Chapter 8 Section VII

Both of us were silent for a few seconds, staring wide-eyed, nervous and sad.She was standing half naked on the ground, the fat on her body was cut into grooves by the corset and bra.I sat on the bed with my legs curled up, wearing pajamas and a sheet, my hair disheveled, and my heart curled up into a ball.We are accompanied only by those black pistols that have lost their shelter. Finally she spoke, her tone was firm, without any hesitation. "So this has to be done by you, Sheila, there's no other way!" "I can't, no, I can't..." I stuttered almost speechlessly.

"You have to do it, girl!" she repeated in a low voice, "or we're really doomed." "But, Candelaria, think about how many crimes I have already committed, such as hotel debts, typewriter fraud, and jewelry theft... If I am caught this time, then I am really hopeless." "You don't have to wait until someone catches you. When Palomares comes, we're all doomed. These things are at home, and he can catch them." She said, turning her eyes to those on the ground pistol. "But, Candelaria, listen to me..." I still wanted to protest.

"No, you listen to me girl, you listen to me well," she said unquestionably, her tone was heavy, her eyes were as wide as a plate.I was still sitting on the bed, and she bent over me and grabbed my arm, forcing me to look her in the face. "I tried my best, and I almost lost my life, but God didn't help me, and I couldn't finish this thing." She said, "It's just bad luck. Sometimes God lets you get something for nothing, sometimes It's time for you to be in bad luck again, and tonight I just had bad luck. There's nothing I can do now, Sheila, there's nothing I can do about it. But you're different. You're the only one who can save us now , the only one who can take the goods to the designated place and bring the money back. For God's sake, I wouldn't let you go if I had to. But now we have nothing else to do, boy, you have to act Get up. You're as deeply involved as I am now. It's about the two of us. There's no way out. It's about our future, girl, our whole future. If we don't get the money, we'll Never hold your head up. It's all in your hands now, so you have to do it. For me, and for yourself, Sheila, for both of us!"

I still want to say no.I know I have every reason to say no, never, never even mention it.But I also know that Candelaria has a point.I entered into this transaction voluntarily, no one forced me.The two of us are already grasshoppers on the same rope, but each has a division of labor.Candelaria sells the weapons first, then I set up shop.But we all know that sometimes the boundaries of things are elastic, blurry, subject to change, to be redrawn, or to dissolve like ink in water until there is no trace left.She had fulfilled her duty, and if she had not been lucky enough to succeed, at least she had done her best.And now hope is not completely lost, we are not at the end of the road.For the sake of reason and reason, I am the only one who should take the risk.

I hesitated for a few seconds without speaking.Because before answering, I have to try to get rid of the pessimistic images in my mind that are about to suffocate me: the police station, the prison cell, the faceless Palomares... "Have you thought about what I should do?" I asked timidly. Candelaria breathed a sigh of relief and regained her strength. "It's very simple, very simple, just wait for me, and I'll tell you how to do it right away." She ran out half naked and was back in less than half a minute with a pile of white linen in her arms. "You can dress up as a Moor girl in a robe," she said as she closed the door. "You can fit everything in the robe."

There is no doubt that it is.Every day I saw Moorish women wrapped in shapeless, voluminous gowns, covering their heads, arms, and whole bodies, front to back, in layers.Really anything can be hidden in this big robe.Not only that, but they often cover their faces with a piece of cloth, only showing a pair of eyes, two feet and ankles.I really can't think of a better way to walk down the street with a small arsenal in hand. "But before we can put this on we have to do something else. Get out of bed, quick action." I complied without a word, letting her take control of the situation.Without looking at it, she grabbed the sheet and put it to her mouth, tore a hole with her teeth, and then tore the sheet into strips.

"Tear off the lower layer as I did," she ordered me.Using both teeth and hands, within a few minutes we had turned all the sheets on the bed into more than twenty long cloth straps. "Okay, now we're going to attach the pistol to you with these straps. Put your arms up and I'll strap the first one." In this way, without even taking off my pajamas, the nineteen pistols were fixed on my body one by one, and were tied tightly with cloth strips made of bed sheets.Each cloth strip was tied with a pistol. First fold the cloth strip in half, clamp the pistol in the middle, then stick it to my body, wrap the tape around my body two or three times, and finally knot the two ends with force.

