Free My Friend the Enemy by Dan Smith Page A

tightened.
    And then he spoke – ‘Bitter,’ – and he put his arm up as if to protect his face. ‘Bitter.’
    I stayed as I was, my breath going right out of me. ‘Bitter.’ He said it over and over again.
    â€˜Bitter.’ His voice quiet, his arms across his face.
    Kim grabbed my arm and tried to pull me back. ‘Let’s go,’ she said.
    When she broke the spell like that, I turned to run, my instinct was to do as Kim said, but before I took a step, I had second thoughts. Something made me stop.
    I resisted her, tugging my arm away, inching closer so I could look down at the man half-sitting, half-lying on the ground. My breathing was shallow, my throat was dry.
    â€˜Bitter,’ he said again.
    â€˜What’s wrong with ’im?’ I said, swallowing my fear and surprising myself that I hadn’t run away. My curiositywas growing, drowning my fear. ‘Is he drunk?’ I took a step closer.
    â€˜Drunk?’ she asked, trying to pull me away once more. ‘What d’you mean?’
    â€˜Why’s he keep sayin’ “bitter”? What’s “bitter”?’
    Kim pulled me harder. ‘What are you talking about, you idiot? He’s saying “please”. Bitte is German for “please”.’
    And then I understood why she was pulling me away. We had found the missing German. And if I knew anything about Germans, it was that they were brutal killers. They were animals raging for the blood of Englishmen. I had been told enough times what they were capable of, and I knew that if I stayed here any longer, he would kill us both.
    But this man didn’t seem as if he was trying to kill anyone.
    â€˜Is it ’im?’ I said. ‘The one on the parachute?’
    â€˜Must be.’
    I stared down at him. ‘Why’s he saying please ? Why’s he scared of us?’
    â€˜I don’t know. Maybe . . .’ She stopped.
    â€˜What?’ I said. ‘Maybe what?’
    â€˜Look at what you’re holding.’
    I lifted my hand and looked at the pistol. ‘He’s frightened of me.’
    â€˜Come on, let’s get help.’ Kim turned. ‘We’ll get the soldiers.’
    But I put out a hand and stopped her.
    â€˜What?’ she said. ‘We’ll be heroes. Everyone’ll betalking about us if we find him. We need to get someone.’
    â€˜We’re not s’posed to be out here. Remember the curfew?’
    â€˜Forget that,’ Kim said. ‘They’ll be too proud of us to tell us off.’
    â€˜Then maybe we should capture him ourselves,’ I said, feeling brave. ‘We’ve got the gun.’
    â€˜No way.’
    â€˜Imagine it. You and me.’
    â€˜I don’t think—’
    â€˜ We capture the German. How about that?’
    Kim was silent. I could almost hear her thinking about it, but when she eventually spoke, it was to say, ‘You’re mad.’
    â€˜Maybe,’ I replied. ‘But look how frightened he is. More frightened than us.’
    â€˜You really think we should?’
    â€˜Definitely.’
    She sighed. Turned away. Took a few steps and then stopped. Kim stood still for a moment then came back to me and nodded once. ‘All right, then,’ she said. ‘We’ll do it. We’ll take him to the soldiers.’

THE SOUVENIR
    T he man didn’t do anything at all. He just sat there as if he’d given up and decided enough was enough. There was no point in running any more, so he was sitting with his back against the fence post, his legs stretched out and his arms by his sides.
    I raised my arm and pointed the gun.
    â€˜ Bitte ,’ he said. He said other words, too, but I couldn’t understand them, and it sounded as if he was having trouble talking at all. The light wasn’t that good, but we could see enough to know his face was streaked and the left arm of his flight suit was torn from