The Angry Hills - Leon Uris [39]
Bluey grabbed Mike’s shoulders and pointed out of the window. Mike’s heart pounded as he heard dim, angry guttural commands drift up from the village. It was pitch-black, impossible to see anything—only the sounds...
Drowsy Greek voices—some angry—some filled with fear—more curt commands in German...
“They must be roundin’ up everyone,” Bluey whispered, trying hard to suppress his nervous burps.
Sounds of motors, trucks rolling into the village. A rifle shot! Angry Greek voices! More rifle shots! The loud wailing of a woman. Mike could swear it was Melpo.
Silence.
Truck motors—one by one—moving away from the village. Motor sounds drifting into silence. No more sounds of Greek voices—only German voices.
An infinitesimal sound caught the ears of the five men. Mike’s pistol came from his belt as he squinted desperately into the darkness.
A form—a shadow outside... Mike pointed and Bluey nodded in agreement as he lowered his rifle.
The shadow moved unevenly up the path toward the church. Bluey’s face was wet with sweat.
Footsteps—slow—half-staggering. The shadow grew larger and larger. The shadow caromed through the window and over the walls of the church. Mike raised his pistol.
The shadow snapped from sight. The five men cowered against the wall, their weapons turned on the door. It burst open.
“Eleftheria!”
She stood there gasping, dressed only in a skirt and blouse thrown on hastily. Mike saw her face by the candlelight—twisted in terror. She was unable to speak.
“Christos,” he said. He tore the rifle from Bluey’s hands and ran for the door. The four other men pounced on him and wrestled him to the floor.
“You bloody fool! You’ll give us all away!”
Mike’s grasp on the rifle loosened. He gritted his teeth and beat his fist on the wall, then half-staggered to a bench and slumped onto it.
A gush of wind whipped through the church and the flames at the altar danced crazily and lashed weird shadows over the walls.
He looked up at Eleftheria. Her eyes were those of a crazy woman’s. She slid along the wall toward the door. Mike sprang from the bench and grabbed her arm. She screamed hysterically and sunk her teeth into his hand.
German boots coming up the path!
Mike shook her. She opened her mouth to shriek and struggle free. His fist lashed out and thudded against the side of her face. She slumped unconscious into his arms.
“Split up and get out of here!” Mike commanded.
He threw the girl over his shoulder and ran the length of the church toward a small window beside the altar. He pushed Eleftheria through and crawled after.
A thundering crash of a rifle butt against the church door!
Mike lifted the girl into his arms and staggered up the path toward the woods.... Three hundred yards... He ducked behind the first row of trees and sank to his knees and lowered Eleftheria to the ground. He rubbed the numbness from his arms and fought for breath.
A voice shattered the air. “You bloody Huns! You’ll never get Bluey alive!”
A chatter of guns and the voice was still.
Eleftheria stirred on the ground. Her huge eyes snapped open. Mike’s hand clamped over her mouth. She shook violently. Mike dragged her to her feet and pulled her through the forest away from the advancing sounds of boots.
Faster—faster—faster—the brush ripped their clothes and tore into their skins—faster—faster—away from the flashlights—the barking dogs—the commands...
The sound of the Germans grew dimmer and dimmer. Mike clutched at a tree in a dizzy sweat. Eleftheria fell to the ground, sobbing. She rolled over on the dirt, writhing in anguish and her hands tore at her hair and she babbled like a madwoman.
“Get up, you little fool,” Mike gasped. “Get up! We—we’ve got to get away from here. Get up! get up!”
She answered with an hysterical shriek. Mike dragged her to her feet once more and slapped her face again and again until she fell against him weak and mumbling.
He lifted her in his arms and staggered higher into the