BlindFire

BlindFire by Colin Wraight Page B

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Authors: Colin Wraight
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oner.”
      “Bloody hell! So he died right?”
      “No way man. Nobody messes with my granddad when he’s pissed.”
      "Quick Dan .... Come in here, it’s the news!"  Harry’s wife s houted excitedly. “They’ve arrested a man.”
    Leaping  out  of  the  chair  he got  to  the television  set  just  in  time  to  see  a  photograph  of  the man.
     
     
                 ‘The man from Antrim was later released after
                  Security forces realised their mistake in arresting
                  The truck driver.  And that’s it from me Sheldon
                  McLain News at ten, and now the weather...'
     
         
      "That’s not him..! Those idiots arrested the wrong m an..! Sod this for a game of Soldiers, I’m off down the pub." Danny said then picked up his coat and strode briskly out of the door before Harry could stop him.
      "Harry, you know he needs psychiatric help." Claire cried.
       He grabbed his coat and made for the door.  "Are you going to tell him or shall I?"
      Claire burst into tears.  "For Gods sake catch him Harry."  She sobbed.  "Before he does something stupid...  I  don't  know  why  he had  to  stay  here  anyway,  he's got  other  friends.  Why  couldn't  he have  stayed  in  camp  or with  Jim  or  Matt  Clarke?"  She lit a cigarette.
      "Not now woman."  He snapped.  “Just not now."   He felt very guilty  and  annoyed,   his  wife  had  voiced the  feelings  he  had  been  trying  so  hard  to  hide.  "I’ll find him; I think he’s gone to the shack...  See you later."   Harry left  leaving   his  wife  to  cry  as  she  had  done  every night  since  the murder.
      The  'Shack'  as  it  was  affectionately  known  was  once  a  Gestapo hangout,  a  candle  in  the  night  for  weary  war  beaten  German  soldiers.  Nothing  much  had  changed  in  the  last  fifty  years  only  the place  was  dirtier,  draughtier  and  the  candles  had  been  exchanged  for dimmed  lights.  The  clientele  may  have  been  a  different  nationality, but  they  like  their  forerunners  really  didn't  care  where  they  got  drunk.
      When  Harry  entered  the  building  it  was  almost  empty  except  for Sabina  who  ran  the  place  and  two  elderly  locals  sat  in  the  corner playing  the  same  dice  game  they  had  been  for  years.
      "Hallo Sabina, haben Si e Danny gesehen?"   Harry said in his military class three German.
      She smiled and motioned toward the toilet.
      "Ah gut, dann zwei Bier bitte."
      Sabina laughed.  "It’s Ok you can speak English in here."
      "It’s alright Ha rry, I’ve already ordered."  Danny cried as the toilet door   swung shut behind him.
      "You’re going to get drunk?"
      "Maybe...”
      "What's the point?"
      "Oh go home to your wife while you’ve still got one."
      "Sod that."   Harry replied.  "She's sat at home crying her little heart out....  I think I’ll hang out here for a while."
      The  drinks  came  thick  and  fast  disappearing  into  the  guts  of   the two  men  with  equal  speed.  The required effect was soon in evidence.
      "Hey you..! Ye s I’m talking to you.” Danny slurred and spilled some beer as he slammed the glass back on the table. “Box head'!   I’m speaking to you ….”
      "Verpiss dich Englander." The big German growled menacingly and glared at the Soldier.
      "What did you say, you piece of Kraut shit." Cried Danny angrily, rising unsteadily to his feet and knocking over his drink which crashed to the floor and smashed .
      "Well if you want it in English." Replied the German.  "I said piss off .. . Why don’t all you island monkey’s just go home, we don’t need any of you here! "  He  then  looked  at  his  friend 

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