by Felice Arena
Antonio steals one last glance at the sinister pair – and swears. The priest and the gangster have spotted him!
Antonio bolts towards the train, which has just begun to rattle and chug forward. The Viper and the priest take chase. Antonio shifts into full sprint and reaches the end carriage just as the train is about to pull out of the station.
He jiggles frantically with the handle of the carriage door, before it eventually swings open and he leaps onto the train. Once inside, Antonio slides down a window and looks back to see the Viper and the priest on the platform, shrinking into the distance as the train steams ahead.
Antonio exhales. He is buzzing from head to toe, feeling exhilarated and terrified at the same time. That was close – too close for comfort! He takes in a deep breath and wipes the sweat off his face with the back of his hand.
He begins to move from carriage to carriage, looking into each compartment. No sign of Chris, Simonetta, or her mother – only annoyed looks from other passengers. For a moment he worries he is on the wrong train, but when he reaches the very first carriage there they are, looking up, bewildered to see him.
‘What are you doing here?’ Simonetta squeals, jumping up and hugging him.
‘How did you get here?’ asks Lucia.
‘Are you all right?’ says Chris.
Antonio nods, stepping into the compartment. He sits down beside Simonetta, opposite her mother and Chris.
‘Really? You sure?’ Chris looks at him with a concerned expression.
Antonio feels as if the spy can see right through him. He tries not to show his feelings and does his best to appear tough. But he is overcome by tiredness and emotion and is so happy to see them again that his eyes start to well up with tears.
‘My mother died last night,’ he whimpers. ‘So I got on a bike and rode all the way here.’
Lucia shifts across to Antonio and puts her arms around him.
‘I’m so sorry, kid,’ says Chris. ‘But why come here?’
Antonio freezes. How is he going to tell them about the gangster? About the priest? Doing that will mean admitting he’s messed everything up and put them all in danger. Then Chris would look at him with disappointment – the way that others have looked at him his whole life. And Simonetta will finally see that he’s worthless – not amazing at all. But he has to pass on Filippo’s message.
‘Kid, I realise this is devastating for you,’ Chris adds. ‘But what’s really going on here? You can tell me.’
Antonio shakes his head. ‘I just wanted to be with you all. I helped you get this far, so I have a right to be here, don’t I?’
Chris and Lucia look at each other.
‘He can come back with us,’ Lucia says softly, the tone in her voice suggesting it’s the best solution for now.
‘Tickets, please!’ announces the inspector.
When the inspector opens the door to their compartment, Lucia hands him the tickets. While he’s checking them, the inspector tells them that bombs were dropped over Palermo and Marsala the night before.
‘How many have died? Hundreds? Thousands?’ asks Lucia.
The inspector shrugs. ‘No one knows yet how many lives have been lost,’ he says.
Chris and Lucia speculate about what this means. Are the Allies increasing the frequency of their attacks? Does it mean an invasion is coming?
Antonio listens intently but still doesn’t pass on Filippo’s message to Lucia and doesn’t ask the question he is desperate to ask Chris.
When they reach Catania, everyone is relieved that they haven’t had any direct encounters with the military, German or Italian.
‘So far, so good,’ Lucia says to Chris as they make their way out of the busy train station and into the city streets.
Antonio feels overwhelmed by Catania. It’s much bigger, grimier, and livelier than Siracusa.
He tries to take it all in – imposing palazzi, wide boulevards, ornate building and breathtaking cathedrals. Everything is built with black volcanic stone and bright white limestone. They walk through the crowds in the direction of the Piazza del Duomo. Antonio has never seen so many people.
‘So this is it,’ says Chris. ‘The meeting point. And there’s the elephant.’
Antonio follows Chris’s gaze.
Standing in the centre of the piazza is a fountain with a sculpture of a black stone elephant on top. The elephant is smiling and on its back is a tall white stone spire.
‘Fontana dell’Elefante,’ says Lucia as they cross the square. ‘The locals call it Liotru. It’s carved out of the rock that forms when lava cools. Mt Etna is Italy’s largest volcano and it’s just outside town.’
