AFRICA SCREAMS,
by Larry Tritten“Here,” the boy said.
“Here?” the woman asked, and when the boy nodded she veered the car off onto the narrow shoulder of the road, parking it there. The branches of bushes laden with chalk-white snowberries crowded into the partly-open window on the boy’s side.
They sat quietly for a few moments, solemnly in thought, then the boy said, “I can’t get out on this side, ma.”
“We’re still a bit on the road,” she said. “I could drive back to the sawmill and we could walk that far.”
“Shoot, this ain’t no freeway,” the boy said, feeling a sense of adult finesse at using the television word.
“Well...” The woman looked at the boy. Then she got out of the car, holding the door open so he could slide across the seat and hop out after her.
They stood before a wo
