I had a lot to think about. On the way home I found my mind churning with what I had been told. It occurred to me that I was jumping into something hugely life-changing with only the scantiest information. For some reason that didn’t bother me. I felt as if I had nothing to lose. When I thought back over my conversation with Roger, I realised he hadn’t even come close to offering proof, and yet I had believed him. I thought about it a bit and then realised that the proof would be what happened when he picked me up.
At home I decided to pack. I ignored Roger’s advice that all I needed was comfortable clothing, I had enough experience of going on operations and training exercises to know that while "everything" would be provided, there were a few comfort rations that I needed to pack for myself. I kept it small and light, just a pack of Rooi-Bos tea, a bag of fresh red chillies from my garden, a packet of curry powder and my cigarette rolling machine with some tobacco. I wasn’t sure whether I would be allowed to take it with me, but I figured I would try. I knew that adding chillies or curry powder would make almost any food palatable and the tea was an absolute necessity. It served the purpose of warming and refreshing as well as ensuring that the taste of any chemical efforts to make water safe for drinking were safely masked. I pondered what else to take and reflected on what Roger had said about weapons and uniforms and decided that I would have to trust him on that, although I made sure that I was wearing a good pair of boots that were well worn in and had seen some hard usage without damaging my feet. I figured that if I was returning to the real infantry where transport was based exclusively on Shank’s Pony, I had better equip myself with the best foot-wear I possessed.
I arranged with a friend to house-sit for me for the month that I expected to be away, and checked that all my monthly bills would be paid automatically from my account. I then spent a day with my business partner going over what he would need to handle while I was away. He moaned as usual, but accepted it; he was used to me going off at odd times so this was nothing new.
On the Thursday morning I was ready early and just sat around and waited. Around 10 am my gate buzzer went off and I walked down to the gate. Roger waved to me from the driver’s seat of a TD5.
I opened the gate and jumped into the passenger’s seat.
"Morning Cy"
"Hi Roger"
"Still up for it?"
"Sure."
"Any second thoughts?"
"Well, I did think that you hadn’t provided any ‘proof’ but I decided to take a chance"
Roger laughed. "Yes. I figured."
"Where are we going?"
"We have about a seven hour drive"
"In the bush somewhere? Is that why you have the Land Rover?"
"The last bit is in the bush. The Land Rover is just because I love the things and I don’t get much chance to drive at all."
"OK." We lapsed into silence and I watched the passing scenery. Roger headed up the N3 and then turned onto the N11 at Ladysmith and headed North. I found myself getting drowsy and dropped off to sleep.
I jerked awake and was disorientated for a few seconds. A glance at my watch made me realise that I must have slept almost the entire journey. I looked around and saw that we were just turning off the tar road and approaching a large gate. A sign next to the gate announced "Mapungubwe National Park and World Heritage Site". Another old battered sign with faded lettering told us that this had been the "Greefswald Military Base".
I looked at Roger "This is our destination?"
"Yup. You know about this place?"
"I heard about it. Huge braais by the generals and ‘re-education’ of the moffies?"
"Yes. They knew there was something special about it, but they didn’t know what."
"Well... ?"
"Well what?"
"Well what is so special about it?"
"It’s a place of power. People have known about it since antiquity. There are a bunch of Ley lines which come together here and a few other things. That’s not really important though, what is important is that this is where the gateway is."
While Roger was talking, he had shown a pass to the gate-guard and driven through the gate. He avoided the tourist centre and the other installations and turned off on a little side-road that rapidly became little more than a grass track. After about two klicks, we crossed a rise and I could see the lazy Limpopo river ahead of us. We followed the road into a small cluster of trees and stopped outside a small thatch-roofed rondavel.
"Ok. This is the end of the road for now." Roger announced
I climbed out, stretched and yawned. I grabbed my small backpack and followed Roger to the Rondavel. Once we were inside, I could see that it was larger than I had first thought, stretching back into the trees. There was a simple lounge and kitchen, then the rest contained twenty bunk beds.
"Lot of space here. You expecting visitors?" I asked Roger
"Yes. We need to wait for some others to arrive. Our deadline is dawn tomorrow. Why not grab a bunk then we can make a fire for a braai outside and we can chat about what you can expect?"
"Sure."
I threw my bag onto onto one of the nearest beds and joined Roger outside.
"I meant to ask you about what I am allowed to take with me."
"Not much," Roger grunted as he started setting up the firewood, "you will be provided with everything you need."
I told him what I had in my bag and he laughed.
"Sure. That should be fine. No weapons though, and no technology, like that fancy watch of yours and your cell phone."
"Ok. What do I do with them?"
"We have a safe here. You can put them in there and collect them when you return"
"I wasn’t mistaken, it is only going to be a month?"
"Yes. Not for you though."
"What do you mean?"
"When you return, you will have been gone four weeks, but each week you are away is a year on War World."
That threw me. "Some kind of time dilation?"
"Don’t try to work it out. Doesn’t work. You will just have to accept that some things are as they are." He started humming and it took me a few seconds to recognise the Queen song, It’s a Kind of Magic’, and I laughed. He grinned slyly at me and lit the braai.
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