‘That’s fantastic!’ says Antonio, trying to imagine what it would be like to live beside an active volcano.
But Chris is not interested in the local monuments or volcanos. ‘Okay, a couple of minutes,’ he says, looking at his wristwatch and sitting on the steps of the elephant fountain. ‘Everyone get into place.’
Simonetta and her mother leave Antonio and Chris and wander over to take a look at the nearby church.
‘Are you sure you don’t want me to go with them?’ Antonio whispers, sitting next to Chris.
‘No,’ he replies. ‘As far as appearances go, mother and daughter have gone to pray, and you and I, father and son, are having a rest.’
Chris takes off his boot and shakes it as if he is trying to get a pebble out.
‘That’s the signal for your contact?’ Antonio asks. ‘So he knows it’s you, right?’
Chris nods.
Antonio looks around the square. There are people everywhere – and he wonders which one of them is the agent. He looks back at Chris and tries to imagine him back at home with his wife and daughter.
‘What was the book?’ Antonio asks. ‘Back at the puppet theatre when you radioed your people . . . you said that you used a children’s book to unscramble a coded message.’
Chris smiles. ‘Good memory,’ he says. ‘It’s a book called The Little Prince. It’s about a pilot who crashes into a desert and a boy – that’s the little prince – who discovers him. An adventure begins and together they learn about each other and about life.’ Chris pauses and laughs. ‘Huh! Beginning to sound a little familiar, isn’t it?’
Antonio also smiles, but then notices an Italian soldier heading directly towards them.
l’agente
THE AGENT
‘Do you have a light?’ the Italian soldier says.
‘No. Sorry,’ says Chris.
Antonio worries that Chris’s accent will give him away. His Italian is good but he sounds nothing like the locals.
‘You sure?’ the soldier says, sounding surprised. ‘You don’t smoke?’
Antonio feels his heart beating faster. It’s obvious that this soldier suspects something.
Chris shakes his head.
‘Hmm,’ says the soldier. ‘You look like someone who smokes all the time.’
That’s an odd thing to say, thinks Antonio, but Chris looks relieved. ‘How many? One hundred a day?’ he answers.
‘Two hundred!’ the soldier responds.
Chris laughs.
Antonio suddenly realises that the Italian soldier is the agent.
‘I thought I had the wrong man,’ says the soldier. ‘Because of the boy. Can we trust him?’
‘Yes,’ says Chris. ‘If it weren’t for this kid, I wouldn’t be here.’
The two men talk quietly, and Antonio takes out his sketchbook to draw the square and the elephant fountain. After a while, Antonio notices that the men look worried.
‘What’s wrong?’ Antonio cuts in.
‘The Germans have taken over a secret airfield where I was to be picked up. We’re not sure if they know something or if it was just dumb luck. And now we have to find another location, one where a plane can land and get me out of here.’
Something suddenly dawns on Antonio.
‘What about a field? On a farm?’ he says. ‘Woul
d that be a good location?’
‘That would work,’ the agent says. ‘If it’s a relatively flat open field, then, yes.’
‘What about this?’ Antonio adds, flipping through the first few pages of his notebook. ‘It’s a field on my aunt’s farm, near the town of Agira.’
He rips out a page and hands it to the agent. On the page is a copy Antonio had made of the painting of Mamma Nina’s childhood home, surrounded by fields of sheep.
Chris and the agent agree that this could be an alternative pick-up point if Antonio can find it on a map. The soldier pulls out a map of Sicily – and they pinpoint the location of the farm. As he does, two women approach the fountain and the soldier pretends he’s telling Antonio and Chris how to get to the port of Catania.
‘If we act fast I can arrange for a plane from Malta, most likely a Lysander,’ says the agent.
‘I’ve heard a lot of good things about them – astonishingly short take-off and landing capacity,’ Chris replies.
