II
Gabriel wipes the blood from his friend’s eyes. An hour earlier Said had fallen from the bottom bunk and onto the hard concrete floor, and although Gabriel had immediately jumped down and made an effort to haul Said back into bed, he soon realised that his friend should not be moved. Said had hit his head as he fell, and Gabriel continues to mop the petals of blood from the floor with a paper tissue. Said does not seem to notice the blood, and he lacks the energy to wipe the vomit from his mouth. For much of the past hour Gabriel has been kneeling beside this man, and hoping that Said might talk to him. When not kneeling beside him, Gabriel has been holding on to the bars of the cell and begging the night warder to call for a doctor. But the night warder continues to watch television with his boots up on the desk, his legs crossed casually at his ankles and the flickering glow of the screen illuminating his face. Suddenly Gabriel looks up as the man in the next cell once more kicks the wall.
“Can’t you lot just fucking shut it with your puking and carrying on?”
Gabriel climbs to his feet and crosses to the door of the cell. He prepares to launch yet another appeal for a doctor, but his neighbour’s outburst has won the night warder’s attention. The boots swing down off the desk and the man walks slowly towards Gabriel. The night warder is a tall stocky man, and his dark uniform, and the jangling keys that hang from his belt, suggest a severity that is betrayed only by his boyish face. He stops short of Gabriel, who watches as the man places both hands on the bars of the cell next door. For a moment the night warder simply stares. Gabriel imagines that, faced with this display of authority, his loud-mouthed neighbour will now be backing down, for he is sure that this man is a coward. The night warder continues to stare, and then the neighbour speaks, but this time in an almost helpless voice.
“What am I supposed to do? I can’t get no fucking sleep with them going on like that.”
The night warder leans forward. “I told you to be quiet, sunshine.” He pauses. “I’m trying to watch the telly.”
“How can you watch the telly with all that fucking puking? It’s disgusting.”
Gabriel watches as the night warder lifts one hand from the bars of the cell and points directly at its occupant.
“I don’t want to hear another word, right?” The night warder does not blink. He repeats himself. “Right?”
Gabriel hears a short grunt, and then the creak of a bed as his neighbour sits back down.
Now that he is satisfied, the man turns towards Gabriel. He speaks as he walks. “He’s not getting any better then?”
Gabriel steps to one side so that the night warder can look in and see for himself.
“What’s the matter with him?”
“Please, I have seen this type of illness before. It is like malaria, but it is something more than this. I think Said is dying if we do not find a doctor.”
The night warder peers into the cell, but he seems reluctant to get too close. The pools of vomit are beginning to congeal, and the smell is ripe. The man pulls a crumpled handkerchief from his pocket, and clasps it to his face with one hand, and he points with the other.
“It would help if you cleaned up that shit.”
“Please, Mr. Collins. Said needs help, that is what I am telling you.”
The night warder looks from Gabriel to Said, and then back to Gabriel. His brow furrows, and he understands that a decision is being forced upon him.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Gabriel is quick to react. “Thank you, Mr. Collins. And perhaps some water for Said while we wait for the doctor?”
The night warder says nothing. He turns on his heels and begins to amble his way back towards his desk, all the while keeping the handkerchief pressed closely to his face.
Gabriel is once again enveloped by a silence that is disturbed only by the night warder’s television set. There are no windows to this cell, but Gabriel knows that it is night time. Beyond this prison there is England. Three days ago, when they first locked him in this cell with Said, Gabriel began to doubt that he would ever again see England. As his cellmate began to speak, Gabriel could see that the man was ailing, for his hands were shaking and his eyes were damp with fear.
“They say I robbed an Englishman and his wife on a train.”
Gabriel waited for Said to tell him what had actually occurred, but Said simply shrugged his shoulders.
“It is not exactly how it happened.” He thought for a few moments and then continued. “Yes, I was on a train and I was talking to some English people. My English is good. In my country I am a teacher. I practise hard with my English. I was talking to some English people, for I am not afraid. I know that when the train gets to the town I will ask for asylum at the police station. That is the way. I am a human being who has paid over United States dollars three thousand, everything that I have, to come from my country in a small space under a truck. From Iraq I travel like this like an animal, but maybe worse than an animal, but I do not care for I know that in England they will give me money and some kind of voucher and let me work. Everybody wants to keep out the Muslim, but in England freedom is everything. They can change the law, but you cannot change the culture of the people and so I am not afraid. British people are good. I have friends who tell me the truth. I do not hate Americans, but they are not gentlemen. Why should I be afraid?”
He looked at Gabriel as though expecting an answer, but Gabriel said nothing.
“And then an Englishman and his wife they asked me if I would watch their bags while they go to the restaurant car, and I say yes, of course, yes. And then they come back and look at their bags, and the woman says that I have taken their money and she runs to get the man in the red jacket, the train manager. But why would I come all the way from my country to make a new life here and then take their money? I cannot go back. I sold my land and animals to pay for my journey. I have nothing to go back to. My wife and family are with my brother and waiting for me to send money so they can come to England. I have two hands, I can work. One day I can buy a television and a radio. A fridge. A carpet. Maybe, one day, a car. I have two hands.”