Chad Thumann - The Undesirables

Bobby followed close behind. Ellen’s breath caught in her throat at the g-forces of the sudden climb. But then she pressed her forehead against the cockpit canopy and gasped in awe at the lights of Palm Beach receding behind her. “They’re beautiful!” she exclaimed.

“Have a closer look.” Bobby twisted the yoke, and the plane yawed into a barrel roll. Ellen grabbed Bobby hard around the neck in terror as he leveled out upside down. “It’s OK,” he reassured her.

Ellen looked down through the Airacobra’s bubble glass canopy at the city that lay before her, a twinkling map. She smiled in amazement at the cars, small as toys, leaving the Everglades Club. Bobby couldn’t help notice that gravity had pulled the hem of her dress all the way up to her waist. He admired her garters for a moment before twisting back into a barrel roll and straightening the plane.

He’d adjusted the Airacobra just in time, for Jack suddenly dived and banked across the Florida peninsula, picking up speed and leaving Palm Beach far behind. Bobby barely kept up. It was only twenty-five miles to the massive Everglades swamp that dominated this part of Florida, and the fast Airacobras covered that distance in less than six minutes. Bobby followed Jack as he buzzed the pine forest that separated east Florida from the swampy wilderness; he matched Jack’s every move. The two planes performed a high-speed aerial dance as Jack led them into a tall upside-down loop, a twisting corkscrew descent, and then buzzed so close to the flat waters of the tepid swamp that the downdraft created a rooster-tail wake as tall as the one caused by the jeep earlier in the evening. The bucking g-forces of each maneuver caused Ellen to clutch Bobby wherever she could, holding on for dear life. She completely forgot about Bobby’s hands. Bobby found himself grabbing and holding taboo regions of flesh, her inner upper thighs, upper ribs, and even straight across her bosom. Before things got out of control, he straightened the plane and climbed higher into the night sky. As Ellen settled back into a modest position on his lap, they both had to catch their breath. Ellen looked over her shoulder at Bobby, staring at him, then sweetly asked, “Can I try?”

Bobby nodded, took his left arm out from around her waist, held her right hand in his own, and placed it on top of the yoke. “Just be gentle with the stick,” he warned.

Ellen giggled. And then she was all concentration, biting her lip, staring through the canopy at the field of stars that spread out before them. “Like this?” she asked. She moved the stick to the right, and the plane responded instantly, banking into a wide turn.

“Perfect,” Bobby said. “Now straighten her out and keep this heading. You’ll fly us right home.”

Ellen beamed.

As soon as the Airacobras landed, slowed, and the army’s newest air force pilots had popped the glass canopies, Ellen and Mollie leaped to the gravel runway and ran off hugging each other with peals of excited laughter. Bobby and Jack leaped out after them and pulled them apart in a panic, cautioning them to stay quiet at least until they could get the planes back to their hangars undetected.

When they drove into the Everglades Club, Mollie directed Jack to a rear entrance because it was already well past curfew. Ellen pulled Bobby close and gave him a good-night hug. But as she held him, she lifted her lips to his ear and asked whether he’d like to come inside. Bobby was surprised. What about her crazy aunt chaperone? Mollie overheard and reassured both Bobby and Jack that their aunt would be asleep by now. They could sneak right past her into their bedrooms for a nightcap. Jack smiled at Bobby and winked. “What’d I tell ya?”

Bobby nodded at Jack and then looked down at the pretty girl he still held in his arms. Her rolled-back hair had been blown free, leaving her dark curls in a tangled, passionate mess. Her halter top, still damp and heavy from the wild jeep ride, hung even lower than designed, exposing the lacy top of her bra. The chiffon pleats of her dress had been made sheer by the water, and he could see the outline of her long legs. And when he looked into her eyes, he was once again reminded of Karen.

But she was not Karen. He slowly extracted himself from Ellen’s embrace. “I can’t. I’ve gotta get back.”

Jack stared at him in disbelief. “Are you kidding me?”

“No, I’m not kidding. I gotta go.”

Jack chuckled and shook his head with disappointment. “Then you can park the jeep back in the motor pool.” He tossed the keys, and Bobby snatched them out of the air.

He turned his attention back to Ellen. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she said gently. “I had the best night of my life.”

