Chapter 12
Quite a while later, it seemed, I regained consciousness again. I felt as though I were on a big swing that rocked and brought waves of nausea, and then I felt that my arms and shoulders were numb and sore and stiff, and my head hurt, and there was a soreness around my eyeballs as though I'd been staring cross-eyed too long.
Before I moved or opened my eyes I listened to see whether they were still there but I didn't hear a thing. Finally I pried my eyelid apart. A bug's eye view of the ground was all I had.
I pushed myself into a sitting position, still keeping my left arm and hand out for a prop. The sunny world around me spun and jiggled. After I'd blinked my eyes a number of times, I could see that I was alone, near those same trees. A small clump of trees, they turned out to be as they came into focus.
I spent about a half hour there, trying to get myself oriented, and enjoying the fact that I was still alive. My fingertips probed the back of my head and I found that my skull was still in one piece. The skin on both shoulders under my shirt was black and blue, but no bones were broken. I felt the dried and crusted blood at the end of my nose and around my mouth.
When I dug out my handkerchief I checked the rest of my pockets. They hadn't stolen a thing. Then I spit into the handkerchief and rubbed my face with the dampness until it felt as though I'd gotten rid of the dried blood.
There was no reason why I was being so neat because there wasn't a human being around and not a house in sight. I let my glance make another three-hundred and sixty degree sweep. Nothing.
Slowly and shakily I got to my feet and looked around some more. If Italy was so over-populated, why wasn't there someone living nearby? I moved about ten yards away from that clump of trees. Up to that moment they had blocked out part of my view. Now, about five miles away, I saw a number of white dots which had to be houses of a village clinging to a hillside.
I was at the bottom of a long and narrow canyon, its sides not too steep but heavily wooded with shrubs and trees. About seventy yards away I could see a small dirt road that seemed to extend the full length of the canyon. It probably led to that village on my right. All I could see to the left was the canyon stretching into the distance, but it seemed as though the hill to my left tended to become smaller, while to my right they became larger.
I didn't know where I was, I couldn't guess in which direction I had to go to find the Riviera, or Genoa, but I thought if I went in the direction where the hills became smaller, maybe they'd peter out eventually and there would be the sea.
Studying the ground around me. I could see the tire tracks made by the Mercedes. I found the spot where the car had turned around and I followed the tracks down to the dirt road. Here, the two sets of tracks turned to the left, generally eastward towards the hills that seemed to get smaller. That's the direction I started walking.
I hadn't been walking very long before I got real sick and tired of it. I didn't mind walking five or even fifty miles with a chick like Angelina, but I didn't care at all for picking them up and setting them down because a couple of bastards left me stranded in a strange part of a foreign country, and I wasn't sure I was even headed in the right direction.
The more I thought about those two guys the hotter I got. I'd made up my mind I wasn't going to get involved in this thing with Zora. She had her problems, George had his, and I didn't want any part of either one. They had their problems, and I had mine. I just wanted to be left alone, to relax now and enjoy myself. But the guy with the gun and the one with the roundface had spoiled it.
The thing that was really annoying was that they'd worked me over with a sap, just because I'd been telling the truth, and then they'd left me out here to walk back.
The worm would have to turn sometime. When I visualized What would happen the next time we met, I immediately began to feel a lot better. I'd enjoy messing up their nice clothes, or putting a few dents in that nice, shiny Mercedes.
By that time I'd come to a wide, flat area where the ground was as level and smooth as a table top. The fiat surface was only about fifty yards in diameter, and way off to the side of it I could see a few metal braces and some bricks, as though a house might have stood there once.
There was still no human being in sight.
Then I glanced up the road in the direction I was headed and I saw a dark moving speck in the distance, coming completely into view as it passed a bend in the road. I watched it for a while and then I recognized it as a horse pulling a wagon. I waited for it to come closer and before long I could see that it was flat-bedded wagon with four rubber tires on the wheels. I couldn't see anyone on the wagon.
The horse was walking along slowly, and following the road, and it and the wagon were turning out to be the best means of transportation I'd ever seen. I stood patiently by the side of the road and waited for it to come to me.