"You're so skinny, girl, there's no place to tie the rest," Candelaria said when I had pistols strapped to my front and back. "Tie the thighs." I suggested. She did.The last nineteen pistols were scattered under my breasts, on the front of my ribs, on my waist, on my shoulders, on my back, on my arms, on my hips, and on my thighs.I was like a mummy covered in white bandages, under which there was a hidden small arsenal.These things are so heavy that I can barely move.But I have to move right away. "Put on these slippers, Hamila's," she said, throwing a battered pair of tan leather slippers at my feet. "Now put on this robe." She held up the great white cloth with both hands. "Yes, that's it, wrap your head together, let me see how it goes."

She looked at me with a smile on her face. "It's perfect, just like a little Moore girl. Before going out, don't forget to put on a veil and cover your nose and mouth. Come on, let's go out, now let me tell you how to go as quickly as possible. " I started to walk with difficulty, barely able to keep my body moving in a normal rhythm.The pistols were heavy as lead, and I had to walk with my legs apart, and I couldn't keep my arms at my side.We came to the hallway, Candelaria in front, and I moved awkwardly behind, like a huge package, bumping into walls, furniture, and door hinges.To make matters worse, I accidentally bumped into a shelf and dropped everything on it: a china plate, a dead kerosene lamp, a dark portrait of a relative of the landlord's family.The china, the glass of the picture frames, and the shades of the kerosene lamps all crumbled on the tiles.The loud noise disturbed the sleep of the tenants, and the bedsteads in several adjacent rooms creaked.

"What happened?" Little Bag's fat mother asked loudly in the room. "It's okay, I accidentally dropped the water glass on the floor. Go on to sleep!" Candelaria said without hesitation. I tried to lower my head to pack this pile of things, but there was no way I could bend down. "Okay, okay, don't worry about it, I'll clean it up later." She kicked a few pieces of broken glass away as she said. At this time, unexpectedly, a door less than three meters away from us suddenly opened, and the younger sister of the pair of old sisters, Fernanda, poked her head out with a curling iron on her head.She hadn't opened her mouth yet to ask what a Moorish woman was doing in the hallway of her apartment building in the middle of the night.Candelaria spoke harshly first, leaving her speechless.

"If you don't go back to bed right away, I'll tell your sister in the morning that you have a tryst with the intern at the clinic every Friday." The fear that the old-fashioned sister would know about her affair overcame her heart, and she slipped back into the room like an eel without a word. "Well, girl, try to move on. We're running out of time," she whispered in my ear. "Better not let anyone see you get out of here. Just in case Palomares is around here , It would be too unfair to be caught by him before the start. Let's go out from behind." We come to the backyard.It was dark, and there was only a twisted vine in the yard, a pile of debris, and a broken bicycle of the telegraph operator.We hid in a corner and continued talking in low voices. "Now, what should I do?" I asked. She spoke as if she had thought it through, and she spoke with firmness and calmness. "You climb onto this stone bench and climb over the wall, but you have to be extra careful, don't get caught by this big robe and fall into the mud." I took a look at the fence, which was about two meters high. I had to climb up to the highest point of the railing next to it before turning over to the opposite side.I didn't want to ask myself if I could do it with all this encumbrance, wrapped in a big robe, but just kept asking what to do next. "What happens after you get out of here?" "After jumping over, you will be in the backyard of Mr. Leandro's food store. You can step on his useless boxes and wooden barrels and turn to the next yard easily. There is the Jewish Manahan's cake shop. The yard There is a small wooden door in the innermost part. After going out from the wooden door, there is a small horizontal alley. It is the special door for him to bring in flour for the cake shop. You have to forget who you are, cover it tightly, try not to attract attention, and then go to the Jews Go in the direction of the community, from the Jewish community you can go directly into the Moorish community. But be careful, boy, don't walk too fast, stick to the wall, drag your feet a little, pretend to be an old lady, don't let anyone see that you are a Young girl, lest some rascal try to take advantage of you, there are a lot of Spanish rascals here who want Muslim women." "and then?" "Once you get to the Moorish