Hell 2

I must have dozed off eventually, because I wake as small circles of sunlight shine through the wall where it meets the ceiling, scattering discs of gold across the floor. It takes a minute to remember where I am. Then, with a wave of nausea, the previous day floods through my mind. I stare up at the circles again. Something so beautiful seems lost here. Then, slowly, I realize that the sunlight holes are bullet holes. Someone must have fired at the box to make air holes so we don’t all suffocate.

My shoulder is numb from the hard floor, and my nose and feet and fingers are numb from cold. I push myself up to sitting.

The two younger men are already awake, hunched against the wall. They nod at me.

Bini stirs, and a ripple of sniffing and coughing spreads through the box as men slowly emerge from their blanket cocoons like dirty moths. They look over toward me and Bini. Almost as if they are checking to be sure we weren’t just part of their dream—or nightmare.

The last to wake is Yonas. He coughs violently for about five minutes.

Bini fetches him a cup of water.

“Did you sleep?” Yonas asks both of us eventually, but he’s looking at Bini.

Bini nods.

The men seem able to talk to one another without us hearing what they say. All the same, Nebay shuffles over to Yonas so they can talk even more quietly. They mumble for a few minutes, which is all Yonas can manage without coughing. Even though I can’t make out any words, I’m sure they’re discussing me and Bini.

I try to talk like them—low and directly into Bini’s ear. “Do you think they’ll come and let us out this morning? I’m not sure these guys like us very much.”

“I think we’re probably stuck here,” whispers Bini. “Why would they spend a whole day driving us somewhere if they weren’t planning on leaving us there for a while?”

I try to let his words sink in, but I don’t believe them. “Do you think they’ve made a mistake? Maybe they confused us with some other prisoners and took them to military school instead of us.”

“I don’t know,” says Bini. “Maybe they have made a massive mistake. Or maybe this is what happens when you try to leave the country.”

“But we hadn’t even gone anywhere.” I realize that my voice has been getting steadily louder, and everyone’s eyes are fixed on us.

“How long do you think they’ll keep us here?” I whisper again.

“Looking at these guys, I don’t think anyone gets to leave anytime soon.”

A feeling washes over me. A feeling I don’t recognize, caused by the thought that I have no control over what is happening to me. It makes my whole body seem heavy, as if I suddenly don’t even have the energy to get up. My thoughts flick back to home, the smell of cooking, Lemlem giggling. I never sat still there, doing nothing. There was always school, homework, hanging out with Bini. An endless sequence of activity.

I feel a rush of panic as I think about the day stretching ahead of us. I cannot leave this room. There is barely space to walk from one side to the other. Bini is looking around restlessly. I don’t know how much time has passed since we woke up. Maybe one hour, maybe two. I try to focus on something else.

“Where do you think we are?” I ask. “Which part of the country?”

“In the north somewhere,” says Bini. “I guess we always wanted to see places outside the city. This isn’t exactly what I had in mind, though.”

He sounds just as he would if we were talking in my house—relaxed, making jokes. It confuses me. I want to ask him if he is scared like I am. If he wonders whether something worse is just around the corner.

All that comes out, though, is: “Do you think we’re going to be okay?”

“I think we’re going to be okay.”

I feel a little bit calmer just hearing those words.

The other prisoners murmur rhythmically. A short conversation and then silence. Then more talking.

No one speaks to me and Bini, but I feel them watching us.

The box heats up as the sun rises. After several more hours, all Bini and I can do is lie dozing or staring at the ceiling, like everyone else.

There is a sudden bang on the door, which makes me jump.

“Time to let the animals out,” says Nebay.

“Keep your head down and do exactly what they say,” whispers Yonas. “You don’t want to be sent to the punishment cell.”

I cannot imagine anything worse than the cell we are in. But it seems someone has imagined it, and built it.

I will do exactly as I’m told.

The massive metal doors swing open with a deep creaking sound. I blink, shielding my eyes as bright morning light washes in.

Three guards in blue camouflage uniforms mark the doorway.

“Out!” shouts the nearest guard.

Bini and I are the first to step outside.

As the others clamber painfully to their feet, I see they all have limps or strangely twisted limbs. Limbs that look as if they have been broken and not healed properly. I feel sick as I picture my leg or arm being broken and then left to heal without any medicine or doctors to take away the pain. The sick feeling quickly begins to turn into panic as I realize that the guards surrounding us may be the same men who did these things to the others. I try to breathe more slowly.

Outside I see the camp properly for the first time. In addition to the four metal boxes, there are two small whitewashed buildings with tin roofs. Encircling the whole camp is a thick ring of thornbush. The sort used to contain cattle.

One guard pushes me in the back with the butt of his rifle and points ahead. He pushes me again, harder.

“Walk,” Bini whispers, and starts to walk slowly in the direction the guard pointed.

“No talking!” shouts the guard. Even though I am right next to him.

We creep our way slowly around the perimeter. Beyond is flat rocky desert.

“Eyes down!” the guard shouts, and pushes me so hard that I fall to my knees on the stony ground.

I stumble quickly back onto my feet and we keep walking, the sun hot on our backs.

Barely ten minutes after stepping outside, the guard shouts, “Back to your cell!”

We shuffle away from the perimeter toward the second metal box in a row of four. Keeping my head down, I glance at the other boxes from the corner of my eye. They are so solid and so silent it’s hard to believe people are inside them. I want to see who lives in the other cells. Maybe there are some other schoolkids like us.

The entrance to our cell gapes like the mouth of some silent monster. I step into the gloom and walk mechanically over to our blanket.

The other prisoners cough and wheeze, shuffling around to get comfortable on the hard floor. The short walk seems to have exhausted them all.

The box feels even more unbearable now that I have seen the sky and breathed fresh air again. I am waiting for something else bad to happen but don’t want to start thinking about what it might be. I am also starting to feel angry. Angry that we have been put in here with no explanation and that someone else has decided all this without even talking to us. I move around, trying to find a way to stretch my legs without touching anyone else.

I watch the sunlight discs move slowly across the ceiling.

Bini kicks my foot.

“Do you have any bread?” he asks.

I realize how empty my stomach feels. “No, I finished mine last night.”

He puts his hand in his pocket and takes out two small chunks of bread, giving one to me. I put it in my mouth. This time I don’t swallow it straightaway but give my stomach time to think it’s getting more than one tiny piece.

I don’t know how many hours have gone by, but I am starting to think I might pass out from the heat and lack of air, when there is another bang on the side of the box.

The bolt lifts and the doors swing open once more. A guard leaves a large pan of brown liquid and a stack of bowls on the floor. The smell of food and the rush of oxygen wake everyone.

As the doors slam shut, the small man who passed around the rolls gets to his feet and begins dipping bowls in the liquid and handing them out. It smells sour. There are lentils floating on top; otherwise it looks like muddy water. I have learned my lesson and sip at it slowly, even though I am desperate to pour it into my mouth in one gulp. It tastes like muddy water, too. There is almost no flavor, except a strange, sour, earthy taste. Bini and I watch the other men slowly sip the soup, making every mouthful last as long as possible.

The soup wakes up everybody. There is more conversation, but still no one talks to me and Bini.

Our bodies are exhausted from the journey and hunger. At some point that afternoon I fall asleep, waking only to eat my stale bread.