three times. “I have never been this clean, and I do not like it.”

“You are not clean,” Ayo said. “You are wet.”

The older boy from the other crew walked past with a bucket. He stopped, set it down, and looked back at his shed.

“Two of our mats are still empty,” he said quietly. “Nobody sleeps there now.”

“Where did they go?” Kofi asked.

The boy shrugged.

“People say the palace likes quiet camps.”

He picked up his bucket.

“Someone else said a quiet camp is an empty one.”

Lumani was still watching him go when Malanga stopped beside his bucket. He looked at the cloth wrapped around Lumani’s fingers.

“Use the brush,” he said. “Not your hands. Torn hands get noticed.”

He walked on.

That night, when the children were asleep, Mama Leki sat down beside Kamau at the cold fire outside the sleeping shed.

“The palace is sending guests,” she said.

“I heard.”

She kept her voice low. “Last night, two guards talked about Kusu.”

Kamau did not move.

“One visit from the palace,” she went on, “and the whole border camp was empty. And Kofi says the other crew has two mats with nobody on them.”

“People say many things.”

“They do.” She looked through the open door at the sleeping shapes on the mats. Then she looked at Lumani. “It has been almost eleven years, Kamau.”

“I know how long it has been.”

“Eleven years of nothing. No visitors. No questions.” Her voice dropped even lower. “Then his chest lights up in the dark. The ground moves for him in the pit. And a few days later, the palace remembers Camp Seven.”

Kamau closed his eyes.

“You think the training did this,” he said.

“I think something deep inside him woke up,” Mama Leki said. “The guards cannot feel it. Malanga cannot feel it. But there is one who can.”

Neither of them said his name.

“If he felt it,” Kamau said slowly, “he would not come himself.”

“No,” said Mama Leki. “He would send his hunters.”

The fire was dead, but Kamau stared at it anyway.

“Say it,” Mama Leki said.

Kamau opened his eyes.

“The Bloodbond Four are coming.”