About half a mile out, McBride risked a backward glance. The night was as dark as the view before him. Faint sounds of shouts, in Russian. Sounds, too, of people chanting. The prisoners joining in the fun. McBride smiled to himself, and kept on running.
It was so dark the forest caught them by surprise. They were blundering through the tall pines, Ben bouncing like a pinball from one tree trunk to the next.
“Ease up Ben” said McBride in a hoarse whisper. “More haste less speed.”
“Sorry.” Ben cut his speed to a trot. Once their eyes became accustomed to their even dimmer surroundings, the going wasn’t so bad. The ground was smoother, hardly any undergrowth, the light didn’t penetrate. They made good time, and when the trees became more sparse, and they were leaving the forest, McBride glanced at the luminous dial of his watch. Barely four a.m.
“Ben, let’s take a half hour break. I reckon we’ve done twenty miles at least.”
They sat down against a bole of a tree. McBride was aware that there would probably be a search, even a search with dogs. He thought they were generally travelling in a westerly direction. If the Russians used dogs, it would be useful if they could cross some watercourse, to confuse the scent trail. And they needed somewhere to bury their uniforms. Problems, always problems. But nothing that McBride couldn’t handle. It was good that Ben was a fit youngish man. Late twenties. A good age to be.
McBride looked at his watch. Twenty five minutes they had been resting, time to get going. He stood up, stretching, and Ben hearing McBride, stood up too, running on the spot, eager to be moving. Now they were on meadow land, and the moon was directly above them. They could make out groups of trees and shrubs. A fox bolted across almost in front of their feet, reminding McBride, inconsequentially, that they would have to find food by tonight if not sooner. Their priority as soon as dawn broke, would be to find somewhere to hide out