bolted through him, powering his fatigued body. The sedan dogged his back tire, toying with him. Aldo pedaled harder, channeling his fear into effort. The sedan sped so close that he could feel heat emanating from its big engine. He heard men laughing. Maybe drinkers, having fun at his expense. There was no one around to help. He was on his own.
The sedan gunned its engine, gaining on him. He couldn’t hope to outrun them, but he kept going, his heart hammering from a growing terror. Suddenly a bottle hit his shoulder, and the men burst into raucous laughter.
Aldo gripped the handlebars but didn’t fall. His front tire wobbled but he kept control. He tried to think of a way out. There was none. He was on a long stretch of road flanked by fences and farms, with no byway to the left or right. The men in the sedan must know the roads better than he. He was frightened, but prayed they would leave him alone.
Aldo could barely see in the darkness. Ahead the road curved to the right and disappeared. The wind buffeted him broadside, and clouds raced to conceal the moon. He steered around the curve to the right, then saw to his horror that the road was blocked by a line of sedans that were facing him, head-on. Their headlights were switched off.
An ambush.
Aldo braked as hard as he could. The cars switched on their headlights, blasting him with light, blinding him. He slid into a fall. His bicycle vanished from under him. The package of guns flew from the pouch.
Everything happened at once. He fell to the ground, half-rolling and half-skidding off the road. The asphalt tore his jersey off and flayed his skin. An agonizing pain ripped through his arms and legs. He couldn’t hold a single thought.
Aldo found himself coming to a stop in a grassy ditch, hitting a fence post. He smelled manure. He heard the thundering of hooves as horses ran off.
He struggled to maintain consciousness. The pain was agonizing. He hurt everywhere. He felt warmth all over his face. He knew it was his own blood. He opened his eyes with effort. Above him loomed a line of dark silhouettes, brandishing long clubs.
Fascists.
Aldo felt his heart thunder with terror. The Fascists must have discovered their plans. He struggled to his feet, but his legs buckled under him. Pain exploded in his right knee. It must be broken. He pitched forward and crumpled to the ground. His blood drenched him. He smelled the metallic odor.
The men laughed, coming for him. “Bolshevik pig!” “You’re under arrest, Communist!” “I see a gun on him, don’t you?” “Yes, I see it, too!” “We have to defend ourselves!”
Aldo realized they were going to kill him, not arrest him. He tried to crawl away. His legs seared with agony. He panted and grunted like an animal. He clawed his way forward with his fingers.
“Come on, boy, run for it! Make it fun!”
A club whacked him from behind. He heard his scapula crack and splinter. Excruciating pain shot through his body. He refused to cry out. If he was going to die, it would be with bravery.
“Come on, get up and run, you good-for-nothing!”
The men began pounding Aldo with clubs, breaking his ribs. His elbow. His legs. He writhed in agony. Someone kicked him in the head. He began to lose consciousness.
Suddenly Aldo felt no pain. His life began to ebb away. He recited the Hail Mary. It was the hour of his death. His soul left his body, and he felt himself looking down on the young man lying beside a country road, being beaten by the men who had stolen his country.
He thought of his family. He loved them so much. He regretted that he had never let them know him, truly. He had kept himself to himself.
He regretted that he had never been loved by a woman. He would have been the most devoted of husbands. He hadn’t wanted to leave his life, so soon.
Yet he knew he was going to a better life, an eternal one, in the embrace of a just and loving God.
And in his last moment, he felt the deepest anguish, for now he could no longer protect his beloved Marco.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Marco
October 1938
It was a slow morning at Bar GiroSport, with Marco at the counter with Letizia, since Aldo hadn’t come home last night. His parents had been surprised to wake up to Aldo’s absence, and they had worried,