War Girls Complete Collection Chapter 235

Chapter 13

A

soft foot kick penetrated Richard’s dreams and he instinctively huddled into a ball. Another kick followed, accompanied by a hushed command, “Wake up.”

He couldn’t believe he’d dozed off with the priest’s cold, lifeless corpse snuggled up against him. Even worse, no one cared. Some poor sap would be forced to collect the dead in the morning and dump them in a mass grave as if they meant nothing.

After this newest jolt of agony, he forced his eyes open and glanced up to see the one-armed soldier who’d dumped him here the day before, pointing directly at him. “Hurry up. I don’t have all night.”

Richard pushed himself to his feet, swallowing down the groans of pain, convinced he’d be led like a lamb to his slaughter.

“Come with me. Quick.”

“Where are you taking me?”

The guard didn’t answer, and his demeanor made it clear that Richard was not to ask any further questions. So he simply walked beside the man through the sleeping camp. The peculiar situation considerably heightened his blood pressure. Usually the captors didn’t bother the prisoners at night. What could possibly be so important they had to interrogate him in the middle of night?

This must be a bad sign.

The stench of death hung heavy in the air and mist rose from the damp, dew-covered ground. Richard yearned to lick some of the drops from the few remaining blades of grass to quench his thirst.

He and Katrina had been hungry before, but never thirsty. Not like this. His body had long ago stopped producing saliva and his tongue stuck to his palate. Stench and dust accumulated in his nostrils and his mouth, and every swallow was only a dry contraction of sore muscles.

“Wait!” the guard grunted.

Richard stopped, staying motionless until the guard waved him over into the shadow of a tree. Something was seriously wrong here. Did the guard want to settle a score? But why? They had never met before. Or had they and Richard had simply forgotten? Or was the guard mistaking him for another man?

As his head throbbed in protest, he stilled his thoughts. It didn’t help to worry; he’d rather focus and be alert for whatever came. Harboring the hope of escape, his subconscious suddenly conjured up a tiny person at the other side of the fence, who looked a lot like Katrina. He was starting to hallucinate. That was a widely known side effect from dehydration, so he did his best to banish the image from his mind and continued to wait.

The guard discussed something with that person and then returned. “Come with me, you’re free to go.”

“Free? Why? What?” Richard’s brain was slow and viscous like honey.

“Come.”

On the other side of the fence, joy overwhelmed Richard when his hallucinatory angel started to move toward him. She rushed over to wrap her arms around him and he almost fell to his knees at the sudden turn of events.

But the joy didn’t last long, because the guard stepped between them and said, “First my payment.”

Despite the darkness of the night, Richard saw her ashen face lined with a tragic expression. The distress oozing off of her stabbed him in the stomach. A terrible suspicion popped into his mind and he recoiled from the impact. It wasn’t far-fetched to imagine what kind of payment a beautiful, but otherwise destitute, woman could offer to a man like the guard.

“You?” he whispered to her.

“I had to. It was the only way.” Her eyes filled with anguish and he wished he could do something to stop this madness. Anything.

“We can do it behind the shack over there.” The guard grabbed Katrina’s elbow with his one hand and started to lead her away.

“Wait,” Richard hissed, his heart broken over the sacrifice she was prepared to make.

For him.

The guard turned his head with an annoyed expression, “That was the deal. You’d better disappear or you’ll get caught again.”

Richard raised his hand to his hurting heart and felt a strange object hanging from his neck. The golden cross. The priest certainly had meant a more spiritual assistance when he’d endowed him the cross to guide him through difficult times. But he wasn’t in a situation to pick and chose.

“I will pay you,” he pressed out.

“You? I searched you yesterday, remember? You have nothing of value,” the guard said.

“I have this.” Richard took the necklace from his neck and held it up. The golden cross caught a ray of moonlight and reflected a golden shine onto the face of the guard. His craggy face lit up at the sight.

“Well, now this,” the guard let go of Katrina’s elbow and stepped toward Richard, “now this beauty is even better than her. It’ll pay for all my debts and then some.” He smiled and took the necklace from Richard’s hands. “Good luck, you’ll need it,” he said and disappeared into the darkness.

Katrina launched herself into Richard’s arms, but only for a few short seconds. Once she escaped his embrace again, she said, “Hurry. We have to get out of Wroclaw.”

“I know.”

Katrina grabbed his hand and pulled him after her. Now that the surge of adrenaline had left his body, the throbbing aches returned, and the debilitating thirst.

“Water. I need water,” he croaked.

Katrina didn’t slow down but fumbled through the rucksack he hadn’t noticed before and handed him a bottle of water. He drank the entire contents in one long, refreshing, resuscitating gulp and stored the bottle in her rucksack again.

“We’ll have to refill it somewhere,” she said and kept pulling him after her.

“Where are we going?”

“To Berlin.”

Shockwaves of agony rushed through his mistreated bones. He doubted that he’d withstand a two-hundred-fifty-mile walk in his current condition.

Katrina stopped at a pile of rubble and ducked behind it, leaving him wondering what on earth she was doing. A minute later he saw and a broad grin spread across his face.

“Good woman, you have no idea how much I love you,” he said and pressed a kiss on her lips.

“You love me or my worldly possessions?” she giggled once he let go of her lips.

“I love both. But most of all I love you for what you were willing to sacrifice for me.”

Her face took on an embarrassed flush and she averted her eyes. “We should hurry.”

Richard took the bicycle from her hands and positioned himself on the saddle, his feet steady on the ground at both sides. “Hop on the crossbar and hold tight.”

She perched on the crossbar, the rucksack on her back touching his arm, and he started to pedal. “Where to?”

“Follow this road to the end and then turn left. We’ll take the longer route outside the city perimeter instead of crossing through.”

“Wise decision.”

They didn’t talk much, apart from the occasional directions on where to go, because he had to focus on keeping the bicycle steady with her additional weight. The city still lay in darkness and the roads were bad. Many a time they almost toppled over, but somehow, he managed to keep them upright.

He pedaled mile after mile, fleeing from the place that had almost become his final resting place. He pedaled on, even when his strength began to wane and the pain in his body screamed at him to stop and rest.

He pedaled.

And pedaled.

And pedaled.

Defying his own body that demanded him to stop. The burning sensation in his calves, the dull pain in his ribs at every inhalation. The excruciating agony whenever the bicycle hit a bump in the road. The pins and needles in his hands, that turned into numbness.

He even defied the hunger pains and the return of his thirst, because of his singular focus on getting them as far away from Wroclaw as possible. He knew he wouldn’t be able to make the entire journey to Görlitz in one day, but he vowed not to stop before they were in a comparatively safe place.