I'm Not Scared (19 page)

Michele, what are you waiting for? Come home, Maria's voice ordered me.

‘I'm coming,' I said.

I had done what I could and he had been impossible to find. It wasn't my fault.

I must move quickly, they could arrive at any moment.

If I ran, without stopping, I might get home before they went out. Nobody would have noticed anything. That would be good.

I climbed quickly among the rocks back up the path I had come down. Now there was a bit of light it was easier.

The little owl. It was wheeling above the terrace, and when it passed in front of the moon I could see its black silhouette, its short broad wings.

‘What are you doing?' I ran across the terrace, near the goats, and the bird swooped again. I went on a little way and turned back to look at that crazy owl.

It kept wheeling over the terrace. It skimmed the heap of
poles resting against the rock, wheeled round and returned, stubbornly.

Why was it behaving like that? Was there a mouse there? No. What, then?

Its nest!

Of course. Its nest. Its young.

Swallows, too, if you knock down their nest, keep wheeling round and round till they die of exhaustion.

They had covered up the little owl's nest. And little owls make their nests in holes.

Holes!

I turned back and started shifting the piled-up stakes with the owl brushing past me. ‘Wait, wait,' I said to her.

There was an opening in the rock, roughly concealed. An oval cleft as wide as the wheel of a truck.

The owl darted in.

It was pitch black. And there was a smell of burnt wood and ash. I couldn't make out how deep it was.

I stuck my head in and called. ‘Filippo?'

I was answered by the echo of my voice.

‘Filippo?' I leaned further in. ‘Filippo?'

I waited. Not a sound.

He wasn't there.

He isn't there. Run home, my sister's voice repeated.

I had taken three steps when I thought I heard a cry, a low moan.

Had I imagined it?

I turned back and put my head into the hole.

‘Filippo? Filippo, are you there?'

And from the hole came ‘Mmmm! Mmmm!'

‘Filippo, is that you?'

‘Mmmm!'

He was there!

I felt a weight dissolving in my chest, I leaned against the rock and slid down. I sat there, slumped on that terrace covered with goats' droppings, with a smile on my face.

I had found him.

I started crying. I dried my eyes with my hands.

‘Mmmm!'

I got up. ‘I'm coming. I won't be a moment. You see? I've come, I kept my promise. You see?'

A rope. I found one, coiled up near the scythes. I tied it to the root where the goats were and threw it into the hole. ‘Here I come.'

I lowered myself down inside. My heart was pumping so hard that my chest and arms were shaking. The darkness made me giddy. I couldn't breathe. I felt as if I was swimming in petroleum and it was cold.

I hadn't even gone two metres when I touched the ground. It was covered with stakes, pieces of wood, piled-up crates of tomatoes. On all fours I groped in the dark with my hands. I was naked and shivering with cold.

‘Filippo, where are you?'

‘Mmmm!'

They had gagged him.

‘I'm …' One foot got caught between the branches, I fell, with my arms forward, on top of some bundles of thorny twigs. A sharp pain bit my ankle. I cried out and a hot acid flood of bile came up to my throat. An icy wind swept my back and I felt as if my ears were on fire.

With shaking hands I pulled out my trapped foot. The pain pressed me inside my ankle. ‘I think I've sprained my ankle,' I gasped. ‘Where are you?'

‘Mmmm!'

I dragged myself, with gritted teeth, towards the moan, and found him. He was under the bundles of wood. I took them off
him and felt him. He was lying on the ground. Naked. His arms and legs were bound with packing tape.

‘Mmmm!'

I put my hands on his face. He had tape over his mouth too.

‘You can't talk. Wait, I'll take it off. It might hurt a bit.'

I tore it off. He didn't shout, but started to pant.

‘How are you?'

He didn't say anything.

‘Filippo, how are you? Answer me!'

He was panting like the hound that was bitten by the viper.

‘Are you ill?'

I touched his chest. It was swelling and subsiding too quickly.

‘Now we'll get out of here. We'll get out. Hang on a moment.'

I tried to untie his wrists and ankles. It was tight. Finally, with my teeth, desperately, I started to saw through the tape. I freed first his hands, then his feet.

‘That's it. Let's go.' I took his arm. But the arm fell limply back. ‘Get up, please. We must go, they're coming.' I tried to pull him up, but he fell back down like a puppet. There wasn't a scrap of energy left in that exhausted little body. The only difference between him and a corpse was that he was still breathing. ‘I can't carry you up. My leg hurts! Please, Filippo, help me …' I grasped him by the arms. ‘Come on! Come on!' I sat him up, but as soon as I let go he flopped down on the ground. ‘What have I got to do? Don't you realize they'll shoot you if you stay here?' A lump blocked up my throat. ‘Die like this then, you fool, you stupid fool! I came here for your sake, all the way here, I kept my promise and you … and you …' I burst into tears. I was shaken by my sobs. ‘You … must … get … up … idiot, idiot … you … idiot.' I tried again and
again, stubbornly, but he sprawled back in the ashes, with his head all bent, like a dead chicken. ‘Get up! Get up!' I shouted, and I pummelled him.

I didn't know what to do. I sat down, with my head on my knees. ‘You're not dead yet, do you understand?' I sat there, crying. ‘This isn't heaven.'

