CHAPTER EIGHT
After the festivities had subsided, the five men found themselves fair shelter and built a small fire to huddle around. Now the fun had come to an end, all consideration turned to their rather bleak situation, and together, as equals, they discussed tomorrow’s options. Charlie had fallen quiet, enjoying the respite of leadership, allowing the men to discuss the plan he’d suggested to them. It was their willingness to help the innocent that had spurred his mind to come up with such a feat, so he had decided to make it their decision as well.
‘Are we sure about this?’ asked Billy, from across the fire, his concern obvious on his face lit up in an amber glow.
‘The calculations add up,’ replied Specks. ‘The plan has the potential… and the capacity to work.’
‘I don’t know about you guys, but I like it,’ grinned Doodle, who was munching on the last of some burnt meat delight.
‘And what do you think, Scott?’ asked Charlie, looking to Yankee, who looked atypically pensive.
‘Well Charlie, let me just get this whole shindig straight in my mind before I commit. I just wanna run through it one last time, just so I’m absolutely clear on all the different… stuff.’ Charlie sipped warm water from a tin cup he had kept hanging just above the fire, and listened to his comrade regale the proposal. ‘We’re gonna drag the boat or ship or whatever you call it, up from the seabed. Pray to God it’s salvageable. We fix her up, good as new… or useable at least. We then strip two of the engines from the trucks, and attach them to the back of the boat. We siphon off as much petrol as we can and fill the boat’s tanks with it. Meanwhile we get these kind folk to store as much food and provisions on board to last for a good few days’ journey. Then we get everyone onboard, and head for merry old England. Oh, I almost forgot… before we go, we’re gonna blow the water tower to pieces, removing the Masked Men’s…’
‘Manipulated Men,’ corrected Specks.
‘Right, the Music Men’s chances to recharge. Thwarting one last time one of Shoebox’s little projects. Is that everything?’
‘That’s about the size of it,’ answered Charlie after a moment’s reflection. ‘It’ll be a dangerous journey. The risks are high. Extremely. It’s likely to be a series of adventures on its own. If… sorry, when we get back to England, any Nazis that have decided to come with us will be immediately taken as prisoners of war. And we will likely be court-martialled as deserters, and imprisoned ourselves.’
‘But these nice folk will be safe, right?’ asked Yankee.
Charlie nodded yes. The men went quiet, all contemplating the incredible tasks that awaited them, should they decide to go ahead with the plan. Doodle went to say something countless times, but kept losing his thread. Specks was thinking fast, jotting down calculation after calculation in his notepad, whilst Billy stared deeply into the fire.
‘I don’t know, Charlie. Sounds like you need an A-team or something to pull off a scheme so huge,’ said Yankee, but slowly, a long wide smile was spreading across his face. The decision was already made. ‘Hell, sounds like fun to me. I’m in. Small price to pay to see these good people in the safe and civilised circumstances they deserve. We can be all-out heroes again. This will make my mumma proud of me!’
‘I’m sure she already is. Of both of you. I know I am,’ said Charlie, resting a hand on Yankee’s shoulder, and smiling at them both. He glanced over at Billy, seeing a troubled look on the boy’s face. ‘What’s wrong, Billy?’
‘It’s just… all I know is this country. All I know is this war. I don’t… I can’t… I’m worried that…’ But the words wouldn’t come to the young man. ‘Oh, just tell me to shut up, already. I’m getting on my own nerves! Is England nice?’
‘Billy, it’s the best.’ Charlie’s answer was short, but he truly meant it. ‘Boys, in the morning we have a great deal to accomplish. More than we have ever done before. We’re not running from a pack of werewolves. Burning down a haunted house. Or beating the living daylights out of Robo-men. This isn’t about destruction. This is about being more than that. This is about coming together, and rising to the occasion. And that’s a far harder task. But I know together we can do it. Rest up and sleep well. For tomorrow we cease to be soldiers of war. Tomorrow we become soldiers of peace.’
For a short while they laughed and joked, listening to one another, as they regaled stories and yarns. Until one by one they lay down, their chat became mumbles, their mumbles became snores, and all of them drifted into a well-deserved sleep.
In the morning, Yankee and the rest of the men nominated Charlie with the task of addressing the town with their proposal. Their argument was sound, pointing out that even though he wasn’t their Captain anymore he was still by far the best motivational speaker, and their best chance at convincing these people they could pull their plan off. Charlie approached the Old Woman, who, after last night’s events, was more than happy to lend a listening ear. It was easier than he thought, and with a surprise kiss of approval on his cheek, she gave her permission and showed her gratitude for the offer. Immediately she hollered for the children, instructing them to rally everyone to the square. So with the sun breaking over the horizon, Charlie took his place, standing upon the German Tiger Tank and watching the ever-gathering crowd surround him. Everyone was there, men, women, children, his own squad, and even the Nazi patients from the hospital. Nervous, and with the Old Woman by his side ready to translate his words, Charlie cleared his throat and made his speech.
