Nope! Still don't own any of it... and still don't get any money for any of it!
A Bond of Blood
"Who 'r they?"
Emile looked along the side of the truck, back where the young man was pointing. He narrowed his eyes and spat in disgust. "Gypsies!" Turning his back on Chief he climbed into the cab and slammed the door.
They'd gotten into their meeting with the contact with no problem,,, for a change. The weather had been good over the drop zone. They'd landed in a close pattern and the ground had been soft, easily pushed aside to cover the chutes. Men had been waiting for them… just not the men Garrison had expected. The one he'd worked with before, Andre, had been killed just a year ago, the guy that stepped up with the sign was a friend of his. He had all the right answers though and he'd taken them through the woods to the road where his truck was waiting. The Warden was up front in the cab talking to their contact now, getting the low down on the job they were here to pull off. Seemed like there was no reason to worry about this one.
Chief turned and settled in the back of the truck and watched the group huddled around the fire just inside the cover of the trees. The man watched them warily from a position just in front of his family. The children peered shyly at them from behind their mother's full skirts. The clothing and camp were different; the smell of the food cooking over the wood fire…but the look was the same. And the sound of Emile's voice was the same… 'Gypsies!'…
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… "Indians! Dirty sheep camp Indians!" And then the man spat in the dirt at his grandfather's feet and waited for a response. The boy looked up but only saw a resigned, tolerant smile on the weathered face. He felt the old man's hand on his shoulder as he guided him across the road away from the one who'd spoken. When they'd gone along far enough that the other had started to fade away into a memory Acheii stopped and looked down at him, smiling. "You have to forgive that man," he said quietly. "He is angry because he is not human. Hodeeya'ada'a" …In the beginning… And then he'd told another one of his stories about how the people came, and how they learned how to become human from the ancestors. The stories were always long, but there was time enough. It took a long time to come into the town from where they lived out against the red cliffs, a long time to go back again. A long time that was never long enough for a boy who loved to listen to his grandfather's stories.
c
The boy had been born in his grandfather's place. His mother had come back to her home when her time came and he had been born there. But he hadn't stayed there. His father had followed the work and his mother had taken him and followed his father. They never stayed in a place long enough to know it. His father's work moved, and they had to move with it. When she was pregnant again his father didn't have work. When it was her time they came back again, but that baby died. His father left to follow the work again and for a time his mother stayed but then she went and left him with his grandparents.
It was strange at first. There was too much sky, too much space. It was too quiet. It frightened him to hear all that silence, to be able to see out to where the world ended. But then his grandfather started telling him stories, and gradually the sky and the space was filled, and he learned to hear more than silence. Acheii told him how the mountains guarded the edge of the world around them, and how the sun and the moon, and the stars stretched their arms over them to keep them safe. And after his grandfather told him many stories the strangeness went away and he could walk out into the space and not be afraid.
Gradually his grandparents taught him how to be human. How to live with the people. His grandmother taught him how to look at the small things; the seeds that sprouted where they planted them in the dry river bed. The way the ant people worked together to build and protect their home. How to find honey by listening and following the small bees that grazed among the flowers that bloomed when the rains came. She showed him how to twist the hair from the sheep into yarn that his grandfather wove into rugs for sleeping. But then his grandmother died. She had a pain in her back but told them it was not such a bad pain and they should go and take the sheep to water. When they were gone she died out there on the dry river bed where the seeds were just sprouting….
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The truck rattled to a stop at the edge of a desolate yard. Weeds had gown up around the house, choking out flowerbeds that once graced either side of the path that led to the door. There were still a few roses, in their death throes now, still offering up a bit of desperate color amid the ruin. The place looked deserted but when Chief jumped down from the truck and scanned the area around him he could see signs of animals… smell them too. Whoever had this place hadn't been cleaning up after their stock. There was a thin curl of smoke coming from the chimney, but no welcoming light glowed from the windows, no smell of food cooking reached him from the other side of the door.
Emile had the door to the old farmhouse open, and was motioning for them all to get inside out of sight. The young man's eyes adapted quickly to the shadows as he stepped through the door. For an instant he thought he saw his grandfather sitting in the flickering light of the fire and moved towards him before he realized with a start that he'd been imagining things, seeing remembered things. But there was an old man there, staring into the fire as Acheii had done. Sitting silently with his old dog by his side, staring back into his past.
Chief took another step closer and was met by a grumbling growl of warning from the old dog. Smiling he crouched down and put his hand out as a peace offering. Laughing, he scratched the belly the dog turned up with a groan and he cast a glace up at the old man. When he first looked in those eyes they'd been the same, held the same far away look that had been in Acheii's eyes when he'd gone back to visit his past, to talk with his ancestors, and he wondered what kind of stories he would tell him. Chief had an urge to settle in on the floor at his feet and wait for the story that went with that look, just like he'd done all those years ago with his grandfather. It felt almost the same, the fire, the old dog, the quiet darkness of the room. But then the eyes changed. They were no longer focused on the past, but on him, and they held such a look of grief, longing and hope that he knew he wouldn't survive the story that they might tell him. When the Warden called to him he'd been almost glad to go. He gave the old dog another scratch on his belly and got up to follow. The eyes stayed on his face. He gave them a quick smile of apology and turned away towards the stairs, but he could still feel them, there was a presure against his spine, between his shoulders and he knew he was being watched.
