Chapter 2
BAZEL UNDERSTOOD more of the stranger’s English than he was able to speak, so he knew what the man said, which was good.
He looked around the building, trying to figure out where he was and what kind of place he was in.
The women were gone, except for the lady who seemed to be in charge here, even over the policeman, which kind of tickled him.
But he had learned that America was different.
He kept reminding himself that this place was not at all like back home.
“You can sit down if you want,” the lady in charge said gently.
She turned on a television, and Bazel took one of the metal seats, watching the screen.
Maybe if he really paid attention he could learn better English and he’d be able to talk better.
But after an hour, he started to wonder what they were even saying.
He picked out English words, but they didn’t make any sense to him.
So he gave up and sat with his hands on his lap, smiling at the few people who passed him.
Somone brought him a sandwich, and he ate it because he was so very hungry, and every time he emptied a bottle of the water, someone gave him another.
But mostly they left him alone as they talked on the phone or typed at their computers.
He hoped the women were okay and that they weren’t being mistreated.
But with everything they had been through, wherever they were had to be better than the back of a truck with no place to sit properly, just a few blankets, and no food or water because it was gone.
Every time they stopped, Bazel would watch through the sliver where, if the driver opened the side door, they could see out and where someone might put water or food inside.
But that didn’t happen very often on the long trip.
“Are you okay? Do you need anything?” the lady in charge asked. “Officer Atlas will return in a few hours. The bathroom is right down there if you need it.”
“I am fine,” he answered, but was starting to feel the need.
He wasn’t comfortable just wandering around, but it was becoming clear that his need was growing quickly.
Bazel looked around once she had left and got up and followed where she had pointed.
He wandered down a hall and found an open door.
Inside was a sink and toilet. He closed the door and used the facilities, hoping it was okay.
Then he washed his hands and returned to where he’d been sitting, watching the clock as the hands seemed to go around very slowly.
The hours passed, and he sometimes watched the television for something to do, but mostly he wondered what was going to happen to him.
Weeks before he had been in a small village in Georgia, and he had been told that he could come to America.
There was nothing in his village for him.
His parents had turned their backs on him when they found out what he was.
They had to, in order to not be shunned by the rest of the community. Bazel knew that, but it still hurt.
He met the man in the main market in Tbilisi and thought he was reliable and trustworthy.
In the end, out of desperation, he gave the man what little he had for passage, and after riding on a boat for a long time, he was in America.
At least that was what he thought. Once they reached land, he had no idea where he was supposed to go or what he would do, but he was here and that was all that mattered.
Except they were hurried off the boat late at night and put into the back of the truck.
All six of them. The others didn’t speak English, and while Bazel did because he took it in school because he hoped to visit someday, he pretended not to understand.
They were all being sent to New York or New Jersey, that much he had heard, but for what he didn’t know for sure.
In his heart, though, he knew… and it scared him.
They would be ruined, and…. He shivered and then remembered that they were safe now and the lady in charge was helping them. He just hoped that was enough.
“Are you ready to go?” The policeman stood in front of him, and Bazel slowly got up.
He wondered what this man wanted from him.
Back home, the police were to be feared.
They had power and they could use it the way they wanted, depending on which warlord they followed.
“Remember me? I’m Atlas, and I found you. ”
Did that mean that this man owned him now? Bazel wasn’t sure, and it made him hesitate. But what choice did he have? Even so, he stood stock still, not able to make his legs work.
“It’s okay,” the policeman said, more gently.
“I’m going to take you home where you can have dinner and rest.” He smiled, and finally Bazel was able to take a few steps forward.
The man was still in his blue uniform, but when they went outside, he took them to a regular car, not one with a cage in the back seat like they had come here in.
The dog was in the back seat, but the man opened the front door, and Bazel got inside.
Then the man hurried around to the other side and got in, then started the engine.
“Do you remember Evie?” he asked. “She was the one who helped us find you.”
Bazel nodded. “I remember.”
“She is a good dog, aren’t you, girl?” He reached back and petted her.
She sat down, and Bazel relaxed. He wasn’t sure what to make of the big dog, but she seemed—he wasn’t sure if friendly was the right word—maybe contented, and definitely well fed.
She panted as the man drove to a nice neighborhood with neat brick houses and new cars out front.
He parked on the street and got out of the car.
Bazel followed, and the man unlocked the front door. The dog stayed right by his side as they entered. The first thing the man did was take off the dog’s harness, and she bounded away. “Come inside,” the man said, and Bazel entered.
He hadn’t known what to expect, but the house was clean, and it was comfortable-looking.
There were no holes in the walls from bombs, and all the windows were perfect.
The furniture looked new, and Bazel stood in the hall, not sure if he was supposed to sit down or not.
Maybe he was supposed to clean or something.
He heard that in America men and women did the same chores, that things were different than back home.
“Please sit down,” the policeman offered. Atlas, that was his name, he had to remember that. “I need to change, but I’ll be right back.” He went up the stairs, and Bazel watched him. Then he sat in a chair near the door, waiting and wondering what was going to happen next.
The dog came up to him with a red thing in her mouth.
She dropped it near his feet and then looked up at him and back at the toy again.
At least he hoped it was a toy. Bazel knocked it with his feet, and she hurried across the floor to get it, then returned to him.
This time he picked it up and threw it gently toward the other room.
Evie raced off to get it and brought it back.
“You playing?” he asked, and tossed it again.
She ran after it, always bringing it back.
The next time, he held the red thing and she sat, eyes glued to it.
She barked a little, quietly, and he tossed it again.
This time she caught it in the air and pranced back.
“Good dog.” He tossed the toy one more time and then sat back as she brought it again.
“Evie,” the man called, and she hurried away. “It’s time to go outside.” She raced away, and Atlas came back alone, then sat across from him.
“I know that everything is strange for you and that you may not understand all that I’m saying, but you are welcome here and no one is going to hurt you. There is food in the kitchen and plenty to drink. You can help yourself to whatever you would like.”
Bazel nodded slowly. He heard what Atlas said but wasn’t sure he got what he meant. He nodded anyway.
“I will get you some things to clean up with, and tomorrow I’ll take you to the store so you can get some other clothes and things. For now, you have nothing to worry about. You’re safe.”
“Thank you,” Bazel said. “I….” Words failed him, and he decided to stay quiet.
“Do you know how you got here? Do you know the people who brought you here?” Atlas asked.
Bazel shook his head. “We came in back of truck and not see anyone but driver. He gave us water sometimes. There was another man, and he was mean. I think driver sneak water. Not sure.”
“Okay. We have the driver in custody, and there wasn’t anyone else in the truck when we pulled it over.” Bazel shrugged; he didn’t know anything more. “How long had it been since you last stopped?”
He thought for a few seconds. Time had little value when you were in the blackness in back of the truck. There had been almost no light. Only a crack in one corner. No food, no water, nowhere to go, and it was hot, very hot, a lot of the time. “What time when find us?”
“It was just before ten in the morning,” Atlas told him.
“Maybe two hour.” He wasn’t very sure, but it was his best guess. Atlas wrote it down and said thank you.
“That might help us.” He smiled, and it went almost all the way to his eyes. Atlas looked nice like that, and Bazel found himself smiling too. “I’m going to make some dinner.”
Bazel yawned. So tired. Now that he was not moving and not afraid all the time, all he wanted was sleep.
Still, he nodded, and Atlas left the room.
The dog came back in, and this time she rested her head on Bazel’s knee.
He stroked her head, and she stayed still.
“Good dog.” He still wasn’t sure about her, but she seemed kind.
Dogs in his country had been turned into weapons, but this one was gentle with him, even if she was a police dog.