‘I know we don’t know each other all that well. We have come to you as strangers, and you have welcomed us in with open arms. You take people in from any side,’ Charlie gestured towards the Nazis and his own squad, ‘without prejudice or judgement… it’s inspirational.’ Charlie smiled for a moment, looking at all the kind faces before him, who were listening to his every word. ‘But that doesn’t change the facts. Food is scarce. Danger lives on your doorstep. And this winter is relentless. Impressive as your survival is, I cannot imagine you can endure these conditions for much longer. So, if I may, I would like to offer you an alternative. Myself and my friends have devised a plan. We aim to fix the ship,’ he pointed to the sunken remains at the end of the jetty, ‘and head back to the sanctuary of England. Thankfully the war has not yet ravaged its lands.’ Muttering began. ‘We offer this to all,’ he continued, raising his voice a little. ‘But know this, if you are a Nazi, you will be imprisoned. In that country you are the enemy. I’m sorry, but that is just the way it is. The rest of you, you will have the safety and privileges of every Englishman of the land. Your children will be free to enjoy a safe haven. Your elderly can rest up, as they deserve. You will be far from the reach of the Long Grey Man. Far from Hitler and his armies. And far from all the dangers they offer. But the choice is yours. Until evil completely engulfs these lands, this is still a free world, and every human being has the right to make up their own mind. If we do this, we do it together. If you stay, we will stay with you, and fight for your survival until our dying breath. But if you choose to leave, perhaps we can do more than just survive. Perhaps we can live again. And I promise you this, when this war is over, and peace reigns true, if it is what you wish, you will be returned to your homes.’ All throughout the crowd people exchanged whispers to one another, considering the offer. ‘We’ve all been given a second chance here. We find ourselves in the midst of a chaos the world has never seen before. Yet somehow, you people have retained pure humanity, where borders and race are meaningless, as they always should be. Enemies treated as friends. Friends as family. You represent what it is to be human, by offering a helping hand. And I wish to do the same in return. So please, I ask you, will you take this chance with me?’
Charlie waited, and for what seemed like the longest of times there was no response. His squad looked around the crowd waiting for some kind of sign. The Old Woman rested on her cane, looking at the faces before her. Until finally, at long last it happened. No one saw who went first, but very, very gradually, appl
ause began. Moments later it erupted and didn’t stop. People cheered, children clambered on to their parents, the elderly wiped tears from their eyes, and the Nazis saluted the former Captain. The crowd went wild.
‘That was beautiful,’ jested Yankee, ecstatic from the enthusiasm.
‘Brought a tear to my eye,’ replied Doodle, somewhat sarcastically.
Charlie stood proud, tall, feeling a great weight lifted from his shoulders, and he couldn’t help but smile at the cheering people before him.
The day quickly became horrendous with work. Charlie, Yankee, Doodle, Billy and the Nazis had got stuck straight in with the hardest of chores. They had jump-started one of the trucks and driven it down to the jetty. Over the next few hours, following the rough blueprints that Specks had drawn up, together they built a winch on the end of the jetty, and with Doodle driving the truck, they dragged the ship from the depths below. It was a small ship of sorts, capable of carrying fifty to sixty passengers at most. And with the ship, apparently called ‘Antillia’ dangling on the surface of the waters via ropes, Yankee and Doodle had gone on board with a handful of Nazis and got to work securing the hull of any damage. Billy grabbed the remaining Nazis and got busy removing the other two truck engines from their respective places and attaching them to the back of the boat, insisting he was most qualified for the job. Still, he was more than grateful for the Nazis’ mechanical know-how, as they rigged the engines up to the ship’s fuel tanks, that were quickly being drained of water. Specks, however, was doing something far more delicate, working in isolation and quiet. With his genius working to its limits, and scavenging material from the tanks and trucks, he swiftly manufactured six explosive devices, carefully attaching them to each leg of the tower.
Meanwhile, everybody else was busy doing their part. Children gathered snow, throwing it into cauldrons, before melting it down and pouring water into any and every container they could possibly find. Men climbed trees and picked them bare of fruit. Women hunted livestock, collected the last of the eggs and even the chickens themselves. The elderly helped load the ship with supplies - bedding, fishing equipment, whatever could fit onboard.
The only people not running around endlessly were Charlie and the Old Woman, who were standing on the jetty overseeing the proceedings.
‘It certainly will be a tight squeeze,’ he commented.
‘We’ve endured worse,’ the Old Woman replied.
