47

"But every life is holy," I said, somehow knowing this was the truth. "And without Mama Flore I'm sure I would have died a long time ago. If she had let me die I would never be able to help you and your people."

"We can't go back," John said.

"We have to," I countered.

When our eyes met I understood the relationship between the disguised alien and me. He had seen stars up close and the infinite variety of the place he called Universe. I had seen suffering and hard-won survival for every moment of my brief existence. And, while he knew much more than I did, I had a deeper knowledge of what it meant to be on the brink of losing everything. That's why he needed me, because I would make the choice for living

against any odds.

I think these same thoughts went through Tall John's

mind because he bowed his head again.

"You are the chosen hero," he said. "I must follow." And even though I wanted him to say that he would go

with me to try and help my slave family I had to wonder

why he would do so.

"What do you mean chosen?" I asked. "How was I

chosen and who in hell chose me?"

"The answer, like your true name, Forty-seven, is in your blood. You and a few others like you have the perfect blood code to hold the powers of the Tamal. And you, unlike many others, have a pure heart and an innocent view of the world. Even the fact that you would go back to your friends after almost being killed by Wall's ghoul proves that you have a brave soul and true spirit."

"What happened to Mr. Stewart?" I asked then.

come upon him before the vitality had gone out of his blood. Wall resurrected him to do his bidding."

"If he can do all that then why can't he build his own machine to dig down in the ground for that powder?"

"The Calash are not as evolved in technology as are the Tamal," John said. "They work mainly with biology. They even travel through space using certain unique qualities of their anatomy. Wall needs my machine or it will be more than a century before he will receive the power to try again." "So it's our job to keep Wall from getting to your ma chine?" I asked. "Yes."

"I promise to help you do that if you help me save Mama Flore and Champ and as many slaves as we can." "As I said," John replied, "I will follow your lead."

When we got back upon the Corinthian Plantation it was just before dawn. Everything was calm.

"Are they still under your spell?" I asked John. "No. Everyone is sleeping normally. But look." John put his hand on my shoulder and pointed to the woods on the other side of Tobias's mansion. Somehow his touch allowed me to see what he could with his superior alien perceptions. Suddenly I could see behind the woods, making out a group of a dozen or so heavily armed men. The one-eyed ghoul, Mr. Stewart, was in their lead.

All of the men were white, armed with rifles, and had pistols-

stealthily toward the big house and the workmen's dormitory.

"Quick," John said. "Hurry down and release as many slaves as you can while I warn Tobias and his men."

Before I could run he added, "I will be weak from the effort of waking the slave master's clan, Forty-seven. You will have to save your friends alone."

Maybe if I had time to think about his last words I would have changed my mind. But I was mostly thinking about saving my friends.

"Where I find you aftah?" I asked John.

"Under the hanging tree," he said ominously.

I nodded and then I was gone.

I ran as fast as I could toward the Tomb, having made up my mind that Champ Noland was the first man that I had to free.

Again I was amazed at how fast I could run. I moved as nimbly as an African cheetah and so was in front of the small prison in no time at all. But when I got there I saw that it was padlocked.

I knew where the key to the Tomb was kept because of all the years I'd spent near Mama Flore. It was on a hook in the kitchen. With my newfound speed I ran to the back kitchen door. I found a ring of keys hanging from the hook. Then I hurried toward the Tomb and tried three keys before one of them opened the padlock.

"Champ!" I cried.

He was curled up on the floor with his head down between his knees. When he heard my voice he roused himself and raised his eyes to see who had opened his door.

At once I went to work finding the right key for his

manacles.

His face was all bruised and the flesh above both his eyes was swollen from beatings. There was dried blood about his mouth and there was something wrong with his jaw. "What you doin' here, Forty-seven?" "Men wit' guns comin'," I said, still fumbling for the right key. "We gotta get the other slaves and run 'fore they kill us all."