Caged Eagles (11 page)

Sam ducked under the railing of the track and I followed. Boy, he was fast. He crossed the track, again ducking under the inner rail, and continued toward the vehicles, finally stopping at the first car. Just as I reached his side he was off again, weaving between the cars and trucks. He stopped once again at the side of a large gray truck. He reached up into the wheel well of the front drive's well and pulled something out.

“The key,” he said, holding it up and showing it to me.

He reached up, unlocked the door and flung it open.

“Get in.”

I hesitated.

“Don't worry,” he said, reading my hesitation. “It's one of my father's trucks.”

“Oh, okay,” I said, nodding my head. I hauled myself up onto the running board and then into the truck. It felt hot and sticky as I slid past the steering wheel to the far side of the seat. Sam jumped in beside me.

“Roll down your window,” he said, as he did the same.

I cranked it open and a breeze blew in from his side and right out my window. It felt good. Sam ripped the top part of the paper off his ice cream bar. He tossed it on the floor amongst a litter of candy bar wrappers, newspapers and other assorted garbage.

“Enjoy,” he said, “but be careful you don't drip on the seat. Lean forward.”

As I started to unwrap my bar I realized this wasn't going to be an easy job. It was starting to melt, and I quickly leaned forward so that any drips would fall on the newspapers lying haphazardly at my feet. I took a big bite. Vanilla — it felt very good sliding down my throat.

“I come here all the time,” Sam said.

I'd guessed that just judging by the accumulation of garbage.

“It's good to just get away from everybody and have a little peace.”

A little privacy had been one of the things I'd missed most since we first got on our boat.

“If you want to come here sometime by yourself, be my guest. You know where the key is, just lock it up and put the key back when you're through.”

“But why is it locked in the first place?” I asked.

The truck was squarely in the middle of a sea of other trucks and cars, so it wasn't like it was going anywhere.

“All the vehicles are locked.” He paused. “And the RCMP took the keys.”

“But …”

Sam smiled. “But not all the keys. My father always has a spare in the wheel well of every one of his trucks.

When you come, though, I need you to be careful.”

I could understand that his father might get angry, the way the cab of his truck was getting messed up.

“We're not supposed to be in here, and if the guards catch us we could be in trouble.”

“There are guards?” I asked, looking anxiously out the windscreen. All I could see were the other vehicles.

“There are guards everywhere. They may call it the pool, but this is a detainment camp.”

“Maybe we shouldn't be here,” I suggested.

Sam laughed. “There's no maybe to it. We
shouldn't
be here.”

I stuffed the last of my ice cream in my mouth. It felt cold but wonderful. “There, I'm finished,” I mumbled.

“Let's get going.”

“You can if you want, but I'm staying here for a while.” Sam inserted the keys into the steering wheel column, and suddenly a radio started to play.

“There's a radio in here? ” I questioned in amazement.

“All my father's trucks have radios. He had them installed special. His drivers make runs really early in the morning, sometimes as early as four o'clock, and he figured the radios would help keep them awake.”

Sam reached over and fiddled with the dials, and music, big band music, started to play.

“This is probably one of the few radios in the whole camp — at least, a radio that doesn't belong to the guards. I mostly listen to music. Do you like Glenn Miller?”

I shrugged. I'd never heard of him.

“But I also listen to the news. Stuff that's happening in Europe and Asia and also what's happening here in Vancouver. It's important to know what's happening.”

He turned the volume up slightly.

“Should you be doing that?” I questioned. “What if the guards hear it?”

“They won't,” he said, turning it up another notch.

“They're old men who can't hear very well. The whole home guard is made up of men too old or fat or deaf to get into the regular army. Besides, they're way over there in the grandstand, sitting in a little office, playing cards. That's what they always do.”

“And they never patrol?”

“I've seen them make a little circle around the edge of the vehicles every so often, but I've never actually seen them cut into the middle, which is where this truck sits. Right dab in the very middle, surrounded on all sides. We can't see out past the other trucks and nobody can see in to us. Feel better now?”

I nodded. I did feel better — not good, but better.

“Look, Tadashi, if you're only going to do what you're supposed to do, then this place is going to get boring really fast. Relax, cut a few corners. Just because these soldiers are in charge doesn't mean we have to do everything they say … unless you think they're right to put us here.”

“Of course I don't!”

“Good. I was just checking. I know this may sound crazy, but my father was telling us that some of the Japanese don't even seem that upset about the whole thing. He speaks Japanese and he was saying they just kept muttering something about how there was nothing that can be done —”

“Shikata-ga-nai,” I said.

“What?”

“It can't be helped.”

Sam shrugged. “Sounds like a pretty stupid thing to say, to me. I almost wished I'd learned some more Japanese so I'd know what everybody was jabbering about. Funny-sounding language … makes me think of little cartoon animals or something.”

I felt a rush of anger and was trying to think of something to say when Sam started to talk again.

“Now that we've had dessert, how about supper?”

I looked at my watch. It was suppertime.

“We'll head back out the way we came. It's important to always come in from the same direction so the vehicles hide us from the guards in the grandstand.”

We both rolled up our windows. I held the sticky ice cream wrapper in my hand.

“Just throw it on the floor,” Sam instructed. “It's not like anybody is going to care.”

I dropped it to the floorboards, amongst the other refuse.

“And by the way,” Sam said, “there's a blanket and a couple of pillows right here behind the seat. If you want to come out here to sleep at night, be my guest — at least, if you don't mind sharing the seat.”

“You sleep out here?”

“I have a couple of times,” he answered.

“Thanks for the offer, but I think I'd prefer my own bed.”

