Crack of Doom (14 page)

After ten minutes he was convinced he had taken the wrong direction, so he went back to the place where he had come up the hill. Here he made a remarkable discovery: two men had followed him on his climb, the imprints of their unstudded boots were easily distinguishable from his own. They must have followed his tracks so far, but then turned right where he had gone left, for their footprints led across the hillside that way. Probably they were the same two who had stared at him down below. It all seemed rather odd to him. They certainly hadn't climbed the hill just for pleasure, but why had they suddenly struck out in a different direction? He hoped this showed they weren't plotting anything against
him,
but decided to be on his guard all the same.

Taking the tommy-gun in his hands, he followed their tracks. After about two hundred yards he suddenly saw the sanatorium between the trees, and stopped in wonder. It stood in a clearing enclosed by the forest on all sides. It had a great many windows, each with a small balcony outside, and there was a glass-roofed terrace at the back of it. The stone walls were smothered with ivy, which had climbed everywhere between the windows and up to the pointed roof. On every corner there were bay windows with Gothic arches, and thick wads of snow had settled on all the ledges protruding under the windows. The picture surpassed Vohringer's finest expectations. He had forgotten about the two men, and as he slowly walked up to the building, he was so entranced by the sight that he did not hear the glass breaking at one of the windows. The bullet went in a couple of inches above bis groin, piercing his peritoneum and stopping at his small intestine.

Not that Vohringer felt it as precisely as that. The pain was so violent that he did not even hear the report of the gun. He collapsed as if a scythe had gone through his knees, and began to scream. Then a tommy-gun barked off behind him, but he did not hear that either. He screamed with his mouth wide open. He rolled about in the snow like a worm, as if he could thus rid himself of the pain that had crept upon him, clawing deeper and deeper into his body. He thrashed out with arms and legs. When he couldn't scream any more, because the pain had squeezed him dry, he let his face fall down and licked up the snow like a dog. By the time Herbig pulled him up, his whole mouth was full of it: he had almost choked with snow.

That morning Andrej had gone to Kubany and asked him to come to the house with his men at midday in order to discuss their going to Durka with Nikolash. On his way back Andrej saw something that stopped him in his tracks. Ahead of him, where the street led out of the village into the wood, stood two men in German winter uniform. They wore narrow peaked caps, and carried tommy-guns. Before he had properly collected his thoughts, Andrej heard his name called, and saw Nikolash and Zepac standing outside Zepac's house; he ran over to them. "Come in," said Nikolash. Andrej entered and looked out of the window. "What d'you make of it?" asked Nikolash.

"Where did they come from?"

"They're living at Sztraka's house. They came last night, half an hour after the Germans had gone off with their trucks. Three men," he added significantly. "One of them left again almost at once, and hasn't shown up since. If this Sztraka weren't such a stupid oaf, he'd have let us know at once—he only came to me ten minutes ago."

"It had to be Sztraka of all people."

"Just what I said. Even if they were deserters, it wouldn't suit me to have them living with Sztraka just across the street where they can see everything we're doing."

Nikolash was thoughtfully licking his lower lip and now remarked: "I don't trust them, they prance around too much for deserters. Listen!"—he took hold of Zepac by the collar of his coat—"The general must be moved. You and Dula will take him on to the Golden Table. We've got a cabin up there."

"I never knew that," exclaimed Zepac in surprise.

Nikolash took some paper out of his pocket. "Well, you know now. Here's a sketch, and this is where the cabin is—you can't miss it. You stay up there with the general till he's fetched down. I was going to take him there this evening, but now we can't afford to leave it any longer."

Zepac looked gloomily at the sketch. He had lived in Oviz forty-five years, but the idea of climbing the Golden Table had never entered his head—and now he was to do it in deep snow! "Why don't we take him to join the others?" he asked.

"He's too important for that. I'll tell Dula. You must start in half an hour." Nikolash went out into the street with Andrej, and asked: "When will your men be here?"

"At three o'clock."

"As soon as the first Russian soldiers arrive, you can lead them first to the ten prisoners in the lower hut; then go and fetch the general. They know about it already, Pushkin sent a man through to tell them."

