Crossword (45 page)

"I'm OK, they didn't do anything. Do what you have
to." He hesitated, still embracing her, but she removed his arms and
started to stand, repeating her declarations.

Larry, too, stood, held her face tenderly and kissed her
lips, then her forehead, then hugged her a final time before returning to where
Max lay, blood trickling from his head and nose. Maria joined him, and while
they stood there looking down, his gasping respirations ceased, the huge chest
deflating with his final breath. The silence lasted only seconds, the snapping
of twigs sounding in their ears as the one remaining bandit made a dash for
freedom. Larry turned but made no move to pursue him. Enough for one day. More
than enough.

"Are you really all right?" he asked, holding
Maria gently by the shoulders.

"When we stop for the night this blouse will need a
little work, but I'm not hurt. Truly." She tucked in her blouse and closed
it as best as she could, then retrieved her jacket and fastened it so that the
damage was not visible.

Through the trees they could see the last of the column of
soldiers passing by, a troop truck and a jeep bringing up the rear. Larry used
leaves to wipe the blood from the plutonium, then quickly searched the bodies
for anything that might be of use. A few potatoes, one tin of beef, the hunting
knife and a small spool of cotton thread were the only items of use. By the
time they gathered and stowed their belongings it was safe to leave their
retreat, and they emerged from the woods to resume their flight to freedom.

The rest of the day was uneventful, although Larry set a
quick pace, wanting to put as much distance as possible between themselves and
the two bodies lying in the woods. He was not overly concerned about the one
who ran away. It was unlikely he could do anything on his own, and even more
unlikely that he would try to report it to the authorities since they were
certainly criminals and probably army deserters besides. In addition, the
infrastructure of German society was starting to crumble, and he would be hard
pressed to even find someone who cared. Larry's only real concern was that they
might have had comrades who would be interested in extracting revenge. Possible
but not likely, he thought. Still, acutely aware of his obligation to protect
Maria, he decided it was worth trying to hitch a ride if he could find someone
heading their way. A few kilometers down the road, an opportunity presented
itself in the form of an older couple in a small horse drawn wagon, its back
piled with what looked like assorted junk and a small amount of produce. Both
the man and his wife seemed to be cut from the same mold, each of short
stature, stout but not fat, and with the ruddy complexion of people who worked
outdoors. They had just finished watering their horses from a trough at the
edge of the road next to a rapidly flowing stream, and they smiled pleasantly
as Larry and Maria came alongside, responding courteously to their greeting and
readily pausing to talk with Maria, seemingly eager for the chance to engage in
conversation. Frieda and Josef were itinerants, a cross between the tinkers of
earlier days and traveling merchants, going from city to town, selling assorted
items and offering their services —— Josef as a general handyman
and Frieda as a seamstress, cleaning woman and general laborer. There was not a
great need for what they offered, but they were able to eke out a meager
living, often taking food or other items in trade and then selling or bartering
them for their own necessities. It was a Spartan existence, often difficult and
tiring, but in spite of this they were better off than many and still retained
their self-respect and their independence, and were able to spend their days
together; companionship of which they never tired. Maria and Larry felt an
instant kinship with the wandering pair and they, in turn, seemed to take a
liking to Maria and Larry, perhaps seeing in the younger couple a reflection of
themselves at an earlier time.

When Larry asked if they might ride with them a while, Josef
replied, "If you move some of that stuff in the back around, there should
be room for you. Your woman can ride up front with us."

Friendly feelings aside, business being business, Frieda
added, "We'll have to charge you something. The horses will be more tired
and will need extra food and rest. Do you have anything to trade?"

Maria reached into her pack and pulled out the tin of meat.
"Will this do?"

Frieda looked like she was about to say something but her
husband chimed in, "That'll be fine."

Fleetingly, her expression appeared stern as she turned to
face Josef, then, seeing the look on his face, it softened into a smile and she
held out her hand to Maria. "Here, dear, let me help you up."

