Free Forty Leap by Ivan Turner Page B

looked up at me. It was as if she
could read my mind because she stood up from where she was and
began the slow climb back down the rubble hill.
    I wanted to stop her from going, or at least
follow her. I felt with certainty that this was the last I would
see of her. As she climbed down she looked determined, not as if
she was going back to the place we’d chosen to sleep, but as if she
was going away. But I didn’t follow her. In fact, I remained there,
intentionally giving her every opportunity to leave me alone. I
took a few minutes to add something to my journal, which I had been
keeping less and less religiously. Then I sat by myself watching
the city absorb the darkness until I dozed off and slept, very
peacefully, with my head up against a piece of cinderblock.
    It rained while I was asleep. It couldn’t
have been a heavy rain or a cold rain because I suppose it would
have roused me. But when I awoke my clothing was wet and my beard,
which had grown in over the past three weeks, smelled musty. I
truly hated it. A wispy fog had settled over Manhattan and it took
me a few moments to get my bearings. Even though I had been in the
same position when I’d fallen asleep, I wasn’t sure in which
direction I was looking.
    Though the silence was complete, I had a
tingly feeling at the base of my spine. I couldn’t see anything out
of the ordinary, but I knew that something was off. Feeling fear
and terrible disorientation, I stared into the mist. I sat for a
long time. The sky brightened, though only slightly. The sun was
well and truly blocked by the low clouds that surrounded me. Then
there was just the smallest noise. It was rock on rock, I knew
that, and it could just as easily have been an animal as a person,
but I knew that it was no animal. Though the sound had not been
close, nor had it come from behind me, I could not pinpoint it and
the fear came to me in a deluge. Squinting into the dimness, I saw
a shape moving on the street below. I felt so exposed. Though I was
eighteen stories up, I felt that this person, if he or she were to
look up, would be able to see me and would be on me so quickly that
there would be no chance of escape. It was ridiculous, of course,
just the blind panic of a rabbit or squirrel. Regardless, I sat
petrified, able only to stare at the shape as it made its way
through the street.
    It didn’t take long for the shape to
multiply. It was soon joined by many others, and they were moving
quietly up and down in the morning’s gloom. As more of them
appeared my fear of them diminished rather than increased. They
were not soldiers. Sightings of the enemy were infrequent, but most
nights we could hear the helicopters and the gunshots. When we saw
them they always moved in formation and there were always vehicles.
But that was not the case here. Even at such a height I could see
that there were both men and women, moving with a defined purpose,
but in no particular arrangement. They helped each other through
the tough spots while larger ones stayed to the front and sides to
keep everyone corralled together. Small forms huddled close to the
large ones and I knew that there were children as well. Children! I watched them for a while, allowing my composure
to sink back into my consciousness. When finally I felt that my
legs would not wobble under my weight, I stood up and began the
slow climb down the hill.
    I hadn’t a clearly defined plan until I saw
that Jennie had not left. She lay sleeping on the floor in the spot
we had decided was safe. For the briefest of moments, I considered
leaving her there, thinking that it was what she would want. I
believed completely that she had stuck to that spot out of a
stubborn desire to keep it from me. What right had I to it? Then I
was beside her, gently shaking her, for I had found that her
presence had filled out my thoughts and ideas. That she was there
made me realize what losing her had meant.
    She opened her eyes, dazed, and looked up at
me. What I