Dennis Wheatley: Faked Passports

"No. It was a near thing, though. What filthy luck that we happened to be right on the sky line just as the plane went up! If we'd crossed the crest a moment earlier or a moment later we might have got away unseen."

"Anyway, we're spotted now and the hunt is up," Gregory muttered, and they began to wriggle quickly forward on their stomachs.

Bullets hummed and whistled through the grass but the flames from the burning plane lit only the slope up which they had come and the far side of the crest was in almost total darkness. The Boches were now firing blind, so there was little chance of their scoring a hit, and when the two fugitives had progressed about twenty yards down the further side of the slope they were sufficiently under cover to be safe again for the moment.

Standing up, they began to run once more and Gregory said: " I suppose you had a time bomb in the plane?"

"Yes; we always carry one to prevent our aircraft falling into the hands of the enemy if we have to make a forced landing. I pulled out the pin while you were still rolling about the upturned roof of the cabin."

"Good man I You know, I like you. Charlton; although I'm afraid I haven't given you any cause to fall in love with me. It takes nerve to remember a thing like that just after you've narrowly escaped being shot to hell and breaking your neck into the bargain."

"Thanks." Freddie Charlton's voice was non committal. "It wasn’t your fault that we were shot down, although you were just on the point of behaving like a lunatic. Anyhow, there's no sense in my bearing you any malice about that now. We're in this filthy mess together, so we may as well be pleasant to each other until we're caught and bunged into separate cells."

"That's the idea;" Gregory panted; "but with a little luck we'll give these birds the slip yet. Old soldiers never die, you know; they only fade away. I've been in tougher spots than this in my time and I've always succeeded in fading."

"You'll need the fairy's cloak of invisibility and the giant's seven league boots into the bargain to fade out of this mess, but I give you full marks for guts and optimism."

"Thanks. I Gregory's words were cut short by the crack of a single rifle which was instantly followed by an irregular volley. The soldiers had breasted the rise and were spraying the lower ground with random shots in the hope that one of them might find a mark.

"Hell " Charlton exclaimed. "Can you put on a spurt?"

"Yes," muttered Gregory through his teeth. "Head a bit more to the right! When the plane blew up I spotted a dark patch of woodland over there."

"So did I" Charlton grabbed Gregory's good arm to support his failing strength and they dashed forward together.

The ground beneath their flying feet was still grassland so they were making good going, but as they glanced over their shoulders from time to time they saw from the flashing torches in their rear that the soldiers had spread out into a long line. It was a case of fox and hounds where, although the fox may be the faster, hounds always win in the long run unless the fox can go to earth. If they could not find cover fairly soon the fastest among their pursuers would wear them down and inevitably come up with them.

Two hundred yards further on Charlton stumbled and fell, pitching into a deep ditch. Gregory's wound was paining him again, badly now, and his breath was rasping in his lungs, but he still had all his wits about him. Pulling up just in time he prevented himself from plunging after the airman.

With curses and groans Charlton regained his feet. Gulping for breath they clambered up the further bank of the ditch together to find themselves on a road. It was very dark but ahead of them lay a deeper blackness and on the far side of the road they both stumbled into tree trunks. They had reached the wood.

Under the branches the blackness was absolutely pitch dark and, as they blundered on, they were constantly running into trees or bramble bushes. The next few moments were a positive nightmare. Behind them they could hear the staccato orders of the officer who was urging his men after them and the guttural cries of the Germans keeping in touch with one another. Their pursuers were already crossing the ditch and coming up on to the road, yet owing to the density of the wood and their inability to see even a few inches ahead of them the fugitives seemed to have made practically no progress. They were barely twenty yards inside the wood, still panting from their long run, bruised by collisions with trees unseen in the darkness and their hands torn by strands of bramble which clutched at them from every side, when the torches of the soldiers began to flicker upon the trees hat lined the roadside.

As they struggled on, sweating and panting, the twigs under their feet seemed to snap with reports like the crackle of musketry and they both felt convinced that the noise would give away heir position. One of the soldiers started to shoot again and gullets whined away to their left but on a sharp order from the officer the firing ceased. He did not want his men endangered by their own bullets, which might ricochet off the tree trunks.

Gasping, bleeding, bruised, almost exhausted, Gregory and Charlton blundered desperately forward, keeping in touch with. each other by the noise they were compelled to make in forcing heir way through the unseen undergrowth. Gradually the sounds of the pursuit faded in the distance and at last they could rear only the noise of their feet thrashing against the brambles. Instinctively they halted.

"What did I tell you?" chuckled Gregory, after he had had a chance to get his breath. "You were so certain that they'd catch is but we're still free."

"For how long, though?" Charlton muttered gloomily. "I expect they're on their way back to their comfortable beds by row but they'll be out here again first thing in the morning. What’s the sense in spending a night in this filthy wood only to be captured to morrow?"

"We're better off here than we should be in the cells of the local Gestapo. As for to morrow, we'll see. If only I were fit we'd put a dozen miles between ourselves and this wood before morning. The devil of it is that this wound of mine makes it impossible for me to go much further."

"Is it hurting much?"

"Yes; like hell " Gregory was leaning against a tree and re drew a hand wearily over his eyes. "If we'd had to run another half mile I should have fainted again, I think. As it is, I'm about all in."

"We'd better shake down here for the night, then."

"I suppose we must, although I'm damned if I like it. We're till much too near that road for comfort. I'm good for a last effort but I don't think we'd better risk trying to get deeper into this wood in the darkness. otherwise we may move round in a circle and walk right out of it again. Let's look about for a spot that's clear of these accursed blackberry bushes."

Charlatan got out his lighter and flicked it on. The tiny flame only lit the surrounding gloom sufficiently to show his face caked with sweat and congealed blood where low branches had scratched it.

"I can improve on that," said Gregory, taking a box of hatches from his pocket. "It's the first time I've had cause to be thankful that owing to their tax on matches the Nazis don't allow lighters in their country."

As the match flared they could see that the wood about them was very dense and the ground almost entirely covered with undergrowth. Proceeding cautiously they made their way towards a place where the trees were not quite so thick and found that the break was caused by a shallow gully.

"This'll do," said Gregory; "in fact it'll have to, as the longer we show a light the greater our danger."

Side by side they sat down in the ditch. It was quite dry and soft from the accumulation of leaf mould and leaves which lad covered it through the years. Gregory eased his tired limbs, propped his back against the bank and produced his cigarettes. They shielded Charlton's lighter and lit up. As the flame was licked out the surrounding darkness closed in about them once more, seeming blacker than ever. After smoking in silence for a little they recovered somewhat from their exertions and began to feel the cold. Charlton remarked upon it bitterly.