As always, I'm grateful for Marilyn Penner, who makes time to beta for me despite her own packed schedule.
Chapter Thirteen
Benson spun, sent a fist whistling toward a tree. At the very last moment, common sense kicked in and he pulled the punch. A broken hand would only add to their problem. Nerves sparking from frustration, he lowered his white-knuckled fist and closed his eyes.
They had lost the trail.
It had been easy to follow in the scuffed leaf litter, soft ground and patches of drying mud. Until the tandem trail of boot prints passed into a stretch of rocky ground interspersed with brush, thick trees, sticks and logs. The tracks had grown increasingly sketchy, then finally faded out completely. They had been searching for several minutes and still had not found it again.
"We're not thinking," Benson whispered, resting his weight on one hip. He ignored the fatigue burning in his legs, just as he had been ignoring the hollow feeling in his stomach. His last meal had been moldy bread and stale crackers, gulped down between laundry detail and a trip to pick up medical supplies from the camp clinic.
Tivoli came alongside him, his gaze still roving over the ground. "What'd they do?" he grumbled, rubbing his forehead. "Take wings and fly away?"
A twig snapped behind them. In one swift, silent movement, they spun and crouched, pulling their weapons and training them in that direction. Seconds passed. Then they saw a flicker of movement between the trees and heard more twigs snapping. Benson tried picturing the size of whatever was moving about by the noise it was making. It was hard to do. The sounds were not very loud, leading him to believe that only small twigs were being broken. The same noise would likely be produced regardless of size and weight.
Tivoli flicked a look of impatience in his direction. Benson could tell the big Italian was ready to take on anything, was poised to do just that.
"Wait," Benson mouthed, laying a cautionary hand upon Tivoli's arm.
The rustling and snapping stopped, then started up again, growing louder. Whatever it was had changed direction, was now heading directly toward them. Some of the taller bushes swayed, disturbed by its passage. Benson's jaw tightened. This was no fox. Tivoli quivered, raised his gun with obvious intent. Benson squeezed his arm – hard - demanding the Italian's obedience.
At that moment, the source of the noise slowly walked out of a copse of trees and into a golden pool of sunlight.
Nostrils twitching, large ears swiveling back and forth, the deer paused, instinctively sensing danger. Its head bobbed as it tested the air, one hoof stamping the ground, displaying its fear.
Benson smiled. The young doe was a beauty, her eyes and tawny coat gleaming with health.
Tivoli relaxed, gave a chuff of laughter. The doe's ears snapped forward, her liquid, black eyes zeroing in on their location. With a whistling snort and final stamp of her hoof, she bounded back into the trees.
Benson slowly rose. "False alarm."
"I'll say," Tivoli chuckled, tucking his gun away.
"Keep it down," Benson reminded him. "There might still be patrols out here."
"Now?" Tivoli threw a pointed glance at the brilliant, blue sky peeking through the branches over their heads.
"Better safe than sorry."
Tivoli shrugged, then rolled his shoulders and arched his neck. "What now? The trail's gone. They could be anywhere."
Benson holstered his gun. "We know they made it out of the river."
"Yeah. Two sets coming out of the river in two different places. They met up and headed upstream."
"And one of them is hurt," Benson added, his gut twisting as he remembered finding the bloodstained grass.
"They both are." Tivoli's voice belied his own unease. "You've seen that river. It's full of rocks and trees. They're hurt."
Benson gazed off into the distance. "Hurt, wet and cold." He shook himself, turned his gaze to Tivoli. His whisper held firm belief. "They'd go for one of the hidey-holes."
Tivoli's black brows knitted together. "One of the what?"
"The emergency stations. The places where we laid in supplies for times like these." The look of uncertainty on Tivoli's face caught his attention. "What's the matter?"
"What if the colonel and Newkirk didn't make those tracks?"
Benson blinked at him. "What are the odds that another two men would fall into the river last night near this same area?"
"Pretty high?" A grin played at Tivoli's full lips.
"Too high for even Newkirk's taste. We're wasting time trying to find their trail. Let's head to the nearest hidey-hole." Benson glanced around, then chose a direction and pointed. "There. The closest one is that way."
"You're sure about this? We could miss them in between."
"It's what I would do."
Tivoli nodded. "Let's go."
HH HH HH HH HH
"If I'd have known how close ol' Benson and Tivoli were to finding us, I would have kept myself parked right there with the guv'nor and not gone to the hidey-hole. Of course, things might have turned out much differently if I had."
"The hidey-holes weren't actually holes in the ground, Katie. That's just what we called our safe places. Think it was Andrew who coined them that."
"The hidey-hole I went for that day was in an abandoned cabin. Best I can describe it, Teddy, is that it looked like that old potting shed I used to have out back of the house, 'cept bigger. Oh, bigger, Benjamin. Much more so. No, I don't know what happened to the people who lived there, little mate. Maybe they moved on to a better place. That's what I like to believe, anyway. Other things – not such nice things – often made people move back in that awful time. War did that, you see. Uprooted families; sometimes tore them completely apart. How? Well . . . how about we leave that for another time, eh? It's getting late and this tale needs to be finished."
"Now, then. We were talking about the hidey-hole, weren't we? All of the glass in the four windows was gone and – What, Benjamin? No, I don't think they got broken out with cricket balls like what happened at your house. Yes, all that missing glass made that cabin quite breezy."
