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The shed, which the young man crouched in, was cold and dark giving very little shelter from the strong wind outside.
Michael had been on the run from Russia for six days. His wife and two daughters had died last winter from tuberculosis
and he had nothing left to keep him there. He was on his way to freedom.
The train to take him across the border
was due at seven oclock this morning only five hours to go.
The past six days seemed like months. On the third day
the police had almost caught him. Michael had dropped everything and run to hide in an old deserted barn, till they passed.
He had also lost all his food that day.
John Matthews had only told him two weeks ago that he would escape across
the border if he made it this far. All he had to do was get on the train in the morning which would take him across the border
where a man with red hair and dark black rimmed glasses would give him a new ID and he would be free.
If only his
grumbling stomach would stop so he could get a few hours sleep before the train came.
Outside the wind howled even
stronger and the shed rattled and creaked.
Slowly the young man drifted to sleep. He dreamed he was back in his
living room with his wife, Catherine and daughters, Elizabeth and Katrina.
Michael was playing his guitar for his
lovely wife who sat on the couch knitting cloths for their unborn child.
The fireplace at the other side of the
room gave off a beautiful warm glow.
Everyone was at peace the two girls were sitting on the floor playing cards.
The scene clouded over and he was alone in the living room the day after the funeral, everything was quiet and miserable.
The fire was dead in the fireplace, it was very cold.
Suddenly a tooting sound was heard, he woke up with a jolt,
the sun was up and out the window he could see the train coming. He quickly got up, grabbed his guitar and rushed out. In
the trains cloud of steam he ran and jumped onto one of the carriages.
At last he was on his way to freedom.
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