The Street Had No Name

Chapter 41

BASQUE LANDS, 1942

They left before dawn the next morning. The world was wrapped tightly in a white shroud that acted as shield as much as a hindrance to their progress. Bidderman had had a nagging disquiet after the visit of the Ertzaintza the afternoon before and couldn’t feel comfortable with even the hint of a chance that someone may have seen them with the Etxeberri’s and consequently bring trouble back to their door. Alaia and Usoa had discussed it that evening and, even though their host was less concerned than they were, it was decided to move on as soon as possible. The women had prepared provisions for the next day whilst he and Alfredo discussed their plan of action; it didn’t take long for them to realise that there wasn’t really much of one.

In the scheme of things it was safe to say that the total scope of their forward planning was five kilometres down a rough but well-worn track in the Basque mountains and about twelve hours in duration. Beyond that, well, beyond that there was nothing; the help they sought just had to be there.

As if to add an enforcement to their predicament it started to rain about an hour later and the fog was replaced by a heavy cloud of soaking mist “it just keeps getting better Solomon” the Monk said when the stopped to rest for a few minutes. He held the Bota just above his head and took a short shot of the dry white wine Alaia had presented them with then handed it to the Rabbi. Usoa was sitting next to the Monk and casually added a counterpoint to the Monk’s comment “don’t be silly Alfredo, if it is not raining there is fog, if not fog there is mist, this is the mountains, today is like any other day”.

They all laughed a little at this; this was the mountains, today was just like any other day so be it.

* * * * * *

The day wore on and the weather decided to just yap away at them like an annoying little terrier; just not letting up so by the time they reached the point where the trail crossed the stream that Alaia had told them they needed to take the right hand path back into the forest the group was feeling just a little jaded and in less than high spirits.

“This continual damp really tires a fellow out” the Rabbi mentioned to his companions; companions who had been mostly quiet for the past hour or so.

The water in the stream was boiling now with the input of the morning, and no doubt the evening prior, from the mountains behind and the crossing was a little difficult as half of the foot falls were under water and being washed over by a strong current. Bidderman has slipped once on his crossing and now sported wet trousers and a cut on the palm of his left hand, other than that they made it over will little more mishap. The path now ran alongside the stream and moved back into the forest proper and out again in a serpentine manner. It was obvious that this part of the trail had been used recently and given the dryness of the footprints and the dampness of the undisturbed ground cover the Monk considered it to have been in the past hour or so.

“Solomon, I think we’d better slow down a little.” Alfredo said to both his companions but more so the Rabbi as it has been Usoa who had made the same suggestion to the Monk just a moment earlier. “I am wary of us meeting anyone else and a little concerned about who that someone else may be.”

* * * * * *

The bullet hit the ground near the young Monk with so much force it flung him around as he dropped appearing all the world like he had been hit. Within an instance Usoa had flung herself to the ground beside Alfredo and screamed for Bidderman to drop; then it rained lead.

The shots were coming from further up the track where the path moved between a rock outcrop and a huge boulder half in and out of the water forming an impenetrable choke point. The trio crawled back behind the trunk of an old tree as the bullets hit and splintered the trunk, pinged off the granite boulders to their right and into the water to their left. Bidderman had dropped all that he carried except for the bundle in the old black altar cloth which he hugged to himself as he shimmed in behind Alfredo and Usoa.