by Tom Gabbay
“You’re too weak to—”
“Let’s worry about that once we’re off the train,” she said. I knew there was no point arguing, partly because she was Eva, but also because she was right. Dawn was looming outside, and people would start emerging from their cabins soon. With a dead or dying Nazi in his cabin, our survival odds were better with a flying leap off a speeding train. Not great, maybe, but better.
“Are you okay here for a minute?”
“Yes…” She nodded weakly.
I charged into our cabin, stripped the lower bunk of its top sheet, tore a piece away, and hastily tied it around my hand to keep it from bleeding. Furling the rest of it into a long roll, I knotted it several times along its length until it resembled a rope, then grabbed two pillows off the beds. On my way out, I removed the key from the door and double-locked the cabin from the outside.
Eva was looking pretty pale, but she was still standing.
“Stay with me!” I said, reaching across to close the door on Engel’s cabin, which was still swinging back and forth. I looked up at the German and—I couldn’t be sure. Was he still breathing, or was it the movement of the train? Had he moved?
I pulled the door shut, turned back to Eva just in time to catch her as she slumped toward the floor. Holding her upright with one hand, I gathered the bedding and her Luger with the other, then placed her arm around my neck and led her back to the platform between carriages.
Opening the exterior door, I leaned out and looked around. The ground was flat and open, but it was whipping by fast and the train showed no sign of slowing. Alone, my chances might’ve been reasonable. If there was one thing I’d learned in Hollywood, it was how to take a fall. But with Eva…
There was no point thinking about it. It had to be done.
“WE’LL GO TOGETHER!” I yelled above the din.
Eva nodded. She must’ve had a rush of adrenaline, or maybe it was the cold air rushing past, but whatever the reason, she seemed to have come alive. I pulled her forward, placed the two pillows on either side of her wounded shoulder.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”
“GIVING YOU A LANDING PAD!” I removed my belt. “GET READY, THIS WILL HURT A BIT!”
Wrapping the leather around the two pillows, I pulled it tight and buckled it up.
“MEIN GOTT!” she cried out.
“I’M SORRY!”
I wrapped my arm around her and drew her close, positioning her injured left shoulder on my right side, then I pulled the bound sheet around both our torsos and tied it as tight as I could, using a triple knot. I could see that it was causing Eva excruciating pain, but I had to be sure we’d stay together.
“OKAY, WE NEED TO GET DOWN…AS LOW AS POSSIBLE!”
I had to yell even though she was right next to me.
“BEND YOUR KNEES!”
I pulled her down into a crouching position.
“WHEN I SAY JUMP, WE’RE GONNA GO STRAIGHT OUT, AT A NINETY-DEGREE ANGLE, AS FAR AS WE CAN! PUSH OFF WITH EVERYTHING YOU’VE GOT, AND DON’T TRY TO CONTROL THE FALL! I’LL DO IT FOR BOTH OF US! AND DON’T TRY TO LAND ON YOUR FEET! WE’RE GONNA ROLL, LIKE A LOG, WITH THE DIRECTION OF THE TRAIN! OKAY?!”
She nodded.
“COVER YOUR HEAD WITH YOUR FREE HAND!” I said. “LIKE THIS!”
She mimicked me, placing her right arm across the top of her head, covering her left ear with her palm.
“I’LL COUNT DOWN FROM THREE!”
I watched the approaching landscape, waiting for a clear spot, with no bone-crunching trees or rocks or telegraph poles to come up against.
“OKAY, READY?! THREE!…TWO!…” I could feel her tense up. “…ONE!”
We went in unison and, it seemed, in slow motion, every fraction of a second making itself known as we arched upward and sailed through the air, unattached to anything but each other. I could see everything—every fold in the land, every slope, every blade of grass, all laid out in full, Technicolor detail. I threw our weight backward, staying at a right angle to the train while making us almost parallel to the earth, then I swung my hips left, positioning my body between Eva and a hard landing. I saw sky, then we hit with a punishing THUD!
