Heroes by David Hagberg (books under 200 pages .TXT) 📕

considering the vast forces the U.S. had sent into the field, seemingly unlimited.

The train stopped in South Bend for about ten minutes, then headed out again.

Schey was becoming uncomfortable. In the west there had been wide open spaces. Places for them to run, if the need arose.

Here, the closer they came to New York City, the more he began to feel a sense of claustrophobia.

It was possible, he told himself, that the FBI had gotten on the train at South Bend. It was an unscheduled stop.

It was even possible that they would wait until New York City.

They’d wait until he and Eva got off the train and then take them.

After lunch he lay down for a while to try to get some sleep while Eva read some of the magazines the porter had brought around. But he could not calm down. Every few minutes he would turn his head so that he could see out the window to make sure they were not slowing down again.

He went over an dover in his mind the possibilities of escape from here. Actually, they were much nearer to Canada at this point than they would be in New York City. But Canada was not the safety zone. There’d be an airstrip somewhere in Newfoundland, and a plane waiting to take them home. Until they got to Germany, they would be enemies in a foreign country.

Schey got up after a while and went down to the club car where he had a couple of drinks and a cigarette. But some salesmen from Chicago were arguing loudly about the Chicago Cubs versus the Brooklyn Dodgers. They were drunk, and when they tried to involve him in their discussion about batting averages, he left.

He and Eva had dinner early. Although the meal was excellent, Schey had no taste for it. He was extremely jumpy, and Eva picked up on his mood. She too became very tense and nervous.

Back in their compartment, they got ready for bed, but neither of them could sleep, and after a couple of hours, Schey got up, got dressed, and made sure their bags were packed.

“Are they going to be waiting for us?” Eva asked from where she lay on the top bunk.

The compartment was dark. Schey sat by the window, smoking as he watched the lights of the towns pass them.

“I don’t know …” he started to say, but then he turned toward her, suddenly realizing what he was doing. He shook his head. “I don’t think so. They’ll trace us to the train sooner or later. But not this quickly. It’ll take them time to cover that much territory. It’s a long way from Albuquerque to Denver. And then they have to question all the ticket agents.” He shook his head again. “It’s not even likely anyone will remember us.”

“Are you sure, Bobby?” Eva asked.

He wanted to shout that no, he wasn’t sure. Instead he nodded in the darkness. “Of course. Now try to get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a busy day.”

She was quiet then, and after a bit he put out his cigarette and laid his forehead on the cool window glass. He was asleep almost immediately.

Something was terribly wrong. Schey woke with a start, his mouth gummy, his neck stiff, his head throbbing. They had stopped. There were a lot of people just outside his window. He could hear a public address system blaring something. And there was the smell of a big city.

He realized finally that they had arrived. This was Perm Station.

“Are we here?” Eva asked sleepily from the top bunk.

Schey got up. There were a lot of red caps and porters on the platform, but every second person seemed to be a serviceman. So far as Schey could see, there were no cops, but a battalion of them could have been out there; there was such a crowd on the platform it was impossible to pick out anyone.

“We have to get out of here now,” he said.

Eva hopped down from the bunk, splashed some cold water on her face, ran a comb through her hair, and then tossed the rest of her things in her bag.

Schey had opened the door. Their porter came and he slipped the man a twenty-dollar bill.

“Need some help with your bags, folks?”

“No, thanks,” Schey said.

Eva was ready, and he took her arm and led her down the corridor and out onto the crowded platform. They headed toward the stairs that led up to the main hall and the exits. As they walked, Schey half expected to feel a hand on his shoulder, hear a stern voice ordering them to stop. But nothing happened, and soon they were upstairs in the main hall.

The station was very busy this morning, although it was a Sunday. Another train besides the Twentieth Century had come in, and one transcontinental train was apparently about to leave.

There were soldiers everywhere, and military policemen were stationed, it seemed, at every column.

They stood off to one side for a moment or two, watching the activity, listening to the din of announcements and a thousand conversations all going on at the same time.

“Are we going to get a hotel?” Eva asked. “I’d like to take a proper bath.”

“I don’t think so,” Schey said. He started across the big hall.

“I want to be out of the city by noon.”

“What? … So soon?” Eva sputtered, keeping up with him.

On the far side of the hall, Schey set his bag down in front of a phone box and dug in his pocket for a nickel.

“Are you going to call from here? Right now?” Eva asked, looking around.

“The sooner, the better,” Schey said. He slipped inside, dropped the nickel in the slot, and dialed a number he had learned by heart years ago. It rang three times before a man answered.

“Yeah?” There was a lot of background noise; it sounded like a factory.

“Is this Frankel Importing/Exporting?”

The speaker hesitated. “Who wants to know?”

“Uncle Willi asked me to call and say hello.”

Again the man