‘That you have.’
‘Here you go, sir,’ yelped Specks, who looked dirty and out of breath, passing his notebook to Charlie, who proceeded to look through it with puzzled eyes.
‘Arthur, what the heck am I looking at?’
‘Oh, it’s just the set-up for the tower.’
‘It’s ready to go?’
‘Yes, sir. The charges are… all attached to the legs,’ he stuttered, pointing towards the tower. ‘The trigger switch is located at the very end of the street in a small building, the safest place I could find with the limited materials I had to use.’ He guided Charlie’s sight along the narrow street, pointing to the building in question. ‘If I’ve done my job correctly, which I have, when the explosives go off the… the tower should come straight down upon itself, rather than topple. Minimal damage… in theory.’
‘Good work, Arthur,’ Charlie replied, passing him his notebook back and pushing his glasses up his nose for him.
Yankee and Doodle marched towards them, greased up, smiling and chatting with their Nazi colleagues.
‘Well, sure was a doozie, Charlie. But with the boy’s help here,’ Yankee slapped a hand across the back of the closest Nazi, ‘I’ll be damned, the hull is sound, patched up, and, well, we pretty much pulled a Christmas miracle out of our asses. The old girl will float like a trooper for ya.’
Charlie smiled appreciatively, handing out cups of water and fruit offerings to all the exhausted men before him.
‘And Charlie, what do you think of my handiwork?’ Doodle pointed to the back of the ship, where its name ‘Antillia’ was present. Somehow Doodle had got his hands on some red paint and taken it upon himself to rename the vessel, so that it now read - ‘Antillia’s Revenge’.
‘Isn’t that supposed to be bad luck?’ asked Charlie.
‘Luck is a scientific improbability,’ remarked Specks, before starting to explain the meaning of the word ‘Antillia’, informing them it was named after a phantom island of sorts from a 15th century exploration.
‘Where do you read this junk?’ interrupted Yankee.
‘In things called books. Have you heard of them?’ replied Specks.
‘Charlie, I’ve got a bit of a problem,’ came Billy’s voice, breaking the conversation before Yankee and his open mouth could retort to the surprise sarcasm from the small geek. Billy was covered from head to toe in filth and walking towards them all, looking a little miffed. ‘The engines are in place, and connected to the fuel tanks to perfection. These men work like machines! But the steering system is completely stuck, and the accelerator is jammed at half throttle. I don’t know what happened to it, but it’s broken, big time. It’s going take me at least a good forty-eight hours to fix it.’
‘We don’t have forty-eight hours, Billy,’ said Charlie. ‘But what we do have is two Americans, one brainiac genius, and an abundance of trained soldiers from the most impressive army the world has ever seen, at our disposal. See if you can turn that forty-eight hours into twelve. I want us out of here by daybreak.’
But before anyone could move, or even take a moment to relax, the sound of a blood-curdling scream echoed throughout the village, stopping everyone in their tracks and hooking the attention of all. Charlie spotted the screaming young lady right away, who had dropped what she was doing and was now running haphazardly towards them all, pointing her hand south, inland, and up towards the hill, shouting things the men couldn’t understand. Charlie’s eyes were sharp and followed the pointed trail, clamping sight on the fear monger. It was unfortunate, and dampened his pluck, but the conclusion was inescapable - the distinct silhouette of a Manipulated Man was standing upon the horizon, looking right down at them all.
‘Give me eyes on the horizon,’ ordered Charlie, instantly falling back to his leadership ways. ‘… Please,’ he hastened to add.
The men did so. Yankee and Doodle spotted another Manipulated Man, positioned to the east of the village. And no sooner had they reported it than Billy and Specks spotted a third, situated to the west.
‘You told me we had three days,’ remarked Charlie to the Old Woman, forceful and confused by the bombshell arrival.
‘Always. Like clockwork,’ she replied, trying to calm the hysterical young lady.
Charlie looked to the Manipulated Men, one situated in each direction, then he glanced at the sea behind him. All too quickly he reached the correct conclusion.
‘They’ve been ordered back,’ he spat, understanding the situation and his nemesis all too well. ‘They’re trying to corner us. Damn that man.’
The entire village went quiet, and literally every soul was looking towards the lone squad for an instruction. Charlie gazed around at his men, who were nodding back at him, already well aware what they had to do, whilst the Nazis stood to attention, standing in line, casually saluting their allegiance to him and his cause. As much as he hated it, he knew the decision had already been made for him.
‘It’s fight or die right?’ he asked the crowd surrounding him, who were all already in accord. He took a long deep breath, clenched his fists and spoke the words - ‘Then we fight. We fight one last time.’
The Shoebox Pursuit - Part 3 - Poppies and Warpaint Page 9