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They'd gone over the plans for the job. They had some time to rest before they had to leave and the Warden had ordered them to get some sleep. But he couldn't sleep. When he closed his eyes he saw the eyes of the young father by the fire, and then they turned into the old man's eyes, and then Acheii's and he remembered…
After his grandmother died people had come to help bury her. Women washed her hair with yucca and put her moccasins on the wrong feet so the evil spirits could not follow her on her journey to the next world, could not follow her trail back to this one. They took her body away and hid it up in the hills. Then they came back and for the time the ritural demanded sorrow filled the home she'd shared with Acheii all those years. In the end, after everyone went away and left them alone out there again, they never said her name. They couldn't take the chance of calling evil spirits to them by saying her name. The boy couldn't see how there could be anything evil about his grandmother, but it was the way things were done. She was 'that woman' now, not Ama sani, not grandmother.
c
Sometimes the aunts would come and help with the sheep. Help gather the wool and twist it into thread that his grandfather wove into rugs. Sometimes the uncles would come and help haul water to the big tank or go get firewood or help Acheii hunt. But it was a long way to come… People were spread out across the land because game was scarce and there was no water and theirs was a small clan, dying out now.
Once a man had come from the town and told his grandfather that he would have to go to school. So they made the long trip into the small town that sat on the road and Acheii spent some of the money he made by selling the rugs to buy him shoes, and paper, and things he didn't understand, things the man at the trading post said he would need when he went to school. The shoes were too big, they rubbed his feet when he wore them and made blisters. Then the man came again and took him away.
He didn't like it at that school. They made him sit on a chair instead of resting on the ground, and they talked, but they didn't tell stories, not like his grandfather did. He couldn't go outside when he wanted and there were no sheep or horses, no dogs. They didn't go hunting in that place. Didn't go out to find food or grow it in the dry river bed that ran along the edge of the school yard. Instead they had to march,,, from the building they had to sit in all day, to a large hall where people waited behind big pots set on long tables. They put a plate in his hands and he had to go along the table and ask each person standing by a pot for some of the food they had. After the first few days he stopped asking, the food wasn't any good. Not like the mutton stew and fry bread his grandfather made.
He had to sleep at the school too. He tried to walk back to his home after the first day but they came in a car and took him back to that school and told him he lived there now. He had to sleep in a large room with all of the other boys that went to the school, in beds that lined the walls. It wasn't quiet in that room. The other boys cried to go home until some of them got sick, or called out in their dreams. It wasn't quiet in that room like it was at his grandfather's.
Some of the people he found at that school were kind to him and to the others that were there. Some of them understood how strange it was for them to be taken away from their homes and their families, and be herded into the box-like rooms like sheep, and to be talked to in a language they couldn't understand. Some of them understood. Most of them did not. Most of them grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him when he didn't look into their faces when they talked to him. Most of them laughed at him and called him names when he didn't talk back to them, when he waited to make sure they had stopped talking and had said all they had to say, waited for them to think of something more to say before he started talking. 'Dummy'. He knew some of the language of that place, they talked it in the town and he knew some of it. When he learned more, he learned what that name meant. 'Dummy'. The boy hadn't felt like a dummy when he was with his grandfather, but he did in the place they said was a school where people learned to be smart. He tried, but he never learned how to be smart there… They told him that. They told him he would never be smart.
A young woman came to that school for a time and she knew how to tell stories. She made marks on the board every room had on the wall, and told them that it was a secret writing, and she told them she would show them the secret and then they could get the stories for themselves. He liked the stories she told them so he tried hard to learn the secrets, and after a time he could make out some of the words. She was one of the kind ones. She knew how to wait for him to talk. She knew it was rude for him to look in her eyes when she talked. Because she knew those things she made it easy for him to learn the secret writing and she helped him get the stories for himself. She gave him a book filled with stories that she promised she would show him how to get. But she left before she could show him all of the secrets. And when they found the book they took it away from him saying that he stole it. They said if he didn't steal it he would look in their eyes when he talked. They said that anyone who didn't look in their eyes when he talked to them must be a liar. Because they said he was a liar and a thief, he started to be one.
He didn't like it at that school. He didn't know how long he'd been there. He didn't know how long he'd been away from his grandfather's place out against the red cliffs. When they finally let Acheii come and take him home again he didn't fit in the shoes anymore. They pinched his feet on the long walk from town and made blisters, so he took them off. And because they reminded him of that school he threw them away in the bushes. He thought his grandfather would be mad when he saw him do that, but he'd only smiled and told him he would make him a new pair of soft shoes that wouldn't pinch him.
When the man came the next time to take him back to that school they hid in the red rocks up above his grandfather's place. They went up there again when the man came back, and then they moved to the summer camp up in the hills. Even though it wasn't summer they stayed there until that man didn't come looking for him anymore. He never went back to that school.
c
His grandfather was getting old. He told him so. He told him old people died, and he told him he was going to die. They went into town so Acheii could get the man at the trading post to write a letter to the boy's mother for him. He told the man what to put down on the paper and he told him where to send that paper so that the boy's mother could get it. Then they went back out to his grandfather's place and waited for her to come. They gathered the wool from the sheep while they waited and twisted it into thread, but Acheii didn't weave it into rugs, he said he was too old and too tired. They planted squash in the river bed and the boy brought water to it so the seeds would sprout. They watched the plants grow and flower, and they watched the little fruit swell into ripeness while they waited for her to come. Acheii didn't make mutton stew anymore, he was too weak to catch the sheep and kill them, and the boy was too young to do it. He could take the old dog and move the sheep where there was water and food for them, but he couldn't catch one and kill it, so they ate the squash, and the rabbits he could catch, and he learned how to make fry bread.
When she came he didn't recognize her. He didn't know it was his mother that came walking up to his grandfather's place. The old dog didn't know her, but Acheii did when he saw her from where he was sitting in the shade and he told him it was his mother that was coming. She dressed like the people at that school.
