ON HIS WAY OUT
Flash Fiction by Matthew Adamson
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2011
*****
Thank you for downloading this free eBook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form. If you enjoyed this book, please return to Smashwords.com to discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.
*****
The inevitability of death is one that frightens many men. And that had always been a possibility from the moment he broke the fuse. He’d left the briefcase under the table in the smoke-filled café and there was enough gelignite and detonators concealed in it to flatten the café three times over and entomb the German troop residing within. The proprietor was the collaborative sort and he deserved no less than what was coming to him.
The off-duty infantrymen hadn’t paid attention to the beret-sporting Frenchman as he walked into the restroom of Le Maison d’Étain. It wasn’t until now that the mortal peril into which he had plunged himself became starkly apparent.
A biting wind was blowing through the draughty restroom and the freezing December temperatures had caused what little condensation had formed on the mirrors to freeze. He examined his tired face in the soap-spattered mirror and found himself taken aback by the eyes that stared back at him. Once hazel and shimmering, the sunken orbs that now glared back at him were devoid of warmth or love and it frightened him. Through all his tribulations, he had always stayed positive, but the story told by the cold, dark eyes was a different one.
All his tribulations. 1943 had proved a testing year for him, but his strength and sense of purpose, the task he had set himself, had pulled him through and left him stronger on the other side. The enemy’s hand had a lot to answer for. His brother’s death had hit him hard, executed in the foothills behind the Vercors for allegiances to the Resistance. But he could have saved his wife. That was what had hurt the most. Her death had been painful, but it bore no relation to the internal agony he felt. Only days after the rape, she had sought to find solace in suicide, leaving him alone in mourning.
By the time he had locked himself inside the sole cubicle that the restroom offered and opened the rectangular window, he was ready to make his escape. He allowed himself a moment’s enjoyment of his success. Mission accomplished.
The creaking of the restroom door as it opened had been the last thing he wanted to hear. Their heavy boots and harsh German tongue echoed through the restroom as he came to rest on the seat of the ceramic toilet. He conceded that there would be no escape this time. But he would not try his hand; he would not panic and make a break for it. Such efforts would be futile. He would rather be taken by his own sword than by his enemy’s. He would not follow the same path as his brother, would not allow the German’s to take his life. As his destiny played out before him, he emerged from the cubicle and strode confidently back through the restroom door to meet his fate.