That made Bobby smile. He climbed into the jeep and started the ignition. Then he put it in drive and turned away from the club. When he looked back over his shoulder, Jack, Mollie, and Ellen were long gone.

He spent the rest of the drive home thinking of Karen.

Neither Karen nor Petr knew how to get to Tikhvin. They had to travel during the day now, since their only point of direction was the sun. If they traveled at night, they could very easily walk in circles without even knowing it. Karen had a map, but it offered little help without landmarks. Every patch of woods looked like every other patch of woods. So, when after a day and a half of tromping through the thick snow they stumbled upon the icy ruts of a frozen road, Petr decided that their best option was just to follow it. This was dangerous, possibly exposing them to German patrols, but it was either that or remain lost in the woods forever. And, as Karen had predicted, Petr wasn’t yet acclimated to the constant pain of hunger as she was. In a few days, he’d finished the last of his military rations, and the forest offered few nutrients. He grew desperate for food.

The road didn’t exactly head in the direction of Tikhvin, but eventually, Petr reasoned, it would lead them to a crossroads or, at the very least, a village or farm where they might be able to find provisions. Karen was less convinced. But she wasn’t in charge of this expedition, Petr was. He was the leader by virtue of having a gun. Karen didn’t trust Petr, so she tried not to speak to him. When he asked her questions, she tried to limit her answers to short one-word responses. And she, in turn, asked nothing of him. He was a member of the Red Army, a Communist, and a patriot. He first met her when she was under arrest by an NKVD agent. Karen was certain that as soon as they reached Tikhvin, Petr would turn her over to the local authorities and report that she’d killed an NKVD man, thus satisfying his distorted sense of patriotic justice. For that reason alone, Karen had to try to get away somehow. But so long as Petr had that gun, she was at his mercy.

One night Karen tried to steal his gun. She waited until the sound of his breathing told her he was asleep. She crept onto her hand and knees. Then she moved silently toward him. But that wolf dog of his began to growl, waking Petr. Karen pretended that she’d woken up to relieve herself. Fortunately, Petr seemed to believe her.

The dog was growing hungry, too. Karen could tell. He’d always eyed her, but now he eyed her as though he wanted to eat her. The feeling was mutual. She even suggested to Petr that dog meat was quite tender. The implication horrified him. The truth was that Karen had never eaten dog. But she knew that so long as this dog Duck lived, she was trapped. She couldn’t possibly steal the gun and escape with the dog eyeing her every move. She had to kill the hound. Yet if Petr got hungry enough, perhaps he could be convinced to do the job for her. It was the only way. He probably didn’t realize that, having been much better fed recently, he’d have plenty of reserve energy to burn before he became truly desperate. Meanwhile, she had to bide her time. She didn’t have much of it. She would starve before Petr, since she was half-starved already. She was growing weak, so weak. And the ceaseless marching wasn’t helping.

They followed the road but always kept a line of trees between themselves and the frozen ruts. When Karen did try to walk the road, she slipped on the ice and tumbled painfully to her knees. The road was like an uneven and chunky ice-skating rink.

Though their purpose was stealth, the forest floor was simply easier to negotiate. Petr’s boots and Karen’s shoes were too small, and with every step they sank in the snow to their knees. But then Petr chopped four long walking sticks from the birch trees. They still sank with every step, but by using the sticks like ski poles, they were able to pull their legs from the grasping snow without even breaking stride.

At night they moved farther from the road, built a fire, and used it to warm their snow-encrusted shoes and socks. They hoped they were deep enough into the trees that German patrols would be unable to see the light of the flames or detect the fire’s smoke. They made good progress in this manner, and, despite the winter conditions, Karen felt warmer than she had in Leningrad.

They ran into German convoys twice. The first time the sound of shouting and roaring machinery warned them well ahead of time. They sneaked deep into the woods and waited for the Germans to pass. But the Germans didn’t pass. They kept yelling and revving their engines in the same spot. Eventually curiosity overcame Petr, and they crept up through the woods toward the sound. Three German trucks were stuck. Drivers, covered head to toe in hoods and overcoats, were trying to push the trucks. But every time they gunned the throttle, the wheels would spin against the ice, and the trucks would settle deeper in the hard ruts. Petr and Karen retreated into the trees undiscovered, giving the Germans a wide berth, and rejoined the road a mile farther on.