jherbert.sepulchre-第35部分

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e　where　his　passage　took　him；　just　so　long　as　it　was　far　away　from　this　accursed　country　and　its　oppressively　authoritarian　government　which　constantly　hindered　entrepreneurs　such　as　he。　The　problem　now　was　money。　lie　had　barely　fifty　zlotys　left　and　such　a　secret　voyage　would　prove　expensive。
　　Late　at　night　Janusz　went　to　the　home　of　Wiktor　Svandova；　in　Grudziadz；　a　particular　businessman　with　whom　he'd　had　many　dealings　in　the　past。
　　But　Janusz　had　not　reckoned　on　Svandova's　respect　for　（or　fear　of）　the　State。　The　business　associate　ordered　Janusz　from　his　home；　threatening　to　call　in　the　police　if　he　didn't　leave　at　once。　The　fugitive　reasoned　with　Svandova；　cajoled；　pleaded；　even　wept　before　him；　he　only　produced　the　short　metal　bar　he　carried　inside　his　greatcoat　when　Svandova　strode　to　his　desk　and　reached　for　the　telephone。　The　first　blow　struck　the　businessman　across　the　left　temple；　but　amazingly　he　was　able　to　stagger　to　the　door；　with　Janusz　following　and　beating　at　the　back　of　his　head　and　shoulders　as　he　went。　He　threw　open　the　door　and　even　managed　to　scream　out　his　wife's　name　before　collapsing　to　his　knees　while　his　assailant　continued　to　rain　blows　on　him。　At　last；　and　to　Janusz's　great　relief；　Svandova　pitched　forward　onto　his　face；　blood　from　his　broken　head　instantly　flooding　the　hallway。　Janusz　ran　from　the　house　when　the　dead　man's　wife　began　screeching　from　the　top　of　the　stairway。　He　knew　she　had　recognised　him　and　he　had　it　in　mind　to　climb　the　stairs　and　silence　her　forever　too；　but　other　figures　had　appeared　behind　her；　presumably　Svandova's　sons；　and　Janusz　had　no　desire　to　battle　it　out　with　them。
　　He　left　the　city；　heading　north　once　again；　cursing　his　bad　luck　and　his　business　associate's　foolishness。　He　was　now　a　fugitive　from　a　far　more　serious　crime　and　every　endeavour　would　be　made　by　the　police　to　capture　him。
　　For　nearly　three　months　Janusz　eluded　them；　the　northern　forests　swallowing　him　up　pletely；　bestowing　upon　him　the　invisibility　he　craved。　But　autumn　was　turning　to　winter　and　even　the　extra　clothing　he　had　stolen　to　wear　under　his　greatcoat　could　not　prevent　the　chill　reaching　his　bones。　Food…the　roots　and　nuts　he　found；　the　turnips　and　beetroots；　and　potatoes　he　dug　from　farmers'　fields　late　at　night；　the　small　animals　he　occasionally　was　able　to　trap　and　kill…already　scarce　was　being　even　more　so。　Yet　again　Janusz　became　intimately　acquainted　with　terribl　hunger。　When　stealing　from　farms…odd　items　of　clothing　cam　from　outside　washing　lines…he　yearned　to　e　across　a　pig　pen　dreamt　of　reaching　in　and　pulling　out　a　piglet；　just　as　his　fath　had　all　those　years　ago。　When　he　slept　he　dreamed　of　his　family'　feast；　when　he　had　watched　the　roasting　pig；　making　sure　t　meat　wasn't　burned　black。　He　awoke　many　times　with　the　d　licious　smell　still　in　his　nostrils　and　before　reality　edged　it　away　a　more　subtle　aroma　would　bee　dominant　。　。
　　His　heavy　beard　was　matted　and　dirty　and　Janusz　may　ha　appeared　plump；　but　only　layers　of　clothing　created　the　illusio　for　beneath　them　his　flesh　was　hollowed　between　the　bones；　j　as　it　had　been　in　the　years　when　Germans　had　occupied　hi　country。　He　had　plodded　for　two　days　through　the　snow…lade　forest；　sheltering　where　he　could；　cramming　any　foliage　he　cool　find　into　his　mouth　and　chomping　until　it　was　mulched　enoug　for　him　to　digest。　He　even　pulled　pieces　of　bark　from　trees　to　gnaw　on。
　　The　policjareci　had　been　waiting　for　him　at　the　last　farmhous　he　had　attempted　to　rob；　he　had　remained　in　one　area　for　too　long；　the　stealing　being　more　than　just　an　annoyance　to　th　locals。　A　trap　had　been　set　for　him　and　only　blind　panic　had　le　him　the　strength　to　outrun　his　pursuers。　Now　it　was　only　stomac　pains　that　drove　him　on。
　　Janusz　saw　the　column　of　smoke　rising　above　the　treetop　and　stumbled　off　in　that　direction。　He　came　upon　a　small；　log　house　in　a　clearing。　His　weary　legs　barely　got　him　to　the　frontdoor。　Isis　fist　made　the　faintest　of　sounds　when　he　pounded　on　the　wood。
