Part 3


He was running through the night again. And again, he didn’t know where he was going or what he’d find. But this time, he wasn’t injured or hurt. At least not physically.

He did hurt though.

In his mind.

In his heart.

In his soul.

He ran through the woods away from Joshua’s farm, toward what he hoped was some of Joshua’s friends, toward anyone who would help him save Joshua, help him get Joshua away from the German’s who had entered the house and taken him away.

Taken Joshua away. To where…to what…

Justin ran, and remembered.

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

They asked Joshua questions, rummaged through the house, and when they headed toward the bedroom, Justin had slipped through the window, listening to their conversations, peeking up to watch. Joshua never looked at the open window, though he must have known. And though admittedly Justin’s French was lousy, he thanked God and Uncle Sam for his knowledge of German.

”You’re not alone here?” one soldier asked, indicating the messy bed and two pillows.

“I wasn’t, but I am now.” Joshua replied. “What is this about?”

“Where were you last Friday evening?”

“With friends at the café.”

“Not blowing up a munitions cache?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

A voice from outside the bedroom sounded. “Lieutenant! A rifle!”

“You have weapons?” the lieutenant asked.

“I have a rifle…keeps the rabbits from my garden.”

“There was a edict passed. No weapons held by civilians.” He grabbed roughly Joshua by the arm. “You’d better come with us.”

Justin waited until doors were slammed, then slipped around the house. He watched as Joshua was thrown into a truck. Their eyes met across the dark yard, Joshua shaking his head slightly, warning Justin not to try anything.

He watched the truck pull away, hands fisted in impotent anger.

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

He saw a light and headed toward it. He crept up to the house and peered inside, releasing the breath he held when he realized that two of the men who had been with Joshua on Friday were inside. He moved to the door, pounding against the hard planks with his fists.

“Open up!” he screamed.
“Open…shit… Öffnen Sie die Tür… Justin pounded and screamed. “Oh, god…OPEN THE GODDAM DOOR!”

The door opened suddenly, causing Justin to fall to his knees. He looked up at the angry faces on the other side of the rifle pointed at his head. He slowly held raised his hands, locking them behind his head. “Please…. S'il vous plait…I need your help…”

“Américain?” one of the men said to the other one. “Soldat?”

The other man nodded. “Evidemment,” he said, poking Justin’s uniform with his rifle. “What do you want?” he asked in English.

Justin sighed in relief, lowering his hands, only to put them back up as the rifle was pushed closer to his face. “Joshua’s been taken by the German’s…we have to help him.”

The men exchanged a glance. “How do you know Joshua?”

“He helped me when I was injured,” Justin explained. “He’s been hiding me for a week.” Justin braved the men and stood up, keeping his hands behind his head. “Look, it’s because all of you blew up that munitions cache last week that Joshua was taken. Somehow, they traced it back to him, and now he’s in custody.”

“You were injured?” the man asked. “How?”

Justin slowly lowered his hands to his chest, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it away from the bandage on his chest. “I was shot in a firefight with a squad of German soldiers,” he said, displaying the wound for both men. “Joshua was…he saved my life,” Justin finished, his voice thick with emotion.

The man narrowed his eyes at Justin’s words. “What else do you know of Joshua?” he asked pointedly.

Justin’s eyes locked with his and understood. “I know enough,” he answered. “I know he was in the army, his farm is actually a vineyard, his father just died, and that he lost his wine but saved his chickens.” Justin reached out quickly and pulled the rifle out of the man’s hands, flipping it around and pointing it back at him. “And I know that I love him, and he needs help. Now.” Justin cocked the rifle, aiming it at the man. “Time is running out. I need to know if you’re going to help me or not, and I need an answer now.”

The man exchanged a glance at the other man, then smiled.
“Quelles balles que ces américains ont, no?” He nodded. “Calm now, Américain. We’ll help if we can.”

Justin looked from one to the other, then handed the rifle back. “Thank you,” Justin said simply, following the men inside the house.

It was another simple farmhouse, much like Joshua’s. At the kitchen table sat the third man who was with Joshua the other night, and a woman. “This is Rene,” one of the men said, “this Etienne, and this is Julianne.” He sat at the table, laying the rifle on his lap, pulling out a chair for Justin. “And I am Francois.” He picked up a spoon and started eating from a bowl on the table. “They do not speak English, so I will tell them what happened.”

Justin sat and watched as Francois explained to the others in the kitchen. He understood a few words here and there, and heard “Joshua” spoken from time to time, but other than that, he was lost. Francois must have said something to Julianne about feeding Justin because she rose from the table and went to the stove, spooning out a stew into a bowl and bringing it over to Justin. She smiled at Justin as she placed it in front of him, and Justin nodded his thanks before eating. Francois said something to her in French, causing her to glare at him, then shake her head sadly. The others laughed.

“What was that all about?” Justin asked around a mouthful of stew, not liking being the object of jokes he didn’t understand.

“I told her not to bother, that you were not interested in her kind of sex,” he explained. Justin blushed, causing the men to laugh again. “Do not fret. We French believe all is good in matters of the heart.” He slapped Justin lightly on his cheek. “We do not care, Américain, who you choose to love. But that you had the good taste to choose Joshua says a lot to us, as we all love him as well.” He drained his wine glass. “Now, here’s what we’re going to do about getting him back.”

