by G S Eli
But wait … was that? he wondered. And there she was, the old woman, grasping the emergency brake.
Using the chaos and confusion to his advantage, Jack jumped off the still-moving railcar and into the rolling hills of God-Knows-Where, Germany.
XX
The Hunted
The outskirts of Paderborn were covered in farmland more reminiscent of the wheat and cornfields of Kansas than the European countryside. Mila and Casey had landed in a dirty ditch close to one of the many amber wheat fields that lay alongside the tracks. They picked themselves up, climbed out of the ditch, and began to run. Driven by pure instinct, they ran not away from, but toward the train. It slowed silently a long way down the tracks, with sparks still flying around the wheels from the friction of its violent halt.
“There!” Mila yelled. He pointed, showing Casey where Jack had just jumped off the train. They both impulsively picked up the pace, running along the sprawling wheat fields as fast as they could, desperate to reach their friend, praying they could rescue him before the officer could arrest him, or worse, one of the evil twins attack him again. As they ran, they noticed that Wolfy was following alongside them. His snout was drenched in blood, and he firmly grasped the nail in his jaw, holding on to the treasure as if he had retrieved a bone.
Mila began to fall behind as Casey and Wolfy kept up the pace. With the excitement of the fight and their escape behind him, he became increasingly aware of his many injuries. His ribs ached from being slammed onto the floor of the train. He stumbled along as Casey and Wolfy continued running.
“Hurry, we have to get to Jack!” Casey yelled.
They could both see Jack on the ground in the distance, getting to his feet.
“Thank God!” Casey cried. “He looks OK.”
Jack caught sight of them and began to run to meet them. Casey rushed right up to Jack as Mila slowly trailed behind. She threw her arms around him and pressed her head to his chest. Jack returned the embrace and leaned down to kiss the crown of her head. “Are you all right?” he asked her, “You’re shaking.”
“Yes! But I was so scared,” she said.
They held on to each other for a few more seconds. Jack leaned back to examine her face for the severe damage he feared would be the result of the hitman’s forceful punch. Amazingly, there wasn’t a bruise or mark of any kind marring her beautiful face. “Casey, I saw that guy punch—” he started to say.
“She can’t get hurt, Jack,” Mila said.
“What?” Jack asked, shocked.
A low groan from Wolfy interrupted Jack’s question. He held the nail up to Casey triumphantly. She knelt down, eyes glued to the mesmerizing talisman. “Good boy,” she whispered in a sinister voice that was not her own as she gently took the treasure from the dog.
“Her ankle and all her other injuries are healed,” Mila said.
“It’s true,” Casey replied.
In the distance, they heard voices from passengers and crew who were exiting the train.
“C’mon! C’mon! We gotta go!” Mila broke in as he clutched his right side and cradled his injured ribs. “C’mon! The train’s right there, and the police aren’t gonna stand around waiting for us to get away.”
Wolfy took off running straight into the nearest field. The three teens followed the dog deep into the wheat as fast as they could, hoping for camouflage and protection amid the tall stalks. As the dog ran, the strong pads of his huge paws flattened an impressive amount of wheat, cutting a mini-trail. The plants became thicker as the runners dove farther in.
“You realize we are following a stray dog,” Jack said.
“You got a better idea?” Mila hissed back.
In a whisper, Casey broke in. “As long as Wolfy’s headed away from the train and those creepy twins, he’s going the right way.”
The animal kept a steady stride as if he knew exactly where he was going, but before Wolfy could continue leading them, Mila stopped, panting. All at once, he gasped and doubled over. He held his knee with one hand for balance and clutched his aching ribs with the other hand, trying desperately to catch his breath.
“Wait, Jack!” Casey called over to Jack as he began to head down the road.
“Sorry,” Mila told her. “I must be hurt worse than I thought.”
“Let me take a look,” she told him gently. She examined his injuries and saw that the hitman had really done a number on him. He was sporting a bruised, badly swollen eye, and his nose was bleeding profusely. Was it broken? She couldn’t tell. She put her fingertips on the edge of his black eye to see how bad the swelling was.