"Where was I again? Oh, yes. No windows . . . and there was no door, either. None at all, Katie. Can't rightly say what happened to it. Right, Benjamin. Really, really breezy. A fireplace? There was one, but the chimney had half fallen down and it was . . . Here, now. Are you lot wanting to hear the rest of this tale or another about home furnishing and such?"
"As I was saying – some time ago, so it feels like from here – our hidey-hole was in this abandoned cabin. Yes, Benjamin. The very, very . . . very breezy cabin."
"You look fit to bust, Teddy. Have you figured out where we had the hidey-hole? Oh, you're close, but no cigar. Want another go at it? Eh? Oh. Sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt. You just go right on thinking. We'll give you a few, won't we, Katie and Benjamin?"
"Teddy? You done, mate? We're about to turn another year older, here."
"No, it wasn't under the bed. There was no bed, for one. Not up the fireplace, either. Soot is really bad on the sinuses. Ever meet a chimney sweep that didn't have allergies and a plugged up beezer? Too right. Nope, not under the floor either, but you're getting warmer. Ready to pack it in?"
"Some friends of ours built a false wall in the back of the cabin, along with a hidden door to get in and out of it. That was your next guess, eh? Katie, did that very un-lady-like sound come from you? Don't be doing that around your mum, poppet. Take it from me, she'll have you in the corner so fast your curls will go straight from the spinning."
"How big was the hidey? Well, I'd say between the false wall and the real wall, we had a nice, three-foot wide space to hunker down in. That's about as wide as you are tall, little mate."
"It wasn't a room at the Savoy, mind you, but it was big enough to do the job. We could stay in there without awful much fear of being found, should any unfriendlies come looking around. Most of the Jerries gave the cabin just a quick search, not taking time for more than that. See, that's what made the cabin such a good hidey. No one ever noticed that the cabin's inside measured smaller than the outside. It was all right clever. But then, we were a clever bunch. Had to be."
"I was counting on nipping into the hidey that day, grabbing up some blankets, matches, some tins of crackers, and a gun and some ammunition, and getting right back to Colonel Hogan. That was my plan, anyway. But luck is a fickle wench and it seemed she'd decided to up and leave me again."
HH HH HH HH HH
Shock rooted Newkirk in place.
One of the towering old trees bordering the back of the cabin had been struck midpoint by lightening. The strike had sent the tree's top and a large portion of its upper trunk crashing down on the cabin at an angle. The entire back wall was crushed and most of the front. Only one front corner remained relatively intact. To Newkirk's dazed eyes, it looked like a rough-hewn, wooden sail. The rest of the cabin was in ruins. Somewhere beneath the jumble of splintered lumber, branches, and wilted leaves, lay the supplies he had pinned all his hopes upon.
HH HH HH HH HH
"Imagine having a candy bar waved under your nose and just as you're getting ready to take a bite – someone jerks it away. Yeah, little mate. It was nasty, like that. I was right put off."
"The blankets, matches, clothing – everything I needed was right there, but still out of reach. That tree had made a right mess of that cabin and looking at it, I knew I'd have to dig and scrape to find our supplies. It wouldn't be an easy job or a quick one. And all the while, Colonel Hogan would be lying in that woods all alone, with nobody to protect him should trouble come along."
"And if things weren't cocked up enough, that fickle Lady Luck went and tossed a spanner at Benson and Tivoli, too."
"Oh, worse than the tree, Benjamin. Much, much worse."
HH HH HH HH HH
Benson stopped so suddenly that Tivoli came perilously close to bumping into him. Lip curled in irritation, he peered over Benson's shoulder to see the reason for their abrupt stop. His irritation was immediately forgotten.
They had found one of their two missing comrades.
Shouldering Benson aside, Tivoli rushed into the clearing and went straight for Hogan.
"Is he alive?" Benson asked fearfully, crouching by their CO's crumpled body. He watched Tivoli check for a pulse, surprised to see a tremor shake the Italian's hand.
Tivoli's breath whooshed out in a long sigh of relief. "Yeah." He grimaced at Hogan's pale, haggard face. "He looks really bad."
"Wouldn't you?" Benson muttered, holstering his gun so he would have both hands free. He ran them down Hogan's body, feeling for injuries.
Tivoli hooked a finger in the makeshift wrap binding Hogan's arm. "Looks like he might have a broken arm."
Benson slipped his hand inside the wrap, carefully felt the length of Hogan's arm up to his shoulder. "Not that I can tell. Might be his shoulder. Could be dislocated."
"Where the hell is Newkirk?" Tivoli snapped, staring down at Hogan. "Sitting in the cubby hole while the colonel is out here freezing to death?"
Benson fisted a hand in the Italian's jacket, yanked Tivoli forward. "Newkirk wouldn't leave the colonel without good reason. He got him this far, didn't he? He's probably gone to get help." He relaxed his grip, a weak smile flitting across his face. "And it's hidey-hole, not cubby hole, you crazy Italian."
"Sorry," Tivoli muttered, averting his gaze. "I know Newkirk wouldn't --"
"Do not move!"
In the charged silence that followed the command, four Wehrmacht soldiers walked out of the trees at their backs, guns leveled. Tivoli and Benson's eyes locked, a silent message passing between them.
We're in trouble.
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To be continued.
Thank you for reading! I'll do my best to update sooner next time.