Free Assignment - Mara Tirana by Edward S. Aarons Page A

you or Giurgiu for now, eh? Here you are safe, as long as you cooperate. Understand?”
    “Yes. I understand,” she whispered thinly.
    He laughed. “I expected a knife in my back, you know that, Lissa? I expected more fire from you.”
    “The knife is in the house,” she whispered.
    “For next time?” he grinned. Then his face hardened. “Next time I shall expect you to behave a little better, eh? I shall insist on it. There was no pleasure in having you so unwillingly.”
    “Yes, Petar Medjan,” she whispered.
    “Everything is as usual here now, is it not? You haven’t seen any strangers around?”
    “No one comes to Zara Dagh,” she said, shrugging. “Well. . .”
    There came another faint pattering of blood droplets on the floor under the hayloft. Adam gritted his teeth. He knew the girl had heard the sounds now, and she moved quickly, turning through the doorway so that Medjan followed her, turning out of the barn. But then the man halted and looked back and stared hard at the cow in its stall.
    “Lissa. . . ”
    “I am tired,” she said. “I will see you again. Soon.”
    “And it will be different?”
    “Yes. Quite different.”
    They walked away.
    Adam waited for several moments until he could no longer hear the crunch of boots on the ground. Then he turned and looked at his leg. It was covered with blood. He felt a quick panic, watching the dark puddle that spread on the floor of the hayloft, running into the crack between the planks. He felt as if he couldn’t stay here in this place a moment longer. He was ashamed of his manhood, for what he had helplessly witnessed. Without thinking further, shivering and sweating all at the same time, he pulled himself up and dragged himself to the ladder.
    He had to get away from here. He couldn’t face Lissa again. And Medjan was not stupid. Adam had the impression that the lieutenant was smarter than Lissa gave him credit for. But more than that, he could not stay and bring more grief to these people.
    They were guilty of nothing more than trying to survive. Because of the one son, Giurgiu, who had risen to power and took a wrong step somewhere that ended in his execution, they lived like this, alone and in fear, outcasts at the mercy of Medjan’s whims. He could not endanger them any more. It wasn’t fair to them.
    Carefully, slowly, he climbed down the ladder, letting his wounded leg dangle free. His thigh was wet and warm with the blood from his injury. No matter. He could bandage it himself. Pausing, he rested his weight on it, felt the pain again, bit his lip against it, and limped to the barn door. The girl and Medjan were gone out of sight beyond the stone hut. Nearby, the pine woods began, dropping down a slope into a ravine where he could see only the treetops. Water gushed and chattered somewhere down there. He started that way.
    He would find the capsule himself, he decided, recover the instruments that weren’t damaged and stay there until he was better, and could think of taking the next step toward freedom. The capsule couldn’t be too far away. He would find some vantage point and search the mountains for a trace of its landing spot, he decided.
    His breath made small plumes of vapor in the chill mountain air. He reached the pines with a quick, hobbling rush that left him staggering, clinging to a tree for support. His head hung down; his mouth was open. He had left a small trail of blood behind him. He looked at the hut, and his vision blurred, and he shook his head, but his eyes still refused to cooperate with his will. He did not have much strength. Nor was there much time. Turning, he went deeper into the woods. He did not go far.
    A stone moved underfoot, and he felt himself falling, and his injured leg banged against something and the pain leaped up like something screaming inside him. A small cry escaped him. He saw he had come abruptly to the edge of the ravine, and the wall of the gorge was a steep, rocky drop. He staggered, fell