shout as he fell. There was a dull scraping thud. Felix realized that the policeman hadn’t made any effort to check his fall.
He drew in a breath to yell out. He had to get up, to move away.
He got one knee working and levered more of Fuchs’ weight. He pushed again, and got his forearm into it. He had no strength.
Fuchs flopped more as he pushed, and even seemed to roll back each time. His palms felt slimy grit on the cement under him as he tried to get his other shoulder free. Fuchs had knocked himself out, that was it.
With both hands free, Felix took two tries to get a roll going.
Fuchs’ weight began to budge.
Up on his elbows now, Felix saw red on his clothes, and sprays of red like freckles on Fuch’s arms. Gebhart was lying down closer to the shed. He was not moving. Something else was: a knee waving slowly side to side. Speckbauer’s man? And now he was turning on his side, groaning louder, and pushing himself up on one elbow.
A man called Felix’s name now, and before he could turn around toward the house to see where the voice was coming from, the man’s face flushed red and he seemed to bounce, and the noise of a gunshot echoed across the yard and into the hills.
It was still echoing faintly in the distance when Felix heard footsteps crossing the yard now, slowly, and talking. There was a metallic scrape and a loud click, as metal was pushed against metal.
Part of Felix’s mind understood what the sound meant.
Someone called his name again, in between his own shouts and Felix kicking free of Fuchs at last. The man with the rifle was breathing heavily and slowly, and in between breaths his voice was barely above a murmur in a slow, considered, disdainful tone that Felix recognized.
He began to hear words he could understand. He wondered if the man was dressed in his grandfather’s clothes, and had a mask so exact as the slight stoop and the voice, even the dialect.
“Opa?”
“Bleib ruhig, kid. Quiet. I took care of him. Have you been shot?”
“I don’t think so. I’m going to be sick, I think, or something.”
There was a movement from where Gebhart lay. Felix saw a leg move, and watched Gebhart curl up slightly. He did not want to look down at Fuchs. He let his eyes move around the yard. There was a vague ripple to everything he looked at now. How small it seemed now, where it had seemed so huge when he had been a kid.
Someone was asking if he could get up. His grandfather’s voice.
“I don’t know,” Felix said, or thought he said.
“The other one,” his grandfather said. “The other tschuschen?”
“No, Opa. He came with me, he’s a Gendarme”
Something made the air quiver. Felix had a moment before his throat filled, and then he was doubled up with the spasms. The vomit burned and scraped as it burst from his throat.
Through swimming eyes he saw his grandfather lean down, stooped, over Gebhart. The spasms came slower, and he was able to call out Gebhart’s name. He saw his grandfather’s head turn his way before another spasm tore at him, and left him exhausted. He ignored the grit grinding into his elbow and got on all fours. He was wet, but he refused to look down as he began to scuttle slowly toward Gebhart.
“Opa,” he said. “Is he okay?”
“He’s saying something.”
His grandfather had to pause to get his breath now. “I think he’s been shot.”
“Gebi?” Felix called out. “I’m here, I’m coming.”
He pushed off with his hands. Rising, his leg flashed a pain that almost blinded him, and he stopped, wavering. He worked out of his jacket and threw it in front of him. Everything was rippling and folding around him now. He saw his grandfather shuffling across the yard.
“An ambulance, Opa. The police.”
He let himself slowly down onto one knee. He saw that the red stain had spread and was finding its own way along the cement toward him.
“Can you hear me, Gebi?”
The reply in a calm voice that ended in a sharp intake of breath.
“Too well.”
Gebhart’s jean jacket was wet too.
“You’re hurt. We’re going to have an ambulance in here so fast.. ”
A short breath ended in a hiss. Then Gebhart’s clenched eyes opened.
“What a mess,” he said in voice so normal that it took Felix aback. “What a stupid, dumb mess we’re in, gell?”
“They’ll be here any minute,” said Felix.
Gebhart’s eyes strained now.
“Are there more of those guys? Are they gone?”
“They’re gone. I’m okay, I think. That guy was coming over.
My opa got him.”
Gebhart’s eyes seemed to lose their focus.
“He’s phoning, Gebi, right now. They’ll pull out all the stops.”
He pulled up Gebhart’s shirt tail and saw a darker spot amongst the wash of blood above his trouser belt. He pushed the sleeve of his jacket onto the wound.
“Gebi I have to get you over. I have to get a towel on it.”
“What,” said Gebhart.
Felix’s hand was wet immediately as he reached around. He pushed the sleeve hard into the wettest part. Gebhart grunted, and sighed. Then he spoke in that same clear voice.
“My wife is going to be pissed.”
“She can take it out on me, Gebi. I swear. We’re going to get you to hospital. You can watch her beat me up there, okay?”
Gebhart frowned. His eyes regained their focus.
“That Speckbauer, one of his people?”
“No.”
Gebhart winced and squeezed out a word that Felix didn’t understand.
“That bastard,” Gebhart whispered then. “Look what he’s done. He screwed you around, and now”
He clenched his eyes tight. When he opened them again they stayed wide, and fastened on Felix’s.
“Who is that?”
“That’s my opa. He’s yelling at the police, I think.”
Gebhart started to say something but he made a soft groan, and held his breath and closed his eyes.
Felix held the jacket tighter under Gebhart’s back. He watched his chest expand and contract. His own head felt tight now, and the sourness in his mouth seemed to leak out and take over all about him. The light pulsed above the farmhouse, and he closed his eyes a second to stop it. There were footsteps in the yard again.
“They’re coming,” said his grandfather. “They thought I was joking.”
Felix wanted to tell his grandfather to watch how he carried the hunting rifle. He saw the agitation in the face, something he couldn’t remember seeing before.
He felt, more than heard, Gebi murmur under him. He looked down, and saw that the eyes were half open.
“Gebi? I’m here. Help’s going to be here any minute. You hear me?”
Gebhart made a small, slow nod. Felix laid his other hand on Gebhart’s ribcage and waited for each gentle rise and fall.
His grandfather held out a towel. Felix looked into his face, and saw something beyond the agitation and confusion. His grandfather shook his head once, then again, and looked away.
“I don’t know,” he heard him mutter, but he didn’t look away from the jacket he was drawing out. Gebhart made a sigh, and said something under his breath. Felix grabbed the towel and quickly swapped it for his jacket
