He closes the stairwell door leading to the seventh-floor corridor behind him, and you and Jamilah stand staring at each other in a hollow silence.
You can hear the fluorescent lights in the stairwell buzzing, and Jamilah’s quick breaths. What now? you think. Why us? Can’t we be safe and happy for more than a few days at a time?
You realise that you can’t leave Abshir to face whatever this is alone – especially if you’re somehow the cause of it. Dreading what you will find, you take Jamilah’s hand and climb the last stairs, then open the door to the corridor.
The metal security door to Abshir’s apartment has been busted off its hinges. All the doors of your neighbours remain closed and silent, bearing no witness. Entering the dark apartment nervously, you see Abshir standing in the middle of his wrecked home.
‘They’re gone,’ he whispers hollowly as you walk in. ‘At least they didn’t stay to do damage to us.’
Shattered glass from the windows makes the floor sparkle in the moonlight. The TV screen is a buckled cobweb of cracks; the table is upside down; even the curtains are ripped from their rail.
You look at the wall, at the red writing sprayed there, and you know who did this: the same people who have wrecked your life, your country, and your family since the day you were born.
‘GIVE US THE PEN.’
It’s al-Shabaab.
You don’t know how they found you here – did the guys from the ute hear about the two escaped kids, and follow you after they dropped you off in Eastleigh? Did Sampson’s business contact who was passing the message on to Jok let something slip? Or had al-Shabaab tapped the phone you used in the camp?
Right now, you don’t even care – you’re ready to crack from the pressure of needing to run away, again and again and again. Jamilah is silent as a stone. You feel like howling. You scrunch up your fists, press them into your eye sockets, and moan.
Abshir’s hand on your shoulder makes you stop. You pull the pen from your pocket and look at it. Its ruby tip has never seemed more like a drop of blood. Having it has always made you feel like a hero, but right now it feels like nothing more than a curse – a magnet for death.
‘What if we give it to them?’ you ask desperately. ‘If we give Arsenal what they want, will they leave us in peace?’
‘No, we can’t do that!’ Jamilah cries. ‘Aunty Rahama trusted us with it!’
‘But Jamilah, what’s the point in trying to uncover Bright Dream? We’re just two kids. Al-Shabaab is everywhere.’
The bitter unfairness of it rises up to overwhelm you. ‘I’m just so sick of it!’ you shout, kicking the torn, upended couch. ‘They ruin everything! What do we have to do to get rid of them?’
Abshir stands in the centre of his smashed-up apartment like a rock at sea. ‘I think, walaal,’ he says slowly at last, ‘that maybe – just maybe – if you give them the pen, they might leave you in peace. Or …’ – he seems to be thinking through his next words carefully before speaking – ‘if you do decide to keep that pen, you’re going to have to take it far, far away.’
You know, with sickening certainty, that he’s right.
To give al-Shabaab the pen and stay with Abshir, waiting for safe passage to Australia, go to scene 28.
To keep the pen and risk trying to reach Australia without papers, go to scene 29.
To read a fact file on people smugglers click here, then return to this page to make your choice.
You look at the pen in your hand and the words from Rahama’s letter come back to you: This pen really means so much to me. In the darkest of times, it’s given me hope that freedom does exist. Now I pass it on to you, because there is no one else I know in the world with such an enquiring mind and fearless heart… You are a special boy. Take this pen, and with Aadan’s help, finish what I couldn’t.
You can’t surrender your freedom. You can’t hand over the truth that Aunty Rahama died for. You’ll keep the pen, no matter what the risks. You’ll take it as far away from here as you can.
‘Okay,’ you say to Abshir. ‘Do you have a walaal who can get us to Australia?’
Jamilah grins and squeezes your hand. ‘We can do it,’ she whispers to you. You don’t know how she manages to stay so determined, but you love her for it.
In the midst of all the mess in his smashed apartment, Abshir starts making phone calls.
A few hours later, he says: ‘All right! I’ve found a walaal who knows a walaal who can talk to his walaal.’
He grins, winks. Then his expression becomes serious.
‘But I don’t think we should tell Aadan. He’ll lose it. You know he loved your Aunty Rahama more than all the love songs in the world. He’ll flip his lid if he finds out we’re under attack and I’m giving you to a people smuggler.’
There is a long silence as his words sink in.
‘Can you handle this alone?’ he asks, with tender concern.
You look at Jamilah. She puts her hands on her hips and fixes you with a determined glare you think she’s inherited from your aunty. ‘We’re going,’ she says.
YOU LEAVE THE wrecked apartment – it’s too dangerous to stay there another moment.
‘I’ll pay for the damage and find somewhere else to live after I have you kids sorted,’ Abshir assures you. ‘For now, we’re going into hiding.’
He