Once you hit solid ground, there’s no control, you go where the momentum takes you. All you can do is close your eyes, protect your head, and if you’ve got one in you, say a prayer.
The world was nothing more than a blur of shapes and colors, then, suddenly, we were still, lying side by side on our backs. I gasped for air, looked over, and saw that Eva had lost consciousness. I lay there, trying to catch my breath, listening to the fading rattle of the train as it disappeared into the distance.
There was a secluded spot a hundred yards away, under a group of tall elms that ran alongside a small river inlet. I laid Eva out in the soft grass and went to work on her. After cleaning both sides of the wound as best I could with a piece of bedsheet soaked in cool water from the canal, I put one of the pillows under her shoulder, placed both hands over the bullet hole—one on top of the other—and bore down hard, putting all my weight behind it. She groaned and tried to shift away from the pressure, but I kept her pinned. Just as well that she’d passed out, I thought.
I stayed that way for a long twenty minutes before easing off and taking a peek. The wound had stopped hemorrhaging, but I gave it another five minutes, just to be sure. Then I unknotted the sheet and ripped it into long strips that I bound as tightly as I could around her shoulder. I could do nothing more, so I rolled onto my back and took a deep breath. I winced. Bruised ribs. Could’ve been a hell of a lot worse, though. I couldn’t help chuckling. It was like Lili’s close-up at the funeral parlor. Best jump of my life and not a motion-picture camera within a thousand miles.
The morning sky was clear and bright, just a cloud or two floating by on a gentle breeze. Sunlight was starting to filter through the tree branches, warming the ground, and I became aware of a symphony of birdsong all around us. Closing my eyes, I drifted into a trancelike reverie, and soon lapsed into an uneasy sleep.
I woke with a start, aware of a shadow hovering over us. Sitting up sharply, I came face-to-face with a young girl. A delicate little thing, with dark eyes, silky brown hair tied back in a tangled ponytail, and bangs that cut straight across a perfectly oval face. Eight years old, I guessed—maybe nine—she was wearing a dark blue pleated skirt, a white blouse buttoned to the top, a navy cardigan torn at the elbow, beige ankle socks, and a worn-out pair of lace-up shoes. My sudden movement caught her off guard and she took a quick step back.
“Oh, pardon, monsieur!”
She looked like she was about to run.
“It’s all right…” I said, showing my hands. “Don’t be afraid…”
The girl stayed put, but kept her distance, watching me carefully, undecided about whether I should be trusted. When I turned away to check Eva, she took a tentative step forward.
“She is dead?”
I shook my head. “No. Just resting.”
The girl nodded, moved another step closer, and leaned over Eva to get a better look, searching for a sign of life.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Abrielle…”
“That’s a pretty name.”
She smiled shyly.
“I’m Jack.”
She shot me a sideways glance. “Hello.”
“Where’d you learn to speak English so well?”
“It’s my best subject…But I don’t go to school now.”
“I see.”
The blood rushed to my head as I hauled myself onto my feet. I waited for the dizziness to pass, then picked up a clean piece of the torn sheet, walked over to the river, and dipped it into the water. Abrielle maintained her vigil over Eva.
“You live around here?” I asked.
“Monsieur?”
“Nearby. Do you live nearby?”
“No, monsieur. It’s very far away I live.”
“What are you doing so far from home?”
I asked, but she just shrugged, watching over my shoulder as I knelt beside Eva and dabbed her face with the moist cloth.
“What has happened of her?”
“Somebody shot her,” I said, seeing no reason to lie about it.
“It was because of this war,” she said matter-of-factly. A veteran, I thought.
“Yes,” I confirmed. “It was because of this war.”
She nodded thoughtfully and produced a frown. “My father is in this war, too. I don’t know if he has been shot.”
“I’m sure he’s okay,” I lied.
Eva’s pulse was strong and she seemed to be resting comfortably, so my thoughts turned toward our next move. I checked my watch: 9:40. Dead or alive, they would’ve discovered Engel by now, and they would’ve realized that Monsieur et Madame Barreau were missing, too. It might take a while for the Gestapo to show up, but it wouldn’t be long before the area was crawling with French cops, if it wasn’t already.