neighborhood, just walk around the alleys there a lot to make sure you're not being noticed or followed. If you run into someone, pretend you're going in the wrong direction, or get out of the way as quickly as possible. , hide as far away as possible. After a while you go out through the La Luneta gate and walk down to the park, you know where I'm talking about?" "Probably know." I said, trying to imagine the circuit out of thin air. "When you arrive at the park, you are already opposite the train station, then cross the Seuta Highway, and you can go in directly when you see the entrance. Don't forget to walk slowly and cover yourself tightly. It is likely that there are only a few people in the station. A half-asleep soldier, they'll ignore you. You'll also meet Moroccans waiting for a train in the direction of Seuta. The Europeans won't come until later." "What time does that train leave?" "Seven-thirty. But you know the Moors don't have the same pace of life as we do, so no one will be surprised if you get to the station before six in the morning." "Then should I get in the car, or what?" She hesitated for a few seconds before answering, and I guess that's all the information she's got, and she has almost no further plans. "No, you don't need to get on the train at first. When you get to the station, sit on the bench under the big timetable sign for a while and let them see you coming so they know you're the one with the stuff. Delivered." "Who will see me?" "It doesn't matter, anyone who needs to see you will notice you. Sit for twenty minutes, get up, go to the tavern at the station, and ask the proprietor, as stealthily as possible, where you should put those pistols." where." "That's it? Nothing else?" I asked nervously. "What if the tavern keeper isn't here or doesn't talk to me at all, or I can't talk to him at all?" "Hush! Keep your voice down so that no one can hear you. Don't worry, there will always be a way to know what to do." She said impatiently.Her tone was not sure, because she couldn't be sure either.Finally she finally told me the truth: "Well, girl, it's really bad tonight, and all I have is this information: First, the delivery must be delivered to the train station by six in the morning, and then the delivery person must arrive at the train station at the time of the train." Sit on the stool under the watch for twenty minutes, and finally the tavernkeeper will tell the delivery man how to deliver. I don't know anything else, boy, it's really a pity. But don't worry, dear, when you get there, everything will be done. It'll all work out." I wanted to tell her I didn't believe it, but the anxiety and worry written on her face made me swallow my words.It's the first time I've seen her look like this since I've known her.Smuggler Candelaria has always been so resolute and unafraid to face the most difficult difficulties in the world, but this time she seems to have run out of energy.But I know that if she is determined to do it herself, she will never back down. Maybe now that she has successfully arrived at the train station, she must complete this task even if she does it by all means.But the problem is that she has been restrained and forced to stay at home because the police threatened to search, and it is still unknown whether he will come or not.I knew that if I wasn't responsive enough to keep a firm grip on the reins of things, it would be the end of both of us.I don't know where the strength came from, and I mustered up my courage all at once. "You're right, Candelaria. I'll find a way, don't worry. Before I go, though, I have a question." "Ask whatever you want, kid, but hurry up, it's less than two hours before six o'clock." Seeing that I finally made up my mind to give it a go, she tried hard to hide her sudden relaxation. "These weapons will Where? Who the hell are those from La Ranche?" "It has nothing to do with you, girl. What matters is that the goods arrive on time at the agreed time. You just unload the goods at the place they appointed, and then get back what they owe you, nine thousand five hundred pesetas. Don't forget It’s bad, and you have to count them one by one. Then you come back, and I’ll wait for you here with my eyes wide open.” "I'm not asking too much, Candelaria," I insisted, "at least let me know who we're playing this game with." She sighed heavily, her chest rising and falling with her breath, as if pumping air.Half naked except for a crumpled dressing gown hastily put on. "They're Masons." She leaned into my ear, as if afraid to say the word, "They're going to hitchhike up from La Ranche tonight, and I think they must be hiding by Lake Buselma, or It's in an orchard on the Mardin River beach. They came from Kabila and dare not take the road. It is likely that after taking the pistol from where you