Two voices were fighting inside Georg's head as he stared at the growing red mass on Maria's left side. One was insisting he examine her further and get her to a doctor; the other was telling him that the enemy was getting closer and closer.

Instinctively, he pressed his hand on her side, to try to stop the bleeding. She immediately recoiled at his touch, making a pitiful sound.

"Stop," she wheezed, reaching up to try to remove his hand.

"One of your ribs is broken," he said tersely, and looked into her eyes. The animation was beginning to leave them and he noticed sweat covering her face. He felt what little control he had on his nerves starting to snap.

She tried to smile. "I'll be alright," she gasped. "We need to get out of here."

He looked around madly, making his decision. He took her face in his hands. "Just breathe, Maria," he commanded and kissed her forehead. He hoisted himself up and bent over to get her to stand. She let out a moan and leaned heavily on him. He was about to pick her up and carry her, but she shook her head.

"We'll stand out," she rasped. "It's too far. I can walk."

"Maria, I don't think it's wise to—"

"Just hold me," she insisted, wincing at the different position and tentatively clutching her side.

Shoving his dread into the back of his mind, he pulled her to him and held her up as best he could. They carefully started to walk down the street. His mind was whirling. He should never have let it get this far. If only they had thought of some other plan, gotten her on another train, no matter where it was going. That way, she wouldn't be in danger; she would be safe. Cursing himself, he tried to focus on the road ahead of him and keep his attention on the sounds around them, rather than on Maria's labored breathing and soft whimpers.

Walking slowly down the streets, Georg tried to get his bearings. They had back- tracked at least five blocks. He gritted his teeth at the thought of what was waiting for them when they returned to the area where they had encountered Zeller. He quickly made up his mind to head to the river. While it was more exposed than he wanted, at least it was a different path, and a straighter route outside of town.

In one second, their situation had changed dramatically. For the first time since the children had been safely on board the train, fear was filling Georg's head. He hadn't gotten a good look at Maria's injury, but he had seen enough to know that it needed immediate care.

He looked down at her. She was sweating more, and she was slightly shaking. Her head was completely resting on his chest, unable to support itself. It was apparent that breathing was excruciating for her; she was wheezing with every breath.

While she had a point that they would be even more conspicuous if he carried her, it tore his heart to see her put strain on herself when he could have easily helped lessen her pain. Her feet were not so much walking as dragging; he was practically carrying her already.

"We're almost to the river, Maria," he said, trying to reassure her.

She lifted her head slightly. "But, it's too open," she said.

"It's more direct," he replied. "Besides, they're all in the city. Do you want to meet up with them again?"

A quick flash of a movement drew his attention from her and his heart started to beat faster as he saw two shadows running along the wall of an alley. He distinctly saw the outline of guns in their hands. His eyes darted around for a quick hiding place. He dragged Maria into a crevice between two garbage dumpsters and placed her down. Squatting next to her, he withdrew his gun. He only had a few shots left. Reloading in the dark and in haste would be more than difficult; it had been years since he had the need to quickly handle a firearm. Glancing up at the heavens, he prayed that he wouldn't have to.

He watched as the two figures, the same two soldiers who had flanked Zeller earlier, searched the street. A surge of rage ran up his spine as he observed them. These men had ripped his family apart, turned him into a fugitive, and now, had seriously hurt his wife. He tightened his grip on the gun and knitted his brows together. His jaw set in resolution, and he concentrated on keeping his raw anger in check.

Maria made a soft cry next to him. He turned quickly to her to find her gasping for breath and clutching her side. His face immediately softened as he took her hand and tried to smile at her.

"For a moment longer," he whispered to her. She shut her eyes tightly and set her chin in determination to remain quiet.

The soldiers were coming closer; Georg stared intently at the pair. The only thing he cared about was getting Maria to safety. If he had to kill these two men, then so be it. For her, he would do anything. They edged closer, as if sensing their presence. One of them was unhitching his flashlight.

Suddenly a whistle could be heard in the distance. The two soldiers quickly backed up and looked at each other. One nodded to the other, and they both dashed off.

For a moment, Georg stayed where he was, shocked.

"Thank you, God," he heard a strained whisper say next to him.

He turned to Maria, and she was staring at him. He smiled grimly and kissed her cheek. "Let's get out of here."

Shoving the gun back into his jacket pocket, he stood and picked her up. Reluctant to set her feet on the ground, he studied her face. "Are you sure you don't want me to carry you? I don't care if we stand out."

She shook her head. "Too heavy."

