NOT SO LONG AGO

10

When the dandy—who was called Andrews—opened the rear gate of the livestock trailer, the sheep panicked and rushed in the other direction, bleating.

“Go, go sheep, join the flock,” said Andrews, ignoring the furious look of Erma who had limited contact with sarcasm. It was then that they noticed that the dog had disappeared.

“He had to go pee. He’ll be back soon,” assured Roland.

But a quarter of an hour later, still no traces of Scram. Andrews got impatient and threatened to leave without them. They had to convince Erma to abandon their four-legged companion.

“He wasn’t ours, Erma. Maybe he’s on his way home.”

“Speak for yourself... We let him down and we should be ashamed, that’s all.”

Roland laced ten fingers to boost the girl, then for her brother, and climbed into the trailer, grabbing a metal handle protruding from the inside. Andrews closed the rear gate. They pressed uncomfortably against each other in a corner, buttocks on their heels. Like most transporters of this sort, it wasn’t equipped with tarpaulins but a steel mesh that allowed the animals to breathe through narrow gaps.

“It’s an hour to Andover. But with this thing, I can’t drop you off just anywhere,” said Andrews raising his voice to be heard in the din.

“No problem,” cried Roland. “We’ll not have to walk far after that. Leave us where you want, it’ll do us.”

“Good. Hold on. It’ll rock when we’re on the road. One last piece of advice: when we arrive in Andover, make yourself discreet. If anyone notices you, I may have problems. We’ll cross the city and I’ll drop you after. Be discreet.”

Andrews walked around the trailer and climbed into the cabin. He pulled away and the first jolts unbalanced the children.

“Good God! How do the sheep not fall?”

“They have four legs. It helps.”

For the first hundred yards, the violent shaking continued. To keep from lurching, Roland, Erma, and Adam had to cling firmly to the steel mesh—barely enough space to pass the first knuckle of a finger. Very quickly, they realized that the journey would be a nightmare. While they would gain valuable time, the cramps they would suffer on arrival would perhaps make them regret the journey.

On foot, it would have taken them eight hours to reach Andover, but it would take them less than an hour this way.

At a sharp bend, Erma swung to one side. So as not to fall on the nearest sheep, she grabbed at the mesh securing the animals. She felt an excruciating pain in her wrist and let go. She rolled two yards, unable to regain her footing, and hit the side of a frightened beast that bumped against his fellow creatures. In scarcely ten seconds, she disappeared from view, immersed in clouds of smelly hides leaping in all directions.

Roland panicked in response. He feared that a misplaced hoof would seriously hurt the redhead. He called her but got no answer.

Adam wanted to throw himself into the mass to save her, but the space was so narrow that he couldn’t infiltrate the flock.

Finally, when he felt that the livestock was settling down and that the bleating was diminishing, Roland ventured into the fray. He walked along the wall while standing on the upper tubes of the grate. Once he reached the centre of the trailer, he kicked several times to scatter the sheep and could slip into the heart of the cargo. He spotted Erma’s red hair. Lying on her side, her legs bent under her chest like a fetus, she formed a helmet with her hands above her head. Roland helped her up. He grabbed her elbow and dragged her into the corner of the compartment, where a spot was empty.

With Adam’s help, they put her back against the bars. Erma was in a bad state. Her eyes were open, but they seemed to roll in their sockets without being able to fix themselves on a specific point. A purplish bruise dyed her temple, shining on her skin like an amethyst embedded in it, and her lower lip was split.

“Erma? Erma, can you hear me?”

The girl turned to Roland who was so anxious that his eyes were fogging.

“Oh! Do you hear me?”

“You got me out of there, Roland?”

“Yes. You were stuck in the middle of the sheep. Are you okay?”

“I’m in pain.”

“Where?”

“All over.”

“Can I do something? Do you want anything?”

“I want Scram to come back. And I want to barbecue a sheep...”

Erma laughed nervously. She was shaking from top to toe, then the emotion overwhelmed her and she began to cry loudly.

Adam was quiet, just behind Roland, unable to realize how scared she was. He thought: we’re crossing England alone, without adults, without anything to eat, and we’re on the verge of being trampled by sheep. Then: danger is everywhere. Then again: I can’t defend my sister, I’m a lamb. And: I’m cowardly.