When the horse and wagon were about ten yards away, I was able to see the driver. He was lying on the wagon, near the front part of it, with his coat folded under his head and sound asleep. The reins of the horse had been tied to the front of the wagon, and the horse was apparently taking him home.
I studied the horse and the wagon and the guy snoring while he lay on his back. Then I rechecked the wide flat area.
I walked carefully up beside the walking horse, soothing it quietly with my voice until I was moving alongside its bobbing head. I reached up with my hand, took hold of the bridle, and I began to lead it to the right, over the wide smooth area, then swung it slowly and carefully around to the left, turning it and the wagon around in a large circle. Without giving the horse a chance to break stride, I kept leading it down the road again, in the direction it had just come from.
The horse wanted to slow down, probably quite disappointed not to be going home to the hay in the stall, but I talked to it, softly, and I kept walking it, leading it by the bridle. After about a hundred yards it stepped out again, walking with that steady and smooth gait.
I turned loose of the bridle, and then I stepped off the side of the road. When the back of the wagon came by, I jumped on it, and I had my ride.
The guy was still snoring loudly on the front of the wagon, and from that distance he smelled as though he'd fallen into a vat of wine. I didn't disturb him.
I stretched out on my back on the wagon bed and clasped my hands under my head to keep the moving wagon from jolting me too much. I looked up at the clean blue sky, and I enjoyed the warmth of the sun. Before long I'd dropped off to sleep.
The shrill sound of a woman's voice awakened me. I sat up quickly and saw that we were coming to a small village. I could see that the road led into the small square located in the center of the village.
I jumped off the wagon, and I walked quickly to the right, following the edge of a tiny corn patch and angling towards the rear part of the village.
Within a few minutes Td reached the first stone building. I turned left at the second one, and I was now walking down a narrow street, littered with all kinds of crap. Kids were playing outdoors on doorsteps, rags of laundry hung out of windows, and a goose honked at me as I strode down the street.
Now three ugly women, dressed in black dresses and wearing black shawls, came out of three separate doorways. They grabbed the children nearest them and shoved them inside the buildings. Then they stared silently at me as I went by. I smiled and nodded, but they seemed too surprised to be friendly.
At the end of the street, where it joined the square, I found a bar, and I went inside. It was deserted, except for the girl standing at the window watching something outside.
"Espresso," I told her.
Reluctantly she stepped away from the window and got busy with the steaming urn. Then I heard the rising sound of many voices, suddenly swelling very loud, and coming from somewhere outside and nearby.
I looked out the door and saw that about twenty men and women were crowding around the horse and wagon that had just stopped in the center of the square. Everyone was chattering and yelling, and waving wildly with his arms Except the driver of the wagon.
He got up slowly and looked around with a puzzled expression on his dark face. He yawned scratched his ear, glanced bewildered at his wagon, and then suspiciously eyed the horse.
Women began shrieking with laughter and men doubled up and choked and coughed and laughed and snorted and slapped their legs, while the poor guy on the wagon just threw out his arms and stared at them with a pained and puzzled look on his face. Before long he started grinning, then laughing, and finally he was caught up in the merriment of the occasion. A few minutes later he walked to the front of the wagon and untied the reins. Good-naturedly he pulled the horse around, and they moved out of the square, heading in the direction they'd been going before I came along'.
The girl was chattering and laughing as she set the coffee in front of me. She'd been watching the activity through the window. She seemed to be trying to explain something, and I could only nod my head and grin.
When she quieted down I asked, "Taxi?"
She frowned and shook her head. Then the words really spouted from her, and it was a lot more difficult getting a ride out of that village than into it.
First she had to establish the fact that I was an American, and that took quite a bit of doing. Then she scurried out into the square and chattered furiously, and she brought back an old man who apparently had told everybody he could speak English. All he could say was "Good morning." Of course everyone in the square had to see what was happening, and they were all jammed now into the bar.
Everyone was yelling and talking and swinging their arms, and acting out individual roles, and it was a comical game of charades. Some were driving wagons, some motorcycles, some cars. One guy even put on a hat like a cab driver, and with all that I finally made them understand that I wanted a ride to Santa Margherita, and they made me understand that the village had no taxis, no cars, no horses, and only four bicycles.