She didn't like it at his grandfather's place. It was small and dark, she told them, and it smelled like mutton and sheep fat. His grandfather just smiled and told her that she would like it again when she remembered that she belonged there. When the smell of the town was out of her nose she would like it again. When the sound of the crowded city was out of her ears she would like it. But she didn't like it at his grandfather's place.
c
He was alone with his grandfather when he died. His mother said she was going to go and take the sheep to water and she left early in the morning and hadn't come back. It was dark and she hadn't come back. Acheii spent the day by the fire, too cold to go outside, too weak to eat the fry bread the boy made for him. He was too tired to tell stories so they just sat together and stared into the fire. When it was almost dark he got a faraway look in his eyes and started talking to his ancestors, telling them stories about his life and how it had been. Then he looked at the boy and told him he had to go outside where his spirit could get away when he died. He tried to get up but he was too weak. The boy tried but he wasn't strong enough to help the old man stand, and when he fell he wasn't strong enough to pull him across the floor so that he could be outside and see the stars and the sky while he died. He tried but he wasn't strong enough. He went out in the dark to find his mother. He found the sheep where he had pinned them and listened when they talked to him, complained to him about having no water, but she wasn't there so he went back and he waited for his mother to come. He went and found the yucca and washed the old man's hair, and he switched his moccasins onto the wrong feet so the old man couldn't be followed, and he waited.
His mother came back late the next morning. She came smelling of cigarette smoke and liquor and she found him sitting in his grandfather's place next to the body that had been Acheii. When she saw them from the doorway she wouldn't come into the place where the old man had died. She wouldn't come in where the bad spirits were trapped, and called to the boy to come outside to her.
He watched her from the shadows as she called to him from the doorway. He didn't want to go to that woman. He didn't think he wanted to have anything to do with her. But he didn't have any choice. So he left his grandfather's body and went to her. And they left his grandfather's place after she got a man to come and bury him in the rocks and break a hole in the wall so the evil spirits could get away. They left after she sold the sheep and the wool they had there, and the rugs that they'd used for sleeping. She tried to get one of the aunts to take him. She asked one of the uncles to keep him. No one wanted him after they found out he had stayed the whole night sitting in a place that was full of ghosts and evil. No one wanted him, so she had to take him with her when she left, even though she didn't want him either.
They went back to the town she'd been living in when the old man's letter came to her. She had been with the boy's father when she lived in that town. They looked for him there but they didn't find him. The people said the work moved and the boy's father had followed it, so they went to the next town, and the next, and then the next. Finally they came to a town where the work was, it hadn't moved from there yet so she told him his father would be there. They went to the people that his father worked for, the people who dug in the ground for coal and gas and water. But those people told them that the boy's father was dead. There was an explosion they said, and he had been too close and had been killed. She asked them when this happened and they told her…. It was the same time his grandfather died, the time the boy had been sitting with his grandfather's ghost. She told him it was his grandfather who killed his father. She told him his ghost had come and done it because he never liked him, never wanted her to go with him. And then she told him that his grandfather's ghost had touched him when he sat by the old man's body, and she told him he was full of the old man's evil spirit.
c
She'd been drunk for days, hadn't worked for weeks. There was no food again and he was hungry again. If he'd been home with the old man he'd know where to go for food. He'd get the throwing stick and the smooth stones, say the words and go find it. But here… Here there was no game. Here there were no trees, no springs or tanks to draw them, no brush for them to live in and for him to hide in while he waited for them. Here there was no blue sky. No stars shinned down at night. Here there was no sunrise to greet in the morning, no horizon. Here there were only buildings, and people, and noise, and smoke.
He tried again to rouse her. She'd opened her eyes for a moment, but as soon as she saw who it was she'd pushed him away and told him to get out. She always told him that when she was drunk, and she was nearly always drunk now. If she wasn't drunk the men that came to her ordered him out, picked him up and threw him out if he wouldn't go. Locked the door so he couldn't come back… Until one man came who let him stay, made him come into the room with them and told him to watch. Laughed, and told him he'd show him how it was to be a man. He'd been sick then. He tried to get out of the room but the door was locked so he'd turned into the corner and been sick.
In the morning when the man was gone she came to him. Before she opened the bottle the man left for her she came to him. Before she remembered the chindii had touched him she came to him and cleaned the sickness off his face and hands, and gave him clothes from the box under the bed that weren't torn and dirty yet, that didn't stink with sickness. But as he dressed she opened the bottle, and as she drank the way she looked at him changed, and she remembered, and she told him to get out.
They never had to tell him to leave after that night. As soon as he heard a knock on the door he was gone. She never had to tell him to get out after that morning. As soon as she reached for the bottle he went.
He tried to stay out of her way after that, spending his time in the open space out at the edge of the town where they stayed. Once he learned where the food was, and how to get it when the shop keeper's weren't looking, there was no reason to go back, not unless he needed clothes. Then he would go back and take what he needed from the box under the bed. Those times he would wait and watch the place until he was certain it was empty, and then he would slip in a window and take what he needed. But once he went in and the box was gone. He searched the closets and the cupboards but there was nothing. Nothing left behind but empty bottles.
c
They caught him when he went into a yard to get a shirt. The one he had was torn and dirty, the sleeves didn't reach to the ends of his arms anymore, and the one he saw hanging on the line to dry looked bigger. He'd gotten a pair of pants from this place and had been waiting until the woman put out more clothes again so he could find a shirt. They were waiting for him, hiding next to the house in the shadows when he came. They threw a rug over him when he was putting on the shirt he'd found hanging there,,, trapped him the way he trapped small game. The man that trapped him took the shirt away and shut him up in a shed in the yard. He wanted to take the pants too, but he was afraid to come and get them. He was afraid he'd be bitten again.
When the sheriff came and they'd taken him out of the shed the man spat in the dirt at the boy's feet and called him a 'dirty Indian!' He tried to believe the man was just angry because he didn't know how to be human, but when he looked into his face he knew that it was because he hated him.
They took him to a place that had many children again. They made him sleep in a room where there were beds that lined the walls again. There were tables that sat in the middle of that room. At first he thought it was a school, at first he thought it might be a good thing to be there. The bed was not on the ground, and he had a blanket. There was water to wash his face and hands, and another larger room where they gathered and were given food. The food was hot, he didn't think it was very good food, but it was hot.
