Free The Third Day by David Epperson

about. 
    Markowitz. 
    “Robert?  Bill?  Where are you?” he called out.  
    Lavon rushed forward and tackled him.  “For God’s sake shut up.” 
    We sat there for about a minute, listening and hoping no one had heard us, before we crept closer to the cave.  I hesitated at the entrance, though Lavon reminded us that the state of the Professor’s bones meant that whatever had happened to him, a wild animal lurking inside had not torn him apart. 
    Silly me. 
    Once we had gone in, I could tell that the cave broadened considerably, though without a portable source of light, it was impossible to tell how deep into the hills it went. 
    I had just begun running through my own mental checklist when we saw another flash about twenty-five feet in front of the cave entrance. 
    “They’re getting more accurate,” whispered Lavon, who chirped a quiet ‘psst’ and helped Sharon into the cave. 
    Her eyes bulged with disbelief.  I asked her, as a joke, how things were back in Boston, but she was too stunned to speak. 
    We didn’t have long to gather our wits, though.  As she eased herself into a comfortable spot, Lavon continued to stare out the narrow slit with an expression of total concentration. 
    Something was out there. 
    All I could see in the early dawn light were rocky, scrub-covered hills that ran on for some distance.  But Lavon’s senses proved correct:  not long afterward, we heard bleating and watched a shepherd drive a small flock of about two dozen animals into a narrow ravine a quarter mile away. 
    He was in a hurry, too.  Just behind him, two other people moved quickly to catch up; one of them a small child whose legs struggled valiantly to maintain the pace. 
    I would have laughed at the little munchkin – he was trying so hard – but moments later, we heard a distinctive clanging sound, one that even I, with my Army damaged ears, could hear plainly.  It was the sound of equipment, and armor. 
    Soldiers , I mouthed to Lavon, who nodded. 
    Sharon started to peer outside, but he pulled her back – just in time, too – for a few seconds later, a primeval shout broke the morning’s quiet, followed immediately by the impact of stones against shields. 
    I muttered a silent expletive.  This was an unpleasant turn of events. 
    We couldn’t do much but lie flat on the ground and listen as the clashing of swords accompanied the screams of men as they were hit.  Making matters worse, the first casualties started trickling past. 
    Sharon blanched at the sight of a man hobbling by, though she had the presence of mind not to make a sound.  It couldn’t have been easy:  the man’s left arm had been nearly sliced off at the elbow and his knee length tunic was soaked in blood. 
    By some miracle, he didn’t seek shelter in our cave.  Either he didn’t know of it, or, more likely, he suffered from the tunnel vision so common to wounded men in headlong flight. 
    As time went on, the images outside failed to improve.  Two bearded men passed by next; one helping the other, who held his hands over his belly, struggling with only limited success to keep his own entrails from falling to the ground. 
    That one wouldn’t make it very far, I knew.  Whatever these people had planned, it had gone badly wrong. 
    A stream of men followed, all dressed in similar beige tunics, scrambling down the hill as fast as they could.  A few still held onto their swords, but most had either lost their weapons or thrown them aside in their haste to get away. 
    I heard a splat as another wounded man fell flat on his face only about ten yards from our position.  It was then that we got our first glance at their enemies.  Seconds later, a Roman soldier ran the injured man through with his sword. 
    Though Sharon and Markowitz had turned their faces away, I didn’t think either of them would forget the hideous gurgling as the Roman kicked his victim to free his weapon from the man’s ribs. 
    I was