“Ow! Stop!” he pleaded.
“OK, OK,” she said, pulling her hand back. “Let me see those ribs.” She reached out and gently pulled his shirt up a few inches. She saw bruises of every color of the rainbow as well as what looked like a broken rib. “I’m no doctor, but I say we need to get you to one fast,” she said.
Mila straightened up and wrapped his arms around his rib cage, trying to somehow ease the pain that racked his chest. Casey could see the excruciating way his face twisted each time he tried to take a breath.
“Mila, you’re really hurt,” she said, her voice a mixture of sympathy and fear.
By now, Jack had doubled back to them. Wolfy stood staring at Casey, wagging his tail slowly from side to side, eager for a cue from the girl to start them off on another run.
“Mila needs first aid,” Casey told Jack.
Almost out of breath, Jack responded. “If we take him to a hospital, he’ll be arrested for kidnapping you.”
“What? What do you mean?” Casey asked.
Jack struggled through his heavy breathing to explain. “We’re being hunted,” he said. “It’s all over the news. I saw it on the iPhone right before the twins got on the train. They think Mila and his friends kidnapped you for ransom. They said you were the niece of Zoe Rich, so there’s an international manhunt for us.”
“Wait, I thought nobody knew who your aunt was,” Mila said to Casey.
“You told Mila, but you didn’t tell me?” Jack said, jealously.
“Relax, I just found out,” Mila said as he leaned over and spit out a wad of blood.
“Jack, never mind who I told first. We really have to get him some help,” Casey said.
Jack paused for a second, acknowledging Mila’s injuries. “Sabina!” he blurted out.
“Who?” Casey and Mila asked in unison.
“Sabina!” Jack repeated.
Mila and Casey looked at him as if he’d gone mad.
“Sabina!” Jack repeated. “Jeez, Mila, she’s your relative. Don’t you remember? The fortune-teller in Paderborn that Simon told us about. Look,” he said, pointing to the road sign just ahead. “Paderborn: 2 Kilometers.” Jack put his strong arm around Mila’s shoulder for support. “Can you manage a slow jog?” he asked.
Mila shakily drew in his breath. “Sure,” he said with bravado. “No problem.”
“Great, let’s stay in the wheat fields but follow the side of the road, that way we can stay out of sight,” Jack said.
Wolfy set out in the direction of Paderborn as if he understood English.
Casey and Jack took turns helping Mila on their short journey. Jack began to fill Casey and Mila in on what the news story had revealed. In no time, they arrived in the city of Paderborn. After cleaning themselves the best they could in a nearby fountain and getting directions from some locals, they found a narrow cobblestone street named Warvenpatter Plaz just off the Rathaus Square. At first glance, the roadway resembled a small alley rather than a functioning street. It was a wonder that small cars could even fit through the tiny road, but despite this hardship, the street had a number of delightful shops. There was an old-fashioned shoemaker as well as a men’s clothing merchant, its display window filled with elegant business suits. A small bakery prov
ided the charming street a wonderful scent of baked goods, and just over the bakeshop was a bay window adorned by a carved wooden sign that simply read: “Sabina.”
When they reached the stairs near the bakeshop, Mila sat down on the curb. It was getting late, and he noticed that the bakery was about to close. There’s no heading to the castle today, he thought. It would have to be in the morning.
Casey, Jack, and Wolfy reached the door at the top of the stairs and began to ring the bell. After a few moments with no answer, Jack peered inside. “What do you see?” Mila asked.
“Just a living room. It looks like no one’s home,” Jack replied.
Suddenly, Casey began to pound hard on the rough old wooden door. Mila and Jack soon realized that she was getting upset. “Sabina!” she yelled, trying to make her voice heard through the solid wooden door. “Sabina! Let us in!”
Casey banged on the door so hard that Mila half expected her to dent it with her fists.
