A shabby, shadowy garret. Rocky let himself in through the window, and once he was in the garret with the women, the whole tone of the movie changed. The sense of urgency vanished. Lola put her hand to her head and showed signs of sagging to the floor. Rocky scooped her up in his powerful arms and carried her to a corner where, puzzlingly, a heap of straw had been arranged into a kind of bed. He stretched her out on the straw and ran his hand along her cheek. She smiled, gamely. Rocky kissed her cheek. She wrapped her arms around Rocky’s neck and pulled him to her. They kissed. Rocky ran his hand along her leg, upward, higher, higher—
Margot: “Can’t you stop fidgeting?”
The camera panned slowly away from Rocky and Lola, who were moaning on the straw, toward the window, to show us a view of the rooftops of the city. The rain was really pelting down. The music swelled up, and in the distance there were flashes of light, thunder or bombardments. The camera continued to pan, very slowly, until we saw Lulu keeping watch beside the window. The gentle contours of her face were illuminated by irregular flashes: the truculent light of the storm and the war.
It seemed to me impossible that, from where she was standing, Lulu would be able to see anyone approaching, what with the angle and so on, so having her stand watch at the window seemed useless. I was about to whisper this insight to Margot when a tear ran down Lulu’s cheek.
The tear surprised me. It seemed, at first, not quite in character. When I thought about it, though, it made sense. Lulu had been through a frightening time, after all, and although she had been awfully brave, it wasn’t surprising that she should break down when the immediate danger was past. Several tears were streaming down her cheeks now. Maybe they were tears of relief. Margot and Martha seemed to think otherwise.
Margot (muttering): “It’s not fair.” She pounded her little fist on my thigh.
Martha (leaning across me to whisper to her sister): “You’re right.”
I (in a manly, reassuring voice): “It’ll turn out all right. I’m sure it will.”
Margot: “Don’t bet on it.”
Martha (with a note of bitterness in her voice): “You watch, Peter. One of those girls—”
A voice from behind us: “Will you kids quiet down?”
The girls sank into their chairs, and we watched the rest of the movie without speaking.
Rocky and Lola fell asleep on the straw. While they were sleeping, Lulu crept to them, knelt beside them, held her hand out over them as if she meant to touch them, then seemed to change her mind. She took some bits of straw and turned her back to the camera for a moment. When she faced us again, she was smiling. She bent to Rocky and Lola and shook them. They woke.
Lulu (urgently): “Listen to me. I have a plan. Take this map.”
She pulled a map from her blouse and quickly outlined an escape route. Then she paused.
Lulu (in a voice thick with emotion): “I won’t be going with you.”
Lola: “What?”
Lulu: “Someone has to stay behind and create a diversion.”
Rocky: “That should be me.”
Lulu (shaking her head, grinning a fatalistic grin): “No, Rocky. You see, while you were asleep I drew straws.”
She opened her hand to show two long straws and a short one.
Lulu: “I got the short one.”
Rocky: “Well, that’s fair, I guess.”
Lola: “Yes, it seems fair.”
Margot and Martha began pounding their fists on my knees.
From the street came the sound of rifle butts banging at the door of the building, then splintering wood.
Lulu: “Now go.”
Lola: “But—”
Lulu (checking the machine gun she had pulled from beneath the pile of straw): “No buts. Those—crows are about to learn that this little sparrow has talons of her own.”
We heard the door burst open, then the sound of feet, many feet, on the stairway. Rocky crawled through the window. He helped Lola through. They began their escape over the rooftops. They were a couple of buildings away when, suddenly, we heard the sound of machine-gun fire from the garret. Lola shuddered. Suddenly, the firing stopped. Lola stiffened, hesitated, seemed to want to turn back. Rocky grabbed her with both hands and shook her.
Rocky (grimly): “Don’t look back.”
They turned away and resumed their scramble across the rooftops.
Music up. Fade to black.
We left the theater in silence.
[to be continued]
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🎧 838: A shabby, . . .