DON'T SCREW AROUND, KUNAAR

We were now halfway to Cincinnati before either of us next spoke. It was a good 90 minutes since Louisville, the checkpoints were really making this overly arduous. Kunaar must have been not much of a Guardian, he can't seem to maneuver around them. Then again, we were both eating. I did, indeed, have a much appreciated orange juice. We ate the whole breakfast in the back of the SUV, but it sure beat prison food.

Mostly the juice.

Sensing my authority waning as a Commander's son, I finally said, "Look, Kunaar. If you want to avoid any more screw-ups, you should tell me what the hell is going on." I figured the use of an un-Gilead-like word like 'hell' would drive home how serious I was.

"In Syracuse, boy, in Syracuse."

'Boy'!? Had he just called me, 'boy'!? "Why are we going to Syracuse?" There was no answer.

So I pressed on, "Look, Kunaar, if you play your cards right with me, I can put a good word in for you with The Commander. Trust me, that's difficult if you take me to Syracuse."

Kunaar put down his coffee, looked in the mirror above him and said, "Do you know how we got through that check-point outside the eatery?" I assured him that I did not.

He said firmly, "You're now in the Guardian database as a gender-traitor. How do you like them apples?"

"KUNAAAAAAAR," I yelled, "don't screw around like that!"

"Trust me on this one," he concluded, "being seen as a gender-traitor is preferable to what is really going on."

What the hell did he mean by that?

"Kunaar!" I yelled again, "I order you to tell me what is going on! What's going on with my father!"

At that Kunaar started slowing. He said, "Two more checkpoints, then we cross the Ohio River."

I boiled mad at that. As sarcastic as I could, I said, "it's not the 'Ohio' river, Kunaar. That's what Americans called it. What's the matter with you?"

All he said as he pulled up at the stop for the checkpoint was, "Tell that to the Guardian up ahead. His tablet will tell him that I'm transporting a gender-traitor, one who thinks that it shouldn't be called the 'Ohio River'."

Not since the office at the prison early this morning had I cried. That was twice in one day. I wasn't a gender-traitor!

WHO THE HECK IS PRIYA?

"So this is the young strapling," Ranjini said.

"Mind your tone," I blurted. I was taken aback by a woman talking so bluntly, and a possible Child of Ham at that! Kunaar's family sure looked like Children of Ham even though he had a lighter skin tone. The rest were really dark. The clincher? Look at the way they acted with one another.

No sooner had I said it, than Kunaar reached over and slapped my ear.

Ranjini looked at her brother and asked, "Have you told him?" Has he told me 'what'? At least someone thinks I should be brought up to speed.

He motioned me to sit down. We had only been inside his family's garage for 10 minutes, and after the trip from Nashville, sitting was the last thing I wanted to do. Except the one called 'Ranjini', she continued her insolence. She barked, "Sit!" Obeying, I thought to myself, 'when this is over there are going to be some salvagings, that's for sure'.

I still assumed I had some authority, so said, "Look, either someone tells me what's happening…"

But Kunaar interrupted, "….. or what?"

The brother and sister looked at each other. Kunaar then said to her, "why don't you do the honours."

Yes! Someone! Speak!

She looked at me and said, "Sometime in the next few days, your brothers are going to arrive here. You, then, are going to go for a little ride with them. Kunaar will accompany you."

What was she talking about? She continued, "All things being equal, you'll end up in Canada. The less you know about that, the better."

They were kidnapping me and my brothers? That kind of thing had happened to baby-Nichole! I yelled, "Kunaar, you and your family of darkies are going to hang on the wall."

Kunaar said, "Darkies? That's not even new." He leaned forward in his chair, "Listen boy, lose the colour commentary. We're on your side."

I was getting angry. "Kunaar, you of all people know you can't get away with this."

He said, "We already have."

I got angrier. "Look, Dhillons with an 'h'. Do you really think that my father is going to stand by while his children are kidnapped? Do you have any idea who my mother is?"

Ranjini said, "Right now, they are being entertained by Canadians in Toronto." Kunaar flashed her a look.

"Nice try," I said. "My father does not do diplomacy."

Ranjini said, "Young man, you've just come from a prison, right?" I told her I had. She replied, "I guess it then runs in the family."

What?

And then Ranjini started talking jibberish. She said to Kunaar, "For what it's worth, mom's never heard of anyone named Priya." What the heck did that mean?

Who's Priya?