　　The　woodsman　caught　him　as　he　tell　inside　and　dragged　him　over　to　the　fire。　He　called　for　his　wife　to　warm　some　sok　and　bring　it　to　the　half…frozen　man　while　he　loosened　the　unfortunate's　clothing。　They　were　kind　to　this　wretched　wayfarer；　even　though　suspicious；　and　they　did　their　utmost　to　revive　him。　After　a　while；　when　he　was　able　to　sit　at　the　table　and　sip　more　of　the　warm　brew；　they　tried　to　question　him；　but　his　replies　were　incoherent；　his　voice　rambling。　They　soon　realised　the　man　was　crazed　with　hunger　and　exhaustion。　And　the　wife　was　uneasy　at　the　way　he　kept　staring　at　their　twelve…year…old　daughter　who　sat　quietly　in　the　corner　watching　everything　with　a　wide…eyed　expression　on　her　plump　little　face；　her　skin　pink　and　unblemished　in　the　glow　from　the　fire。
　　Janusz　repaid　their　kindness　by　killing　them　all。　He　used　his　trusty　metal　bar　to　batter　the　man　unconscious　as　he　stooped　to　put　another　log　on　the　fire；　and　a　breadknife　quickly　grabbed　from　the　table　to　cut　all　their　throats。
　　When　the　two　policjanci　who　had　been　following　his　tracks　through　the　forest　burst　in　less　than　an　hour　later；　he　had　already　started　to　eat　the　woodsman's　daughter。
　　In　one　respect　Janusz　was　lucky。　The　officers　were　fresh　enough　in　their　careers　not　yet　to　have　witnessed　the　worst　of　criminal　brutality　and　nor　were　they　old　enough　to　prehend　the　true　barbarism　of　the　Nazi　occupation　during　the　last　World　War。　When　they　saw　what　had　bee　of　the　woodsman　and　his　wife；　when　they　realised　that　what　their　quarry　was　stuffing　into　his　mouth　was　from　the　child's　open　belly；　they　were　too　shocked…too　revolted…to　move。
　　The　madness　in　Janusz；　further　incited　by　the　excitement　of　his　deed；　overcame　the　fatigue　that　was　still　with　him；　he　threw　the　breadknife　at　one　uniformed　intruder　and　rushed　screaming　at　the　other。　The　vision　of　this　wildman；　his　body　puffed　up　by　the　layers　of　clothing　he　wore；　mouth　and　beard　daubed　with　blood；　eyes　huge　and　crazed；　would　have　frozen　the　bravest　of　men；　and　the　two　policjanci　had　thus　far　won　no　service　awards　for　gallantry。　Neither　of　them　could　help　but　cringe　away。
　　One　was　pushed　back　against　the　wall　while　the　other　scrambled　to　retrieve　his　rifle；　dropped　when　he　had　dodged　the　thrown　knife。　The　thief　they　had　tracked　so　many　miles　was　through　the　door　and　out　in　the　snow　again；　scurrying　back　into　the　trees　as　a　single　shot　was　fired　at　him。　The　bullet　chipped　the　top　of　his　right　collarbone　but；　despite　the　agonising　；jolt；　he　did　not　stop　running。　Nightfall　helped　cloak　his　escape。
　　Soon　the　gunshots　behind　him　grew　fainter　and　Janusz　was　both　laughing　and　weeping　as　he　scrambled　up　a　slope。　He　toppled　over　the　ridge　and　rolled　down　the　other　side；　giggling　and　crying　out　as　he　went。　He　came　to　rest　at　the　bottom　of　the　hill；　spreadeagled　on　his　back；　half…buried　in　snow　and　his　chest　heaving　with　exertion。
　　He　stayed　that　way　for　some　time；　his　breathing　gradually　slowing　as　he　listened　for　his　pursuers。　Their　voices　came　from　high　above　him　and　soon　drifted　away　again；　the　darkness　now　concealing　the　trail　of　disturbed　snow　he　had　left　behind。　He　had　lost　them。　He　had　got　away。　He　giggled　once　more　and　licked　his　lips；　the　taste　still　strong　on　his　tongue。
　　Janusz　waited　a　little　while　longer　before　rising　to　his　knees。
　　He　was　instantly　blinded　by　dazzling　white　light。
　　Russian　tanks　were　strategically　positioned　in　many　sectors　of　Poland；　never　obtrusively；　but　usually　in　areas　where　their　threat　could　be　felt　rather　than　continually　observed。　The　soldiers　who　manned　them　were　highly　disciplined　and　never　mingled　with　the　munity；　but　they　were　always　on　standby；　ready　to　move　against　insurgence　at　a　moment's　notice。　Perpetually　bored　by　their　low…profile　assignment；　the　tank　crews　were　eager　for　any　distraction　that　might　e　their　way。　They　had　observed　the　dark　figure　tumbling　down　the　hillside　and　patiently　waited　for　it　to　move　again　once　it　reached　the　bottom。　When　it　did；　they　switched　on　their　tank　lights　as　one。
　　Janusz　screamed　in　terror。　He　stumbled　away；　not　caring　in　which　direction　he　ran；　his　only　thought　to　be　out　of　that　intense　glare　as　quickly　as　possible。　The　two　policjants；　alerte