The thought of a bicycle was tempting. I was getting desperate.
At that moment a lad of about nineteen pulled up outside on a thundering motorcycle. Before he could get off they'd all swarmed outside and swooped down on him, talking, yelling, pointing at the motorcycle, at the road, at me in the bar, and then they shoved him inside the bar and held him and made him stand close in front of me, almost on my toes.
The lad must have loved garlic. I tried to move backwards, away from him, but they had me hemmed in.
He seemed reluctant at first to take me into Santa Margherita, but I pulled out a five-hundred Lire note and put it into his hand. The audience ooh'd and aah'd and began looking at him as though he'd just been elected mayor.
That swung him over to my side.
The entire crowd followed us outside and as he started up the motorcycle I crawled on behind. We shot out of there in a thundering roar with the big blue cloud of smoke cottoning up behind us, and with all the townsfolk cheering us on.
It was gratifying to learn that I had been headed in the right direction, and before long I caught sight of the sea glistening in the distance. When we came to a main road I recognized it to be the one going from Genoa to Santa Margherita.
He dipped the bike low and turned left, and about fifteen minutes later he'd deposited me in front of my hotel. I thanked him and gave him another thousand lire. He swept off his cap and thanked me.
"Get yourself a new set of rings," I said.
"Si, si," he agreed.
I went into the hotel and got the key from the clerk. Although he handed it to me without a word, there was a strange look on his face, something like amazement mixed with disbelief. I couldn't understand the reason for it, but I assumed I still had some blood on my face.
Then I met a maid in the hallway. She was walking towards me, carrying a stack of linens. She pulled up abruptly the moment she saw me, and clasping the linens to her breast, she stood motionless, only her eyes moving as I went by her. My face really had to be a mess, I thought.
I unlocked the door and stepped into my room, wanting to take a look at myself in the mirror. Without closing the door I stepped to the mirror and looked at myself, but there was nothing on my face to explain the reactions I'd gotten from the clerk and the maid.
As I turned away from the mirror I saw the maid coming into my room and walking over to the bed. They'd fixed it while I was out. She still held the linens against her with one arm. Now she bent over the bed and punched it with her free hand.
"Bene, bene," she said.
"Thanks for fixing it."
She straightened up, looking long and adoringly at the bed, and then she looked at me in the very same way. Her eyes were moist, and an admiring glance later moved over me from head to foot, and back again.
"Molto bene," she said softly and very complimentary. Her hand went to the bedspread a-gain, and for a moment she stroked it, almost lovingly. Then she turned, walked slowly out the room and shut the door.
With the bed breaking and all I could only come to the conclusion that in their opinion, last night I'd become a man.
I spent a long time in the shower, letting the hot water beat down on my neck and shoulders to melt the knots in my muscles and ease the dull, throbbing pain. By the time I'd toweled dry and dressed, dusk had crept into my room. I felt a lot better now. I still had a slight headache but it was no worse than you get from cheap booze.
While I was having dinner, I reviewed what had happened during the day. I wondered whether the two guys had found Zora by now, or if they were still looking for her. It was possible that they needed more information and they might come back again. That was the part I didn't like.
Several times I'd tried to guess how they fitted into this mess with Zora. They were definitely the bad guys in this little drama, but who were they working for? Were they out to revenge the Greek? Were they Commies? If Zora were mixed up with the Commies, perhaps they frowned on her trying to get out of Italy and into the States. They wouldn't like it if Zora was running out on them, especially if she were doing it quietly and on her own. Whoever it was that wanted to find her meant business, and it bothered me, realizing that they could still think I'd been lying and come back again.
I didn't want to go for another ride, and I didn't want to get another beating like I'd had that afternoon. Next time the ride might be much longer. How could I be sure they'd stay off my back?
I hoped the police had caught up with Zora already, but she was too smart to try to get out of the country now. She'd hide somewhere and wait until they relaxed the alert again.
By the time I'd finished dinner, I'd made up my mind to drive into Genoa and talk to Longo. I'd tell him what had happened and find out whether she'd been picked up. If she'd been found I could relax and enjoy myself and the guys wouldn't foe bothering me again.