Peter Pišťanek - The End of Freddy

“Geľo,” whispers Telgarth. “Is that you?”

“Can you walk?” asks Geľo.

“I don’t know,” says Telgarth. “I’ll try.”

Only now can he see where he’s been held. It’s a low suburban house made of unbaked brick, of which entire city quarters were built around Űŕģüllpoļ. The ground is covered with mercenaries’ corpses and the whole house is full of Slovak guerrillas in their typical fur hats.

Shooting continues in the neighbourhood.

“Move it faster, men!” somebody shouts from outside.

“Let’s go, Telgarth,” says Geľo, helping his friend.

It’s hard, but finally Telgarth, his teeth clenched, starts to move.

Outside a fight rages for every inch of ground.

“We have to retreat,” says Geľo. “The mercenaries have surrounded the city and are penetrating it. We can’t hold them off much longer!”

Telgarth still can’t pull himself together. He stumbles like a drunk.

“RETREAT TO THE STATION!” shouts Geľo to his men, waving his submachine gun. “WE’LL MEET IN THE STATION HALL.”

“How did you get here?” Telgarth is puzzled.

“We discovered they were about to retake Űŕģüllpoļ,” says Geľo, “so we moved here to help defend the city. They told me you hadn’t got back from hunting.”

“But how did you find me?” asks Telgarth.

“By chance,” says Geľo. “You had the luck of the devil. The mercenaries didn’t move your car. So that’s how we traced you. We stormed the house and shot everyone.”

Telgarth sighs in relief, but does not let on. This way, at least, his cowardly betrayal will stay forever secret.

“They tortured me,” he says, “but couldn’t get anything out of me. I spat in their faces.”

“Sure, Telgarth,” Geľo nods. “You’re one of us. But move faster! We must reach the station before the Junjans get through our defences.”

“Too bad you’ve killed them,” says Telgarth, “I wanted to get the commander alive so I could play with him for a while until he curses his own mother for giving birth to him.”

“Tökörnn Mäodna?” says Geľo. “He gave us the slip.”

“That was Tökörnn Mäodna?” Telgarth is amazed. “The mercenary leader himself? If I’d known, I’d have strangled him with these two hands!”

“When we had them surrounded, he tried to negotiate with me, but I wasn’t having it,” says Geľo. “I’m not as good at it as you are. I don’t want to listen to any stories, and so I whacked him right away. But he had a bulletproof vest under his jacket, the bastard. He played dead for a while, and took off when no one was looking.”

Telgarth is quiet. He has such a bad conscience that he can’t even look Geľo in the eye with his single eye. He can only look at him sidelong, or with his peripheral vision. When he talks to him, he looks at his chest. He’s upset that a witness to his temporary loss of will and morale has escaped.

Running is hard for him, but he can do it. He had been right about one thing: this sort of torture does no permanent damage. Now he has an opportunity to prove it on himself.

Somewhere nearby a mortar grenade explodes.

“There are coupled locomotives with ten carriages at the station, ready to go,” says Geľo. “We’ll all board and force our way through the encirclement with the locomotive. The mercenaries left the track intact, they’ve no idea that we’ve got two locomotives left. By the time they work that out, we’ll be in the taiga.”

There is no mortar bombardment round the station. Relative calm reigns here. The station hall is filled with guerrillas and civilians. They all are getting into the passenger carriages and goods wagons. The locomotives are bathed in steam and smoke. They radiate heat and power. You can hear the locomotives’ hissing and regular rhythmic breathing.

“If there’s anything that you need in your office, go and get it,” says Geľo to Telgarth. “But hurry.”

“Of course I do,” says Telgarth. “I have a computer there. All my work’s on it. Even a bit of constitution that I started devising just a few days ago.”

“Right,” says Geľo, though it’s clear he has no idea what Telgarth is on about. “Put it in the HQ carriage. It’s the one just behind the locomotives. But be quick. The mercenaries will be here in a few minutes.”

Telgarth runs to his office. He takes the computer and printer and puts them in the HQ carriage. Then he goes back for a few pieces of clothing and a hunting rifle. An explosion comes from outside. Telgarth looks out of the window. From every street leading to the railway station square the guerrillas, pushed out by the mercenaries, are retreating.

“Move faster,” shouts Geľo in the corridor. “We leave in a moment.”

Telgarth runs through the hall and into the empty station hall. Guerrillas are getting on the train through every door and window and settling onto the flat beds of the goods wagons. The whole train bristles with weapons. The locomotive sounds the long departure call. Freddy gets into the HQ car.

Shooting now comes from the immediate surroundings of the station. The noise of the shots echoes among the station hall columns, veneered in fake marble. The last guerrillas run in. The locomotives puff and the creaking train begins to move. Armed men jump on the train; they grab proffered hands, handles and railings.

Pulled by two locomotives, the train gathers speed and shoots out of the station hall. Freddy can see a group of mercenaries entering the empty hall. A flash of fire comes from their weapons. A few bullets drum on the carriages. One guerrilla clutches his belly and falls onto the track. But the other shots miss.

The train hurls through the suburbs of New Bystrica, rattling over the points. Then the rattling stops. A long straight track opens up in front of them, aimed at the very heart of taiga. The city and its columns of smoke stay far behind them.

“We’ll be back soon,” Geľo stubbornly threatens the vanishing silhouette of the city. “And then we’ll stay for good!”

Freddy finally has time to collect himself. The guerrillas have managed to load all the important equipment onto the train, including a generator. Nothing is missing.

“And where are we going now?” Freddy asks.

“Up north,” says Geľo. “As far as we can. The mercenaries may pursue us, but they don’t stand a chance. At least not on the track. There are no working locomotives left in Űŕģüllpoļ. We chose the most powerful ones and blew up the boilers of the others with hand grenades. We’ll leave the train on the north coast. It’ll be fine there. Local hunters will lend us sledges to get us to Kresan. He’s got weapons, ammunition, and other supplies. Whatever the Czechs brought to Űŕģüllpoļ by submarine and by air has had to be left there. Now we’re short of munitions.”

“To Kresan?” Telgarth asks: dark foreboding comes over him.

“Yes, to Kresan,” says Geľo indifferently. “We’ll wait for the mercenaries there.”

“How do you know they’ll come?” Telgarth asks.

“They’ll come,” Geľo says. “You lured them into that trap.”

“How do you know?” Telgarth is shocked.

“Mäodna told me before he played dead,” replies Geľo. “The Junjans will think that we fled to the northern islands to hide. Some of them will follow us up there and some, led by Tökörnn Mäodna, will set out for Kresan’s settlement, as you thought they would. And we’ll be lying in wait for them. We’ll destroy them and take Tökörnn Mäodna prisoner.”

“He’ll be mine,” Telgarth’s eyes flash.

“Have it your way,” says Geľo and looks Telgarth in the eye with a gaze that forces him to lower his eye.