But it was hard to be in that place with so many other people. They didn't know how to be quiet in that place. They didn't know how to talk in that place. They never waited for him to finish what he had to tell there, always talking, always rushing ahead, telling him what he wanted to tell. He was 'Dummy' again when he took time to think what he would say. He was called 'liar' again when he didn't look in their faces. So he learned to keep what he would say to himself, and make them wonder what he was thinking. He learned to stare at them when they talked, until they would stop talking. He learn that so well he could make them turn away and leave him alone because they were afraid of what he was thinking when he stared at them. He learned to fight in that place. He learned that you didn't turn your back on people there. He learned that there were strong people there, in the crowds of boys, and among the teachers and guards, but they wouldn't help him, and he couldn't trust them, and he wouldn't follow them. He learned to be alone there. He learned to be smart there,,, smart enough to endure.
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"Alright you guys, let's get going."
The Warden's voice startled him. He'd drifted off into sleep and been dreaming, reliving the past, and the dreams were so strong and real he had a hard time believing he wasn't back there. Garrison saw it and came to stand in front of him as he rolled out of the bed he'd been resting on. "Chief, you alright?" He'd kept his voice low, his back turned to the others, shielding him while he made his way back into the present.
"M'OK. Just dreamin'." Chief looked up at the man that led them and smiled to reassure him. He gazed steadily into the other man's eyes until the Lieutenant nodded and turned away.
"Come on! Hustle it! Emile says it'll take two hours to get out to that lab." The Warden moved around the room and made sure that they were all up and on their feet before he took to the stairs and went out to look for their contact.
"Jeeze! Why can't we ever hit a place that we don't have to hike through the middle of the night to get to." Casino groused as he scrubbed his hands over his face. Standing up he stretched to work out the kinks he'd gotten from sleeping in a chair propped in the corner.
"Well, mate, we could wait until it was a little later and stroll up in broad daylight… Be warmer then," the little thief shrugged, "easier to see where we was goin'." Goniff was pulling on the heavy coat he'd used as a blanket, and turned to grin at him. "'Course it'd be a whole lot easier for the Jerries to see us comin', now wouldn't it? Prob'ly shorten a bloke's life by quite a bit… But we could try it."
"What'r you grinnin' at? And don't go makin' sense like that, you dumb Limey! It confuses me."
Actor reached the top of the stairs and turned back to caution them in a whisper. "Keep your voices down. Our old host is still asleep by the fire." And they'd moved as quietly as they could and left the old man to his dreams.
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The further away from the farmhouse they got the more uneasy Chief felt. He moved up near Garrison and waited for him to turn towards him. "Somethin's not right." They were all moving quietly, practice had taught them that, he should have been able to hear sounds of birds and small game as it moved away from them, but it was silent. "I got a bad feelin' 'bout this."
The Warden glanced around them. They were alone in a small clearing, the three men from the underground had lagged behind until they were out of sight. He didn't like it either. "Get out ahead and see if it's clear. We'll spread out and work our way towards you through the trees." They shared a brief look. "You're right. Seems like it's too quiet."
He hadn't gone more than fifty yards out away from them before he heard the harsh sound of German voices ordering the others to drop their weapons and put their hands up. Chief circled back through the trees, and watched as a dozen soldiers surrounded his teammates. He looked on as their hands were tied and they were herded off through the trees to the right. There wasn't anything he could do. Not against that many rifles. Not on his own. Melting back the way they'd come, looking for the contact, he froze in the darker shadow of the trees when he spotted Emile,,, pocketing a roll of bills a German officer had just handed him.
Chief turned back in the direction he'd come. He had to follow them, find out where the Germans were taking them. There was enough of a moon to show him the trail the large group left. He followed along behind, moving as quickly as he could, terrified that they'd reach vehicles on a road someplace ahead and be gone before he could get there to see which way they'd taken. Fear caused him to hurry, but the same fear, blended with experience, sharpened his hearing. He could make out the crunch of boots on gravel, heard voices, and slowed, cautiously making his way to the edge of the trees.
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He had to try and get to them. He knew he couldn't trust the contact, knew it was dangerous to come back here. But he couldn't do it on his own, and he didn't have any place else to go. Maybe the old man… Chief couldn't believe eyes like that could betray him. But he didn't know if he could even make him understand what he needed. He could understand some of what they talked over here, but he couldn't talk any of it. He circled the farmhouse, searching for any sign that would tell him who might be inside. He had to get this right. If he made the wrong move, gave his trust to the wrong person then the Warden and the others were as good as dead. But they were dead anyway, if he stood here and did nothing… He leaned back against a tree and closed his eyes. Summoning a vision of his grandfather he asked him to help him find someway to decide "Haidi Acheii?" Then he heard the door to the farmhouse open, and the creak of the boards that made the steps that led down into the ruined garden. When he turned to go he heard a voice in his mind 'T'ah.' it told him in the voice of his grandfather. 'Wait... T'ah' And so he waited in the cover of the trees to see if his grandfather was right, but the knife was in his hand. He heard the low growl of the old dog and tensed. He heard the growl change to a whine...
"Come out boy, I won't do you any harm."
The old man waited, his rifle resting in the crook of his arm, the barrel pointing down at the ground near his feet while Chief decided if he would show himself. When he stepped out of the cover of the trees they stood there measuring each other. The knife was still ready in his hand as he searched the old man's face.
"There are supplies you will need in the cellar, but it is not safe for you to stay here."
Chief silently thanked his grandfather for his guidance and folded the knife away into the sheath strapped to his wrist. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves before he moved closer to the old man.
"Do you know where they have taken your friends?"
