Fighting For Love

XX - Getaway Wagon

We were crying in a getaway... wagon?

Sorry, I had to bring T.S. into this somehow.

Enjoy!

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Chapter 20: Getaway Wagon

June 22nd, 1940

Paris, France

We were sitting on a couch in the hotel room, I was lying against him and he had his hands wrapped around my chest. We had been thinking about a getaway plan since the moment we came back from Notre Dame but every time one of us suggested something the other found a reason why that plan would ultimately fail. It was a very tiring job, but we were able to completely put our minds to it and do nothing else but think.

"What if we go to Switzerland and from there to Italy? They are neutral to the war and I am sure we can pass as two Swiss guys, that wouldn't be hard at all. I can teach you their accent on our way there." He suggested.

"It is not a bad plan, actually, but you are forgetting something, the main problem here: how are we going to get out of Paris? The city is surrounded by German soldiers and we both are well known figures in our division, what excuse are we giving them?" I asked.

"We could say we are going to other cities and following the general's orders."

"What if they check with the general and find out that there are no orders? We don't have a good enough excuse to give them, so we need to think of something else."

"Well, we could..."

"Take the train?" he nodded, "I thought about that, too, but we can't pass as two Frenchmen and even if we did, what would we do when they ask us for our papers? Jump off the train? No, we have to think of something else."

"Damnit... " He sighed and got up, walking to the window and standing in front of it, looking out to the streets. "You are right. Leaving Paris is nearly impossible, the city has become a fortress. What are we going to do?"

He stood there thinking about something and I knew that because he was bopping his head side to side. Then, it hit him: his eyes suddenly widened, a smile opened on his face and he snapped his fingers. I sat up, feeling his excitement excite me, too.

"That's it!" He exclaimed. Out of all the plans we had created thus far this was the only one he shouted with this much excitement, which gave me some very much needed hope.

"What's it?"

"Come here." I rose and walked to the window, standing right by his side, "Look at the street down there. What do you see?"

"People, lights, trees, buildings, I don't know, what do you want me to see?" I felt his hand on the back of my head, gently making me look to the left, where I spotted an old wooden wagon that had a huge pile of hay on the back lead by a brown horse. An odd thing to look at, for sure, but if it was going to help us get out of Paris I would not mind doing it.

"You said the streets are crowded with soldiers and there is no safe way for us, who are also soldiers, to get out of Paris without being noticed by them, right?"

I nodded, "And that's true, you must have crossed paths with a soldier or two earlier today."

"Yes, no, I am not doubting you or anything, I am just restating what you said. My point is: say we were no longer German soldiers; that wouldn't make them stop us to ask who we were or where we were going, right? We would just be two regular Frenchmen living their lives."