With Larry and Maria on board, Josef nudged his horses
forward and they continued on the road, heading south. Fortunately for the
younger couple there were hardly any towns along this stretch of road, and
therefore little incentive for their hosts to stop and ply their trade. There
was one small Hamlet where the couple called on several houses, but there was no
work for them so they continued their trek until nightfall, pulling off the
road into a meadow dotted with trees and scattered large boulders where they
intended to camp for the night. Larry and Maria were invited to join them at
their campsite, and since it seemed to be mutually beneficial for both parties,
providing companionship and protection for them all, an agreement was reached
whereby they would stay together until the next day when the couple were due to
arrive at a town of some population that would occupy them for at least a day,
possibly more. Once there, Larry and Maria would continue on their way.

Ample firewood lay scattered about, and Larry helped Josef
gather a supply for the night, offering to do the chopping necessary to cut the
larger pieces down to size. Maria and Frieda unloaded cooking utensils and a
few stools before each taking a bucket and walking a short distance along a
path to fetch water from a nearby stream. While there, Maria pulled several
potatoes from her pack and washed them in the rapidly flowing water. When they
returned Josef was already tending a fire while Larry finished cutting the
remainder of the wood.

Frieda had a few beets and some cabbage, and this, along
with the potatoes as well as a small sausage contributed by Maria would, they
all agreed, make a very nice stew. The women cut and prepared the ingredients
while an old black kettle of water sat on the fire, its contents slowly coming
to a boil. Larry helped the older man organize and stow the jumbled array of items
that filled the wagon, the cast off or bartered objects that formed the common
tender of his enterprise.

Soon they were sitting around the fire, the aroma of dinner
wafting towards them from the slowly simmering pot, picking up threads of
conversation that had started earlier. Larry explained that he was trying to
return to Italy, accompanied by his new wife, to see if he could find the
family he had left behind, an explanation that was accepted by the older couple
as perfectly reasonable. When asked, Maria said that she was the orphan of a
father who died in combat and a mother who was killed by a misguided bomb. The
latter was not exactly true, although from a metaphorical sense, it was pretty
close.

"You know," broke in Josef, "the wife and I
consider ourselves to be loyal Germans, proud of our country and what we've
accomplished, but I can't say that either of us think this war's done very much
for our people."

"Hush, now 'Sef'," his wife retorted, "these
nice young folks might not agree with your views."

"That's OK, we feel the way you do," said Maria.

Frieda looked relieved and her husband resumed. "I
don't mean that just because were losing. Even if we had won, what could we do
with all the people from the countries we'd taken over? You can't keep huge
populations like that enslaved for long; look at history, it just can't be
done. Not to mention the fact that it's just plain wrong despite what Hitler
and his generals say. It's true the rest of Europe has treated us unfairly
since the end of the last war, but there's got to be a better solution than
this." The others nodded their agreement, none, however, wishing to say
much more, for such political discussions rarely accomplished anything and,
despite their assertions of like mindedness, there still lurked a fear of
betrayal under the patina of camp camaraderie. So things fell silent while they
sat around the fire, waiting for Frieda to declare the stew ready.

In the warmth from the flames Maria unfastened her jacket,
and Frieda's keen eyes saw the damage to her blouse, remarking as she did so,
"Oh, my dear, what happened?"

"I tore it on a branch when we were foraging in the
woods. I have some thread, but no needle."

"After we eat I'll fix that for you." Her feminine
eye noticed how Maria moved closer to Larry and she realized there was more
unsaid, and that whatever happened had not been pleasant. For Frieda, the war
was a more personal thing, measured not so much by battlefield casualties, than
by all the horrors endured by the civilians. "Don't you worry, dear, I'll
fix it for you." And her heart went out to the young woman whose eyes
spoke words that could not be spoken out loud.

In the morning they said their farewells, wished the older
couple good luck in obtaining work, and thanked them for what they had done.
Josef and Frieda, in return, said that they prayed for a safe journey to Italy
with the hope that Larry would be united with his family.