"Yeah. I followed 'em." He ran most of the way, keeping the truck in sight as long as he could, then followed the sound. He was lucky, they hadn't gone far. "They got 'em at a big house up on the hill above here." Searching the surrounding trees he followed the old man back up to the farmhouse. "The guys that brought us here, where are they?"
"They have gone. They will not be back until the Germans have given up searching for you."
He started to say something and then bit back the words. He didn't know who those men were to this old man. He didn't want to risk loosing his help if he found out they had betrayed them.
"I gotta go after 'em. I gotta try and get 'em out." He was determined. He had to make the old man understand that there was no way he was going to go without them. He could see the argument in his eyes when he turned to face him. "Don't waste your breath man, it ain't gonna work."
"I know. You are a fool for trying it, and I am a fool for helping you." The smile that kindled in the old eyes reminded him of his grandfather. "I think I may know a way." And as they set off towards the barn together the old man started telling Chief his idea.
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They'd set fire to the small store of feed the old man had and watched while the building burned. It would give him a reason to be on the road with his wagon tomorrow, and it would give them a way to hide the others when Chief got them out. When the fire burned down to embers and it was safe for them to leave it they'd come back into the house and the old man sat by the fire and remembered everything he could about the house where they'd taken Garrison and the others. He'd worked for the people that owned the place from the time he was a young man. Chief had him tell it over and over until he made the memory his own. He had him tell him about the store rooms and stables, anywhere he thought they might take someone and hold them captive.
They had their plans made now all they had to do was wait. That was the hardest part, the waiting. Chief knew what was probably happening up in that place. He knew what the Warden would be trying to do…..
c
It hadn't been hard to agree to it when the Lieutenant told them what he wanted them to do. He was just another lousy screw anyway. He just had a little more power. A warden who could decide their fate, make it easy or tough on them. He told them if they stuck together it would give them a chance to get away. As if they wouldn't do that anyway. Cons had to stick together against cops, and screws, and wardens because you couldn't trust them, any of them. Deny him!? Let the Germans concentrate on him if they all got caught? Sure! The way he'd double crossed them,,, conned them into dancin' to his tune for the 'duration and six months' instead a just the one job like they all thought? He deserved a good goin' over for that one. And since none of them could make a move on him they'd be happy to let the Krauts do it for them.
But the Lieutenant hadn't relied on their natural distrust and hatred of him. Just like everything else, they had to train for this. Instead of running the obstacle course or working out on the firing range, they had to practice being questioned, practice giving up information without giving everything away. That wasn't hard either. The Warden didn't let them know anything important. He didn't trust them to keep their mouths shut anyway, so he fed them just enough to get them through the exercise. Sometimes only just enough to get through the next step.
By the time the Norway job rolled around they were ready. All of them. Ready to tell the Krauts they were suckers, forced into doing what the Warden wanted to save their skins. Just pawns in whatever plan he and the Army had cooked up. The Germans weren't soft on criminals, but they were easier on them than on spies and saboteurs. They put them in work camps, used them to clean up and repair the damage the bombers were doing in the cities and on the roads. They'd been in places like that before, all of them. They knew how to get out of places like that. Like Casino said, this was going to be a piece of cake. Especially with Actor leading them. They'd even talked about it after the lights went out in the big room they share at that prison they called a mansion. Planned how they'd get away once they got over there. Yeah! They were ready.
But that had been before the Warden had saved his butt by coming back for him, and then acted like it was nothing. Chief couldn't turn his back on him after that. He couldn't go off owing the guy. He had to at least settle that score, so he'd been glad enough to follow Actor's plan. They could get in, get the guy out and then take off… That was before he'd seen him in the doorway...
When the Colonel started yelling at the guards, screaming out that they were imposters and the shooting started, adrenalin must have poured into the Warden's system because he'd surged away from them, shouting, "Cover me!" as he ran towards the vehicles. Using one of the armored cars in the compound he'd cleared a path for their escape, pushing through the gates so the ambulance could get out, then parking it across the opening to block the Germans as they ran. He'd jumped in the back and they'd taken off, left the place burning from the fuel barrels Chief had set off when he tossed the grenade. Actor and Casino were in the front, both still in their SS uniforms, Casino driving, the rest of them rode in back as they made their way along the road.
Garrison was still running on adrenalin, fear and,,, anger: "Of all the stupid, bone headed plays………. Do you realize you could've blown the mission, bringing him back in there, and gotten yourselves killed!
"You wouldn't go out on a limb for any of us, would ya, Lieutenant?"
"That,,, that was different."
The others thought he was joking, conning them, and shared a laugh over it but Chief had watched him, studied his battered face even in the dim, changing light. He caught the slight frown of confusion that told him the Warden was telling the truth. It was different,,, for him.
He was crazy, just like Casino said. But the blood on him, and his willingness to spill it so they could get away bound Chief to him. This was one he could trust. This was one he could follow.
ggg
So far it had worked just like they planned. He'd taken rifles and ammunition from the stores in the old man's cellar and tools that he thought he might need to get through the wall. They'd made a bundle of clothes for all of them to change to in case they had to show themselves later, and Chief had rolled a German uniform and tied it so he could carried it on his shoulders. He hid the supplies in the wagon under the grain sacks, and after he helped the old man load a box from the house under the floor boards of the wagon he crawled in under the seat, and waited as the man settled in, covering his legs with a blanket that shielded Chief 's head and upper body as the old dog rested back against his legs and covered them from view.
When the old man pulled the wagon to a stop again it was mid morning and they were on the road just below the large house where his friends were being held. If there hadn't been someone there to show him, Chief would have missed the muddy waterway that led up to the walls of the place and the cover that it would provide them on their way back down to the road. He took the supplies from the wagon and found a hiding place for them a little way up the stream from the road, then he slung one of the rifles over his back and shouldered his bundle and watched the old man as he continued on his way. If all went well he'd meet them back here with a wagon full of hay and straw that they could hide in for the trip out to an old woman he knew who had a nephew in the resistance.