“Hey! Hey! Wo ist das feuer?” asked a heavyset woman wearing a white apron appeared from the bakeshop, holding a broom. Casey paused a moment, distracted. This gave Jack enough time to grab her hand, now bruised from pounding on the door, and to keep her from making any more noise. Casey pulled her wrist free but did not resume her mindless, trancelike assault on the door.
“Guten tag, frau,” Jack said to the woman, conjuring up what little German he knew. “Sprechen sie English?”
“Yes, I do, young man, and I’ll say it in English: where is the fire?” the woman demanded.
Mila had had enough of this and began to speak with the woman. He told her that Sabina was his aunt, he was in town from Romania, and he was looking for her.
“What’s your name?” the woman asked in a thick German accent.
“Simon is my name,” Mila answered.
“And who are these foreigners?” she asked, gazing at Casey and Jack.
“Oh, these are my classmates from the University of Bucharest. I wanted to have them meet my sweet old aunt. She would often play with all of us when we were children back in Romania and tell us fairy tales before she would put us to bed.” Mila paused and then added, “You know—back in Romania.”
“Fairy tales? Sweet old lady?” the woman questioned, with a shocked look on her face and a smirk on her lips.
“Yes, ma’am,” Mila said, knowing that she was not buying his tale.
The woman looked over at the Americans and then back at Mila, giving them a once-over. She noticed that Mila appeared injured.
“Look, young man, I have a lot of work to do, and you look like you need a doctor. I don’t know who this sweet loving lady is you are searching for, because the lady that lives here—” she pointed at the flat window “…is not sweet at all! And the only fairy tales she tells are the ones she gives her gullible clients during readings. You can find her at the Oasis Bar at the end of this street.” With that, she returned to her bakeshop.
Casey, Jack, and Wolfy made their way down the stairs. They stopped next to Mila, who was still sitting on the curb. “We can go check it out and see if she’s there. You can sit here and rest,” Jack said to Mila.
Instead, Mila fought through the pain and got to his feet. “She’ll never believe you. I have to go with you,” he responded.
He trudged down the block with the others to the Oasis Bar. The tavern had a wooden motif. When they first entered, Mila noticed that the bar off to the right looked like it had been carved out of a single oak tree. There were dining tables throughout the rectangular space and a TV toward the back. It was obviously happy hour because the place was packed. There was a balding, middle-aged man tending the bar and a familiar-looking curly-haired waitress handling the tables. Jack and Casey trailed behind Mila. Casey tried to leave Wolfy outside. She held the door open, gesturing to the animal to stay out, but no such luck. He followed her inside.
“Sie können das Tier nicht Hierher bringen!” the bartender yelled across the loud customers sitting at his bar.
Mila turned to Casey and explained that the bartender did not want Wolfy in the bar. Casey made one final attempt to get the dog to leave her, but to no avail. She agreed to wait outside while Jack and Mila scoped the place out for Sabina.
Mila and Jack walked further into the loud bar and looked around the place trying to find an old woman. “She must be at least sixty-five,” Mila said.
There were a lot of people sitting at the large wooden bar. However, there was only one woman, and she was not sixty-five, more like a forty-year-old that drank too much and now could pass for sixty. They turned to look over at the tables, but unfortunately there was no sign of an old lady: just a few middle-aged couples in from work and about a dozen college-aged kids enjoying the football match on the TV.
“Come on, Jack,” Mila said as he turned to walk out.
As Mila was turning to leave, Jack placed his hand on his shoulder to stop him. Mila noticed the expression on Jack’s face. He appeared puzzled, so Mila turned to see what had caught his friend’s attention.
Mila looked past the end of the bar into the corner next to the TV. A group of men were sitting at a table drinking a few pints. Two of them sat locked in a vigorous arm-wrestling match. One was an older biker type with a pointy long beard and leather vest. The other’s back faced Jack and Mila. The stranger’s hair was a mixture of gray and brown. Upon further examination of the patron’s shoulders, Mila noticed that this grayish hair was in fact long, but it was tucked down into the arm wrestler’s shirt. That was when Mila noticed that the stranger was wearing a pearl necklace. Mila spotted a pair of matching pearl earrings. Needless to say, it was awfully odd attire for a man.