“Is there a village near here?” I asked Abrielle.
“Yes, monsieur, not so far. There…”
She pointed across a field of long grass. I noticed that at the base of an old oak tree, about forty yards away, there was a nest of blankets that must’ve served as Abrielle’s bed. I wondered what her story was—why she was on her own, far from home—but there was nothing I could do about it, and I had other things to worry about, so I let it go.
“Can you do something for me, Abrielle?”
“Monsieur?” She looked skeptical.
“Will you wait here with this lady until I get back? If she wakes up, tell her that Jack went to get a car and he’ll be back as soon as he can.”
She nodded, clearly happy with the assignment. “Yes, I can do it.”
“Good girl. I won’t be long.” As I headed off across the field, I heard Abrielle calling after me.
“Monsieur!”
I turned around. “Yeah?”
“What is her name?”
“Eva!” I called back to her. “Her name is Eva!”
She smiled happily and took up her post at Eva’s side.
There wasn’t much to choose from in La Rocque, a sleepy little hamlet set alongside the River Adour, but I managed to find a faded yellow Renault parked behind the butcher’s shop. It was an open top two-seater, with four bald tires and a rusty chassis, but the key was in the ignition. I opened the door, slid in behind the wheel, and was pleasantly surprised when it coughed into action right away. Not smooth, not by a long shot, but it ran. I could’ve just driven off, of course, but Lili had handed me an envelope stuffed with francs before we left, and we didn’t need anybody running to the cops about a stolen car, so I removed the key, got out, and headed around to the front door.
A little bell rang when I entered the shop. It took a moment before a heavy man with a leery look on his face and a large meat cleaver in his hand emerged from the back room. He greeted me with a disapproving look. I smiled politely, removed the envelope from my jacket pocket, and, one by one, started placing one-hundred-franc notes onto the counter. I fanned them out so he would get the full impact of his impending wealth, and the image had the desired impact. His eyes grew larger with each bill. When I’d counted out thirty, I stopped and looked up at him. He narrowed his eyes, cocked his head, and waited. I gave it a moment, just for fun, then held out my palm, revealing the key to his car.
“Vous voulez acheter la voiture?” he grumbled.
I nodded. After performing a couple of eloquent grunts and a few meaningful sniffs, the butcher shrugged his massive shoulders and scooped up the cash.
Eva was sitting up when I returned, involved in what looked like a weighty conversation with Abrielle, who was seated beside her. They spotted me coming across the field, and both broke into broad smiles and waved, as if I was a late arrival for the family picnic.
“I hope you brought food!” Eva called out. “We’re famished!”
I produced a couple of baguettes that I’d picked up at the patisserie to go with the chunk of pâté the butcher had thrown into the deal once his bulging pocket had elevated his mood. Eva broke off a piece of bread and handed it to Abrielle, who attacked it right away, while I lit one of the French cigarettes I’d picked up at the bar in town. Eva spotted the Renault across the field, where I’d left it on a dirt track.
“Is that it?” she said.
I nodded. “It’s got four wheels and it goes.”
“As long as it goes as far as Paris,” she said, turning back to Abrielle. “Ramasse tes affaires et attends-nous.”
The girl quickly ran off across the field, crust in hand, toward the oak. I watched her gather up her blankets, fold them neatly, and carefully place them into a small black suitcase that was lying nearby, then I turned back to Eva.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Help me up,” she said, and I gave her a hand. She was a bit stiff, but she could walk on her own. I followed her into the field of grass.
“We’re taking Abrielle home.”
“We don’t have a lot of time to—”
“She lives in Paris.”
I nodded and we took a few steps in silence while I figured out what to say about that.
“Look, I feel sorry for the kid, too, but—”
“The authorities will be looking for a couple. Having a child along will make us less suspicious.”
