Crack of Doom (31 page)

She stared at him. "But you know me, I'm Andrej's sister."

"Andrej's sister!" Matuska shook his head. "Andrej's sister was a patriot, not a traitor. Do you know what they do to traitors?"

"I'm not a traitor."

"You came up here for nothing anyhow," he said, "because the general's dead. Zepac shot him when he tried to escape from the hut"

"Where's Zepac?"

"Zepac has paid for his stupidity. Do you want to see him?''

"No."

"We put him with the four Germans you sent into the wood first. We spotted you even before you went down into the hollow."

"I led the Germans so you'd be certain to see them."

"Is that sol" Matuska grinned and beckoned to his men. One of them ran into the hut and returned with a coil of wire. Matuska regarded the roof of the hut: it rested on six strong beams, which jutted out a foot and a half. "Undress," he said to Margita.

"Don't do that."

"Why not?" he asked.

"You can't do that"

"I can do anything. Undress."

"You swine," she said, and hit him in the face.

Matuska staggered back a step, a drop of blood trickling from his nose. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, and gave his men a sign. They fell on the prisoners, tore off their clothes, drove them to the hut with blows from the gun butts, and made them stand in a row. Giesinger had been left on the ground, but his clothes were cut open with a knife; his blood-saturated bandage looked like raw meat. Schmitt watched with a stony face as Matuska wound off ten equal lengths of wire. He heard the partisans jeering at his hunchback and bursting into rowdy laughter when one of the naked men hopped from one leg to the other because the cold snow was cutting into their bare feet. Schmitt himself didn't register the cold, although every muscle in his body was taut as in a cramp. The blood still ran from between his lips, freezing to his chin in a thick crust The blow had been so hard that he felt as if his mouth had been turned to a pulp, in which the short stumps of teeth were somewhere floating; and he could not spit them out because he couldn't work his jaw.

Almost unconscious, he found his hands being tied behind his back, and saw the same happening to the others. Finally a length of wire shaped like a figure eight was put round their legs, its lower half pressing their ankles together, while its upper half stood free. When Schmitt looked up at the ends of the roof beams, he realized what was awaiting them.

Now the others had realized as well. Teltschik was sobbing. The Fat One gaped, his big, formless body shaking with cold, and Giesinger stared up at the beams with protruding eyes that looked like marbles. Margita, next to Schmitt, seemed sunk in apathy; she no longer defended herself against the attentions of her captors, who enjoyed the spectacle of her body, pawing her and making coarse jokes. Matuska did not interfere for a while, till one of the men tried to pull her into the hut; then he raised his sub-machine gun. At his order the men seized first on Giesinger, lifting him into the air feet first till the wire loop slid over one of the beams. Then they let go of him and he dangled and screamed hoarsely. His face frozen, Schmitt watched Teltschik and the Fat One being hung up in the same way. They swung heavily and screamed.

Now it was his turn. For a few seconds he could see nothing because six or eight arms were gripping him; but his nose registered the pungent body smell of the partisans' clothes. Then the earth began to move under him, and he found himself looking through the snow-covered pines into the cloudless sky, which was blazing like a blue fire over the mountain.

He saw the mountain for the first time. With its almost sheer walls, glistening snow-fields and razor-sharp contours, it resembled a beheaded pyramid, and he could not remember ever having seen a mountain to compare with it. It exceeded all his expectations.

But then he felt the glowing pain as the thin wire cut into his ankles, and he saw the partisans again—they were just seizing Margita and hanging her to the beam. He heard her shriek.

His breath rattled. He could see the blood dropping from his nose on to the ground and turning the snow red. He heard Giesinger's animal howls interspersed with horrible oaths. He heard Teltschik's pitiful whimper, the Fat One's sobs and groans—and in between the laughter of the partisans.

The victims' heads began to swell like gas-filled balloons, hanging like bloody boils from elongated necks. Now Schmitt felt the cold as well: it ate through his skin, through his flesh, and right into his bones, making him insensitive to the burning pain in his legs. He looked at his thighs, saw the blood running down them, and groaned again. His temples began to throb. He saw everything now through a red cloud, the mountain, the white wood, and the partisans—they had fallen silent. When Matuska took his gun off his shoulder and went up to Giesinger, Schmitt closed his eyes. He heard a whip-like crack, then another, and the next moment two voices began to scream so terribly that he had to open his eyes again.

A moment later Schmitt felt the hard impact against his navel; but he did not feel the bullet which tore through his entrails. Nor did he hear Margita's delirious babbling—Matuska had thought out something special for her—nor the others' screams. He did not recover consciousness till Matuska and his men were on their way to Lassupatak; and immediately the pain returned. He felt as if his body were full of liquid fire consuming him from inside. Several times he could not get his breath, the throb in his temples had increased to a continuous booming. A turn of bis head showed him Teltschik's face near him, the soft dog-like eyes now dull and glassy, while the tongue hung out of the open mouth like a blue jellyfish. Teltschik had stopped screaming, so had the others; but they rattled and groaned, and the snow beneath their heads was red with blood.

