Chapter 45

Four days later, Lauren was fit enough to bathe and feed herself. She could walk around the house unaided, but always made sure she was within striking distance of something to hold onto if she became dizzy. She ventured out onto the remains of the patio, peering down into the rounded hole that had been the pool. The familiar heat remained, but the soothing waters had vanished. She sat in her shorts and T-Shirt on the lounger and surveyed her bruised limbs and the scene of damage. Without knowing anything about ordinance and explosives, she concluded that the pool had taken a direct hit. That had probably saved them, for another ten feet nearer the house would have been a completely different outcome. In the late afternoon, they decided to venture out of the house and walked cautiously down the road towards Boquette.

Traffic was minimal, but some private cars and a few farm vehicles passed them, reassuring the children by their presence and by the fact that while they were still loaded with refugees and possessions, there appeared to be an orderly manner about their flight. Lauren looked nervously around her as they passed the first crossroads, watching for soldiers.

Over the six days since the attack she had frequently revisited her ordeal, analysing it from every perspective to see what she could have done differently. Emma's ability to laugh off the bomb annoyed her as it interfered with her reasoning for remaining as quiet as possible during the rape. The day before, she had considered narrating to Emma those early morning hours, her embarrassment, her fears for the children and the pain she had endured, arms stretched out, legs tethered on the wooden piano stool. Finally, she decided that there was little to be gained by reopening the issue except her own satisfaction and so she tried hard to adopt the same attitude as the others. Both Emma and Jamie seemed to walk with a spring in their step and laughter in their voices as she trailed behind.

"Hey, we've gone far enough I think!" said Jamie, turning around to face the others. "Back to the house, and get the car, eh?"

"Yeah, the place is really quiet!" said Emma.

"I'm not sure, perhaps a few more minutes until we see Boquette town center?"

"No, come on, let's grab the car and then get to a phone" said Jamie, taking the lead in the opposite direction.

Lauren glumly followed, shuffling back to the house and hauling herself painfully into the driving seat. They traveled in silence, looking at everything that moved, checking side streets for activity that might alert them to soldiers or other danger. After a thirty minute queue for the phone in the Post Office Lauren dialed her parents in Switzerland without a thought for the time in Europe. A recorded message in Spanish greeted every attempt she made. Handing the phone to Jamie, she watched as his face betrayed the problem.

"All international lines are busy. Please try later." he said, offering her the handset. "Shit." said Lauren. A flash of inspiration made her smile. "Look up the Swiss Embassy in San Falino!" They thumbed through the directory, oblivious to the stares and scowls from those behind them in the queue. She spoke rapidly to the woman on the other end, explaining she was Swiss and needed to inform her parents that she was safe. She gave them their number in Andelberg and grinned broadly as she replaced the phone.

"OK?" asked Jamie.

"Yeah! Wow, that feels so good - to talk to someone from Switzerland. They even sounded like they came from around our way." Her thoughts were suddenly thousands of miles away, across the Atlantic, over France and tumbling down the white-capped mountains of the Jungfrau. Even the jostling of the crowd failed to bring her back as she clung to the happy scene, her parents and brother sitting at the dining room table eating Sunday lunch.

The return journey was uneventful. Jamie read the local paper, paraphrasing some of the articles that suggested that the fight between the Nationalists and Government troops had only just begun.

To their delight, they heard the sound of the fridge gurgling noisily as they entered the front door. Jamie opened the fuse box and reset most of the breakers, earning a cheer each time something of interest came to life. After tea and hot baths all round, they met in the kitchen to decide what to do next. Lauren set out her plan - conceived three minutes before they sat down - suggesting they drive to San Falino and wait for evacuation to Switzerland. Jamie agreed, but thought train would be safer so that they blended in more easily.

Emma sat on her seat, arms wrapped around her knees pulled tight up against her chest. Lauren recognised her mood. Uncommunicative, sultry to the point of stubbornness. The little girl emerging in the suddenly adult world. Eventually, Lauren coaxed out of her that she really didn't care what happened. Compromise was reached quickly, and the children decided that Jamie's idea was the safest, and so at around ten o'clock the next morning, they shut the house once again and drove down to the station, parking the car in a side street. Jamie removed the distributor arm and stuffed it in his pocket, pleased to demonstrate his knowledge of the workings of a car. With one large suitcase each, they trudged to the station foyer, purchased single tickets to the capital and crossed the old rusted iron bridge to the other side. The sun shone mercilessly once again. Her T-Shirt was damp with sweat even though she had untucked it from her shorts. Emma and Jamie fared similarly, Emma complaining regularly of the heat and asking why they had to leave at all. Lauren had known the answer to the question the previous evening, but it escaped her now.

An hour later, and forty minutes late, the great grey hulk of the train pulled into the station, steam billowing from the mighty pistons. Lauren felt the heat of the massive boiler on her face as it passed her, the stack spewing clouds of dark smoke that wafted down towards the platform. She was reminded of the film where someone ran alongside a steam train, waving good-bye romantically. Casablanca, she thought, but maybe not. Certainly black and white. The carriages squealed to a halt, juddering along their length. Soldiers dropped to the platform, standing guard and passengers and troops disembarked. Lauren averted her gaze, dreading recognition by one of the soldiers who had featured in her ordeal, hustling Jamie and Emma aboard.

The three children clambered in and walked along the carriage, taking the first compartment that was empty. Jamie pushed their suitcases onto the overhead rack and they slumped onto the seats, smiling broadly that they had so far been successful. Almost immediately they heard the whistle from the guards and shouting from the platform. The train shuddered again as the huge wheels turned, pulling out of Boquette and headed southwards.

"Does it always go this slow?" asked Lauren.

