Field of Blackbirds by Clayton Jeppsen & Lindsey Jeppsen (best ebook reader ubuntu .txt) 📕

pushed the sliding door shut. But it didn’t latch from the inside. Reed climbed a little ladder and looked over the edge to see if he could latch it. That way the car might skip an inspection.
He put one leg over the edge and that’s when he saw light pop through two cars in front of him. He froze. It was a yard clerk. Luckily the clerk’s eyes were confined to the parameters of his flashlight. Reed was not yet within that parameter. He slowly pulled his leg back into the car and ducked silently inside.
The yard clerk began banging a stick on each of the cars as he passed. Reed wondered what he could possibly accomplish by doing that; unless he knew the sound of a hollow car. And maybe he knew which cars were supposed to be empty.
When the yard clerk got to their car he rapped his night stick against the walls and listened. He paused longer then usual and then he rapped again. The sound echoed in their ears. Then, they could hear the shifting of the medal handle on the sliding door. Reed silently motioned the guys to stand flat against the same wall the door was on. They each pressed their bodies firmly against the cold, pitted steel.
A ray of light cut through the darkness. Everyone tried to control their breathing. Otto, bearing the largest chest also had the loudest lungs. Fortunately, the silence was already compromised by the sirens and barking dogs. But the dimmest glow of light could prove to be fatal.
The light moved slowly, over the bare, rusted walls. Then it hit the tip of Marcielli’s boot and the light stopped. Marcielli could see half of the clerk’s bill shadowed, stone face. He thought of jumping out and shooting the man. The thought was probably on all of their minds. But Marcielli waited, and the light moved away from his boot. The sound of barking dogs was around them now, which diverted the yard clerk’s attention. The light disappeared and the sound of his boots crunching over the cinders brought comfort to them all.
Reed spoke the obvious. “We have to keep moving.” He slowly slid open the door on the other side of the car; scanned the breezeway between the long trains and climbed down. Once everyone was out, they crossed under the darkest shadows to the third train and waited between two cars. Otto reached into his jacket and pulled out a second weapon; his Sig 9mm handgun.
Reed looked surprised.
“Sorry, Reed, I couldn’t pack just one gun.” Otto admitted. Both Angelo and Marcielli were shaking their heads.
“You can’t fire that weapon unless we’re being shot at. Do you understand?” asked Reed in a serious whisper. “It’s too loud.”
“Understood.” said Otto.
“Look.” exclaimed Marcielli, pointing to the next train over. “It’s moving.”
“It’s leaving the yard. Let’s go.”
Reed checked the next breezeway. It was clear. They waited for the last car to pass and judged their speed as they jogged. Otto jumped on first with the case. Angelo ran next to the platform and held out his arm. Otto pulled him up. Reed was next. Marcielli had to run the fastest which seemed to be effortless for the soccer champ.
Just as Marcielli closed the distance, something came flying out from under the next train in a furious rage. Marcielli looked over his shoulder and saw a black mass at his feet. He knew it was a police dog. The glowing row of flesh ripping teeth authenticated his fear. He could feel the dog’s panting breath against his clothes with every bark. Marcielli pushed harder, but the dog stayed with him. His pants began to tear over his calf. He felt the dog’s cold wet nose against his skin, saliva now dripping down his leg. Now he was feeling an honest burn in his lungs as his mind pushed his body where it never wanted to go.
Angelo pointed his weapon but Marcielli was in the way. He couldn’t get a clear shot.
Finally, Marcielli felt Otto’s strong grip tug him upward. The dog was unsuccessful in sinking his anchors. Marcielli was catching his breath now, sitting at the edge of the platform. The dog was still chasing, barking. It was going to tip their escape, Marcielli thought. He pointed his weapon into the mad face of his opponent. He hesitated.
“Shoot him Marcielli. He’s going to give us away.” ordered Reed.
Marcielli pulled the trigger. The dog yelped and rolled into a ball of dust over the cinder and rocks where it came to rest, motionless. The train was out of the yard. No one had seen them.

************

Reed verified every small town they passed on his map until finally, the signs were written in a different language; Hungarian. They’d made it. The sun woke, just in time to greet them. It was a new day, a new hope, and for some, Otto raised the case to the sky, a new life.


Chapter 43 – No More Blood to Bleed


“We’ve no more blood to bleed, no more tears to weep.” he said.

************

The children burst into harmonious laughter as she poured her heart out for them. Their smiles contradicted the scars, the memories, the empty stomachs and the tear-cut, dirt faces. It was beautiful Milla thought, and it made it all worth it. She pinched the edges of her dress and brought her arms out, twirling into song;


“Hello.

Oh.
Did I frighten you?

Wait. Wait, please.
Don’t run away

Now that I’ve found you,
Here what I have to say.

One song

I have but one song

One song only for you

One heart tenderly beating

Ever entreating

One love

That has possessed me

One love thrilling me through

One love

My heart keeps singing

Of one love

Only for you.”


Milla loved theatre. It made her feel like she was in school again where there wasn’t so much suffering all around her. But these epic performances, here in Split, were the most gratifying of all. Oscars, Grammies, and even Nobel Peace prizes were awarded her every time innocence returned home, through the wide grin of a child.
Over the last three weeks, Milla never missed an afternoon to volunteer her talents in the Great Lecture Hall, nestled in the steep banks of the Mediterranean. Her audience consisted of tired refugees, fresh off the bus, to returning loyal fans throughout the city and the children always crowded the first few rows.

“Heigh-ho, heigh-ho,
Its home from work we go!

Jiminy Crickets!

The door is open
The chimney’s smoking.”


A little dwarf stumbled onto the stage; blond bobbed hair and deep blue eyes, short and innocent, yes, there she was, a drop of color in a black and white painting and buried in rags five sizes too big. Sofi played a very convincing Happy.


“Well uh, what is it?

Why, i-it’s a girl!

She’s mighty pretty.

She’s beautiful, just like an angel.”


Milla grabbed a broom and danced through the cardboard painted cottage. Her seven little friends had saved her from the poisonous apple.


“Good bye Doc, good bye Happy
Good bye Sneezy, Grumpy, Bashful and Sleepy
Good bye Dopey.

Some day when spring is here

We’ll find our love anew

And the birds will sing

And wedding bells will ring

Someday, when my dreams

Come true!”


The crowd stood and cheered as always. Milla bowed behind her seven little friends. And when she rose, when she looked up, she saw him. There he was in the audience, standing taller than anyone else. He was glowing with a renewed look of achievement and satisfaction. His magnificent blue eyes were like sapphires waiting to be discovered, waiting to adorn her skin. Her poise failed her as his sudden presence stole the very breath from her lungs. A fairytale ending indeed.
One thought, one feeling, one act of love executed dominion over all the rest; run to him. She