Read Online Russian Roulette by Anthony Horowitz - Free Book Online
Authors: Anthony Horowitz
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in shock? He didn’t have to be contaminated by the chemicals from the factory. I tried to convince myself that, like me, he was exhausted and if he could just get a night’s rest he would be all right again.
Even so, I knew I had to find him somewhere warm to shelter. He needed food. Somehow I had to dry his clothes. As I looked around me at the spindly trees that rose up into an ever-darkening sky, I felt a sense of complete helplessness. How could I possibly manage on my own? I wanted my parents and I had to remind myself that they weren’t going to come, that I was never going to see them again. I was sick with grief—but something inside me told me that I couldn’t give in. Leo and I hadn’t escaped from Estrov simply to die out here, a few kilometers away, in the middle of a forest.
We walked together for another hour, still following the road. They’d been able to afford asphalt for this section, which at least made it easier to find our way in the dark. I knew it was dangerous, that we had more chance of being spotted, but I didn’t dare lose myself among the trees.
And in the end it was the right decision. We stumbled upon it quite by chance, a wooden hut that must have been built for the construction team and abandoned only recently. The door was padlocked, but I managed to kick it in, and once we were inside I was surprised to find two bunks, a table, cupboards, and even an iron stove. I checked the cupboards. There was no food or medicine, but the almost empty shelves did offer me a few rewards. Using my flashlight, I found some old newspapers, saucepans, tin mugs, and a fork. How glad I was now that I had thought to take a box of matches from my parents’ kitchen and that my waterproof clothes had managed to keep them dry. There was no coal or firewood, so I tore off some of the cupboard doors and smashed them up with my foot, and ten minutes later I had a good fire blazing. I wasn’t worried about the smoke being seen. It was too dark and I kept the door and the shutters closed to stop the light from escaping.
I helped Leo out of his wet clothes and hung them to dry. He stretched himself out on the nearest bunk and I covered him with newspaper and a rug from the floor. It might not be too clean, but at least it would help to keep him warm. I had the food that I had brought from my home and I took it out. Leo and I had drunk all our water, but that wasn’t a problem. I carried a saucepan outside and filled it from the gutter that ran around the side of the building. After all the rain, it was full to overflowing and boiling it in the flames would get rid of any germs. I added the tea and the sugar and balanced the whole thing on the stove. I broke the chocolate bars into pieces and examined the cans. There were three of them and they all contained herring, but fool that I was, I had forgotten to bring a can opener.
While Leo drifted in and out of sleep, I spent the next half hour desperately trying to open the cans. In a way, it did me good to have to focus on a problem that was so small and so stupid. Forget the fact that you are alone, in hiding, that there are soldiers who want to kill you, that your best friend is ill, that everything has been taken from you. Open the can! In the end, I managed it with the fork that I had found, hammering at it with a heavy stone and piercing the lid so many times that eventually I was able to peel it away. The herring was gray and oily. I’m not sure that anyone eats it anymore, but it had always been a special treat when I was growing up. My mother would serve it with slabs of black, dry bread or sometimes potatoes. When I smelled the fish, I thought of her and I felt all the pain welling up once more, even though I was doing everything I could to block out what had happened.
I tried to feed some to Leo, but after all my effort, he was too tired to eat and it was the best I could manage to force him to sip some tea. I was suddenly very hungry myself and
Even so, I knew I had to find him somewhere warm to shelter. He needed food. Somehow I had to dry his clothes. As I looked around me at the spindly trees that rose up into an ever-darkening sky, I felt a sense of complete helplessness. How could I possibly manage on my own? I wanted my parents and I had to remind myself that they weren’t going to come, that I was never going to see them again. I was sick with grief—but something inside me told me that I couldn’t give in. Leo and I hadn’t escaped from Estrov simply to die out here, a few kilometers away, in the middle of a forest.
We walked together for another hour, still following the road. They’d been able to afford asphalt for this section, which at least made it easier to find our way in the dark. I knew it was dangerous, that we had more chance of being spotted, but I didn’t dare lose myself among the trees.
And in the end it was the right decision. We stumbled upon it quite by chance, a wooden hut that must have been built for the construction team and abandoned only recently. The door was padlocked, but I managed to kick it in, and once we were inside I was surprised to find two bunks, a table, cupboards, and even an iron stove. I checked the cupboards. There was no food or medicine, but the almost empty shelves did offer me a few rewards. Using my flashlight, I found some old newspapers, saucepans, tin mugs, and a fork. How glad I was now that I had thought to take a box of matches from my parents’ kitchen and that my waterproof clothes had managed to keep them dry. There was no coal or firewood, so I tore off some of the cupboard doors and smashed them up with my foot, and ten minutes later I had a good fire blazing. I wasn’t worried about the smoke being seen. It was too dark and I kept the door and the shutters closed to stop the light from escaping.
I helped Leo out of his wet clothes and hung them to dry. He stretched himself out on the nearest bunk and I covered him with newspaper and a rug from the floor. It might not be too clean, but at least it would help to keep him warm. I had the food that I had brought from my home and I took it out. Leo and I had drunk all our water, but that wasn’t a problem. I carried a saucepan outside and filled it from the gutter that ran around the side of the building. After all the rain, it was full to overflowing and boiling it in the flames would get rid of any germs. I added the tea and the sugar and balanced the whole thing on the stove. I broke the chocolate bars into pieces and examined the cans. There were three of them and they all contained herring, but fool that I was, I had forgotten to bring a can opener.
While Leo drifted in and out of sleep, I spent the next half hour desperately trying to open the cans. In a way, it did me good to have to focus on a problem that was so small and so stupid. Forget the fact that you are alone, in hiding, that there are soldiers who want to kill you, that your best friend is ill, that everything has been taken from you. Open the can! In the end, I managed it with the fork that I had found, hammering at it with a heavy stone and piercing the lid so many times that eventually I was able to peel it away. The herring was gray and oily. I’m not sure that anyone eats it anymore, but it had always been a special treat when I was growing up. My mother would serve it with slabs of black, dry bread or sometimes potatoes. When I smelled the fish, I thought of her and I felt all the pain welling up once more, even though I was doing everything I could to block out what had happened.
I tried to feed some to Leo, but after all my effort, he was too tired to eat and it was the best I could manage to force him to sip some tea. I was suddenly very hungry myself and
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