Caged Eagles (14 page)

“Vancouver sure must have some tough baseball.”

“Not Vancouver, Hastings Park. All those fights I've seen were on this field in the past two weeks.”

“Come on,” I said in disbelief.

He shook his head. “And I know for a fact it's safer to be here than down there.”

“It sounds like … have you been in a fight out there?”

Again he nodded and a sly smile crept onto his face. “He had it coming. He was jabbering away at me in Japanese. I wasn't going to take any garbage from him.”

“But you don't understand Japanese, so how do you know what he was even saying?” I demanded.

“I don't need to know the language to know he wasn't asking me how my mother was, so I took a swing at him.”

“And then?”

He shrugged. “And then the same thing as what happened here. A bunch of people rolled around on the ground, a few punches were dished out and then … we played ball, like they are,” he said, motioning with his hand.

In front of us the players had all resumed their positions either on the field or on the bench — all except the second baseman. Somebody else had taken his place on the field, and he was sitting down off to the side. He still looked a little glassy-eyed. Two of the older men were standing over him. One was barking out questions like “Where are you?” and “What is your name?” to see if he was okay. He repeatedly shook his head and mumbled out replies I couldn't hear.

Somebody else brought him a canteen and he took a long drink. He seemed fine to me.

“So, do you still want to stick around?” I asked.

“We could,” Sam said. “Or maybe we could try something else.”

“Like what?” I asked.

“I don't know. Maybe we could go for a walk … you know, into town.”

.11.

“You want to go out of the park? Now?” I asked.

“Sure … why not?”

“Couldn't we get into trouble?” I asked.

“Only if they catch us, and I'm not too worried about the guards here at the park.”

“You're not? Then what are you worried about?”

“You saw that one headline in the paper. Some of the people out there in the city aren't too happy to see Japs wandering around. I've heard stories of people giving Japanese a hard time. Being told they couldn't come into stores — even guys being beaten up.”

“Maybe we shouldn't go outside,” I said. Then I thought, “Wait a second. Stories.” Working around an army base, I knew all about rumors and stories and how far they get from the truth.

“Have you actually talked to somebody who was beaten up?” I asked.

“No, but I've heard from people who've talked to people who —”

“Heard from somebody else who's cousin knew somebody who …” I paused. “Just rumors. How about your father? You said he goes out all the time. Has he been hassled?”

“He said that people are looking at him funny,”

Sam answered.

“That I can handle. Has anything happened to you when you've been out?”

Sam didn't answer. That meant one of two things: either something bad had happened or … “You
have
been outside the park, haven't you?”

“Sure. Three or four times.”

Somehow his tone of voice didn't match the words.

“I've gone out with my father.”

“You mean on passes? Through the front gate? I thought you'd snuck out under the fence.”

“I didn't say that,” he mumbled.

“But the way you were talking about knowing the spot to get out and —”

“I
do
know the spot,” he interrupted. “I've even seen somebody go under.”

The best lie is half the truth — another one of my grandmother's sayings.

He shrugged. “I can go out with my father and Betsy brings me back the newspapers and candy. I don't need to sneak out.”

“So why are you suggesting it now?”

Sam spat out his gum, the wad sailing through the air. “Maybe I just need to go out,” he said. “Maybe because you haven't been here as long as me you don't feel the same.”

“You mean trapped?” I asked.

“Exactly! Trapped. It would feel good just to step outside the fence. I bet ya the air even feels better on that side of the fence. So do you want to go?”

“Maybe.” I definitely wanted to go. The question was, did I have the nerve to go?

“Have you ever been in Vancouver before?”

“Just coming here in the truck from our boat,” I admitted.

“I could show you some of it. Do you want me to show you the city?” Sam asked. “I'll keep you safe. I really don't have enough friends that I can risk losing one.”

Friends … I guess that's what we'd become. My mind raced back up to Rupert and my best friend Jed.

I couldn't think of anybody less like Jed than Sam and his constant talking, interrupting, gum chewing — but yeah, he was the closest thing I now had to a friend.

“I'd like to come along.”

“Good. Any special place you want to go?”

I shook my head. “It would be good just to leave and walk around free, that's all.”

“That sounds good. Maybe we can even get some lunch out there.”

“I thought we were going to eat here first,” I said.

“Not a good idea. What if we run into your family or mine and they ask what we're going to do? Would your parents let you sneak out?”

“No,” I said in astonishment. “My father would never give me permission.”

“Mine neither,” Sam admitted. “And that's why we're not going to ask permission. They can't say no to a question they've never been asked. Come on, follow me.”

As we moved toward the fence I became increasingly uneasy. I got the feeling Sam wasn't feeling so comfortable either. For once, Sam wasn't talking much.

Most of the sound coming out of his mouth was from the chomping of his gum. He seemed to be chewing faster to make up for not talking. And strangely, as his mouth motored quicker his feet got slower. Sam was walking at my pace rather than me having to race to keep up with him.

“The place to get out is just up ahead,” Sam said.

“Yeah,” I answered instinctively. “But we don't have to go.”

“Sounds like you're scared,” he taunted.

“Not me!” I said defiantly. “How about you?”

“Me? It was my idea to go … remember?” Sam said, sealing off our last chance.

We were walking along a stretch of fence parallel to the busy street where we'd got the ice cream last night.

There sure were a lot of cars in Vancouver.

Sam stopped walking. “This is where we get out.”

“Where?”

“Right here,” Sam said, pointing down.

