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And it wasn’t-quite.
Once he started getting used to it, Rance Auerbach discovered Cape Town’s District Six wasn’t such a bad place after all. Yes, he had to treat Negroes as if they were as good as anybody else. He even had to take orders from them every now and then. That wasn’t easy for a Texan. But after he leaped the hurdle, he started having a pretty fair time.
Everybody in District Six, black and white and colored (a distinction between full-blooded blacks and half-breeds the USA didn’t bother drawing) and Indian, was hustling as hard as he or she could. Some people had honest work, some work that wasn’t so honest. A lot of people had both kinds of jobs, and ran like maniacs from long before the sun rose over Table Mountain till long after it set in the South Atlantic.
Rance couldn’t have run like a maniac even if he’d wanted to. Getting up and down the stairs to the flat he and Penny Summers shared was plenty to leave him sore and gasping. When he shuffled along the streets near the apartment building where he lived, kids of all colors laughed at his shuffling gait. They called him Stumpy, maybe because of his stick, maybe just because of the way he walked.
He didn’t care what they called him. Kids back in the States had thought he walked funny, too. Hell, even he thought he walked funny. But he could get to the Boomslang saloon a couple of blocks from his apartment building, and most of the time that was as far as he wanted to go.
Boomslang, he found, meant tree snake, and one particular, and particularly poisonous, kind of tree snake at that. Considering some of the rotgut the place served up, he could understand how it got its name. But it was close, it was cheap, and the crowd, despite being of all colors, was as lively and interesting as any he’d ever found in a bar.
To his surprise, he found he was interesting to the Boomslang’s other patrons. His American accent made him exotic to both whites and blacks. So did his ruined voice. When people discovered he’d been wounded fighting the Lizards, he won respect for courage if not for sense.
But when they found out how he’d wound up in South Africa, he won… interest. One evening, somewhat elevated from a few hours at the saloon, he came home and told Penny, “Half the people in this goddamn country are either in the ginger-smuggling business or want to be, if you listen to ’em talk.”
His girlfriend threw back her head and laughed. “You just figured that out, Rance? Hell, sweetheart, if I’d’ve wanted to, I could’ve gotten back into business long since. But I’ve been taking it easy, you know what I mean?”
“You?” Auerbach felt the whiskey singing in him. It didn’t make him stupid, but it did make him care less about what he said. “Since when did you ever believe in taking it easy?”
Penny Summers turned red. “You really want to know? Since those damn Nazis pointed every gun in the world right at my head and carted you and me off to that jail in Marseille, that’s when.” She shuddered. “And then, after the Lizards got us back, they could’ve locked us up in their own jail and thrown away the key. So I’m not real hot to give ’em another shot at doing that. Thanks, but no thanks.”
Auerbach stared. Of all the things he’d expected, Penny cautious was among the last. “You mean you like living like this?” His wave took in the cramped little flat. If he hadn’t been careful, he would have barked his knuckles on the wall.
“Like it? Hell no,” Penny answered. “Like it better than a nice, warm, cozy cell with nothing but Lizards to look at for the rest of my days? Hell, yes.”
“I’ll be damned,” he said wonderingly. “They really did put the fear of God in you, didn’t they?”
She walked up to him and set her hands on his shoulders. It wasn’t the prelude to a kiss, as he’d hoped at first it might be. “Listen to me,” she said, as serious as he’d ever heard her. “Listen to me good. We caused those scaly bastards a lot of trouble, I mean a lot of trouble. If you don’t think they’re keeping an eye on us to make sure we’re good little boys and girls, you’re smack out of your mind. Want to bet against me? How much have you got?”
Auerbach thought about it. He thought slower than he should have, but still thought pretty straight. When he was done, he shook his head, even though it made his ruined shoulder ache. “Nope. That’d be like raising with a pair of fives against a guy who’s got four diamonds showing.”
Now Penny did kiss him, a peck on the lips that had nothing to do with lust and everything to do with gratitude. “See, Rance?” she said. “I knew you weren’t dumb.”