“Maybe so, but…” I hadn’t expected this, and I didn’t like it, though I couldn’t really put my finger on why. “What are we going to do with her once we get to Paris? Assuming we get there, that is.”
“She has an uncle in Montmartre. We’ll drop her off and spend the night there.”
“How do we know this uncle can be trusted?”
She shrugged. “I suppose we can’t be certain. But there’s a curfew in effect, and we can’t very well check into a hotel. Anyway, he’ll be grateful that we’ve rescued his niece, and we’ll only need a few hours.”
“It’s dangerous,” I said, searching for some valid reason to leave the child out of the equation. “Dangerous for her.”
Eva gave me a sideways glance. “Is that the best you can do, Jack? That it would be much better for Abrielle if we abandon her here, to fend for herself?”
I shrugged. “Gimme a couple of minutes and maybe I can come up with something better.”
Abrielle had never ridden in a car before, and the look of sheer delight on her face as she sat in the jump seat, covered in blankets, pâté sandwich in hand, wind blowing in her hair, was enough to put a smile on anybody’s face. Even mine.
“Enjoying the ride back there?” I called to her.
“C’est magnifique!” she cried out, grinning from ear to ear. I looked over at Eva, saw that she was smiling, too.
“How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been shot,” she groaned.
“We had a lucky escape.”
“Not just lucky.” She put on an impish smile. “You must be a pretty good stuntman.”
“The best.” I grinned.
Eva laughed, pushed the hair off her cheek, and settled back into the seat. Closing her eyes, she sighed deeply and offered her face up to the midday sun.
I stuck to the secondary roads, making Paris a long ten hours away, at best. If all went well, we’d roll in before the eleven o’clock curfew, stay the night with Abrielle’s uncle, and be at the duke’s town house on Boulevard Suchet not much after six, when the streets reopened. Madame Moulichon was supposed to catch the evening train back to Lisbon, which gave us roughly twelve hours to do whatever it was we were going to do.
How’s the kid doing back there?” I said to Eva when she woke up, a couple of hours later.
She leaned over and planted a kiss on my cheek. “Now don’t go spoiling your tough-guy image,” she said.
“Yeah, yeah. It’s getting kind of chilly, that’s all.”
Eva laughed, then twisted around to rearrange Abrielle’s blankets.
“She’s had
a tough time of it, huh?” I said.
“Yes, she has.”
“So? You gonna tell me or not?”
“If you’re interested.”
“I’m interested.”
“Well…” Eva began, stealing a glance at the sleeping child. “She left Paris with her mother, about a month ago—the day before the Germans arrived. Abrielle wasn’t clear about where they were going, and I’m not sure that her mother knew, either. They were just escaping, along with the rest of Paris. There was a crush of people on the train, she said, taking up every available space in the carriage. She and her mother sat on the floor, in the aisle, unable to move, even to go to the bathroom. It was hot and humid, people moaning and babies crying, but after a few hours, Abrielle was finally able to fall asleep. When she awoke, the train had stopped and her mother had disappeared. Just vanished. Nobody could say where she’d gone, so, terrified that she’d been left behind, Abrielle panicked and jumped off the train just as it was leaving the station.”
“With her mother on it.”
“I would think so.” Eva paused for a moment. “At any rate, she wasn’t in the station, which turned out to be Bordeaux. Abrielle waited there for three days, until she was told that she’d have to leave. She wandered the streets for another couple of days, until the trucks carrying German soldiers started to appear. She just started walking then, and she’s been walking every day since, with no idea where she’s going.”
I caught a movement in the rearview mirror and saw that Abrielle was waking up. Eva noticed, too, and turned around to give her a smile. There was something touching about the way the girl looked to Eva. Her face lifted and filled with hope—probably the first she’d felt in a long time. But there was something else in it, too, something much more than hope. Faith, I guess you’d call it. Faith and trust.
Ahead of us lay Paris, but for now we all sat back and took in the clean, fresh air and watched the western sky melt into a watercolor of purple and gold. It was a beautiful sight. You could almost believe that all was right in the world.