HAZ-MAT

It's not the care with which they were unloading the truck which gave me pause. It was the 'Hazardous Material' symbols on the bins which gave it away.

My brothers were in that truck? Or rather, under the deck in that truck? After they got out, I took a look underneath and there simply was no room.

Eventually, the truck had been fully unloaded. This is how they got unloaded - Kunaar jumped in and pried up some of the floor. He lifted out my little brothers one by one.

They were wearing oversized clothes, and what looked like hockey helmets. When they were taken off, my youngest brother had a giant red welt on his forehead. Kunaar said that all that was to keep them warm and to protect their head when the truck went over an inevitable bump.

My brothers got their bearings and spied me - both burst into tears. Kunaar helped them down to the garage floor and they came running to me. Don't get me wrong, we were not a huggie family. Mostly we hit. But they clung to me as tightly as I had ever seen. Soon we were sitting and my brothers had some hot chocolate and food.

Kunaar, sitting beside me, said, "It must be good to see them."

I said, "Where are my parents, The Commander and my mom?"

Kunaar, ever the comedian said, "You'll be seeing them soon."

I said, "How?"

He pointed to the truck. "There's room for three in there." No there wasn't. Not from what I saw.

ONLY TWO HOCKEY HELMETS

Did I say that there was no room? The Dhillon's had not had a hockey helmet for me which had fit, meaning that on the bad bumps I hit my head. Not badly, but it was irritating. I couldn't maneuver my arm to rub the bruised spot. I was in a parka with two sets of sweats. Even with that I was cold. My brothers were on either side of me. Every time I asked, they said that they were okay.

Oh sure. Trying to be tough in front of me.

I was in charge of the food. As well as the bottled water, as long as it didn't freeze. I figured that as the eldest brother, it was my job to dole it out. It was so cramped, neither of them could reach across me. Wherever father was, I hoped he would find out and take note, that I can be a big brother.

Kunaar had said that the longest haul would be on "90". Told me not to worry if we stopped, which we would often. Just like our trip north from the prison. I wouldn't have to worry (too much) about keeping the boys quiet - they wouldn't turn off the engine at checkpoints. At some checkpoints there would be dogs, but at most none.

Aside from all that, I had time to think. Nosirree, they had not told me anything. Not really. Father and mom were supposedly in Toronto. That was hard to believe, but yet us three brothers were there together. Me, I'd been dragged from engineering school to an ancient prison. No explanations there. Just beatings. Something must have happened to father. Kunaar's ramblings, or lack of same, seemed to add up to something.

At that the truck slowed. Probably yet another checkpoint. We'd been in Syracuse 2 hours ago. In two hours we could be anywhere. The truck then stopped, engine off. I only worried because Kunaar said it wouldn't happen, but the truck's engine went silent. It was eerily quiet.

I whispered to my brothers, "I think this is our chance."

BUT WE CHICKENED OUT

We said nothing when a small opening appeared near my head. Someone managed to shove some bottled water and a few bits of meat through - I managed to manoeuvre to grab it all. Once again, most of that was going to my brothers. This cramped space was hell.

Now on our way again, it had been hours since the stop when the engine had been turned off. We'd stopped two - or was it three - times since then. My middle brother had not said much the whole time we'd been stuffed in here. We were having trouble making out what each of us was saying, but the drift of it was that we had decided. The next time we stopped and the engine went off, we were going to gather all the strength we could - yelling, screaming, and pounding on anything that would make noise in here. Someone would hear us.

They had to. I was going to make sure that Kunaar and his conspirators got turned in.

The water was refreshing, it was still cold, but eventually we stopped yet again. For the second time, the engine went off. I counted down from 5. Five, four, three, two, one….. and we started yelling, "Help us!" "We're being kidnapped!" We started kicking and banging.

Sure enough, a male voice shouted back into the little hole, "Sit tight, we'll get you out!" We heard the cargo from above us in the truck being unloaded. Heard, "Be careful, this is lethal stuff." After a few minutes, the lid above us came open and the light was blinding.

A pair of arms reached in and pulled out my youngest brother. A silver cellophane blanket went around him and he was whisked out of sight. The same thing happened to my next brother, "I've got you, you're safe now."

I refused the help. Grasping the sides of the opening above me I pulled myself up. There he was, Kunaar. Beside him was an officer in a uniform with a Canadian flag on the arm. Canadian Border Services Agency. My heart sunk.

So much for my plan. It was all I could do not to cry in front of my brothers.