Zone Zero by John Robb

Author:John Robb [Robb, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Endeavour Media
Published: 2018-06-20T22:00:00+00:00

2. One Gun…

D’Aran did not sleep that night.

He writhed against his bonds like a man in a fever. His mind was a hot tumult. He tried to calculate the diminishing hours to dawn. But he had lost all sense of time. There was only blackness. Only the night was real. The night and the fear which stalked within him.

Supposing they failed?

But they were almost certain to fail! It was not really a plan they were going to put into operation. It was a mad tilt at the wheel of chance. A gambler’s last throw against odds of a thousand to one.

It all turned on at least one gun and an extra clip of ammunition. One was as important as the other. A Luger alone, holding a mere ten rounds, would be next to useless. Those additional cartridges were essential;

But would they get either?

It would be a divine act of providence if they managed to snatch the pistol from the guard. But surely the Divinity would not intervene twice!

Non, it would fail. And some would die with slugs in their bellies. Just as the Russian had died. But it would be worthwhile. In fact, those who were shot would be lucky. Better to go that way than to be trussed like cattle and await the explosion.

And why should he, D’Aran, worry? He had nothing to live for.

That safe in the orderly room...it would surely be opened by now. And he would be branded a thief. A cheap little upstart. A disgrace to the uniform of France.

Lucinne…

Dieu! He hadn’t thought of her for days! Yet she had possessed him once. Held his whole body and mind in serfdom. And now…now he could think of her with cold indifference. He could see her for what she was. Well, what was she?

A tramp!

Oui, a tramp in rich clothes! And Lieutenant D’Aran had been a piece of garbage she had picked up, then tossed aside!

He started to laugh. A low-pitched but hysterical laugh. It stopped when Legionnaire Keith Tragarth whispered: “You all right, mon officier?”

So the Englishman was awake, too!

Legionnaire Tragarth would die tomorrow—or was it today? He would either die at dawn when their bonds were unfastened, or at 15.00 hours in the afternoon…

But Tragarth would die honourably. Like a man. Tragarth did not know the agonising humiliation of hating oneself.

Ah out, lucky Legionnaire Keith Tragarth!

*

Damn you, you’re yellow! Keith told himself.

You always were yellow. Didn’t you shake your pants off when the creeping barrage started at Alamein? Oh yes; you got through all right! You managed to fight it down and you got a Mention in Despatches. Plus a nice spray of laurel leaves to stick on your medal ribbons. But God, no one knew how scared you’d been!

The same in Italy.

Before the first bloody attack on Monte Casino you got down on your knees and prayed when no one was looking. Yes, prayed! Pleaded for a little guts!

And hadn’t you been glad when you got a gun-shot wound in your leg!

It meant safety in a base hospital while better men were being blown to bits.

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