No Dawn for Men by LePore James. Davis Carlos

Author:LePore, James.,Davis, Carlos.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FICTION/Thrillers
Publisher: Perseus Books, LLC
Published: 2013-07-17T00:00:00+00:00

30.

The Schorfeide Forest

October 8, 1938, 6:00 a.m.

“How far are they, do you estimate?”

“A kilometer, two at the most.”

Professor Tolkien, who had stayed at the rear of the single file of trekkers throughout the long night, had moved to the front to be near Trygg Korumak.

“We have to stop,” Tolkien said. “We can’t outrun them.”

“I agree,” said Korumak, who the next instant was standing on a five-foot-high boulder gesturing to the rest of the party, who had all stopped at the crest of a low ridge to listen to the frenetic howling and yelping of the pack of bloodhounds at their heels. How did he move so quickly? Tolkien asked himself, not for the first time since their journey began. Did I actually see him leap onto that boulder?

“Goering has sent out hounds,” Korumak said to the group once they had gathered at the foot of the boulder. When he first heard the howling an hour ago, very much in the distance, Tolkien hoped it was a pack of wolves surrounding a wounded stag, and had said as much to Professor Shroeder. But the sounds had followed them until there was no other conclusion to be drawn. Wolves did not bark. Wolves did not hunt men.

“How far are they?” asked Professor Shroeder.

“A kilometer or two.”

They had marched in single file all night, stopping once for fifteen minutes in a dry streambed to rest their legs and eat some of Dagna’s bread. The terrain was gentle at first as they passed through Goering’s hunting park, but had gotten rougher as, led by Korumak, they made their way due east. The last ten kilometers had been rocky, a glacial spill, Korumak had called it. Boulders large and small were interspersed among the tall pine and oak trees that covered the forest. The bread—it must have been the bread, Tolkien said to himself—had not only sustained them, but given them energy they could never have dreamed of having after eating normal food. Even Shroeder, seventy-eight years old, had not complained as they walked rapidly, staying within inches of each other, along deer paths, under dense foliage, and over bramble-covered ridges, through the black, moonless night. Over the last couple of kilometers the false dawn had dimly lit their way and now they could see a thin line of red at the horizon.

“How many, do you think?” Tolkien asked.

“A dozen hounds, a half-dozen men,” Korumak replied.

“How much time?”

“Ten minutes for the dogs, twenty for the men.”

“I have an idea,” Tolkien said. He had been scanning their surroundings, picking features out of the murky light that spread like fog when night is on the precipice of day. Behind them was another rock formation, boulders piled on boulders. One group formed a triangular opening the size of a small man.

“Gylfi, Dagna, everyone, can I have your scarves?” said Tolkien.

“Yes,” five voices replied at once, as all began unwrapping their thick, brown woolen scarves.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.