"Yep, about twenty miles an hour. This engine is probably imported from Europe when they electrified."

Lauren was pleased they had a compartment to themselves. It could seat about eight she thought, and maybe they would have to let others in as they got closer to the capital, but the privacy was appreciated. She stood and pulled down the blinds to the corridor before standing on the seat and reaching into her suitcase for a can of fizzy orange. She sat opposite Emma and Jamie with her back to the engine, watching as the ramshackle houses disappeared in the distance. The railway track was strewn with debris - not from military action, but old oil drums, bottles, litter, domestic rubbish and parts of old cars. The junk has discoloured, turning a more complete grey with the passing of each train. Houses jostled for position against the tracks, squalid two floor tenements with access to the top floor by rickety staircases. Paint peeled around the window frames, creating jagged edges, cutting the dim light that shone hopefully from within.

Occasionally, children waved, foraging in the muck, accompanied by thin dogs or huge mothers, barefoot, dirty. Ringing bells rose to a crescendo as they rattled over a crossing. Lauren watched the cars lined up waiting along the street, water flowing along the gutter as pedestrians stumbled around the potholes. The stench of the sewer greeted her head-on, making her shudder.

She lowered the window slightly, the heat of the day oppressive. She smiled at Emma, watching as she wafted the draught under her T-Shirt. Lauren glanced from her stomach down at her skirt, horrified as she caught herself leaning her head to one side to sneak a look between her legs. The slim, sleek shins glinted in the light and Lauren recognised the shot that ran through her, a welcome visitor and one she had missed for over a week. Sex had been the furthest thing from her mind since her ordeal. Masturbation had not even figured in her daily itinerary, and so the feeling inside as she now turned her attention to Jamie gave her confidence that she was mending satisfactorily.

The door rattled as the conductor entered, his belt laden with machinery for issuing, stamping and printing tickets, change holders, timetables, keys, a torch and a gun. He was tall, overweight certainly, looked sweaty, old - at least forty by Lauren's reckoning. His thick, black hair might have been cut sometime in the past year, but it was debatable. His eyebrows curled at the ends giving him a sinister look. Lauren reached in her shorts and his gaze followed. She offered him the three tickets as he spoke quickly. Lauren was sure he had asked where they were going, but to be certain she smiled at Emma, silently asking for the translation.

"San Falino" said Emma. He took each ticket in turn, gazing a little too much at her legs for Lauren's liking. Turning his attention to Emma, he smiled and sat next to her. A sickness was born in Lauren's stomach as she watched Emma's face change from humor and happiness to concern and fear. The man's eyes seemed fixed on her young breasts, not like a connoisseur but rather as though he had never been quite so close to a girl before. He examined Jamie's ticket, grunted and stood, walking towards the door.

Lauren breathed a sigh of relief. Her mother's words of caution echoed once again. 'Never get into a single compartment, you're trapped' she would say each time she had taken the train to Interlaken or Thun. And each time, she and Nikki would do just that, blinds down, misbehaving in between stations, singing at the tops of the voices. During those occasions when their relationship was intimate, she recalled their loving between stops, time enough to remove their knickers after the first station. Time enough to spend the interludes between later stops engaged in mutual oral sex to the rhythm of the wheels, their clothing bunched up at head and toe to reveal their young breasts and bright white trainers. They had always been lucky.

Lauren focused again on the landscape, pleased that the little houses had given way to countryside. A squeal from Emma brought her thoughts back inside. Emma scrambled back towards her brother, away from the door, away from the outstretched hand.

"It's OK, I'm not going to hurt you." the guard said quietly. He sat beside her as she pushed back against her brother's chest.

"Go away!" she commanded, her eyes fearful, tracking his hands.

"Hey, stop this!" said Jamie, anger evident in his voice. The guard took no notice of Jamie, touching her knee as though it was hot and might burn his fingers. He smiled, pleased with his new-found conquest. His hand slipped up her thigh as she leapt up in the middle of the carriage, shaking him off, sneering as though a dog had accidentally urinated on her. "Go on, get out!" shouted Jamie, pointing to the door. Lauren watched their faces intently.

"No, I have sex with this girl." said the old man gruffly. His mood changed slightly, irritation setting in as though she was a prize to which he had every right. "Sit!" Emma and Jamie slowly returned to their side of the carriage. He moved towards Lauren, watching the others closely. "Take it out" he commanded, nodding at her and then his groin.

Lauren glared at him, her chin shuddering from the onset of tears. She felt her sphincter tighten, anger and adrenaline surging through her tense body. Her eyes darted from his groin to his holster and back again. She shook her head, whimpering.

"No, I can't"

"Do it!" he shouted. Turning to Jamie he snarled "You, take her shorts down!" as Emma again backed up against her brother, her thin legs and the flash of white knicker from within her shorts affecting the old man visibly. He giggled, eyes widening with childish awe as he stood in front of Lauren and pointed to his zip. Lauren remained motionless, turning to stare out of the window, her peripheral vision acutely aware of his proximity. Slowly, he reached down to his side and withdrew his gun. It shook slightly in his hand and he seemed to need both hands and all his concentration to control it.

Lauren watched her hand extend towards the old man in absolute disbelief. Pure misery enveloped her like a damp mist. She reached out and found the tag of his zipper, sniffed wetly and pulled it down. She looked up from his grey underpants and into his dim eyes, then across to Emma. The guard followed her lead, glaring at Jamie until he slipped to the floor and began to tug at his sister's shorts. Emma squealed, squirming on the seat, freezing suddenly as the gun waved in front of her face. Jamie slipped her shorts down over her knees, the indentation of her pussy clearly defined underneath her thin, cream- coloured knickers.