Roland found a handkerchief in his bag that they used for... almost everything. They used it to clean themselves, as a napkin, to protect the head from the sun when the zenith proved itself a self-important bastard, to carry berries or fruits in dry weather or bring them from a branch into a pocket set aside for this purpose. He moistened the handkerchief and dabbed Erma’s wounds.

Other tremors, less violent than the previous, urged them to be careful.

“When we walk, we have blisters,” she remarked.

“So what?”

“I prefer blisters to bumps.”

She then walled herself in melancholy silence. Adam tried to cheer her up by joking about old anecdotes rehashed a thousand times, simple forgotten trivia that didn’t have the desired effect. Seeing that he was unable to comfort her, Adam stepped back and, ignoring the danger of the frightened sheep, refused to reply to Roland when he asked him how long they had been gone. Vexed by the coldness of the youngest, Roland didn’t hesitate to scream to be sure of being heard:

“Well! Adam. How long has it been? Do you have an idea?”

“…”

“Well! I’m talking to you. Adam? What’s the matter with you? Why do you have that look on your face? Well! Don’t go blaming me if Erma is sad, you don’t have to take it out on me. Hey! I talking to you, dummy! Are you daft or what?”

Adam stood up suddenly. Too suddenly. A pothole unbalanced him and the next thing he knew, he collapsed and pitched left, then right, then left. Humiliation in addition to the feeling of helplessness, the gift of fate, and the smell of death that sends you mad, the heat, the fatigue, the blackness at the bottom of all this, which cause everything to deteriorate, that absorbs each glow, each spark.

Adam erupted. He struck two fleece that passed nearby with a rage so great that it distorted his features that no longer appeared childlike. No more useless boy, no more cutie. There was only a fury revealed by the accumulation of random events. A twitching madness convulsed by sputtering.

Adam was small, weak and cowardly, but at that moment when the horror was no longer disguised, he was especially dangerous. He rushed to a stunned Roland who didn’t even have time to raise his arms to cushion the shock. His back bumped against the steel surface. He fell on his knees. Adam, himself surprised by his overreaction, stood for a moment with his arms dangling, his legs apart to maintain his position and to not stumble on the bends. Then he sat down on the other side.

Still stunned, seized with vertigo, Roland remained prostrate near Erma who comforted him.

Adam, snuggled in his madness, not hearing the insults his sister sent him.

Had they been able to ignore the endless bleating of sheep, the silence would have been absolute. Roland was angry with Erma for snubbing him and her brother for attacking him like a savage. Erma was angry at her little Bambino for having lost his mind and at Roland for his childishness. Adam was lost in an ocean of shame, agitated by waves of bitterness that crashed into the great dull uproar.

And all of them, too busy with the differences, no longer thought of the crucial question posed earlier by Roland: How long has it been?

Almost two hours by my guess, I bet, thought Roland. But he was careful not to make the slightest movement visible to the other two. There was only his ability to hide in his world, to be forgotten.

Through the steel mesh siding, they could nevertheless scan the landscape. Trees and trees and trees again. As far as the eye can see, trees. And as soon as they crossed a short deforested area, they quickly came back to the monotonous green scenery.

They were longing for all to see St. Mary’s Church tower.

Erma saw a small dark form that ran behind the vehicle, far away, and sometimes disappearing from the horizon. Is it Scram who’s following us? she thought, anxious and hopeful at the same time.

The truck left the small road to take a dirt road. Andrews had to manoeuvre carefully to cross a narrow pass, and they heard the wheels skid several times.

The cattle lorry climbed, and sheep and humans slipped. No longer a question of economy of motion to avoid being noticed, the three runaways clung ferociously to the grates.

Andrews then followed a long, straight stretch, the ground still unstable. Then he braked and cut off the ignition. The angry crackling of the engine died as incomprehension grew. The driver’s door opened and then slammed shut. The sheep bleating continued strongly. Above this tumult, they managed to distinguish the sound of footsteps.

The silhouette of Andrews appeared in the gaps of the wall.

Erma, so as not to reveal to their benefactor that a bitter dispute had occurred between the passengers, cleared her throat and said loudly:

“At last, I think this is the end!”

The other chuckled and in his laugh, there was all the disdain of the world.

“Well done,” he said, “this is the end.”

And he went away leaving them locked in the trailer.