Thursday, January 08, 2009

Sunday 4th July 1943

Bill and I took John with us when we went for the usual evening stroll to the cross roads in the orange groves. We then sat down on the sparse grass that grows there, smoking. Every few minutes John said nervously, “Isn't it time to go back now?” Another time he glanced at the darkling sky and said apprehensively, “Look! It is getting dark!” “Yes,” said Bill, “It's 8:15 – a good time for it.” “For what?” demanded John, “For what?” “For getting dark of course, stupid.”

But I'd followed Store's crazy train of thought, for once. He'd construed “it” in a very sinister manner. “John,” I said, “You think we've brought you here to kill you – don't you?” “Yes!” babbled Store, “Of course, I don't blame you! You've had your instructions. Maybe you'll actually do it, or just make me drop dead from heart failure...” “Strike me purple!” ejaculated William, blinking through his glasses, “Do you really think we'd kill you, even if instructed?” “No, William,” laughed John,”I did a moment ago, but not now. Anyway I don't say you would kill me but maybe – I can imagine Steve killing someone...”

Soon afterwards we started back. “Walk behind us if you feel safer John,” I suggested kindly. He assented timidly and fell to the rear, holding his heart. “Will you walk slower please? I don't want to die on this hill...”

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