When the wagon was out of sight Chief moved carefully up the stream to the wall of the estate. The grate was there, just as the old man had promised, and no one had gone outside the walls to see that it was only held in place by stones leaning against it. He set the tools aside, he didn't need them, all he had to do was lift the stones out of position and the grate fell back into his hands. He peered inside the compound. The shadows were deep in the corner to his right and lengthening, heading this way. That was good, they'd have deep shade to help them as they tried to get back to the grate to get away. He watched the guards as they made their rounds. He saw the door that led to the basement, the place the old man thought would be the easiest way inside. Chief waited until he had the pattern of the guards' movement in his mind, when they were out of sight he made his move, slipping inside and heading for the corner to his right where the shadows were deepest.
Taking the bundle from his shoulders he slipped the tunic on, freezing in place when the guard paced back out onto the edge of the roof overhead. When it was quiet again, when the guards were gone he'd donned the pants and cinched the belt up and stepped out on his way, headed for the basement door like he was doing something he did all the time, like he was just where he was supposed to be. Once he got inside he'd moved through the halls and found the stairs as if he'd been in the place before. It only took him five minutes to find the place where he thought the others were being held. There were other hallways with doors opening onto them, but this was the only one that had a desk with a guard sitting at it outside one of those doors. And the door was the only one with bars fitted to the opening that was cut into it. Before he could decide what to do next he saw the guard shove away from his desk, heard the chair scraping across the stone floor and he slipped down the hall and through a door that opened onto darkness. When he closed it he could hear the guards footsteps fade away as he made his rounds. He waited for a moment but there was no other sound. Opening the door he quietly made his way back to the other hall, to the door with the bars. He could hear the murmur of voices as he approached and then Actor's voice as it carried clearly to him down the hall.
"Casino, we can hardly do the Warden or ourselves any good if we all get shot!"
"Shut up, both of you! The guard's on his way back already." Goniff hissed from the grate at the door. Chief could just see him as he stared through the bars waiting for the soldier to appear. And he took heart from the smile on the pick-pockets face when he caught sight of him. "Blimey! Will you look at that?!"
Casino and Actor glanced up from their argument as the second story man backed away from the door, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. The light streaming in from the hallway was blocked when Chief stepped to the grate and peered in, but it was easy to see only three of them were locked inside.
"Where's the Warden?" He'd hoped he'd find them all together. Take out a guard, open a door, and they'd all just get the hell out. But he didn't really expect to get what he hoped for.
"They've taken him back to the commandant's office for more questioning. How did you get in here?"
"I had help."
"From the group we met at the farmhouse?" He could hear the fear in Actor's voice, he thought it was another trick.
Chief put those fears to rest with a grim answer. "No, not them."
"You have to get out of here, the guard should be back any moment." the con man advised.
"What's his routine?"
"He makes his rounds every hour. It takes him a little more than five minutes."
"Alright. I'll be back." he promised as he made his way back down the hall, passing the guard who was making his way back to his desk. He'd learned to carry the German uniform and weapons like they were part of him. He'd also learned the ice cold stare that cut off all chance of conversation with the other men that he might meet in the hallway, and he knew the basic commands he could expect to get. With all of that Chief still gave a sigh of relief when he reached the door to the storage room he'd found not far down the hall from the place where they were keeping the others. He couldn't see the guard's desk from the vent in the door, but he'd be able to hear the man when got up to leave on his rounds. And this looked like the main hall, he might even catch sight of the Warden when they brought him back to the cell. He leaned against the door, waiting, watching. The automatic was slung over his shoulder, ready to swing down into action if he needed it, but it was the knife that he held ready in his hand.
Before the hour was up and the guard went out on his next patrol the Warden was being hauled back down the hallway and into the cell. Chief hadn't gotten a good look at him, the guards that were manhandling him along were in the way. Garrison was walking, but there was a guard holding onto him on both sides. Chief didn't know if that was because they were just keeping him from getting away, or if they needed to keep him from falling. He heard the door slam shut on the cell around the corner and then voices raised in anger. After a few moments the guard shouted at them, and everything went quiet again. He settled in to wait, hoping the guy kept to his schedule. He checked his watch, fifteen minutes…. By the time those minutes passed he thought he'd lived another year. The sound of the guard pushing his chair back along the floor was the most welcome thing he'd ever heard. As soon as the man's footsteps faded down the hall he was out of his hiding place and headed towards the cell.
ggg
"How is he?" Chief strained to get a look at him through the grate, to see his commander's condition himself, because he knew that if they just ask Garrison how he was doing they'd only get one of his two standard answers. 'Fine', if he could move at all, or 'Get the Hell out of here', if he thought he'd put them at risk if he tried to make it out with them. "He gonna make it out of here on his own?"
Actor shook his head. "I don't think so," and turned his attention back to Garrison as the man reached out to grip his arm.
"There's a cemetery out by the north wall, Actor. You can see it from the commandants' office."
The confidence artist called over his shoulder to their partner outside the door. "Chief, which way did you come in?"
A rare smile lit the younger man's features. "Through the north wall, man, right through the cemetery."
Chief could hear the smile in Actor's voice as he turned back to the Warden. "Do you feel up to playing a dead body?"
"Yeah. I think I could just about manage that."
ggg
In a huddled conference at the door they'd quickly made their plans and Chief moved quietly back to the storeroom to wait for the guard to return to his desk. "Guard!" That was his cue. He opened the door a crack and made sure no one else was in the hall before he stepped through and started for the opening that led back to the cells. "Guard!" He heard the sound of the guard's chair scrapping across the stone floor and his growling challenge of "What is wrong with you!" He waited just outside the opening to their corridor, there was a murmur from down the hall and then Goniff's panic stricken voice,
"Hey! I ain't stayin' in here with no bloody corpse!"