Setting a moderate pace, Larry figured that they would reach
the Austrian border before nightfall, and overnight close to the rendezvous
point, completing the last few miles in the morning.

As they walked they made small talk, and twice Maria spoke
as if there would be a life for the two of them once they reached safety, and
both times Larry refused to follow her thread, changing the subject, not
willing to talk about what could never be —— whether to make things
easier for Maria or for himself, he wasn't sure. He just knew that there was a
limit to the pain he could endure. Several small military units passed by,
Larry and Maria moving deferentially to the side of the road, avoiding the eyes
of the soldiers who, for the most part, also looked down, not anxious to face
their fellow countrymen in defeat. Once, they passed a small group of tank men
on the side of the road, resting and eating next to their metal chariot, the
latter draped in camouflage netting and adorned with branches and greenery
against marauding aircraft. Maria locked her arm tightly in Larry's as they
came abreast of the small group, and when one of them looked up from his meal,
the couple nodded at the beleaguered looking young soldier who, disinterested,
nodded back in a perfunctory manner before turning a desolate face back to his
tin mess kit. Larry could feel a tremble in Maria's arm, try as she might to
hide it, and the shaking did not stop until they had left the group of soldiers
a kilometer behind them. No words were exchanged; none were needed. And Maria
saw no reason to mention to Larry that one of the men looked like one of those
who had tried to rape her.

By the time the sun was low in the west they had crossed
into Austria although one would not know it without being familiar with the
territory, there being no sign welcoming the traveler to the "land of
Mozart," no border checkpoint, and, in essence, no noticeable difference
at all. The small inn that they found was just as empty as the one they had
stayed at the first night, and the proprietor just as happy to use the barter
system, for the populace was fast losing confidence in the German Mark,
especially here, close to the ever shrinking front. The remainder of their food
was sufficient to get them a bed for the night, Larry holding back a small
amount for dinner and a little bread for the morning, since the owner, a
grizzled old man, was in no mood to prepare any meals. He sat at a small table
nursing a beer, a morose look on his face as he talked quietly to the one other
patron, an equally weathered man with an overly long shock of unexpected black
hair. When Larry and Maria had finished their Spartan dinner and approached the
owner, he barely looked up, simply pointed to a hallway and said,
"Upstairs, first door on the left."

The mood for the two of them had also turned somber, the end
of their journey in sight, and with it, an end to more than a trip. For Larry
it was a portend of cessation of life in the absolute physical sense, and for
Maria it was an end to a kind of life that had not yet begun for her, one that
had only been conjured in her most fervent hopes and dreams. With a kiss and an
embrace they crawled into bed and awaited the morning, sleep being elusive for
them both.

They awoke to the sound of tanks rumbling by on the nearby
road, the sun barely over the horizon. A few bites finished the remainder of
the bread, and a few minutes sufficed to dress and gather their meager
belongings, the plutonium being the only thing of any real value that they
possessed. No one awaited them when they crossed the main room on the ground
floor, and they passed quietly through without the necessity of a goodbye,
reaching the main road in two minutes. To the north a column of dust marked the
progress of the column of tanks. They turned to the south and several hours of
rapid walking brought them to the outskirts of Hohenems where they were to look
for a concrete obelisk with the year 1848 chiseled in it, a commemoration of
some historic event. At the monument they had to head west, a short hike to the
Swiss border.

"Look," Larry said, "around that bend,
sticking out over the trees."

Maria followed his gaze. "Yes, I see it."
Protruding over the roof of a shed and low pines was the angled top of a gray
obelisk. Instinctively they picked up the pace, quickly rounding the curve in
the road, only to stop dead in their tracks. For Larry, instincts kicked in and
he immediately resumed walking, but at a more leisurely appearing gait,
although he had to forcibly pull along Maria, who seemed frozen in place. It
was the sight of a squad of SS troops, on bivouac around the base of the
monument, that had sent splinters of fear into the two.