The Last Escape


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2. Chapter 2

They walked on through the night, but progress was slowed by a shrapnel wound to Kilby’s left knee that he had picked up when the Lanc was hit, with the result that by dawn they were several miles short of where they had hoped to be. Presently Barcombe spotted an old wooden barn.

“Let’s stop there for a bit,” he motioned, and putting Kilby’s left arm around his shoulders  to support his weight, they were able to limp inside. Barcombe set Kilby down on a pile of straw and looked around. The place didn’t have much to commend itself, but it would do for a few hours’ sleep.

 

When Kilby woke up a few hours later, Barcombe had gone.

“Woofer?” he called out. “Where are you?”

Barcombe reappeared round the door with a wheelbarrow full of branches, apples and eggs. “There’s an orchard and a henhouse outside,” he explained, picking up a bucket. “Get a fire going,” he said. “I’ll just go for some water.”

They fried the eggs on an old shovel then when they had eaten, washed and shaved, Barcombe went to the door and looked at the sky.

“It’s time we got moving again,” he stated.

“You go on your own,” Kilby said bravely. “I’m slowing you down too much. Better for one of us to make it than neither.”

“Nonsense!” protested Barcombe. “Either we both go or neither of us do.”

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