Schmitt sighed. The pain in his guts spread to his chest, and each movement he made sent a red-hot dagger into his toes. He looked past Margita to the mountain, which gleamed in the setting sun like a huge block of ice. A wolfs long-drawn-out howl rang out somewhere, and he held his breath. But he went on looking steadily at the mountain, till the glare hurt his eyes. It increased the pain a hundredfold, causing him to utter a succession of plaintive moans; he moved his head to and fro, and clenched his bound and half-frozen hands. For a while he no longer knew what he was doing; but when he could think clearly again, he moved his swollen mouth and croaked: "Let me die, oh Lord."

Near him a voice howled out, another voice stammered a name, then there was silence again, and Schmitt hung all by himself, engulfed in his pain. The fire in his stomach and chest had now reached his legs and head. It clouded his brain. Each single pain seemed far beyond what any human being could bear. He groaned like a tree that is shaken by the storm, he cursed and prayed. The next time he opened his eyes, he saw that the snow under him had turned black; the mountain too was beginning to turn black, scarcely standing out from the sky. He heard the wolf howl again. It sounded much closer now, and a second wolf answered it. Nice sensible beasts, thought Schmitt, and all at once felt his pains abating. Sensible beasts, he thought sleepily.

The three men covered the last third of the mountain without haste. Once Kolodzi looked back and saw the partisans come out of the wood. There were nearly thirty of them, running up to the hollow, where for a time they vanished from view. When they reappeared, there were four other people with them, but the distance was too great now to pick out individuals. When the figures had disappeared into the trees, Kolodzi turned around, and led the way to the top of the mountain. There they stopped.

"I shall always have a bad conscience," said Herbig, looking across at Kolodzi and noticing that his lips were bleeding, Baumgartner hung his head.

They marched across the mountain. In the waste of snow they were like three tiny insects swimming in a jug of milk. The sun was now deep in the west, hurling its red beams into their faces. They hardly noticed.

After half an hour Kolodzi stopped. Ahead of them the mountain went down steeply to the west. In the valleys it was already dark, and further on the mountains looked as if they were painted with blood.

"This blasted war," said Baumgartner.

They stood there for a time, till Kolodzi pointed toward one of the peaks. "That's the Beggar's Patch. You must pass it on the left, then you come straight up against the big one there in the background, which is called Okochegg. Bight beyond it lies the road to DobSina."

"I thought we were heading for Boznava," said Herbig.

"YouTl have passed Boznava by then."

"How far is it to the road?"

"Hard to say. Perhaps twenty miles as the crow flies."

"Then I've had it. I can't feel my legs any more even now. Twenty miles—my God!" Baumgartner shivered.

"Think of the sergeant," said Herbig. "He's got at least three times as far."

"How d'you mean?"

"He wants to get to Kosice," answered Herbig, looking at Kolodzi. "Unless he's thought it over since and changed his mind."

"There's nothing to think over," said Kolodzi.

"Just as you like." Herbig regarded him coldly. "Then you branch off now?"

"Yes."

"Will you stay in Kosice?"

"No."

"Here, wait a moment," said Baumgartner uncomprehendingly. "What's this about Ko§ice?"

Herbig did not answer, he was still looking at Kolodzi. "I thought your fiancee was waiting for you in Kosice."

"No, I've sent her to a friend somewhere where we can both stay a few weeks."

"And then?"

"Then we'll go on."

"To Germany?"

"Perhaps. Anyhow some place where there's no more shooting."

"Then you've a long road ahead of you."

"So have we all," said Kolodzi, holding out his hand.

Herbig ignored it. "If you do come to Germany, stay away from Cologne. That's where I live."

The scar on Kolodzi's face looked like a fresh cut. He put his hand in his pocket, turned and tramped off. Once it seemed as if he were about to stop, then he suddenly started running. Baumgartner opened his eyes wide. "Where on earth is he going?"

"You heard, didn't you?" answered Herbig. "To Kosice."

"But why?"

"He's deserting."

"What!"

Before Herbig realized what the corporal was doing, Baumgartner had pulled his gun off his shoulder, taken aim, and emptied the magazine. But Kolodzi was already far away, zigzagging and running with his body bent forward and his head down. Baumgartner started to run after him, then he stopped and yelled all of the curses and obscenities he could think of. In the silence of dusk, which was now covering the mountain, his voice sounded thin and forlorn.

Kolodzi ran on, a speck in the distance. Now he had reached the crest of the ridge, and for a moment he was silhouetted against the pink sky; then the mountain pulled him down the far side.

Baumgartner fell silent. For a while he remained staring in the direction where Kolodzi had disappeared. At last he hobbled back to Herbig on his aching legs, sobbing with frustrated rage, and wiped the saliva from his mouth with the sleeve of his coat. "The filthy swine!" he said.

Herbig made no reply.