“So would I. My own bed in my own room in my own house. You haven't tried to sleep in that building yet. Just wait. Between the crying babies and the people moving around and the stench, you may decide to take me up on my offer.”

What he was saying suddenly made sense to me.

Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea. “And you wouldn't mind sharing the seat?” I asked.

“It's a big truck. Besides, I wouldn't mind the company.” Sam looked at his watch. “They're only serving supper for another twenty minutes. Let's get moving or we won't be able to eat.”

We closed the door, firmly so it would lock, but not so loud as to have a chance of the guards hearing it and coming to investigate. Sam returned the key to its hiding spot and then had me feel around up there until I found it myself. I then returned it. We moved between the vehicles. Some of the vehicles were so close together that there was no space between. Sam climbed up on the locked bumpers and I followed behind.

Leaving behind the last of the cars I suddenly felt very exposed. I craned my neck to try to look back as we moved across the track. No guards that I could see.

As always, Sam was moving at a quick pace. I figured that even if we didn't need to rush, he'd still move at this speed. We cut back to the path, but instead of following it he moved off to the left. He traveled through some underbrush and I struggled to keep up.

“Come on, hurry up!” he yelled back over his shoulder.

I doubled my pace in order to close the gap. Up ahead, at the first building, Sam came to a stop and I trotted to his side.

“Well, here it is,” he said, gesturing to a large open door. “Dinner is served.”

We stepped inside. It was an enormous room, filled with tables and benches. Most of the tables were empty, and — I was shocked to see my mother waving to me.

And right beside her was my grandmother and Yuri and Midori, and my father!

.9.

I took two quick steps toward my father and then caught myself. I slowed down and walked to where my family sat. There was an open seat at the table, but instead of sitting I stood. Each of them had a metal tray in front of them. On each tray was a metal plate and bowl and utensils. It was just like at the army base in Rupert.

“It's good to see you!” I said to my father.

“It's good to see you too. Your mother said you helped everybody unload their belongings from the truck,” my father said.

“Yes. Me and my friend, Sam. Dad, this is …” I turned around and realized that Sam was nowhere to be seen. I looked all around and then caught sight of him, tray in hand, standing in line waiting to be served.

“He's getting some food … maybe I should get some food too.”

My father nodded. “And then have your friend join us.”

I went to the end of the line, but Sam waved to me and held up a second tray that he had been holding.

I looked at the people who were behind him in line.

Maybe I should grab another tray and wait my turn.

Sam motioned more enthusiastically. I hadn't known Sam very long, but long enough to know what he'd say if I didn't join him … maybe I should … but what about the people waiting in line ahead of me? My stomach grumbled. I was hungry, and I really was with him. I walked past the back of the line, not looking at the people I passed, and joined Sam. Of course, nobody said anything, but I still couldn't help but wonder what they were thinking.

We shuffled forward, pushing our trays along a little shelf.

“When I was a kid we used to come here all the time,” Sam said.

“Here?” I asked in disbelief.

“Every fall my father would bring me and my sister to the exhibition here. There were rides and displays, horse racing, all sorts of food — things like popcorn and candy apples, cotton candy — and of course the animal exhibits.” Sam paused and his face took on a serious look, the first one I'd ever seen on him.

“Funny, when we used to come to the fair, we'd sometimes walk down the aisles in the barn, just looking at the animals. And some had all these ribbons tacked up on a board to show how many winners that farm had, and in some of the stalls there were families who slept there, right in the barn, so they could watch the animals at night. And I remember thinking, how could anybody do that? You know, sleep in a cattle stall like an animal … and now look at us.”

I didn't know what to say in response. What could I say?

Sam reached out and grabbed two plates and passed one back to me. It was tarnished and didn't look too clean. Next he placed a bowl on his tray and then one on mine. We both grabbed utensils — a big spoon and a fork. There were no knives to be seen.

Up ahead three women stood behind a counter. On the counter were large vats of steaming food. I couldn't see what it was, but it smelled good. Then again, when I was hungry everything smelled good.

“Soup?” one of the women asked Sam.

“Everything.”

She was holding a large ladle, and she filled his bowl with a yellowish, brothy mixture.

“And you?”

“Yes, please, ma'am.”

She smiled. “You Japanese have to be the politest people in the world.” She filled my bowl and some of it splattered out onto the tray.

“Thank you,” I said instinctively, although I was tempted not to be polite just to show her.

The next woman stood in front of a big, steaming pot of what looked like stew — maybe beef stew, judging by the smell. Without asking she reached out and ladled out a serving. It hit Sam's plate with a loud “plop.” She quickly did the same for me, with the same sound escaping as it hit my plate. Somehow, “plop” wasn't a sound I'd ever associated with something being tasty.

The last server held a pair of tongs, and as each person passed she placed a slice of bread — thinly sliced white bread — on the side of the tray.

Sam paused as she gave him his piece of bread.

“Anything better in the back?” he asked.

What did that mean? She leaned over the counter and said something so quietly to Sam that I couldn't hear what she had said, but he smiled in response.

“What was that about?” I asked.

“A secret … but after we eat I'll let you in on it.

Where are we going to sit?”

“I thought with my family.”

“That should be fun.”

“I … I just thought …”

“That I should meet your parents. I guess I have to sooner or later.”

I led Sam over to the table where my family sat. As we approached, Yuri got up and pulled a chair over from another table, making a spot for Sam. My father rose to his feet.

“Father, this is my new friend, Sam …” I couldn't remember his last name.

“Uyeyama … I'm Sam Uyeyama,” he said, reaching out his hand to shake my father's.

My father bowed slightly and Sam did the same.

“I am pleased to meet,” my father said.

“Me too.”

“And this is my mother, wife and daughters.”