Interrupted Journey

Chapter 11 - Evasion

Laura had her boys sweeping the planned exit route through the late afternoon and they confirmed that the area was swarming with red-sleeves. They were, however, sticking mainly to the roads. "They still thinkin' like city boys!" Samson observed. "They don't think 'bout going through no gardens!"

In the end, we decided to stash some of the kit above the ceiling panels in the reception room. It was low priority stuff, things like spare boots, extra sleeping bags and some of the toilet paper. As the packs were made up, I noticed I was given a disposable one while the others had the critical ammunition, food and first aid supplies. I tried to heave it on as darkness fell but struggled because it was impossibly heavy. "I'm starting to know what a pack horse feels like!" I grumbled as Samson helped me on with it.

"Quiet now," Laura said firmly. "Heads on. We've a real danger of contact here."

A steady drizzle had started as we made our way back across the playing fields then down the now slippery slope to the railway line. Then we began a steady trudge along the line through the worsening rain with the weight of the pack crushing my back.

I looked back on that trudge as a happy memory, however, when we came to the first raised section of track. Down and belly crawl through the muck and water. I was encouraged to stay low and silent first by the warning kicks from Laura and later from the sound of people - presumably red sleeves - moving around on the roads below us.

The crawl along the tracks seemed interminable. The rain was falling steadily now, soaking into my clothes and leaking in at my neck and ankles. I had to fight to push the discomfort to the back of my mind. 'It's better than being shot!' I had to keep reminding myself.

At last we reached the bridge by the ford. Now we had to climb down the embankment. Absolute silence was required because we had just seen red sleeves moving about on the track on the other side of the bridge. There was no path and the grass and mud were made slippery by the rain. Samson had to steady me on a couple of occasions as I struggled down. At last we made it down to the track.

The few hundred yards to the ford were relative luxury, as the track was shaded by trees here, and we did not have to worry about being seen. We were, however, in almost complete darkness and each time I planted a foot I had to do so entirely by feel.

I felt water under my feet. We had reached the ford. There was no point in trying to keep my feet dry as we crossed. 'Suck it up,' Samson's looming shadow in front of me seemed to say.

Out of the ford and back along the track besides the stream. It was a tiny bit lighter here and I was starting to relax when the slightest of hisses - barely a loud breath - alerted us all. Jimbo, at point, had spotted someone coming.

Instantly Samson and Laura grabbed me and propelled me down into the stream bed where they held me in a low squat as the water swirled around my waist.

Samson released me and slowly, silently, he brought the rifle he was carrying up into position. I watched, frozen, and held my breath as he tracked a party of red sleeves as they made their way along the track above us

Then they were past us and we could carry on along the stream bed though we stayed in a low squat and the discomfort of wet legs was soon overwhelmed by the burning pain in my thighs.

At long, long last we reached the culvert and I could stand almost upright and stretch out my legs. I felt myself breathing a touch more easily. We were nearly there.

Then the silence of the night was shattered by a scream from just in front of us. For a moment I stood, stupid and bewildered, as action exploded around me.

Laura grabbed me by the arm and hurried me along the culvert. As we reached the platform she had constructed the night before, I could see what had happened. There was a young family huddled, terrified, at the back. They had been sheltering in the dark and Jimbo must have almost stepped on them.