Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲
For a moment, Pijus let go of me, seemingly unconcerned that I might try to escape. He turned the beam of his flashlight toward a set of metal ladders bolted to the wall, stepped aside, and nodded for me to climb, as though he held no resentment over the fact that I was a deserter—or over the incriminating things he and everyone else believed they had discovered about me.
Even in the harsh glare of the flashlight, I could still see that same falsely friendly look in his eyes. His brown gaze almost seemed to plead for someone to free him from this wretched duty, as if he had grown weary of the work he was forced to do. Even a fool could have seen that Pijus longed for a life far removed from this one.
"Climb," he urged, directing the light toward the ladder. "I'll be right behind you."
"And why should I do what you tell me?" I folded my arms across my chest and glared at him defiantly.
I could no longer see his eyes, but I imagined my resistance had taken him by surprise.
"Because otherwise you'll stay in this stinking corridor and die of hunger and thirst," he replied through clenched teeth.
"Climb."
Pijus grabbed my arm roughly and pulled me toward the ladder. For a split second I thought my face was about to slam into the metal rungs, but instead he switched off the flashlight and lifted me slightly by the arms before climbing a few steps himself.
I had no choice but to follow.
Otherwise, I suspected he would simply resort to force—or worse. I wouldn't have been surprised if he carried a stun device for exactly that purpose.
Climbing those metal rungs felt like another eternity.
Whenever I faltered, Pijus would either push me upward with a firm hand against my backside—which made me deeply uncomfortable, bringing back memories of the German deserter who had assaulted me, though this was hardly the time to complain—or catch me whenever one of my feet slipped.
I felt utterly pathetic.
Surely no one could be more clumsy than I was.
Sometimes I wondered how I had managed to make even modest progress in medicine when I could barely stand the sight of blood and my hands shook uncontrollably whenever I faced an injured patient.
"Follow me."
At last, Pijus spoke again.
His voice was still commanding, yet there was an unmistakable gentleness beneath it.
I still found it difficult to believe he was an officer. Looking into those sincere eyes, no one would have guessed he worked for the military police. I'd sensed it the moment I first saw him in the helicopter.