‘The risk is high, but coming off a full moon, the weather conditions and light will work in our favour. I’ll ask for clearance to proceed,’ the agent adds. He looks a little nervous because a German motorcycle patrol has ridden into the piazza. ‘Make sure you’re on that field at zero two hundred tomorrow.’
‘How do I get there?’ asks Chris, keeping an eye on the German soldiers as they park their motorcycles and make their way to a cafe.
‘Can’t help you there,’ says the agent. ‘But I’m sure you’ll work something out. Goodbye, and good luck.’ The agent straightens his helmet, casually brushes the dust off his pants, and walks away.
‘We’re going now?’ asks Antonio. ‘Together?’
‘Yes,’ says Chris. ‘It’s a perfect plan. You’ll stay on, and I just might get out of here alive.’
‘So what’s next? All good?’ ask Lucia when she and Simonetta return.
Chris relays the conversation to her and explains that Antonio will now be coming with him.
‘Well, then I guess this is where we part,’ she says. ‘We’ll be on the next train home.’
‘I’m sorry,’ says Antonio quietly. The guilt is almost too much. He can hardly say the words but he knows he has to. ‘You can’t go back. I should’ve told you earlier but if I weren’t so stupid it would never have happened . . .’
‘Calm down,’ Simonetta says. ‘What are you talking about?’
Antonio tells them everything and finally passes on Filippo’s message to Lucia. ‘It’s too dangerous for you to go home,’ he says.
‘He said Farfalla?’ Lucia says, taken aback.
Antonio nods.
‘Then we have no time to waste,’ Lucia says in an urgent tone. ‘We must leave now.’
‘What does this mean for us?’ asks Simonetta. For the first time she sounds afraid.
‘I’ll explain,’ Lucia says. ‘But not now.’
‘You’ve done so much for me. Is there anything I can do to help?’ asks Chris.
‘No. We wish you and the boy luck.’
‘You too,’ Chris adds.
‘Antonio?’ says Simonetta.
But Antonio feels so guilt-ridden he can’t even look her in the face. He just looks down at his shoes. She’s the only girl he’s ever really liked and he’s certain that she’ll hate him forever. He doesn’t even respond as he hears Simonetta and her mother walking away.
Antonio sighs heavily. So what if she does hate me, he thinks. I can’t just let her go without telling her how I feel.
‘Simonetta!’ he shouts, mustering up more courage than it took to jump off the cliff. ‘Wait!’
Antonio chases after them.
He’s breathless when he reaches her. ‘I’m going to miss you,’ he says. ‘Because I’ve never met anyone like you. At first it was because no one has ever told me I’m amazing before. You make me feel . . .’
Antonio catches his breath, overcome with emotion.
‘You make me feel . . .’ he stutters, ‘better than anyone has ever made me feel. You make me feel like I’m worth something – and that I could do anything I wanted to. But the truth is, you’re the amazing one, who can do anything. And I’ll miss you so much. I’m so sorry that I’ve put your family in danger.’
‘We’re going to be okay,’ she says softly. ‘And you’re going to be okay – you’ve got to believe that. I will miss you too, stupido.’
Simonetta steps in closer, leans in, and gently kisses Antonio on the cheek.
He is stunned. He can’t move or speak.
‘Simonetta!’ Lucia presses. ‘Andiamo! Let’s go!’
‘I’ll never forget you,’ Antonio says, as Simonetta runs to her mother.
She waves back to Antonio one more time before she and her mother disappear down one of the side streets off the piazza.
il caos
THE CHAOS
‘We’ll head back towards the markets,’ Chris says, as he and Antonio walk down a laneway. ‘And see if we can hitch a ride with one of the farmers heading out of town tonight.’
‘My notebook!’ Antonio exclaims, patting his pants pocket. ‘I left it on the steps of the statue. I’ll be right back!’
Antonio sprints through the piazza to the base of the elephant statue but as he scoops up his sketchbook the jarring wail of an air-raid siren sounds across the city. People begin to flee, criss-crossing the piazza and running for whatever cover is nearby.
Antonio bolts back down the laneway where he left Chris. He looks around, panicked, but Chris is not there.