Before Mila could put two and two together, the stranger slammed the biker’s fist down to the table, stood up, and turned to the bar shaking both fists in a victory celebration. “Ich gewinne!” the winner shouted.
“Sabina?” Mila exclaimed.
Gypsies can recognize one another anywhere in the world. Some say their spirits speak to one another, but Sabina’s choice of dress—a pair of overalls and a white T-shirt—really threw Mila off. Mila had to look in her eyes to know it was her. Even when she was reveling in victory, her eyes still carried the sadness he saw in every Rom.
The boys quickly made their way to Sabina’s table. By the time they reached her seat, Sabina was sitting down counting her winnings. At first, she did not notice them, even though they were standing right next to her. She just sat there enjoying her win. Beside her, a tobacco pipe rested in an ashtray, a lazy trail of smoke rising from it. As she picked it up to take a puff, she noticed the two teens standing over her table.
“If you want to take your chances arm wrestling with me, you better show me your money first,” Sabina said in German, taking a drag from her pipe.
“Bibío?” Mila said, using the Romani word for aunt.
Sabina sized up the boys for a second. Then she stared at Mila more intensely. “Kon san?” she asked.
“It’s me, Mila, from Romania. Nasta raised me,” he said. “We moved to Berlin when I was a boy.” He paused for a moment to give her a chance to gather her thoughts. “Ma Seades?” he added. “Remember me?”
Sabina stood up and stared deep into Mila’s eyes. They stared at each other a moment. Her shocked face softened, and then her cold eyes began to water. With that, Mila knew he was standing in front of his kin and that she knew him.
Sabina grabbed him in tight embrace. Her crushing hug sent pain shooting through his ribs. “Ow!” Mila groaned.
Sabina quickly pulled back and took another look at him, “You’re hurt!” she exclaimed. “Come on, let’s get you fixed up,” she added, guiding them out the door.
As she led the boys out, pushing customers out of her way, she yelled over to the bartender and ordered him to put her drinks on the tab of the man she had just trounced at arm wrestling. “Who is
this?” she asked Mila, referring to Jack.
“It’s a long story,” Mila answered.
“It always is,” Sabina said, pushing the door open.
XXI
The Healer
Sabina managed to set Mila’s fractured rib back into place, then tightly wrapped up his chest with a white sheet. She slapped a thick cold steak on his eye and replaced the wads of napkin in his nose with clean cotton plugs. Mila was well taken care of, lying on the makeshift triage that was Sabina’s kitchen table. Jack and Casey were in the sitting area of her small flat, drinking an unusual drink that Sabina had prepared for them by pouring tea over slices of fresh apples and oranges. It was sweet and very refreshing, just what they needed after the exhausting day they’d had. As always, Wolfy sat close to Casey, enjoying some scraps.
“I can help you, Sabina!” Casey yelled through the beaded curtain that separated the living room from the kitchen.
“No, that’s perfectly fine. I have it all under control,” Sabina replied.
She turned back to her Mila. It was the second time she’d refused Casey’s help, and she could tell it was upsetting the girl. Sabina couldn’t put her finger on why she didn’t like Casey. The American boy was OK—good, in fact: a good soul, Sabina felt. But the girl—that was a different feeling. Sabina hadn’t really used her true psychic powers in years, but the ability returned to her in the girl’s presence. There was a peculiar gentle tingling sensation in the nerves of her spine when she first saw Casey sitting on the curb outside the Oasis Bar with that bizarre dog indicating that there was something dark about the beautiful girl. Ever since then she had kept her distance, even as she served her the traditional fruit tea.
“Now that you’re all bandaged up, I’m going to give you something for the pain,” Sabina said gently. She grabbed a pill from her cupboard, broke it in half, and handed it to Mila along with a cup of lemon water to wash it down.