"What'll
you
do?"

Nikolash turned up the fur collar of his coat. "I'm off to Dobsina tonight. I've got a sledge coming. And in case you change your mind—there'll be room for two more."

"What does Margita say?"

"Leave that to me," said Nikolash.

Andrej dug his hands into his coat pockets. They walked down the middle of the street, like two men talking about their sheep. The wind drove snow into their faces, Andrej's dark beard was stiff with it. He said: "She'll miss you."

"Perhaps I’ll come back one day."

"She'll be married by then."

"If she hasn't any children, that won't worry me. Have you already got a husband for her?"

"There are plenty of people around here who'd like to marry her."

"Shepherds!" said Nikolash, with a sudden raucous laugh. "Margita and a shepherd. You wouldn't find a Moscow woman marrying a country bumpkin.''

"Our shepherds were good enough for you as long as you needed them," Andrej retorted.

Nikolash did not answer. Before they turned off the street, he stopped and looked across at Sztraka's house on the other side. The Germans had been clever, if things became hot for them, they could quickly reach the wood; whereas Andrej's house was surrounded by a steeply rising meadow, at present blanketed with snow, and was about the same distance from the next house as it was from Sztraka's. This meadow gap could be watched from Sztraka's house, but on the other hand, Nikolash realized, that the window of his room gave a good view of Sztraka's house; he wondered why he hadn't thought of it before. Turning back to Andrej, he replied at last:

"We finished off the White Russians, and now we're finishing off the Germans. None of your shepherds lifted a finger to stop them when they marched in. If we had your divisions, things would have been very different. But it took even you nearly four years to deal with the Germans, despite your hundred and seventy millions."

"We weren't prepared for the attack. The Red Army. . . ."

"Ran away as far as the Volga," said Andrej, "and would have run even further if winter hadn't come. That's something our children learn at school." He swung around and was about to enter the home when Nikolash called him back in a low, excited voice. Turning, Andrej saw him pointing across the street to the edge of the wood, saying: "Over there."

Andrej looked, and saw a man standing dead still, staring at them. He immediately recognized the man as one of the two Germans. Just then the German moved swiftly to disappear into the wood.

Without a word, Andrej and Nikolash rushed back into the house, Nikolash going to his room, while Andrej tore upstairs. Pulling open the door of his room, he ran to the window, where there was a dark chest-of-drawers, crammed full of sheets and linen; underneath were sub-machine guns. He quickly unbuttoned his greatcoat, putting one of the guns in the belt of his tunic, then buttoned up the coat again, thrust two magazines into the big pockets, and raced downstairs.

Nikolash was waiting for him impatiently. They heard Margita's voice calling something from the kitchen, but they took no notice and ran across the street to the place where the German had gone off into the wood. There they brought out their guns, put in the magazines, and followed the German's trail, which led straight up the side of the hill. When it suddenly took a leftward bend, Nikolash exchanged a brief glance with Andrej. They turned in the other direction, and made for the sanatorium as fast as they could go. On reaching it, they hammered against the door with their fists.

Dula opened up for them. "A good thing you've come. I've got nothing left to drink."

"You'll get blood to drink," Nikolash told him.

Dula locked the door and took them down a long corridor with high windows, through which glimpses could be seen of the snow-covered wood. At the end of the corridor there were stairs leading to a large room. This had an open fireplace and French windows with a balcony outside; some of the window panes were broken and taped over with paper. The room had a door, smaller than the others, leading into a windowless chamber that had contained X-ray equipment. Here they had locked up the general.

"He's asleep," said Dula, motioning to the door.

"Best thing for him," grunted Nikolash, going to join Andrej at the window. "If they find the house," he said, "they're going to be taught a lesson. It's the third man who worries me most. He may have gone for reinforcements."

"You don't believe they're deserters?" asked Andrej.

"I never did."

Dula was listening in dismay. "Has something blown up?"

"Yes, a balloon," answered Nikolash. "Go and get ready—Zepac should be here any minute, and you two have got to take the general on to the Golden Table."