He set her down and hugged her closer to him as they started to walk. "That's not how I remember it," he said, trying to ease her spirits.

She mumbled something incoherent and gasped in pain as she tried to inhale. The effort to walk was too much for her and her legs gave out.

"Come on, we're almost there," Georg said and hoisted her up. She cried out at the rough movement.

That did it. They were never going to make it to Nikolas; she might not even make it to the river. The thought that she could die in the streets terrified Georg more than the prospect of their capture.

Glancing around, he was struck with an idea. He guided her to the nearest car, at the far end of the alley. He grabbed his gun from his jacket and studied the backseat window, tucking his hand as far into his sleeve as possible. He scanned the streets for any late night walkers or unwanted company, turned slightly, and smashed the gun through the car window. Gritting his teeth at a small stream of blood dripping from his hand, he reached over and unlocked the passenger side door.

Gently placing her in the passenger seat, Georg leaned over her to unlock the driver's door. As he pulled back, he stole another look at Maria's waist. Blood had completely covered her left side. He saw that both her back and front were soaked, and realized that the bullet had gone through her. He was glad that it wasn't still inside her, causing infection, and it explained the rapid blood loss. There was a darker spot in the center of the growing stain, where he figured the actual wound was.

He glanced up at her face and was alarmed to see she had grown even paler in the last few minutes; her lips were the same pallid shade as the rest of her face. She was shaking and sweating more harshly than before. She's going into shock, he thought and took off his coat to lay it over her. He leaned up to kiss her lips before running around to the driver's side.

As he fiddled with the wires beneath the dashboard, he heard Maria move.

"You're stealing a car?" she asked, her voice raspy.

"You want to walk to Anif?" he said, trying to keep his fear from entering his voice.

"They'll see us," she protested, tears filling her eyes.

"Don't talk, Maria," he soothed. Returning to the wires, he connected two together, causing the engine to purr to life. "Don't talk. Just breathe."

"It hurts to breathe," she mumbled.

"I don't think it punctured your lung, but it definitely hit a rib," he said as he started to drive down the street. "Maybe more than one."

He wished he could put pressure on her injury to stop the bleeding, but he couldn't do it properly while he was driving. The possibility of some of her ribs being broken also made him decide against the action; a broken rib could puncture a lung, making her condition even more perilous. He desperately wanted to be out of the city and in the relative safety of Nikolas's villa.

She rolled her head towards him. "I love you," she whispered.

Tears welling in his eyes at the declaration, he looked over and smiled at her. "Don't give up on me yet, Fräulein," he said, his term of endearment catching in his throat. "We'll be with Nikolas in no time. Then you can rest."

She made no response, but gasped in air, making a horribly inhuman sound with the effort. He reached over and took her hand. "Stay with me, Maria," he begged. "The children will never forgive me if I let anything happen to you!"

Driving steadily down Alpenstrasse, he prayed that no barricades were waiting for them. Hoping that the Nazis were still under the belief that they were on foot, he tightened his one hand on the wheel, and kept the other firmly on Maria's.

The sound of her labored breathing was the only thing filling the tense silence. For Georg, the drive seemed to take twice as long as their journey on foot. The road was disturbingly low in activity, even for that time of night. He would have preferred to travel by car during the busy times of day, but he also took some comfort in the open roads. Going against all his instincts, he made it a point to drive perfectly; he didn't want to attract any attention.

Finally, they passed a sign for Anif, which was a mile and a half away. Feeling encouraged, he looked over at Maria. "Almost there, darling," he said.

She made no response. His blood ran cold, and he looked over at her. His stomach tightened immediately at the site of her, pale and motionless. A nauseating sensation he had not felt in years washed to him so strongly, he almost had to pull the car over. The thought that God had taken his wife from him again flew into his mind. He closed his eyes against the dim red glow that had suddenly flooded over his vision, and he shook his head in resolute denial. He opened his eyes and looked over at her again, desperate anger filling his heart. He had been powerless before, but he would be damned if he let Maria go, just when they had started their life together.

He moved his grasp up to her wrist to feel for a pulse and was unnerved to feel how cold she had become. She didn't stir at the movement, and he shouted at her. He kissed the back of her hand, as if his touch could bring her back to him.

"Maria!" he yelled again at her, refusing to let her give up.

She moaned and lifted her eyes lethargically. They were unfocused and dull. The relief he felt nearly floored him, and he exhaled. He kissed her hand again, more gently this time. Looking up at the sky, he closed his eyes for a second in gratitude.

"Please don't do that again, Maria," he pleaded. "We don't have much further to go."

To be continued…