unloaded, you will not get on the train, but return directly from the station Kabila went back to their city, bypassing Tetouan. God forbid they hadn't been spotted before. But all in all, it's just my speculation, because I really have no idea what those people are up to. " She sighed again, looking into the endless night, and continued to mutter, "But I know, boy, because the whole world knows that rebel troops are going around suppressing all Masonic affiliations. Some are in the The place where the party was held was shot, and those who were lucky fled to Tangier or the French protected area. Some people were taken to Montgomery, and they were shot dead without knowing the day. Some people may They are still hidden in the cellar, attic, or some small passage, fearing that if they are accused one day, they will be pulled out of the hiding place and shot to death. Because of this, I didn’t find anyone who dared to buy these pistols, but I got in touch with Laranche through some connections, so I knew where the pistols were going." She looks into my eyes.I have never seen her so serious, so deep. "It's too cruel, girl, it's so cruel beyond anyone's imagination." She gritted her teeth and said, "There is no mercy or respect here, as long as anyone has the slightest suspicion, they will be sent away without even saying 'Amen'." Go to heaven. Many people died, many unfortunate wretches. They were all good people. They never killed a fly, and never hurt anyone. Be careful, girl, and don't be the next victim." I did my best to pull myself together so that both of us would be willing to try to believe things that I didn't even believe myself. "Don't worry, Candelaria, just wait and see, we'll figure it out." After saying this, I turned and walked to the stone bench against the wall, ready to carry these damn burdens that were tied tightly around me Climb up together.Standing behind me, Candelaria looked at me from under the arbor and murmured, crossing himself: In the name of the Father, in the name of the Son and the Holy Spirit, may the Goddess of Miracles be with you, my dear.The last thing I heard was a resounding kiss to her crossed fingers after her prayers.A second later I disappeared over the fence and fell like a package into the backyard of the grocery store. But in five minutes I arrived at the small entrance of the Manahan Cake Shop.Along the way, I was caught by hooks many times, because it was dark and I couldn't see the road and stepped on various sundries.I scraped my wrists, stepped on the hem of my robes a lot, slipped and fell, nearly lost my balance and fell on my back trying to climb the clutter of boxes in the corner.When I arrived at the small door, the first thing I did was to arrange my clothes, only my eyes were exposed, then I pulled the rusty latch, took a deep breath, and went. There were not even ghosts in the alley, and there was no sound of any kind.Only the moon willfully comes and goes in and out of the dark clouds, keeping me company.I walked slowly against the wall on the left, and soon came to La Luneta Street.I first hid in the corner of the street and observed the surrounding terrain.A few dim street lamps hung from wires across the street.I looked around and recognized a few shops I'd visited on my walks before.During the day, there is always a buzz of people here, but now they seem to be sleeping.Victoria Hotel, Zurita Pharmacy, Levent Bar where flamenco performances are often performed, Galindo Tobacco Shop, and a salt warehouse; theater, Indian market, four or five taverns whose names I don't know, The Coen Brothers' Perla jewelry store, and the grocery store where we buy our bread every morning.All the shops were closed and silent, as silent as the dead. I went through the gates of La Luneta, struggling to maintain my coordination under the weight, and after walking for a while, I turned toward Meyer, the Jewish community.The straight lines in these extremely narrow alleys reinvigorated me. The Jewish community is a precise chessboard. All the streets are square and there is no need to worry about getting lost.Then I got into the Moor community.Everything started off fine.Walking through the winding alleys, I passed many familiar places: the bread market, the poultry market, I didn’t meet anyone along the way, I didn’t even see a dog, and the blind beggars who begged everywhere during the day disappeared. I heard the sound of my own slippers being dragged on the gravel road, and some movements from somewhere in the distance.Gradually, I found that the package on my body seemed to be less heavy, and my body gradually got used to the extra weight.Although I still can't relax, my spirit is still highly tense, and I touch my back, arms and crotch from time to time, but at least I can walk in the dark and winding