There was a stretch of fence, maybe ten or twelve feet long, where the ground had been washed away, opening up a gap of about eight inches or so under the fence. It didn't look like much, but I guessed we could wiggle out. Somehow I was expecting something different. Maybe a hole or a gap between posts or something. But more troubling than the small size of the gap was what surrounded it. I'd figured we'd have some cover instead of being on a busy street. There was no place to hide and no way we could get out without half a dozen of the passing cars seeing us.

“Isn't there a better place, some place where there's cover?” I asked.

“”This is the only place I know where people have gotten out.”

“And they didn't get caught?”

“If they had, don't you think they would have sealed off the spot?”

“I guess so.”

“The nearest gate and guardhouse are around the corner on Renfrew Street, so as long as you watch out for the sentries, then —”

“Sentries! There are sentries?” I questioned, looking up and down the fence for them. I was relieved to see nobody.

“Of course. Weren't there sentries at that base where you worked?”

“Yeah, there are always sentries at a military base.”

“Then why are you surprised? This is a military base — actually, a military prison.”

Of course, Sam was right. That's what it was, a prison, and we were prisoners. I looked up and down the length of the fence again, this time more carefully. There was still nobody in sight. The only people around were in the cars and trucks racing by.

“We'll be seen by the cars,” I said.

Sam shrugged. “They'll see us, but so what? It isn't like they'll stop even if they do notice. After you,” Sam said, gesturing to the hole.

I really had second thoughts about this, but I didn't figure there was any way to back out now. I looked at the gap and then took one more quick glance up and down the length of the fence. There were no sentries in sight. I took a deep breath and dropped to my knees.

“Your best bet is to slide out on your back,” Sam said.

“I figured that,” I replied, even though I had been considering going out on my belly.

If I was going to go I had to move fast. I flipped over and grabbed the bottom of the fence with my hands.

I pulled myself forward, a couple of rocks trapped underneath me digging into my back as I slid along. I turned my head slightly to the side to allow my nose to slip beneath the fence. My shoulders passed next and I rotated my arms, grabbing the fence from the other side, and pulled myself through. In a quick motion I jumped to my feet.

I looked around anxiously, half expecting some guard to leap out of somewhere and grab me by the scruff of the neck and frogmarch me to the gate. But there was nobody. The cars kept racing by, ignoring me like I was invisible.

“Come on,” I urged Sam, who was standing on the other side of the fence, grinning at me. “Hurry.”

“Naaawww,” Sam replied, shaking his head. “I don't think I'm coming.”

“You're what?!”

“Not coming. Too dangerous. I'm going back to the mess for a snack. See you later,” he said. Sam turned around and started to walk away, and my jaw dropped to the ground.

Suddenly Sam spun around. Almost in one motion he dropped to the ground, flipped to his back, pulled himself under the fence and then popped back to his feet.

“You should have seen your face,” he laughed. “You really thought I was chickening out, didn't you?”

“Well …”

“I stick by my friends. We better get moving.”

“Yeah, we better.” I turned away from the fence and took a step forward but I was grabbed from behind.

“Watch out!” Sam yelled as a car raced by just inches in front of my face.

“I didn't see it!” I stammered as I staggered back another step.

“I figured you weren't trying to get killed. Follow me.”

I nodded my head.

Sam stepped off the curb into the first lane. There was a big truck coming in that lane, but it was still a long way off.

Sam turned back. “Are you coming?”

Again I nodded my head. On shaky legs I stepped out onto the road and stopped right beside Sam. A car passed by in the second lane, and Sam started walking again. I scurried after him, bumping against him as he stopped in the very middle of the road, and anxiously looked off to the side for more oncoming vehicles.

Sam mumbled something under his breath. Two cars passed by in the other direction, then there was a large gap in the traffic. I ran across the lanes, not stopping until I reached the safety of the sidewalk.

“So now that we're out, where do you want to go?”

Sam asked.

“I don't know. How about if we just walk?”

“Sure. Let's get off the main street. Down this way.”

Just up ahead a smaller street ran off to the side. As we walked along the sounds of the traffic faded into the distance. I found myself feeling a little more at ease. We were out, nobody had seen or noticed, and we were free.

The houses here were very similar to the ones I'd seen through the fence. They were all very neat and tidy, with carpets of thick, green grass and flowers, lots of flowers, filling the front gardens.

While there were lots of houses, there weren't many people to go along with them. There was an old man cutting his lawn, and an older couple sitting on their porch, but we didn't pass anybody on the sidewalk.

Where was everybody? Then it dawned on me — it was a weekday. All the kids were in school, and many of the adults would have been at work.

“You thirsty?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, I could use a drink,” I said. “But I don't see anyplace where we can —”

There was an old man right up ahead, watering his grass. We stopped on the sidewalk in front of his house.

“Excuse me, sir,” Sam said. “Do you think we could have a drink?”

The man turned to face us. There was a quizzical look on his face.

“From the hose,” Sam said, pointing.

“Oh … yeah … sure,” he said as he offered Sam the hose.

“Thanks,” Sam said as he walked up the driveway.

He held the hose to the side of his face and a stream of water cut across his mouth, spattering and splashing as he lapped up the liquid. Satisfied, he handed it to me. The water was cold and delicious. I drank greedily.

It traced a cool path down my throat.

“Thank you,” I said as I handed the hose back to the man.

“Water never tastes better than it does from a hose,”

Sam said.

The old man chuckled. “That's exactly what I always say!”

To my surprise the old man put the hose up to the side of his mouth and slurped away at the water. He looked up at us. “I don't see many of your kind around here anymore.”

“Our kind?” Sam asked.

“You know, Japanese.”

“You thought we were Japanese?” Sam asked.

I tried to keep my face blank and not register my surprise at his answer.

“You're not?”

“No, we're Chinese. Lots of people can't tell us apart,” Sam said.