The slaves of Freetown

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

In silence, I reopen my eyes on Mistress Freeman's face. Her lips quiver slightly as if she is uttering secret words.

"I'm sorry, it was very indelicate from me. I should've predicted that maybe you too lost someone dear in a shipwreck. Excuse me, Kanoa."

"No, no, I am fine; it is just those crises."

"I know, but it's the strong emotions that most often trigger them."

I get up and help her lean on her crutch. My questioning gaze calls out to her.

"One day, when I was ten years old, one of the crises was so severe that my back hit a corner of the coffee table. My spinal cord was damaged, and my leg has since been paralyzed. COVID-19 was then also responsible for attacking the surface tissue. That's how it expresses itself in me; these are my symptoms. I had the yellow spots at birth, but I benefited from the vaccine, thanks to my parents' situation."

"I am sorry, Mistress."

"Good for these Masters, should you rather say! Anyway, will you help me?"

"With?"

"With my research, I have to go to Freetown, get information, interviews. A source of the FreeRush movement! It would be huge; I need to be sure!"

"Mistress, Miss, it is too dangerous. The... people who deal with these kinds of things are feared by most slaves and have ties to local criminals. No one will want to tell you about it. Since the 9/11, any mention of the FreeRush movement contributes to the stigma of our Freetown, regardless of the context."

"I have to try Kanoa. If it's not with you, I'll go by myself; it's all decided. I was just looking for someone who knows Freetown well, but I will find another way if I have to. To tell you everything, I'm running out of time."

I have been trying all day to keep my head out of the storm and out of this water soiled by memories of the past few hours. My reality catches up with me; fate haunts me; fate is relentless. Mistress Freeman speaks with determination; she will find her answers, but at what cost? In return for her naivety, she will only receive violence. If I provide her with a minimum of materials for her documentary, I will control the flow of information; I can play on the wires to make sure that my family and I stay away from all this. Since we are still in uncertainty, an ally of her rank could change a lot.

If she investigates by herself, she will eventually find the connection between the Ferrymen, Mr. Salvi, the Grinbergs, and us, I am convinced. There are not many slaves who dare publicly claim their support for the FreeRush movement outside Freetown. I guess this anonymous source is close to the Grinbergs. Before they came to see us, a rumor circulated in Freetown about a renewed interest in the reactionary legacy of our neighborhood's most violent ideas. Among the youngest, led by the Grinbergs and their neo-FreeRush gang, frightening all parents, in particular, Mohamed.

So, I will help Mistress Freeman; I will do better than what I did with Mistress Salvi...

"As I am required to do, I will support you as best I can," I finally say.

"Don't make it be like I gave you no choice, I mean..." she rejoiced to mask her unease, taking my hand in hers.

Her warm palms roll up my wrists, and for a few moments, I feel a little invigorated and very guilty. She briefly looks into my eyes, my feet sinking into the ground. She has just anchored us into the present.

"I-I think someone has just come in. Let's go check..."

She drops her hands and trots to the door. Arriving in the living room, we hear Celeste putting the dishes in the cupboards.