alleys relatively calmly, and I can see that both sides are covered with white ash walls and wooden doors studded with tacks. In order not to make myself anxious, I tried to imagine what these people would be like.I have heard that Muslim homes are generally clean and beautiful, with courtyards, fountains, corridors covered with mosaics and tiles, wooden ceilings with pressed patterns, and roof terraces bathed in sunlight.But from the white walls on the street, it is hard to imagine such beauty inside.I walked around with these random thoughts for an indeterminate amount of time, until I thought I had made my turn and was 100 percent sure that no one was suspicious, so I decided to head for the La Luneta gate.But at this moment, exactly at this moment, I found two figures at the end of the alley walking towards me.Two soldiers, two officers in breeches.Their steps were firm and firm, their boots clacked on the gravel, and they talked in nervous whispers.There was a loud bang in my head, and I was suddenly filled with countless terrible thoughts.I had to hold my breath, and all the pistols on my body seemed to be trying to break free from their straps, and they were about to crack and fall all over the ground.I imagined that one of them would lift my veil on a whim to see what I looked like, or would talk to me and find out that I was a Spaniard posing as a Moor with weapons strapped to my body. They walk past me.I pressed myself against the wall as much as possible.But the alley was so narrow that we almost passed each other.However, they ignored me at all, as if I was an invisible person and didn't exist at all.They were just hurrying off in quick chat about detachments and munitions and things I didn't understand and didn't want to understand. "Two hundred, at most two hundred and fifty," said one of them as they passed me. "Impossible, boy, I tell you it's impossible!" Another retorted fiercely.I didn't see their faces because I didn't dare to raise my eyes.Hearing their footsteps fade into the distance, I let out a sigh of relief and quickened my pace. It took me a few seconds to realize that I shouldn't have been so happy because I didn't know where I was.Before, in order not to lose my way, I always turned right when I encountered an intersection, and I probably turned three or four street corners.But the unexpected appearance of those two officers made me panic, and I forgot to turn at the intersection.I realized that I was lost, and suddenly felt cold all over my body.I've been to the Moorish neighborhood many times, but I've never quite figured out its maze of streets.The darkness of the night, coupled with the lack of everyday scenes and noisy sounds, made it impossible for me to recognize where I was. I decided to go back and retrace the route from memory, but I couldn't do it at all.When I went out, I thought it should be a small square I knew, but I found an arch outside. When I thought that there should be a small alley in front, I bumped into a mosque or a section of steps.I walked clumsily in these winding alleys, trying to connect every corner with those everyday scenes so as to identify the direction, but the more I walked, the more confused I became, and I was completely lost.Standing in the intricate alley, I almost collapsed.All the artisans had gone to bed, and their shops were closed long ago, so I couldn't tell whether I was at the potter's house or where the tinsmiths lived.Or I've gone where the weavers and weavers and tailors work.If it's daylight, it's easy for me to get my bearings amid the honey desserts, golden breads and cakes, mounds of spices, and freshly cut basil branches.But now, all the doors were closed, and some were bolted.Without the noisy human voice of vendors and customers, without rows of donkeys laden with big baskets, without those Riff women sitting on the ground selling vegetables and oranges that may never be sold, time seems to have stood still, the streets Like an empty stage.I'm getting more and more nervous, I don't know what time it is, but it's obviously getting closer to six o'clock.I quickened my pace, exiting one alley and entering another, the next one, and the next one.Back off and go the other way.Useless.Couldn't find any clues, let alone any markers.This place has become a huge cursed labyrinth, and there is no way to escape it. This aimless rampage eventually brought me near a house with a huge lamp hanging over the door.Suddenly I heard confused laughter, and someone sang "My Beloved" in unison to the accompaniment of an out-of-key piano.I decided to head that way, to see if I could find any clues that might help me reorient myself.When I walked a few meters away from the house, a man and a woman who spoke Spanish stumbled out of it.The man looked drunk, clutching the woman beside