Allegiance: A Dublin Novella (23 page)

“How did you
—”

“Andy found me. He sent me to fetch you – they couldn’t find you after. The fighting’s mostly done but Collins’ men are everywhere. We have to get out of here now!”

William’s ribs screamed as he hoisted Adam into the back of the lorry. He barely had time to climb in beside him before Daniel floored the accelerator and the tires squealed as the lorry sped away. William pulled the tarp closed from the inside, and the sound and light dropped to a muted gloom.

William’s teeth rattled as they sped over uneven Dublin stone. Only sailcloth lined the steel floor of the lorry’s bed; there was nothing on which to prop Adam’s sprawling body, nothing to cushion him from the jerking and swaying. William tucked a
fold of sailcloth beneath Adam
’
s head to stop it bouncing against the floor, and then he looked down at the blood-soaked shirt. One by one, he began to undo the buttons. He didn’t want to look, but he forced his eyes to follow his fingers – he pulled the stained fabric apart, and his first thought was
oh, God.

Blood soaked everything, reeking in the close air
– but it was dark blood,
old
blood, only a slow trickle now oozing from the hole in Adam’s right side. The wound had hit low, just above the hipbone, an angry aberration against what had formerly been smooth white skin. William got a hand beneath Adam’s body and pushed him up as best he could, shutting out the awful sound he made, squinting in the dusty light until he found what he sought – a matching wound, this one more ragged, low on the same side of Adam
’
s back. William’s breath left him in a long sigh. A clean line through the outer muscle, not the disintegrating gut shot he had feared. The sigh turned to a laugh.

“I don’t know what charm it is you live under, Adam Elliot, but I swear I’ve never seen its like.”

He sat back and wiped his face on his shirt sleeve, willing his racing heart to calm. When he lifted his head again, Adam was looking at him.

“You’re going to be alright,
” William said. “It
’
s not as bad as it looks.”

Adam did not seem to hear him. He blinked at William in dull curiosity, in and out of focus; then his eyes shot open and he tried to rise up from the sailcloth. “Glasgow, you can’t—” The words broke up in a retching cough and
William laid a hand on his chest.

“It’s alright, Adam. Lie still now. Daniel
’
s taking us to the docks. We’re going to get you out of here.”

The lo
rry hit a bump that turned Adam
’
s cough into a strangled groan. William glanced around the empty space, then stripped off his shirt from the thermal he wore beneath and wedged it under Adam’s side, cushioning the wound a little against the steel floor. There was nothing else he could do. He closed his eyes and breathed, forcing down the panic that clogged in his throat. After another breath, then a third, he began to feel more steady; he opened his eyes, and his heart lurched.

Adam’s face had gone a waxy, ashen gray. His eyes were closed, his limbs slack and lolling; the only sign of life in his body came from his mouth, which moved with a small, constant whispering. William called his name sharply, but there was no response. He braced himself on his palms and leaned in close, bending over Adam’s mouth until the barely discernible breaths became words.

“
…of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death, amen.
Confiteor Deo omnipotenti
…”

William grabbed the halves of Adam’s shirt and shook him violently. “Don’t do that, don’t you bloody do that, you’re not going to die do you fucking hear me? Adam! Open your eyes!”

Mea culpa,
Adam was whispering,
mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa…

William slapped him across the face. Adam gasped and jerked, and his eyes snapped open – William looked into those eyes and finally allowed his voice to break.

“Don’t you do that,
” he said. “Don’t you leave me alone.”

The lorry began to slow; the brakes whined and the gears ground as they rolled to a stuttering stop, and then everything went abruptly quiet. Beyond the wind pulling at the tarp fastenings, William could hear the cry of sea gulls. The driver’s door slammed, the tarp rolled up, and Daniel appeared at the opening; Andy and David rushed up behind him, skidding to a stop as they got a look inside.

“Mother of God,” David gasped, crossing himself.

Andy pushed past the horrified David and grabbed Adam’s leg. “Bear a hand, Davie, let’s get him inside.”

William forced himself to let go so they could pull Adam from his grasp. He crawled out behind them and hit the ground with both feet, wincing at the pain in his ribs, and followed them as they carried Adam away down a gravel path.

They had parked in a small clearing that sloped down a green embankment; at the end of the grass the river spread out before them, still and undisturbed this far from the city. The dark water lapped against a solitary mooring and the hull of the barge waiting there. William looked toward the horizon – the sunset had burned itself out in smudged evening clouds, and the widening mouth of the sea sparkled beneath the rising moon.

Andy and David carried Adam inside, with William following as fast as his bruised ribs would let him, but Daniel hung back by the gangway. He peered after them anxiously and said to William, “Will he
—
will he be alright?”

“You saved his life,” William said. “It was a clean shot. He’ll be safe now.”

“I need to get the lorry back before it’s seen,” Daniel’s eyes filled with tears. “I wanted to tell him…”

“He knows.” William gave him the closest thing he could manage to a smile. “Thank you, Daniel. Thank you for saving him.”

