Avery boarded the train quickly, out of fear of been spotted by Colonel Brandt. As the train started, Avery watched and waited for Brandt’s car. Sure enough, it followed the train down its path on the cliff. Avery was shaking and breathing heavily, but Brandt had decided not to search the train.
Evantually the train and car came to a fork in the path, with the train going on a narrow bridge across the river, and the car continuing up the cliffs. Avery smiled, and though it was risky, he could not help but open his window and call out to Brandt. Brandt looked at the train, trying to determine who had called his name. Avery opened his window and waved smugly at Brandt.
Brandt’s car stopped immediately, but the car couldn’t fit on the bridge, so Avery thought he had outwitted Brandt. Avery could hear Brandt’s yelling from the train, and he grinned. Avery went to the caboose and stood outside, admiring the breeze. He laughed to himself at his escape from Brandt, when he saw Brandt once again.
The colonel, eager for promotion, was riding a motorcycle down the tracks to Avery and the train. His face was all red, and he had a scowl on his hawk-like face. Brandt was not about to get chewed out by his superiors, he hated that. With one hand on the stering, he pulled out a grappling hook. Avery ran back inside, trying to think of a plan.
The colonel latched the grappling hook onto the caboose’s railing, and with a daring leap, swung of off the bike and started climbing the rope to the train. “The brit won’t escape this time,” he thought to himself. The other officers with the colonel stood by his car and wondered if he’d survived the risky move.
Brandt ran into the cars, interrogating the passengers one by one. Avery had finally come up with a plan. He struggled to detach his train car from the others. He tried to push them away, but to no avail. He swore, and Brandt burst through the door to the car behind him. Brandt pulled out his baton and smirked, as Avery retreated back into his train car.
Avery grabbed an empty wine bottle from one of the tables, and waited for Brandt. “If the Nazis had stuff like this back at the camp, I would have stayed there,” Avery thought. Brandt kicked the door open, and Avery threw the bottle at him. Brandt yelled in pain, and starting thrashing about with his baton, while covering his injured face with one hand. “Uh oh” Avery muttered.
Avery ran outside the car, realizing there was nowhere for him to go now. Brandt came out of the still thrashing about, and he knocked Avery off of the train and into the perilous river below. Avery landed in the river with a giant splash, and then he looked up at the train. He’d come a long way down.
Brandt, finally looking around again, was puzzled. “Where had Avery gone this time?” he said aloud. Brandt went back inside the train and sat down in a booth. He was tired and he soon drifted into dreamland. Meanwhile, the other people aboard the train looked at him strangely. The sight of a man running into and out of their train and coming back into the car with a bloodied face was very strange to them.
While the passengers tried to figure out what happened to Brandt, Avery had started swimming to the shore. He slowly walked on the rocky shore, catching his breath, and then he proceeded into the forest ahead. Avery knew he had to be careful; Brandt was not a person to give up the hunt easily, and he would undoubtedly be back.
For now, though, Avery was content.