"Up there?"

"Yes. Zepac knows all about it, hell tell you. We'll come part of the way with you."

Dula cleared his throat. He was a short fat man with a plump face, partly hidden by a huge, straggly beard which went down almost to his chest; all you could really see of his face were the deep-set eyes and the red tippler's nose. "Can't you tell me what this is all about?" he said.

Andrej turned to Dula. "Since last night there have been two Germans in Oviz. One of them is coming up through the wood."

"There he is now," said Nikolash.

Andrej swung around. His movement coincided with the sudden crash of glass. Nikolash had pushed the barrel of his gun through the window and fired. Down below, in front of the house, a man toppled into the snow and began screaming.

"Badly aimed," said Andrej. "Put another one into him."

"Let him croak there." Nikolash showed bis teeth in a cruel smile.

Dula pressed past them to the window and looked out. He failed to notice Nikolash leaping to one side, and Andrej flinging himself on the floor. The panes cracked inwards, Dula put both hands to his face and fell flat on his back, a jet of blood spurting from his mouth like a fountain. Outside, from the edge of the wood, a tommy-gun hammered away in what seemed a never-ending salvo. Tearing the strips of paper from the shattered panes, the shots hit the wall. Andrej crept toward the balcony and looked across at Nikolash, who was crouching by the wall on the other side. Their eyes converged on Dula's disfigured face. The blood ran down the beard and dripped on to the floor.

The tommy-gun stopped, and in the abrupt silence a faint sigh could be heard, sounding like the last bit of air being squeezed out of a flat tire. Dula's feet quivered slightly, then turned outwards and stiffened. "Idiot," said Nikolash, not specifying whom he meant. He cautiously straightened up, but as his head approached the balcony door, several shots rattled into the room. "There's only one of them," he said, "I'll make him pay for this. Stay here till Zepac comes."

He crept to the door, raced downstairs and along the corridor, hurled open the last window, and jumped out. Moving stealthily around the house to the place where the German had been lying, he saw a wide trail of blood which led to the edge of the wood; there it stopped, and deep footprints continued instead. Nikolash smiled in grim satisfaction: with a wounded man on his back, the German couldn't escape.

He ran down the hill in great bounds, but at one point he slipped, and slid on his seat some twenty yards further in thick scrub. He was about to get to his feet when the tommy-gun barked off ahead of him, the shot rattling like pebbles against the frozen tree-trunks around him. Nikolash pressed deep into the snow, and did not even move when the noise suddenly stopped: perhaps the German was waiting for him to come out, but he was not that stupid—he chuckled into the snow. After a few minutes he started creeping cautiously through the snow, away from the trail, and having covered forty yards like this, he got up, ran another hundred yards in the same direction, then made straight for the valley.

Very soon he had reached the edge of the wood and came out on to the street. He glanced at the nearest house, and remembered Zepac. He pulled open the door, saw Zepac standing in the hall, was up to him in a couple of strides and seized him by the coat. "What were my orders, eh?"

Zepac trembled, and raised his arms entreatingly. "Please let me go, Nikolash. I was just off, then the shooting started, and. . . ."

Nikolash hurled him against the wall. Zepac ran out of the house. Nikolash caught him up in the street, and gave him a furious punch in the face. "Off to Dula," he said tersely. "You manage with the general on your own. If he's caught, I’ll hang your wife and children by their feet. Get me?"

Zepac nodded. Nikolash's blow had made his upper lip bleed. He wiped the blood from his mouth and rushed off toward the wood.

Now Nikolash looked around. He saw Margita and Sztraka standing at the window of Andrej's house, making signs to him; he took the signs to mean that the Germans were back. He raced across the meadow and climbed through the open window, where Margita was waiting. "What's happened to Andre)'?" she said.

"Oh, don't fuss," he answered. "Andrej's at the sanatorium. Are the Germans in your house?" he asked Sztraka.

"Yes, both of them. The tall one was carrying the short one. I think he's dead. Did you shoot him?"

"He'd have been pretty silly to do it himself. Is your wife still there?"