“You saved him, William,” Daniel said. He put a hand on William
’
s shoulder. “Goodbye, my friend.” He took one more look into the cabin before turning to hurry back down the dock, through the growing darkness and up the grass to where the lorry waited at the top of the embankment. The tires made crunching sounds in the gravel as the lorry drove away with its headlamps unlit.

The barge’s cabin resembled a miniature boarding room; the living quarters were sparse but comfortable, as homelike as could be managed under the circumstances – it was, after all, Andy’s home. Wood paneling lined the walls, and the metal floor was painted an inoffensive beige; a matched set of furniture occupied one corner, and a small cook stove burned quietly in another. The sheets had been stripped from the bolted bunk, and Adam lay there, propped up on folded blankets. He was white as the mattress beneath him, but seemed more lucid; David stood beside the bed, tearing a pillowcase into strips for bandages. The engines suddenly rumbled into life, shaking the floor beneath William’s feet; a moment later Andy appeared in the hatch to the steering room. William took him by the elbow and led him to the corner furthest from the bed.

“Nothing touches that wound unless it’s been boiled,” he said. “Nothing. You’ve got whisky? Wash him with it before you bind him. He’ll not be pleased, but hold him down if you have to. Nothing else touches him, you hear? Only bo
iled cloth and spirits until he
’
s back on land.”

“I can get you to Germany in two days,” Andy said. “Hans makes the crossing every other month – as soon as he’s mended you can go.”

Quietly William said, “I’m staying here, Andy.”

“But
— but you can’t! They’ll hang you if they know what you’ve done!”

“They don’t know, and they won’t know. No one saw me. I have to go back, Andy. I have to be sure it’s all mended.” There was no time for discussion; he had to get all the words out while he still could. “Tea. Make strong tea with sugar, and give him as much as he’ll drink. If he holds it down, try some broth, but boil it first. And I don’t care how much he begs, no alcohol. Whisky for the outside, not the inside.”

“Well that’s a bit unfair.”

They turned to see Adam watching them from his pillow, making a fair attempt at a grin.

“I thought I told you to lie still?”

David stepped aside to let William approach; he opened his mouth to speak, but no words came, and instead he looked down at the bandages in his arms. William laid a hand on his shoulder and tried to smile. David nodded, smiling back as best he could, and left the room to take the bandages to the galley for boiling.

Andy had gone as well, closing the steering room hatch behind him to finish his preparations. They were alone. William sat on the edge of the bed and eased back the towel David had pressed to Adam’s belly. Adam flinched, but the towel came away with no sodden sticky sound, and William mustered a smile.

“Clever, aren’t you
– this time next week you’ll be drinking wine on the North Sea surrounded by a flock of frauleins.”

“Reckoned I was due for a holiday. Never was one to do things halfway, aye?”

William laid the towel carefully back into place, and tucked it smooth and secure around Adam’s belly. Abruptly Adam’s hand moved to his, covering William’s blood-stained fingers with his own. His voice wavered.

“Come with me.”

“You know I can’t.”

Something in Adam’s face crumbled, and his breath hitched. His eyes had gone bright and naked, and he looked very much like the lost and lonely boy he had always kept hidden from everyone. His voice drained to a whisper.

“William, I’m afraid.”

William looked down at their hands, their intertwined fingers filthy with powder burns and caked with Adam’s blood. He fought to keep his voice even.

“You were strong for your brother,” he said. “Now you have to be strong for me.”

Tears spilled from Adam’s eyes and ran down the dirt on his cheeks. “But you came back.”

“I came back to get you out
– you’re getting out, love. You’ll get a new start, a new life, away from all this. This is your chance at freedom, and I can’t—” His chest constricted painfully; Adam’s face swam before his eyes. “If I could— I should never have—” His voice broke and he choked out hoarsely, “I’m sorry, Adam, I’m so, so sorry—”

Their kiss cut off his words. William closed his eyes, committing to memory the sound of Adam’s breath, the taste of his mouth, the feel of his skin, recording forever every detail of this silent goodbye. For a long time neither of them spoke; their foreheads rested together, breathing each other’s air for one moment longer, unwilling to let go.

“You broke your loyalty for me,” Adam whispered.

“I found my loyalty because of you,” William said. “I will never forget that.”

He brushed his lips across Adam’s, a whisper both made but neither heard; and with the next breath he stood up and walked out of the cabin as fast as he could.

A damp night had fallen outside, quiet except for the hum of the boat’s engines. A mist as thick as drizzle scoured the air, stinging William’s face, clinging to his wet eyelashes. On the path ahead of him, half ground into the gravel, something lay glittering in a puddle of water. William stooped to pick it up, wiped off the mud with his thumb. It was a rosary – the one they had admired in the market on that sunny afternoon, its green and white beads scratched and stained with dried blood. The carved knot on the cross had cracked, rough beneath his thumb, chipped from its fall from the pocket of Adam’s trousers. William held the beads in his fingers, watching raindrops pearl on the glassy surface. He put the rosary in his pocket and walked up the hill toward the road, into the darkness as the rain grew harder and colder.