The Children’s Train

In the rock pit near the Bockenburg Camp, Eva flung the heavy sledgehammer down against the rocks, breaking them into small pieces of gravel. The bits of white dusty rock flew in every direction.

She struggled to raise the hammer again, but then let it drop. The rock split, and a large piece flew and hit her nose. Blood gushed from the wound. She dropped the hammer and gently touched her nose, wiping away the blood.

Grundy, seeing her stop crushing rock, swung a fist from behind and hit her on the back of her head. She fell forward onto the ground.

He kicked her. “Get up. This isn’t a holiday camp.”

Eva’s eyes fluttered open, as she came to, bloody and dusty from the gravel. She struggled to get up, trying to bring her eyes back into focus. She got to her feet, wavering. Grundy shoved the hammer into her hands and waited as her quivering thin arms hefted the hammer over her head, and she smashed the next rock.

He passed on. When he was out of sight, Eva bent over and spit out blood.