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

“Are you sure this is safe for her?” Justin asked again.

They were in the village near Joshua’s farm, sitting outside at a café. Across from the café was the German military headquarters for this area of France. Francois had explained before they could do anything, they needed to make sure that Joshua was still even here, and hadn’t been transported yet. Justin had paled at the thought. So the plan was for Julianne to enter the military stronghold and gather intelligence. Justin was concerned about placing a woman in such a precarious position.

Francois chuckled at Justin’s concern. “Don’t worry about Julianne,” he explained. “She’s been doing this for two years, ever since her parents were deported for hiding Jews.” He said something in French to Julianne, causing the woman to rise from the table. She adjusted her low-cut dress, smiled down at Justin, and walked across the street, disappearing into the building where they hoped Joshua was still being held.

Justin’s eyes skimmed the area surrounding the café. He was, to put it mildly, uncomfortable being so close to a large contingent of German soldiers. He sipped his wine, pulling the hat he’d been given closer over his eyes.

Francois leaned in to whisper in his ear. “If you don’t relax, you’ll get us all killed,” he told Justin flatly.

Their eyes locked, and Francois smiled, offering Justin a cigarette. Justin smiled, nodded, and took the cigarette, leaning into the match Francois lit. “I’m sorry…I’m just not good at this kind of thing.”

Francois shrugged. “None of us were, until we had to be,” he explained, lighting his own cigarette. “All Joshua wanted to do was grow his grapes and make his wine, but the army and the war intervened, yes?” He checked is watch. “And I was to be a priest,” Francois confessed, his voice wry.

“You can still do that, can’t you?” Justin asked.

“You think so?” Francois’ eyes were hard as they looked at Justin. “How can I give my life to a God who allowed this war to happen?”

Justin was prevented from responding by the emergence of Julianne from the building. He watched as she quickly crossed the street, coming to sit at their table and quickly drinking a glass of wine. Francois held a hand up to keep Justin from speaking.

“Julianne, what did you learn?” Francois finally asked.

Her eyes slipped to look at Justin, then back to Francois. She sighed, shaking her head.
“Il’s allé, Francois. Ils l'ont expédié hors sur ce matin’le train.”

“What did she say?” Justin demanded. “Is he still here? Francois looked at Justin, the answer evident in his eyes. A train whistle sounded in the distance. Justin’s breath became rapid, his heart beating so hard he thought it might burst. “No.” His voice was a harsh whisper, his throat choked with emotion. “No, he’s still here…we have to get him out…” Justin rose from the table, heading for the building across the street.

Francois pulled him back into the chair. “Stop it,” he hissed. “Joshua is gone.”

“No!” Justin yelled. “He’s not gone…he’s NOT!” Justin struggled against Francois’ hold on him, unmindful of the looks they were receiving from other patrons of the café.

Francois was not so unaware of the looks. “Shut up, Américain,” he ordered, then shut up Justin himself with a sharp blow to the head.

Stars exploded behind Justin’s eyes before blackness overtook him.

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

The rumble under his cheek woke Justin up, opening his eyes to find a pair of feet next to his face. He leaned up, realizing he was in the back of a truck headed somewhere. He looked at the other person in the truck, sighing with relief when he realized it was Francois.

“I’m sorry I had to hurt you, Américain,” the Frenchman said, though his voice didn’t sound very apologetic. “You were about to get us all arrested.”

Justin sat up, rubbing the side of his head. “No, I’m sorry,” he said. He looked around, the moon illuminating the bed of the truck with an eerie light. He peered through the slats of the truck bed. “Where are we going?” he asked.

“Joshua’s capture has put us all in danger,” Francois explained. “We are leaving the village and joining another Resistance group in Paris.”

Justin blanched at his words. “So you’re just giving him up?” he accused. “You’re not even going to try and save him?”

“What would you have us do?” Francois said. “Attack a German transport train with three men and one woman?”

Justin’s eyes closed with pain. Deep down, he knew Francois was right, that there was nothing they could do for Joshua now. But the thought of losing him…of never seeing him again…of not being able to help him…to save him, as he had saved Justin…He wrapped his arms around himself tightly, unable to stop the pain or the tears streaking down his face. Joshua…Joshua

“He knew what he was doing, Américain,” Francois said simply. “He knew, as we all know, the dangers involved, and he still chose to do this work for his country.”

Justin looked at Francois, nodding in agreement. He wiped the tears from his face and climbed onto the bench next to the Frenchman. “So,” he said, his voice still shaky. “Paris, huh?” His smile was shaky as well. “I’ve been looking forward to seeing Paris.”

Francois’ smile was sad. “Paris, yes, but we cannot take you with us,” he explained as the truck came to a stop. Lights were shining from a distance and voices sounded behind them.

Voices that were in English.

“They’re British, not Américain, but they’ll be able to get you back to your own army,” Francois explained as the soldiers approached the truck.

“Francois,” Justin protested, only to be pushed out of the truck, landing on the ground with a thud.

“Au revior, Américain!” Francois and the others cried out as they drove off. “We will avenge your Joshua, never fear! Vive la France!”

Justin was prevented from following as the British soldiers approached. He smiled at the truck that soon disappeared from view. “Vive la France,” he said in return, putting his hands behind his head as he walked toward his allies.



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