him.The woman with blond hair looks like she is not young, and she is laughing.I found out that it was a brothel, but it was too late to re-pretend to be an old Moore lady when the two were only a few steps away from me. "Little girl Moore, come with me, little girl, beauty, come here and let me show you something, come on, come on, beauty!" The man stretched his arm towards me dripping, and the other hand was obscene clutching his crotch.The woman next to him laughed and tried to stop him.I was startled and dodged away from his hand, dragging my stumbling robe with all my strength like crazy and running wildly. I gradually left the brothel behind.There are soldiers everywhere, some are playing cards, some are singing, some are madly rubbing the flesh under their bodies, all of them have temporarily forgotten the reality, and in a few days they will cross the strait to face the cruel war.Just as I was pulling my slippers away from the filthy place as fast as I could, luck finally came to me, and I found myself standing on the corner of Fork Market. I breathed a sigh of relief.Finally found the direction, and finally knew how to leave this cage-like Moorish community.Time flies and I have to hurry up and take as many strides as my robes will allow.In a few minutes I was at the gate of La Luneta.But what awaited me was another false alarm.A military outpost watches the road from La Ranche to Tetouan.A few soldiers, a sentry post, and a few cars are enough to scare off those who want to sneak into the city with less than pure motives.My throat started to dry out.But I knew I had to walk right under their noses, and there was no time for me to stop and think about what to do.I lowered my head and stared at the ground again, and decided to keep walking, following the steps Candelaria taught me.When I passed the checkpoint, I felt the blood in my whole body rushing up, and I didn't dare to breathe out, for fear that someone would stop me suddenly and ask me where I was going, where I came from, and what was hidden on my body.Fortunately, they barely looked me in the eye and simply ignored me, just like the two officers in that narrow alley before.What threat could an old woman with little strength dragging her legs like a shadow through the early morning streets pose to a great revolution? I made my way down the steps to the open area of ​​the park, and forced myself to calm down, walking through the shadowy, silent garden with feigned composure.It's eerie without playful children, intimate lovers and old folks darting among fountains and palm trees in the sun.The train station is getting clearer.Compared with the low houses of the Moorish neighbourhood, it looked imposing: half Arab, half Andalusian, with four-cornered spires, green tiles and tiles, and a huge archway at the entrance.A few dim lights hang from the front of the station so that it casts a black silhouette on the Gerges Hill behind it.The people from La Ranche must have descended from this rocky mountain.I only saw the train station once, when the sheriff drove me from the hospital.Other times, you can only see it from a distance on La Luneta Street, and you have no idea how big it is.Standing alone across from it that night, I found it so intrusive that I immediately began to miss the narrow alleys of the Moorish neighbourhood. Now is not the time to be afraid, I cannot be overwhelmed by timidity again, so I muster up my courage again and prepare to cross the Seuta road.There wasn't even a speck of dust on the road at this hour.I counted the time to cheer myself up.It's all coming to an end, and I've already done most of the journey.I cheered up at the thought of how soon I would be able to get rid of the suffocating cloth belts, the pistols that battered me all over my body, and the large robes that made me so uncomfortable.It's almost there, there's only one last bit left. I entered the station through the open front door.Completely different from the dark streets I had just walked, I was greeted by the cold lights and empty halls of the station.The first thing I saw was a huge clock that said quarter to five.I breathed a sigh of relief under the veil, well, it wasn't too late.I deliberately walked slowly through the hall, but my eyes hidden under the hat quickly scanned the surrounding situation.The ticket gate was closed, and two elderly Moors curled up on a stool with a small bag under their feet.At the end there are two huge doors leading to the train platform.There is another door on the left, and the delicate sign says it leads to the tavern.I searched for the train timetable with my eyes, found it was on the right, went straight to it, sat on a stool under it, and waited.As soon as my butt touched the stool, I felt a burst of relief from head to toe.Only then did I realize how