The Nature of Blood Read Online Free Page B

to the window. I look out. I see a long line of local townspeople. They are being forced to march past a huge mound of bodies. The English soldiers shout at them. And some of my fellow inmates shout at them too. But that is all. These miserable people continue to trudge by. I wonder how long this parade has been going on for? Hours? I notice that it will be a beautiful day.
    I walk close to the barbed-wire fence and peer at the world beyond the camp. I touch the fence. I know where I am. I am suddenly appalled to realize that I am comfortable being confined. To remove the wire seems unthinkable. I know that I am free to trespass on the other side, to saunter out through the gate and bolt in any direction I choose. But looking at life through this fence suits me better. And then I realize that I cannot go back. I am sure that Margot will have found her way to America. Why go back? I am twenty-one now. I must begin to plan a future. Beyond the fence, a bird sets forth from a tree and soars into the air. But even while lost in flight, the bird remains beyond the fence. The bird never flies close to the fence.
    I turn a corner and stop. Lying before me, encouraging me to step over it, is the battered corpse of a guard. His face is lumpy and misshapen, his limbs splayed. Near his body are a pair of freshly stained wooden staves. He wasn't a bad man. In fact, compared to some of the others, he was quite a good man. I step around the body and continue to walk. Why should the death of this one man affect me?
    Margot loved the movies. Her room was plastered with pinups of the stars, but Mama did not like this, for she was concerned that both of her daughters should succeed at school. However, Papa said to leave her alone, for she wasn't harming anybody, and there was plenty of time to study. Margot was always trying to persuade me to come with her to the latest picture, and I envied Margot's preoccupation with the movies. Eventually it replaced her piano-playing, which she never really enjoyed. Compared to my sister, I was dull. I enjoyed school and studying, and Mama used to say, 'Margot is a dreamer, but Eva is like her father.' However, I could never understand whether Mama meant this warmly, or whether, deep down, this was a criticism of me. Eventually I realized that Mama's comment was born of both pride and disappointment.
    I see Gerry walking towards me with his hands jammed deeply into his trouser pockets. He is pretending that he hasn't been looking for me, but a week has passed and I have been watching him. As he reaches me, he attempts a small but quickly abandoned whistle.
    'Hello there. Feeling better?'
    'Thank you.'
    He's not a bad-looking man. In fact, he's quite handsome, although his thin moustache is a trifle old for him.
    'Anything you need, you know you only have to ask.' He pulls an apple from his pocket. 'I saved this for you.'
    Gerry holds out his hand and I take the apple from him.
    'Thank you.'
    'You haven't even told me your name. I told you mine. I'm Gerry.'
    'My name is Eva.'
    'That's nice.'
    He fidgets slightly. I watch as he sways first left, then right, and then on to the outside edge of his boots.
    'It must have been awful here. Have you been here long?'
    'About four months.'
    I have no desire to pursue this conversation with Gerry, but I feel as though the apple in my hand is some form of payment.
    'On your own?'
    I lie. 'Yes. On my own.'
    'I see.'
    Beyond the fence, the sun is beginning to set. A fiery, dramatic light on the horizon.
    'We'll probably be here cleaning up for a while. But it's pretty much over for us now. Then back to civvy street.'
    Why is this man talking to me as though we are friends?
    'You can smile, you know.'
    He laughs as he says this. He doesn't know that, should I attempt to smile, my face would break clean in two.
    I sit outside the hut and stare at the sky. Tonight, I will not sleep. My head is full of worries. I worry about Papa. I worry about Mama. I worry about Margot. I