in my leg just at the thigh. The force of the shot sent my body turning almost completely around and I saw the four figures running across the trestle catwalk, the train halted midway across the narrow bridgeway. It would take them a while to find their way down to where I was. I looked down at my leg as another shot sent a shower of gravel flying at my foot. The leg was excruciatingly painful and bleeding hard. They must have used a forty-five. A line of trees beckoned just ahead, and I pulled myself forward into them, stumbling along on shaking, quivering legs. The wounded leg hurt badly, but it was the impact on the water which had really shaken me. Between the two of them, I felt myself growing dizzy.
I sank to the ground and crawled forward, feeling my arms growing weak, feeling the loss of blood. My trouser leg was a red-soaked rag, and I knew I was leaving a trail a mile wide. The line of woods suddenly ended and I looked across a pasture, a few cows grazing off to one side. Lifting my head was an effort now, and the scene was fuzzy. I made out a farmhouse and barn on the other side of the green pasture. I pulled myself upright, swaying dizzily, shaking my head to clear it. If I could make it to the barn I might hide out there, I thought dimly, and at the same moment realized the trail of blood would lead them right to me. I started to turn, to take a few unsure, weak steps along the edge of the trees, when I heard a child's cry, close at hand but strangely distant. Then I was on my hands and knees, the ground swimming in front of me. I fell forward and half turned on my back. I saw the child, a little blonde girl, about ten years old, pig-tailed and eyes wide. Then I saw the woman appear behind her, looking like an older version of the child. I lifted my head and fell back again. I hadn't blacked out completely, but I was seeing the world in moments of clarity mixed with moments of gray mist. I felt hands lifting my shoulders and the managed to focus on the woman's face above me. It was a nice face, a sweet, lovely face. I felt her trying to move me, to lift me.
"No… no," I managed hoarsely. "Wheelbarrow… get a wheelbarrow." I felt the woman stop, lay my shoulders back on the grass and I heard her talk to the child. I didn't hear or see anything else until I felt myself being lifted and the hard ride of a wheelbarrow shook its way through to me. The bumping managed to bring me around for a moment and I caught a glimpse of the farmhouse now close at hand and the lovely face looking down at me with concern.
"Men… careful… want me," I croaked out. It was all I could manage. The darkness came down again.
* * *
I woke up hours later, I found out in time, to the aching pain of my body. I was alone in a dark room that smelled of the dampness of a cellar. I lay quietly, letting my head clear. My groping hands told me I was on a cot, covered by a quilt, naked under the blanket I tried to stretch and almost cried out with the pain. Every damn muscle screamed. My leg hurt with a special pain of its own, and my groping hands told it had been bandaged with cloths. I lay back quietly and breathed deeply. That drop from the trestle had really banged me up. I lay there and heard the sound of a door opening. The door turned out to be in the ceiling and a shaft of light came down to illuminate the steep, short flight of steps. The woman's figure came down, a lamp in her hand, followed by the child in nightclothes.
"You are awake," the woman said, a faint Swiss accent to her English. "Very good." I'd been right, even in my fuzzy, hazy state. She had a lovely face, sweet and gentle, with fine lips and blonde hair pulled around her head in a halo-like fashion. She wore a dirndl skirt and a deep blue blouse that matched her soft blue eyes.
"How do you feel?" she asked, leaning over me and putting the lamp down on a little wooden table I hadn't seen beside the cot. A chair was also next to it.
"As though I'd fallen out of a
I sank to the ground and crawled forward, feeling my arms growing weak, feeling the loss of blood. My trouser leg was a red-soaked rag, and I knew I was leaving a trail a mile wide. The line of woods suddenly ended and I looked across a pasture, a few cows grazing off to one side. Lifting my head was an effort now, and the scene was fuzzy. I made out a farmhouse and barn on the other side of the green pasture. I pulled myself upright, swaying dizzily, shaking my head to clear it. If I could make it to the barn I might hide out there, I thought dimly, and at the same moment realized the trail of blood would lead them right to me. I started to turn, to take a few unsure, weak steps along the edge of the trees, when I heard a child's cry, close at hand but strangely distant. Then I was on my hands and knees, the ground swimming in front of me. I fell forward and half turned on my back. I saw the child, a little blonde girl, about ten years old, pig-tailed and eyes wide. Then I saw the woman appear behind her, looking like an older version of the child. I lifted my head and fell back again. I hadn't blacked out completely, but I was seeing the world in moments of clarity mixed with moments of gray mist. I felt hands lifting my shoulders and the managed to focus on the woman's face above me. It was a nice face, a sweet, lovely face. I felt her trying to move me, to lift me.
"No… no," I managed hoarsely. "Wheelbarrow… get a wheelbarrow." I felt the woman stop, lay my shoulders back on the grass and I heard her talk to the child. I didn't hear or see anything else until I felt myself being lifted and the hard ride of a wheelbarrow shook its way through to me. The bumping managed to bring me around for a moment and I caught a glimpse of the farmhouse now close at hand and the lovely face looking down at me with concern.
"Men… careful… want me," I croaked out. It was all I could manage. The darkness came down again.
* * *
I woke up hours later, I found out in time, to the aching pain of my body. I was alone in a dark room that smelled of the dampness of a cellar. I lay quietly, letting my head clear. My groping hands told me I was on a cot, covered by a quilt, naked under the blanket I tried to stretch and almost cried out with the pain. Every damn muscle screamed. My leg hurt with a special pain of its own, and my groping hands told it had been bandaged with cloths. I lay back quietly and breathed deeply. That drop from the trestle had really banged me up. I lay there and heard the sound of a door opening. The door turned out to be in the ceiling and a shaft of light came down to illuminate the steep, short flight of steps. The woman's figure came down, a lamp in her hand, followed by the child in nightclothes.
"You are awake," the woman said, a faint Swiss accent to her English. "Very good." I'd been right, even in my fuzzy, hazy state. She had a lovely face, sweet and gentle, with fine lips and blonde hair pulled around her head in a halo-like fashion. She wore a dirndl skirt and a deep blue blouse that matched her soft blue eyes.
"How do you feel?" she asked, leaning over me and putting the lamp down on a little wooden table I hadn't seen beside the cot. A chair was also next to it.
"As though I'd fallen out of a
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