“Only about you,” he answered, which made her laugh, though he hadn’t been more than half joking. He sighed and went on, “But if you listen to them, half the guys in the Boomslang have sold the Lizards a taste one time or another.”
Penny laughed again. “How much have you had to drink, babe? Must be a hell of a lot, if you’re dumb enough to believe what a bunch of barflies say. And even if they have sold some poor damn Lizard a taste or two, so what? That’s nickel-and-dime stuff. If I ever do start playing the game down here, it won’t be for nickels and dimes, and you can bet your bottom dollar on that.”
“If you get in trouble, you want to get in a whole lot of trouble-that’s what you’re telling me.” Now Rance nodded; that did sound like the Penny Summers he’d known for the past twenty-odd years. Penny… you could say a lot about her, but she never did things by halves.
She knew it, too. “I stiffed my pals for plenty before I came running back to you,” she said. “If I ever take a shot at it again, I’ll do it once-once and then it’s off to Tahiti or one of those other little islands the Free French run.”
Free France was a joke, but a useful joke. The Japanese Empire could have run the French off their South Pacific islands. So could the USA. So could the Lizards, flying out of Australia. Nobody bothered. Neutral ground where nobody asked a whole lot of questions was too useful to everyone.
“I could go for that,” Rance agreed. The ginger he and Penny had run down into Mexico should have got them a stash that would have taken them to Tahiti. Auerbach liked the notion of island girls not overburdened with clothes or prudery. But things hadn’t worked out the way they’d had in mind, and so…
Penny said, “I’ll tell you one more time, sugar: you won’t find anything that could head us toward Free France there in the goddamn Boomslang. And if you do find it in the Boomslang, it’s dollars to doughnuts somebody’s trying to set us up. You want to be a sucker, go ahead, but leave me out, okay?”
“Okay,” Auerbach said, and then he yawned. “Let’s go to bed.”
“How do you mean that?” Penny asked.
“Damned if I know,” he answered. “Meet me in the bedroom and we’ll both find out.” Five minutes later, two sets of snores rose from the bed.
A couple of evenings afterwards, Rance and Penny went to the Boomslang together. She didn’t go with him all the time, but then, she wasn’t in constant pain, either. When she did come into the saloon, she always drew admiring glances, not just from whites but from blacks
as well. That was one more thing Auerbach had had to get used to in a hurry here. Those kinds of looks from Negroes in Texas might have touched off a lynching bee. He gathered the same thing had been true in South Africa before the Lizards came. It wasn’t true any more.
Rance drank scotch that had never been within five thousand miles of Scotland. Penny contented herself with a Lion Lager. A barmaid took one of the other regulars upstairs. “Don’t even think about it, buster,” Penny murmured.
“I won’t,” Rance promised. “She’s homely.” Penny snorted.
After a while, a big, broad-shouldered black fellow whom Auerbach knew only as Frederick-emphatically not as Fred-came over and sat down beside him. “It is the ginger man,” he said in a rumbling bass. His smile was broad and friendly. Too broad and friendly to be convincing? Rance had never quite figured that out, which meant he stayed wary where Frederick was concerned. The black man inclined his head to Penny. “And this is the ginger lady?”
His musical accent made the question less offensive than it might have been otherwise. Penny tossed her head. “There’s plenty of ginger in me, pal,” she said, “but I’m spoken for.” She put a hand on Rance’s arm.
In a way, Rance was annoyed that she thought she needed to say such a thing, especially to a Negro. In another way, he was relieved. He wouldn’t have wanted to tangle with Frederick even if he’d had two good arms and two good legs. With things as they were, the black man could have broken him in half without working up a sweat.
But Frederick shook his head. “No, no, no,” he said. “Not that kind of ginger, dear lady. The kind that makes the Lizards dance.”
“Ixnay,” Rance muttered to Penny. South African English was different enough from the kind he’d grown up with that he didn’t worry about Frederick’s knowing what that meant.
Penny nodded slightly, but leaned forward so she could see Frederick around Rance and said, “Yeah, I’ve done that. But so what? If I hadn’t done it, I wouldn’t have ended up here, and so I’m not going to do it any more.”
