Read Online Under a War-Torn Sky by L.M. Elliott - Free Book Online Page A

hungry, hurting, hot. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. His only view of the world was through the slats of the crates. Repeatedly, he heard voices nearing, nearing, and then receding. German voices, completely incomprehensible to him.
    To keep still, Henry tried mentally reciting snippets of history: In 1400 and 92, Columbus sailed the ocean blue… He worked through the table of elements his chemistry teacher had drilled into him the previous spring: Aluminium, Al, thirteen atoms. Calcium, Ca, twenty atoms… He even travelled back to third grade to work through the multiplication tables: 9 x 10 is 90; 9 x 11 is 99; 9 x 12 is 108… Anything to keep himself quiet, sane, less aware of his dangerous circumstances.
    Finally, when he thought he would scream from anxiety and the pulsating throb up his leg, the old teacher reappeared, carrying a basket. He was alone.
    â€œ Quitte le quai, ” he told the boatman.
    When they were back on the canal, floating south, he explained, “My cousin was afraid to help, afraid he could be deported if caught. But he gave me food. He said to stay on the water. Down the Rhein to the Aare. Then the Aare canal into Bern. It will take a day. Have you more medicine?”
    â€œNo,” Henry answered. He knew he was in trouble. If his ankle wasn’t set correctly soon, his foot might never be normal again. He couldn’t bear the thought of hobbling the rest of his life.
    â€œI am sorry. You must have courage, oui? ” He passed Henry a bottle. “Drink. It may ease the pain.”
    It was a fruity brandy. Henry gasped as the liquor ripped down his throat. He’d never drunk much of anything alcoholic before the Air Corps since he was underage. He didn’t much like the way it made people stupid-sounding either. Tonight, however, Henry gulped the liquor to numb the ache and ease the claustrophobia of his cage of crates. The brandy quickly lulled him into a stupor. The boat rocked, Henry’s head whirled, and the night slipped by.
    Henry came to, standing. He was between the boatman and schoolteacher, his arms across their shoulders; theirs around his waist. They were trying to walk him forward. It was still dark, dark and foggy.
    â€œThe hospital is near,” whispered the schoolteacher.
    Hospital? Henry tried to focus on the old man’s face. Hospital? Why did he need a hospital? Henry took a step and felt his leg on fire. His stomach turned viciously. The world spun.
    â€œ Lève-le, ” the teacher told the boatman. “ Vite, vite. ”
    Henry felt himself hoisted, cradled like a baby, jostled, hurried. He tried to look about him. Tall buildings with ornate stone facades leaped up into the night sky. He heard a bell chime the hour. Twisting his head around he saw life-size bears and a knight marching in front of a ghoulish-looking clock face. “This has got to be a nightmare,” Henry steadied himself.
    â€œBe still,” hissed the teacher.
    Suddenly, they stopped. Henry was lowered and propped up against a column.
    â€œStay,” the teacher said. “ Bonne chance. ”
    â€œWait,” Henry called out. “Where am I?” But there was no answer. The old man and his giant companion had vanished.
    Click, click, click, click. Something was coming. What was it? Henry peered into the fog.
    Click, click, click, click. Voices droned.
    Henry searched the swirl of mist. No bodies that he could see.
    Click, click, click, click.
    Henry used his good leg to shove himself up the stone column. Whatever it was, he’d face it standing.
    Out of the mist drifted two figures in white. White veils fluttered about their heads. Henry rubbed his eyes and looked again. There were red crosses on the brims of their veils. Red crosses. Could they be nurses? The old man had said hospital.
    The figures – one young, one old – drew near, heels clicking along the stone pavement. The young one noticed him first. She