For an instant he stopped panting and whispered something.

I put my ear to his lips. ‘What did you say?'

He whispered: ‘I can't do it.'

I shook him. ‘What do you mean you can't do it?'

‘I can't do it, I'm sorry.'

‘Yes you can. Yes …'

He wasn't speaking any more. I embraced him. Covered in mud, we were shivering with cold. There was nothing more to be done. I couldn't do it either. I felt tired out, dead beat, my ankle was still throbbing. I shut my eyes, my heart started to relax and without wanting to I fell asleep.

I opened my eyes again.

It was dark. For an instant I thought I was at home, in my bed.

Then I heard Melichetti's dog barking. And some voices.

They had arrived.

I tugged him. ‘Filippo! Filippo, they're here! They want to kill you. Get up.'

He panted. ‘I can't.'

‘Yes you can. Do you want to bet?' I knelt down and with my hands pushed him forward, among the branches, regardless of the pain. Mine, his. I must get him out of that hole. The bundles of wood scratched me but I kept pushing, gritting my teeth, till we were under the mouth of the hole.

The voices were close by. And a glare flashed on the branches of the trees.

I gripped him by the arms. ‘Now you've got to stand up. You've got to. And that's that.' I pulled him up, he clung to my neck. He straightened up. ‘You see, stupid? You see, you have got up, haven't you? But now you've got to climb up. I'll push you from below, but you must hold onto the edge.'

He started coughing. It sounded as if stones were shooting around in his chest. When he finally stopped, he shook his head and said: ‘Without you I'm not going.'

‘What?'

‘Without you I'm not going.'

I put my arms round him as if he was a rag doll. ‘Don't be stupid. I'll be right behind you.'

Now they seemed to be there. The dog was barking above my head.

‘No.'

‘You're going, do you understand?' If I let go of him he would fall down. I took him in my arms and pushed him up. ‘Grab the rope, come on.'

And I felt him become lighter. He had got hold of the rope! He was on top of me. He was resting his feet on my shoulders.

‘Now I'm going to push you, but keep pulling yourself up with your arms, all right? Don't let up.'

I saw his small head surrounded by the pale light of the hole.

‘You're there. Now pull yourself out.'

He tried. I felt him straining unsuccessfully. ‘Wait. I'll help you,' I said, grasping him by the ankles. ‘I'll give you a push. You jump.' I pushed at his legs and gritting my teeth I threw him out and saw him disappear swallowed up by the hole. At the same moment I felt as if a long pointed nail had been driven into my ankle bone right through to the marrow and a cutting spasm of pain ran like an electric shock through my leg up to my groin, and I collapsed.

‘Michele! Michele, I've done it! Come on.'

I belched acid air. ‘I'm coming. I'm just coming.'

I tried to get up but the leg no longer responded. From the ground I tried to grab the rope but I couldn't reach it.

I heard the voices coming nearer and nearer. The sound of footsteps.

‘Michele, are you coming?'

‘Just a moment.'

My head was spinning, but I got on my knees. I couldn't pull myself up.

I said: ‘Filippo, run for it!'

He looked down. ‘Come up!'

‘I can't. My leg. You run for it!'

He shook his head. ‘No, I'm not going.' The light behind him was brighter.

‘Run for it. They're here. Run for it.'

‘No.'

‘You've got to go. Please. Get away!'

‘No.'

I shouted and pleaded. ‘Get away! Get away! If you don't they'll kill you, don't you understand?'

He started crying.

‘Get away. Get away. Please, I beg of you. Get away … And don't stop. Don't ever stop. Ever… Hide!' I fell down on the ground.

‘I can't do it,' he said. ‘I'm scared.'

‘No, you're not scared. You're not scared. There's nothing to be scared of. Hide.'

He nodded and disappeared.

From the ground I started trying to find the rope in the dark, I touched it, but lost it. I tried again, but it was too high up.

Through the hole I saw papa. In one hand he had a pistol, in the other a torch.

He had lost.

As usual.

The light blinded me. I closed my eyes.

‘Papa, it's me, Miche …'

Then came the white.

I opened my eyes.

My leg hurt. It wasn't the leg that had been hurting before. The other one. The pain was a climbing plant. A piece of barbed wire twisting round my guts. Something overwhelming. Red. A dam that has burst.

Nothing can check a dam that has burst.

A roar was increasing. A metallic roar that grew and covered everything. It throbbed in my ears.

I was wet. I touched my leg. Something thick and warm was smeared all over me.

I don't want to die. I don't want to.

I opened my eyes.

I was in a whirl of straw and lights.

There was a helicopter.

And there was papa. He was holding me in his arms. He was speaking to me but I couldn't hear. His hair shone, waving in the wind.

Lights blinded me. From the darkness black creatures and dogs appeared. They were coming towards us.

The lords of the hill.

Papa, they're coming. Run for it. Run for it.

Beneath the roar my heart was marching in my stomach.

I vomited.

I opened my eyes again.

Papa was crying. He was stroking me. His hands red. A dark figure approached. Papa looked at him.

Papa, you must run for it.

In the roar papa said: ‘I didn't recognize him. Help me, please, he's my son. He's wounded. I didn't …'

Now it was dark again.

And there was papa.

And there was me.