Before he reaches the end of the narrow street, he feels himself picked up and thrown violently to the ground. An enormous blast deafens him and it’s hard to breath. He coughs and splutters, and covers his head as he’s showered in broken brick and rubble.
‘A bomb!’ he spits. But he can’t hear himself speak. His ears are ringing. He feels as if he’s been run over by a tank, but he only has scratches and cuts on his arms and legs.
Antonio stumbles back to his feet, dazed and groggy. Now he can hear sickening shrieks – people injured in the blast. He steps out of the debris around him.
I’ve got to find Chris, he thinks. The sirens continue to howl the promise of more death and destruction.This time it seems the Allies mean business.
Antonio looks up to see a squadron of planes darkening the skies. One after another, bombs drop. Pounding explosions thunder and reverberate throughout the city.
Antonio regains his balance and begins to run again, even though everything around him seems to be happening in slow motion.
Tears stream down his face as he runs around a wailing woman hunched over her small child. He keeps moving, past men dragging bloodied people out from under collapsed buildings and military vehicles racing through intersections. Everyone is covered in ash and dust.
Finally it’s too much. Antonio falls to his knees and drops his face into his palms. He is traumatised and disorientated and doesn’t know what to do next. And then . . . he looks up to see a motorcycle coming directly at him through the chaos.
Antonio recognises it as one of the German motorcycles. But this rider is not in uniform. Antonio jumps to his feet. He can’t believe it. It’s Chris!
‘Quick! Get ON!’
Antonio flings his leg over the bike, holds on tight, and they speed away.
Chris twists hard on the throttle and accelerates. They zoom through the streets of Catania as bombs drop. They narrowly miss being hit by falling debris and avoid colliding with people scrambling for their lives.
Antonio struggles to stay on the bike. ‘Do you know where you’re going?’ he shouts.
‘No!’ Chris cries back, as he bends into another turn. ‘But it might not matter now, kid. It looks like we’ve hit a dead-end, literally.’
A couple of hundred of metres ahead, the road is completely blocked by a collapsed wall.
‘Now what are we going to do?’ Antonio cries.
‘Just hold on!’ Chris accelerates towards
the pile of wreckage. He lines the front wheel of the bike up with a long plank of wood that is lying against the rubble. Antonio knows exactly what Chris has in mind.
He holds his breath as the American revs the motorcycle, accelerates, then roars up the plank of wood that serves as a makeshift ramp.
Antonio closes his eyes as the wheels leave the ground.
The boy and the spy hit the ground on the other side of the barrier, the wheels burning rubber on the landing. And remarkably, they continue on, speeding down the road.
il pastore
THE SHEPHERD
Chris props the motorcycle against an orange tree and limps over to lean against it.
Antonio stretches and looks around. They are on a narrow dirt road surrounded by farmland and orange groves – and there’s not a soul in sight. On the horizon is Mt Etna. It stands over three thousand metres tall and its snow-capped peaks contrast against the deep purple and blue of its wide base.
It’s beautiful. The skies are clear and crisp – and the bombers have gone. Antonio can’t believe that earlier in the day he was caught up in terror and now he’s standing in this peaceful place.
He brushes the dust from his face and torn clothes, and winces at his stinging and bloodied scraped legs.
‘You know . . .’ says Chris, snapping an orange from one of the tree’s low-hanging branches. ‘In a strange way we were lucky. If it weren’t for the bombing we wouldn’t have had a clear run on the main roads like we did. All the military personnel were running for cover or in combat so all of the checkpoints along the way were open. I hate to say it but the bombing turned out to be a blessing in disguise.’
The American pulls out an army knife from his back pocket, slices the orange in half, and sucks the juice from it. Antonio can’t believe what Chris is saying and how flippant he is being.
He’s so furious that he feels as though his blood is boiling, like the fiery lava bubbling in Mt Etna.
‘A blessing?’ he erupts. ‘How can killing innocent people be a blessing? They were just randomly dropping bombs everywhere!’