THE GREEN KING (part 9)
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The Photographer
from Salzburg
‘Austrian,’
said Reb.
The man was
pulling him now, but to no avail. The mixed layer of earth and lime loosened a
bit more, revealing Zaccharius’s body, the buttock and back entire eaten away.
‘Oh, God,’
exclaimed the man, beginning to rech again.
Reb’s huge
grey eyes followed his every move.
‘And you,
what is your nationality?’ Reb asked.
‘American,’
answered the young soldier.
His heaving
had subsided. He managed to stand and meet the gaze of the amazing grey eyes.
‘There are
perhaps more survivors besides you…’
‘I don’t
think so,’ said Reb. ‘They shot each of us in the back of the head.’
His speech
was extraordinarily slow and calm. He moved his left hand. ‘You will not be
able to get me out alone,’ he said. I’m not lying flat. Actually, they buried
me almost standing. Is there anyone else with you?’.
‘The United
States Army,’ replied Settiniaz, without any sense of the absurdity of his
answer and without the slightest intention of being humorous. He was bewildered
and almost frightened by the man’s calm. And, incredible as it seemed, he
thought he detected the spark of gaiety in the light eyes.
‘In that case,
you might be able to get some help. What is your name?’
‘Settiniaz.
David Settiniaz. My father was Frech.’
Silence. The
lietenant hesitated.
‘Go,’ ordered
Reb Klimrod, with the same hallucinatory softness. ‘Hurry, please. I am finding
it hard to breath. Thank you for coming. I will not forget.’
The grey eyes had an odd gleam.
TO BE CONTINUED
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I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
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