was waiting for the bullet that would come smashing between my shoulders. I could hear the dogs, the guns, the blast of the whistles. I didn’t look back but I could actually feel the men closing in behind me.
Still we had the advantage of distance. The line of soldiers would move more slowly than us. They wouldn’t want to break rank and risk the chance of our doubling back and slipping through. I had perhaps one minute to work out some sort of scheme before they caught up with us. Climb a tree? No, it would take too long, and anyway, the dogs would sniff us out. Continue back down the hill? Pointless. There were probably more soldiers coming up the other side. I was still running, my heart pounding in my chest, the breath harsh in my throat. And then I saw it—the ditch we had passed with the plastic tubes scattered about.
“This way, Leo!” I shouted.
At the same time, I threw myself off the road, skidding down the deep bank and landing in a stream of water that rose over my ankles.
“Yasha, what are you—?” Leo began, but he was sensible enough not to hesitate, turning back and following me down, almost landing on top of me. And so there we were, below the level of the road, and I was already making my way back, heading
toward
the line of soldiers, looking for what I prayed must be there.
Hundreds of meters of the water pipe had already been laid. The opening was in front of us: a perfect black circle like the entrance to some futuristic cave. It was small. If I hadn’t been so thin and if Leo hadn’t been so slight, neither of us would have fit into it, and it was unlikely that many of the soldiers would be able to follow, certainly not in their gas masks and protective gear. They would have been mad to try. Would they really be prepared to bury themselves alive, plunging into utter darkness with tons of damp earth above their heads?
That was what we did. On our hands and knees, we threw ourselves forward, our shoulders scraping against the curve of the pipe. At least it was dry inside the tunnel. But it was also pitch-black. When I looked back to see if Leo was behind me, I caught a glimmer of soft light a few meters behind me. But when I looked ahead . . . there was nothing! I brought my hand up and touched my nose, but I couldn’t see my fingers. For a moment, I found it difficult to breathe. I had to fight off the claustrophobia, the sense of being suffocated, of being squeezed to death. I wondered if it would be a good idea to go any farther. We could have stayed where we were and used the tunnel as a hiding place until everyone had gone—but that wasn’t good enough for me. I could imagine a burst of machine gun fire killing me or, worse still, paralyzing me and leaving me to die slowly in the darkness. I could feel the Alsatians, sent after us, snapping and snarling their way down the tunnel and then tearing ferociously at our legs and thighs. I had to let the tunnel carry me away and it didn’t matter where it took me. So I kept going with Leo behind me, the two of us burrowing ever farther beneath the wood.
To the soldiers it must have seemed as if we had disappeared by magic. They would have passed the ditch, but it’s quite likely that they didn’t see the pipeline—or, if they did, refused to believe that we had been foolhardy enough to enter it. Once again, the rain covered our tracks. The dogs failed to pick up our scent. Any footprints were washed away. And the soldiers were completely unaware that, as they moved forward, we were right underneath them, crawling like insects through the mud. When I looked back again, the entrance was no longer there. It was as if a shutter had come down, sealing us in. I could hear Leo very close to me, his breath sobbing. But any sound in the tunnel was strange and muted. I could feel the weight above me, pressing down.
We had swapped one hell for another.
We could only go forward. There wasn’t enough room to turn around. I suppose we could
Still we had the advantage of distance. The line of soldiers would move more slowly than us. They wouldn’t want to break rank and risk the chance of our doubling back and slipping through. I had perhaps one minute to work out some sort of scheme before they caught up with us. Climb a tree? No, it would take too long, and anyway, the dogs would sniff us out. Continue back down the hill? Pointless. There were probably more soldiers coming up the other side. I was still running, my heart pounding in my chest, the breath harsh in my throat. And then I saw it—the ditch we had passed with the plastic tubes scattered about.
“This way, Leo!” I shouted.
At the same time, I threw myself off the road, skidding down the deep bank and landing in a stream of water that rose over my ankles.
“Yasha, what are you—?” Leo began, but he was sensible enough not to hesitate, turning back and following me down, almost landing on top of me. And so there we were, below the level of the road, and I was already making my way back, heading
toward
the line of soldiers, looking for what I prayed must be there.
Hundreds of meters of the water pipe had already been laid. The opening was in front of us: a perfect black circle like the entrance to some futuristic cave. It was small. If I hadn’t been so thin and if Leo hadn’t been so slight, neither of us would have fit into it, and it was unlikely that many of the soldiers would be able to follow, certainly not in their gas masks and protective gear. They would have been mad to try. Would they really be prepared to bury themselves alive, plunging into utter darkness with tons of damp earth above their heads?
That was what we did. On our hands and knees, we threw ourselves forward, our shoulders scraping against the curve of the pipe. At least it was dry inside the tunnel. But it was also pitch-black. When I looked back to see if Leo was behind me, I caught a glimmer of soft light a few meters behind me. But when I looked ahead . . . there was nothing! I brought my hand up and touched my nose, but I couldn’t see my fingers. For a moment, I found it difficult to breathe. I had to fight off the claustrophobia, the sense of being suffocated, of being squeezed to death. I wondered if it would be a good idea to go any farther. We could have stayed where we were and used the tunnel as a hiding place until everyone had gone—but that wasn’t good enough for me. I could imagine a burst of machine gun fire killing me or, worse still, paralyzing me and leaving me to die slowly in the darkness. I could feel the Alsatians, sent after us, snapping and snarling their way down the tunnel and then tearing ferociously at our legs and thighs. I had to let the tunnel carry me away and it didn’t matter where it took me. So I kept going with Leo behind me, the two of us burrowing ever farther beneath the wood.
To the soldiers it must have seemed as if we had disappeared by magic. They would have passed the ditch, but it’s quite likely that they didn’t see the pipeline—or, if they did, refused to believe that we had been foolhardy enough to enter it. Once again, the rain covered our tracks. The dogs failed to pick up our scent. Any footprints were washed away. And the soldiers were completely unaware that, as they moved forward, we were right underneath them, crawling like insects through the mud. When I looked back again, the entrance was no longer there. It was as if a shutter had come down, sealing us in. I could hear Leo very close to me, his breath sobbing. But any sound in the tunnel was strange and muted. I could feel the weight above me, pressing down.
We had swapped one hell for another.
We could only go forward. There wasn’t enough room to turn around. I suppose we could
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