Chief waited a beat and then showed himself just as the guard was turning back towards his desk. He heard the man call out to him and beckon him towards him, and knew he was summoning him to help with the prisoners. Raising his gun to be ready he walked down the hall and watched the man turn the key in the door and step carefully into the cell. As the guard dropped down into a crouch and cautiously reached his hand out towards the Warden Chief dropped the cord over his head and jerked it back, pulling the man hard against his leg until he stopped moving.
"Casino, this one looks about your size."
Chief stepped back and took the guards position at the desk and waited while the body was stripped and Casino donned his uniform. They'd dress the guy in Casino's clothes so when the next mark came there'd be the right number of prisoners in the cell. It didn't take long. Actor was out and used the phone on the guard's desk, calmly asking for a couple of guards to come and help them with a prisoner who'd gotten sick. When the two guys showed up in the hallway, he and Casino were ready, one of them on either side of the door, ready to cover the prisoners when the door opened. Chief tossed the first guy the keys and motioned for him to open the door. As soon as he stepped inside Actor and Goniff were on him, Casino had the other one down in seconds. While Actor and Goniff changed clothes Chief took his seat at the guard's desk and drank the coffee that was sitting there.
"Well, gentlemen we have our costumes, now all we need are the appropriate props."
"Down the hallway to the left and around the corner." The Warden's voice was barely audible across the short distance from the cell to the desk where he sat. "The first aid room's down that hall, there's a sign over the door."
"You've been very observant," Actor stepped to the door, "I'll see if there's a stretcher we can use, if not we can tap a door off its hinges." The con man signaled him to stay where he was. They still needed to have the hallway look normal if anyone happened to pass by. After a few tense moments he was back, carrying a collapsible stretcher and a tarp, and he had a coil of rope hanging off his shoulder. As Chief waited he could hear the rustle of the tarp and murmured voices as they got the Lieutenant settled on the stretcher. When they stepped to the door of the cell he checked his watch. The hands were just swinging up to the hour, time for the guard to make his rounds. They moved down the hallway, Actor and Goniff carrying a body shrouded for burial along on the stretcher while he led them down the main hall. Casino turned and locked the door and then followed along behind.
ggg
They made it out to the back of the property with no problem. 'Must not be all that unusual for one of the prisoners to die on 'em.' He thought. The afternoon shadows stretched across the small burial ground that was tucked against the fence. The sun was bright, that was good, it would make it harder for the guards to see down into the deep shade. They set the stretcher down along the edge of the drainage ditch and Actor and Goniff turned to pick up the shovels that rested in the corner and started to work while he and Casino leaned against the wall. Chief watched the stretcher, he could just make out the slight rise and fall of the tarp that let him know the Warden was still breathing. Ten minutes and there was a shallow grave. Actor and Goniff drove their shovels in the dirt and turned towards them. It was time to make his move. He waited until they'd come up to stand next to Casino, taking a break and having a smoke in the shade. He used them to shield his movements as he dropped into the ditch, worked his way to the grate in the wall, and lifted it aside. Getting the all clear from Actor he moved up alongside the stretcher, lifted the tarp, and helped the Warden slide off into the ditch. They inched their way along the muddy channel and through the wall, moving far enough away that Casino would have room when he made it through. Chief turned and got his first good look at the Lieutenant.
The guy'd sure taken a pounding. He was bruised, bleeding, and his eyes were almost swollen shut. His shirt, what was left of it, was discolored with dirt, sweat, blood, and stained with irregular splashes of brown ….. Along with the welts, bruises and broken wounds on his upper body and arms, were patches of red angry skin and blisters. The Germans must a doused him with their coffee while they questioned and beat him.
Garrison shifted towards him, "Moreau was here, he..."
Chief put an end to his concern with one grim statement. "It's taken care of." And after a moment asked, "How'y doin' Warden? You gonna make it out a here?"
"How far?"
"'Bout quarter mile along this stream, down to the road. All down hill."
Garrison considered it before answering quietly, "I can make that… What about after?"
"Old guy'll be there with his wagon." Chief assured him. He hoped that was true, prayed in his own way that nothing had happened to the old man along the road after he'd dropped him off and gone on his way. "If he idnt' there, he showed me where we can get another cart. I got some clothes bundled up at the other end a this stream. 'Case we have to show ourselves."
He hadn't been given the command to 'Get the hell out of here!' yet, so the Warden must figure he could handle the trip, but Chief needed to know if there was anyway they could make it easier for him. "What's the worst a the damage?"
The swelling on his face didn't allow for much movement, but Chief saw the corner of Garrison's mouth quirk up, and caught a glint in the eye that was still partially open.
The Warden moved his hand across his chest and he winced as he pressed down on his ribs. "I must have a bulls-eye tattooed over here, and I think I could use another eye."
The younger man smiled as he watched Casino make his way through the opening in the wall. "You'll have eight of 'em in just a minute." he promised.
Casino moved up close to them, gave Chief a quick worried frown, and then took a good look at the man lying next to him. "You sure are a magnet for it, aren't ya Lieutenant?"
"Just doing my job, Casino."
"Jeeze! Are you crazy! Nobody takes a beatin' like that for anyone other than family. Wheeler was right! You are a psycho!"
The east coast thief waited for Garrison's wisecracking denial, but he'd withdrawn, gathering his strength for the painful trip to come. He glanced up at Chief, his concern for their commander obvious.
"You'r right, man," the younger man said quietly "…but he's no psycho."
