Free Those Who Love Night by Wessel Ebersohn

her.
    â€œSay you will.”
    â€œI…”
    â€œYou will come.”
    â€œAll right, Abigail. I’ll come.”
    Rosa was usually a good sleeper, but tonight when Yudel entered the bedroom she was in bed, but not asleep. “You’re still awake,” he said.
    â€œTell me what’s in that file.”
    He sat down on the edge of the bed and took one of her hands in his. “Just the writings of a very disturbed boy. Nothing else.”
    â€œIs there a case against him?”
    â€œHe’s a Zimbabwean and he’s one of those who oppose that government.”
    â€œBut everything’s changed there, hasn’t it?”
    â€œI don’t think so. Those who have controlled the real power all along, still control it.”
    â€œSo he’s in trouble.”
    â€œIt sounds that way.”
    â€œAt least it’s not here.”
    â€œNo.”
    She sighed. “I know I sound selfish. But I was so afraid last time.”
    â€œI know. Will you be able to sleep now?”
    â€œI think so.”
    â€œI think you should take a pill. I was given some samples of the best sleeping pill in existence. I’ll get one.”
    When he came back from his study, he had the pill in one hand and a glass of water in the other. Rosa was looking searchingly at his face. “Yudel?” Her voice had acquired a surprisingly sharp tone.
    â€œYes, my dear.”
    â€œYou’re not giving me a placebo, are you?”
    â€œOf course not.”
    â€œI’d hate to think that I was allowing myself to be deceived by a sugarcoated pill.”
    â€œRosa, I would never do that,” Yudel said sincerely. “I would never patronize you by giving you a placebo. It would be an insult to someone of your intelligence. This pill will put you to sleep inside thirty seconds. It’s the most effective sleeping drug available on the planet.”
    â€œThank you, Yudel.”
    Yudel handed her the water and the placebo and she swallowed them. She was asleep with ten of the thirty seconds to spare.
    Yes, my dear, he thought. Your mind is the most powerful drug of all.

10
    The mist had stayed away for more than twenty-four hours. The little light there was in the cell came from a lamp somewhere beyond the cell’s only window. By this faint glow, Tony Makumbe could still see the length of it and the seven men in it. Since at least four that afternoon all had been lying down. No one had moved in that time, except to roll over to give another part of the body the chance to do battle with the concrete floor. They had sleeping mats woven from reeds, but the mats did little to soften the unyielding surface of the floor.
    He had tried to get up around midday, but had gotten no further than raising himself onto his hands and knees, and then only for perhaps five minutes. He wondered how much he had eaten. He remembered the food coming and thought that he had offered some of it to others in the cell, but none of it was clear. Anything that happened while the mist was around him was lost to memory. Not eating would account for his weakness. But the other men were all weaker. With the sparseness of their rations, it was not surprising. A few of them had tried to talk through the inspection flap in the door to prisoners in adjoining cells. None had made the effort more than once.
    The big man he had noticed before was on the mat next to his. “Tony, my man, you awake?” He spoke softly to avoid disturbing the others.
    â€œI’m sorry,” Tony said. “I don’t remember your name.”
    â€œJacob. People say Big Jake when they talk to me.”
    â€œHello, Jake.” It was always difficult to look for the sort of information that he wanted from Jake now. “Have I been here…” He looked at Jake and saw only a sort of fatherly, stern-faced sympathy. “Have I been here long?”
    â€œYes, you were sick. A week, maybe a day or two