tired I was, and how much physical energy it took me to keep walking with these guys that were heavier than lead weights! I sat motionless on the stool and no one appeared in the hall again.But the constant voices in my ears let me know that the surroundings were not peaceful.Some voices came from the platform outside.Footsteps, men's low voices, and occasionally one or two loud voices.The voices are very young, I think it may be the soldiers who are responsible for monitoring the railway station.I forced myself not to think about whether they had special authorization to shoot anyone suspicious.There were also some voices from the tavern, which reassured me a little, at least knowing that the tavern owner was awake and where he should be.I sat there for ten minutes, ten minutes so long it almost made me lose my patience.There is no time to sit for twenty minutes like Candelaria said.When the hands of the big clock pointed to five minutes to six, I stood up with all my strength and walked towards the tavern. The tavern was huge, with at least a dozen tables, most of which were empty, and on one table was a man sleeping with his head in his arms and an empty wine bottle beside him.I dragged my slippers to the counter, not knowing what to say or what anyone would say to me.Behind the counter, a thin, dark-skinned man was smoking a cigarette butt. He was busy arranging plates and glasses in a neat pile, and seemed to have not noticed the masked woman who was about to walk in front of him at all.When he saw me coming to the counter, he still had a cigarette butt in his mouth and said loudly, "It's half past seven, the train doesn't leave until half past seven." Then he lowered his voice and said something in Arabic that I couldn't understand . "I don't understand, I'm Spanish," I whispered behind the veil.He opened his mouth in disbelief, dropped the cigarette end in his mouth to the ground, and hurriedly passed the delivery information to me: "Go to the bathroom on the platform and close the door, they are waiting for you." I walked back slowly, back into the hall, toward the dark platform.Before that, I rearranged the robe again, wrapped my body tightly, and pulled the veil up almost to the eyelashes.The wide platform seems to be empty, and opposite is the rocky and rocky Gerges Mountain, which is so dark that you can't see the edge at a glance.The four soldiers who watched over the railway station gathered together, smoking and chatting in low voices under the great arch leading to the tracks.They were startled when they felt a dark shadow come in.I noticed that they tensed up suddenly, their military boots slapped together, straightened up, and touched the gun on their shoulders. "Stop, don't move!" one of them shouted when he saw me.I felt my body stiffen in that pile of cold pistols. "Leave her alone, Chuluka, don't you see she's a Moorish woman?" the other went on. I stood there motionless, neither going forward nor back.They stood still and did not approach me, discussing what to do about 20 to 30 meters away from me. "I don't care if she's a Moorish woman or a Spanish woman. The sir said, anyone needs to show their papers." "Damn it, Chuluca, you fool, how many times have I told you, sir, it's all Spaniards, not these Moors. You don't know anything, fool!" said another soldier. "It's you who don't understand anything! Well, ma'am, please show your ID." My legs felt weak and I almost fainted.It's definitely over now, it's hopeless.I held my breath, and my whole body was drenched in cold sweat. "Why are you so stupid, Chuluka," another companion said behind him. "The local Moor women never carry any documents when they go out. When will you realize that this is Africa, not your village square?" !" But it was too late.This meticulous soldier was only two steps away from me.He stretched out his hand and waited for me to hand over the documents, looking for my eyes in the layers of cloth.但他不可能找得到。我一直低着头，直勾勾地盯着他那双满是泥点的军靴和我自己脚上破旧的拖鞋，还有两双鞋之间那不到半米的距离。 “要是长官知道你去骚扰一个丝毫不该被怀疑的摩洛哥人，他肯定会把你逮起来，至少去阿尔萨巴关上三天禁闭！” 面临严厉惩罚的可能性终于让那个丘卢卡恢复了一点儿理性。我看不到谁是我的拯救者，因为目光依然集中在地面上。但是这个关禁闭的威胁终于起了作用，那个敏感固执的士兵焦虑地思索了几秒钟，终于缩回手，转身离去了。 愿上帝保佑阻止他的士兵！我在心里说。等到他们又一起回到拱门下，我转过身拖着腿慢慢地在站台上转悠，努力让自已恢复镇定。平静了一会儿后，终于能集中精力朝卫生间走去。这时候我才注意周围的环境：两个摩尔人背靠着墙席地而睡，一条千瘦的野狗正在穿过铁轨。我几乎没费工夫就找到了目标。幸运的是，卫生间在站台的尽头处，正好跟士兵们相反的方向。我屏住呼吸，推开镶着磨砂玻璃的门，进到一个类似门厅的地方。里面几乎伸手不见五指，但是我不想寻找电灯开关，宁愿让眼睛慢慢适应黑暗。我隐约分辨出了男厕的标志和女厕的标志。而且我发现在房间的最里面，靠着墙，有一堆布开始缓慢地动了起来。一个带着斗篷的脑袋从那里谨慎地抬了起来，我们的目光在黑暗中相遇“货带来了吗？”听口音是西班牙人。他嗓音很低，语速很快。 I nodded.那个模糊的物体慢慢变成了一个像我一样穿着摩尔人服装的男人。 "Where?" 为了更方便说话，我拉下了面纱，然后解开长袍，给他看我身上绑着的手枪。 "here." “我的天啊。”他低低地惊叫了一声。这短短的几个字里包含了无数的感情：惊讶、焦虑、急切。听起来他很有修养，像是一个受过良好教育的人。 “您自己能解下来吗？”他问。 “可能比较费时间。”我小声说。 他指了指女厕所，我们两人一起进去了。里面的空间极其狭窄，旁边一个小窗户里透进来一丝微弱的月光，但是对我们来说已经足够了，不需要别的照明。 “我们得争取快点儿，一分钟也不能浪费。早晨的预备队马上就要到了，在火车发车之前他们会把这里检查个遍。所以我必须帮您一起解。”他一边关上门一边说。