Chief watched his face change from frowning need to argue his point, to wide-eyed understanding. They shared a long look before Casino shook his head. "Yeah. That puts a whole new spin on things, doesn't it?"
ggg
Something had disturbed his sleep. The old woman George had brought them to had a nephew in the resistance, and his group had the place secure. Chief still prowled around the house and the grounds surrounding it himself while they were taking care of the Warden. After his tour he had been sure enough to come in and get some rest like the old man urged, but something had shaken him out of his light sleep. He searched the room and found nothing. The others had dropped from exhaustion nearly as soon as they'd arrived. Even Actor had relented, and let the old woman see to Garrison, and was dozing in the corner near the fire, a book on his lap. Chief smiled to himself, somehow the confidence man always seemed to find something to read.
The young man got up and checked the windows and continued his search when he found nothing out of place outside. He stood still and listened, then crossed the room and listened again, outside the door where Garrison was. The sounds were coming from the other side. Small desperate sounds of struggle. He opened the door and stepped inside, carefully, quietly closing it behind him so the others wouldn't be disturbed.
By the time they'd gotten to their refuge Garrison was out on his feet and shaking with cold. The trip down the icy stream had chilled him to the bone, and while Chief had clothes that were bundled and dry waiting for them at the end of that short journey, Actor decided that trying to get the Warden out of his own things would be too painful for him. They'd carefully wrapped him in the blankets George had with him instead, and pulled the loose hay up around him when they'd helped him into the back of the old man's wagon. When they turned him over to the old woman she'd used water warmed on the stove to gently wash the mud off him and soak the fabric of his shirt away from the burns and broken skin where it clung. She'd bandaged the worst of the injuries and then helped him into a soft shirt that had belonged to her dead son, before tucking blankets around him and leaving him to his rest. He'd tossed and turned in his sleep, and the blankets were twisted around him now, restricting his movement. As he fought to escape them they just bound him more securely.
At his touch the Warden lay quiet again. He didn't know where he was, in his sleep he'd forgotten that he wasn't in that place anymore. He was still again, but this stillness was not from the reassuring knowledge that he was safe, it was too quiet. He was frozen like the rabbits Chief used to catch in his traps.
Chief had come into the room silently as always, and he'd come up on Garrison's blind side… His face was so badly swollen he couldn't see at all out of his left eye and very little from his right. He could only make out the shape of someone standing over him.
" Daashinit e? Ha at iish baa nanina?" Chief felt the Warden relax under his touch and at the sound of his voice as he pulled the blanket from beneath his shoulder, freeing his arms. Garrison was the only one the young man had spoken to in his own language. He'd told him about his grandfather once on one of their runs, and he had tried to say the words again. They were strange on his tongue, and he wasn't sure if he was even saying them right, but Garrison had encouraged him to keep trying, trying to remember the words, and keep saying them, even if they might not be just right. He'd even tried to learn some of them himself.
"Atsili? Chief?"
"Haoh Anaai.."
""Where are we?
"S'OK. The old man brought us to a friend a his. It's safe here."
"Where are the others?"
"Just outside in the other room, sleepin' How y'doin' Warden?"
"Just fine."
As he watched Garrison drift back to sleep Chief finally understood. He was fine, they were safe, and so he was fine. "T'ah naat'aanii. Iishhaash k'ad." The young man pulled the chair that sat in the room back into the corner by the door. He could keep an eye on the Warden from there, see out the window, and even though he knew that only the others were outside, he'd be able to rise up behind any threat that came at the Warden from the door.
ggg
The old man came to him before it was time for them to leave. They had time enough to sit together, and he asked to hear his story. The old eyes looked at him for a moment before he started to speak. Chief settled his back against the wall of the room Garrison slept in and listened
He'd been born at the turning of a new age. He told him about the colors and smells of Paris. He described the fine gowns and fancy dress of the people his parents knew, and told him how sweet the perfume his mother wore when they went out to the theater was, and how it lingered on him long after she leaned down to kiss him before they left. George could still smell it across all the years since he was just a small child. Then he told him what it was like to be taken away from that place and be brought to his grandfather out in the country, and how he'd been afraid at first because it was so quiet there, and so dark that it seemed he might get lost in the stars that shone down at night, stars he'd never seen before because of the lights of the city. He told how he'd gradually come to love the country and how he'd chaffed at being made to go to school when he yearned to be outside roaming the fields with his grandfather, or one of his dogs. He gave him the memory of meeting his wife and made their life together so real in his telling that Chief thought that he might have lived it too, watched the children come and grow to manhood, felt the grief of losing them and the desperate happiness of having a grandson to fill the void left in their hearts by that loss. And when he talked of the shattering despair of losing his grandson, and then the loneliness that swallowed him into darkness after his Cecile had followed the boy out of the world, Chief thought he would drown in the sorrow that filled the old man's voice and heart. But when he tried to tell him that he was sorry he asked him for his story, sorry he'd made him remember… the old man only smiled at him.
"I think it is better to remember and grieve here in the real world now, than fall to dust staring into the fire, lost in the past." George looked up as the door opened. The truck was ready, the boy's friends were coming to take their companion out so they could get away to the coast. They didn't have much more time. He pushed out of the chair, shouldering the rifle he'd hung on the back of the chair again. The old man moved out of the way as they carefully woke the man sleeping in the bed and helped him up, wrapping him in the blankets the old woman gave them to ward off the cold. He followed the dark haired youngster as he went after them, laying a hand on his shoulder as they moved through the house and out into the yard. They stood together and watched as the others helped the injured man into the truck and then climbed in to join him. George turned to him, shoving the weapon around to rest against his back so that he could give the boy a kiss on the cheek and hold him close to his heart for a moment. The young man had given him back his present by shaking him out of the past.
"You can't go back there you know."
"I know. But it is no longer important."
Chief kissed the weathered cheek and turned and climb into the back of the truck. He watched the old man disappear into the dust and distance and wondered what would happen to him now. It hadn't been that long ago that a thought for someone else wouldn't have entered his head. But things change... More and more he found himself thinking about what was going to happen to the people around him. People he met briefly on their missions, and the men he worked closely with now, the men he relied on, and counted as something more than friends.