by A. D. Winch
“Erm,” he started, “Essentially, as we have now definitively proven, you are solar powered. However, and I’m sorry to say this, I do not feel that sunlight is enough to keep you alive longer than, well…, well you know,” he grimaced and continued. “For this reason, I had a hunch that sun grown food would have a positive effect on you. We have tried feeding you on normal fruit and vegetables. Although minor improvements in your ‘condition,’” he used his fingers to create quotation marks in the air, “were noted, none was sufficient enough to change the current prediction on your life span.”
Once again Alexander looked as if he had said the wrong thing and continued uncomfortably.
“For all these reasons, I tried to find a possible food that also lives off the sun but is not a common staple at the dinner table; one that starts a whole food chain but which has a dependent relationship on the sun. Andrea suggested plankton. In the ocean, plankton provides essential nutrients which cannot be synthesised by any animals, including humans. Andrea and I feel that we must check this hypothesis to see if the results of you eating plankton will extend your life span.
Ursula looked physically sick.
Eric was more direct, “I think I’m going to puke. You must be joking!”
“Your life expectancy is not a joking matter. Do you think that Alexander would joke about such a thing?” Andrea did not wait for an answer. “Plans have been made to harvest some marine phytoplankton from the waters around Ireland. We cannot travel by air as we will be stopped the moment we show ourselves to passport control. Neither can we travel by car as Alexander parked illegally, and the police have impounded it.”
“Why can’t we just buy plankton in a shop?” asked Ursula innocently.
“Because we have only found plankton available to buy in the United Kingdom. More importantly, Alexander and I would like to collect fresh samples. We will, therefore, travel by train to Amsterdam. This is an anonymous way of travelling. The Inter-City Phoenix leaves tomorrow night from Prague at eighteen twenty-nine. It arrives in Amsterdam at nine fifty-nine the next morning. From there, we will drive approximately two hundred kilometres north-east to the harbour of Lauwersoog. We will hire a car to do this. At Lauwersoog, we will meet our boat. This journey will not be easy. There are many cameras on the way to our destination. We must ensure that both of your faces remain hidden. Now it is time to sleep.”
Eric and Ursula wondered how they were expected to sleep after being told all of this but kept their thoughts to themselves.
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***
Chapter 14 – The Inter-City Phoenix
Eric and Ursula woke early even though they knew their train was not leaving until that evening. They lay in their sleeping bags lost in their individual thoughts. They had nothing else to look forward to except for a day outside the cellar before their departure.
Ursula worried about her grandparents. She had not spoken to them since leaving Paris. She was also petrified that she would spend her life hiding from an organisation that she could not even prove existed.
If only there were a way to go back to my old life, she wished.
Eric just wanted something to happen. He wanted them all to be doing something, even if it meant they could be spotted and have another run in with the OSS. For most of his life, Eric had jetset around the world with his parents. He had been an international champion gymnast, and he had lived in different cities. To be hiding away again, stuck where he didn’t want to be, was making him incredibly frustrated. He didn’t care if the OSS appeared again, and in fact, he wanted it to happen, to liven up his life. He still did not believe that he and Ursula would die, but he was distracted by the unfolding events and excited about being on the move.
In the corner of the cellar, Alexander was happily snoring away in his sleeping bag. His arms were curled up near his face like a sleeping baby, and there were three empty beer bottles lined up neatly on the floor next to him. The cellar was dimly lit, but he was sleeping under the only light currently switched on and looked as if he was spot lit. Andrea was nowhere to be seen.
Without exchanging any words, Eric and Ursula decided to get up. They dressed in their separate tents and stepped out into the cellar. Eric was wearing black cargo pants, a designer long-sleeved T-shirt and matching baseball cap. Ursula wore her blue jeans and a yellow top.
Andrea had left them breakfast, outside their tents – sun dried apricots, oranges, raisins and a vitamin D tablet, plus a bag of similar food for lunch.
“Great,” said Eric unconvincingly. “Another day spent eating like rabbits and farting like soldiers.”
Ursula smirked. The new diet was nothing like Mémé’s cooking but she liked it, in spite of the embarrassing side-effects.
After they had eaten, they washed in the sink and then ran down the secret tunnel. Eric had discovered that, by focussing on Ursula in front of him, he could beat his fear. They entered the train tunnel before the eight thirty-two commuter train.
Hiding in cellars and running into train tunnels was not the life Eric had envisaged with all his millions. When they got back from their plankton trip he would have to make a stand, he told himself. Nor was it a life Ursula had dreamed of for herself. She wanted her life to return to normal. However, after being effectively imprisoned at her grandparents’ apartment, and then in the villa cellar, her abnormal life was rapidly becoming the norm.
Once out of the main tunnel the light temporarily blinded them, and they paused, waiting until they could see again. There was a nip in the October air and the sky was cloudy, but there were many gaps where the sun broke through. Above them, the sound of commuter traffic could be heard, and the familiar smell of train diesel lingered in the air. They turned towards the bank and sat down between a scrubby looking bush and the surrounding wall of the tunnel. Behind them, they had built a fence made of weeds, bushes, tyres, cardboard boxes and other rubbish they had found lying around the tracks. It was impossible for them to be seen.
For most of the day, they amused themselves by performing balancing tricks, practising karate and other small contests such as who could lift the most. When the sun broke through the clouds, they stopped everything and sunbathed. There was not a great deal of warmth, but Alexander had told them that the temperature didn’t matter.
Around five o’clock, Andrea appeared holding a skateboard under each arm and a pink cowgirl hat.
“This will help you get to Vršovice train station quickly,” she said, holding out a skateboard for each of them. “From this bank, the journey is downhill for nearly three hundred metres. It is then uphill for two hundred and then gradually downhill for another six hundred metres. To stop anyone recognising you, Eric will wear his cap, and you will wear this,” and she placed the pink cowgirl hat on to Ursula’s head. “Wait here. I will return with Alexander and the bags. We will then leave at staggered times.”
The moment she had finished she turned away, waited for a passing train and then strode quickly into the tunnel behind it. Twenty minutes later she returned with Eric’s rucksack on her back and a leather hold-all. She was followed by Alexander, who was carrying both his own and Ursula’s bags. He was wearing a red v-necked sweater, the red cap he hardly ever took off and mirror sunglasses. His goatee beard had been neatly trimmed.
“We will be taking the eighteen-zero-one evening train from Vršovice station to Prague main station. Alexander and I will leave now. Ursula will leave in ten minutes and board the train at the front. Eric will leave in twenty minutes and board the train at the back. Eric, you must be quick, or you will miss the train. In the main station, you will go down the stairs leading from the platform. We will regroup in the underpass. There are no cameras in this area so we will remain unseen.
Immediately, Andrea set off up the bank with Alexander close behind.
“Good luck,” said Alexander as he walked past them. “We’ll see you in the underpass.”
The adults were soon at the top of the bank and out of sigh
t.
“I imagine we just wait,” said Ursula.
“I guess you’re right,” replied Eric grumpily. “But I don’t understand why I have to go last.”
“Maybe I’m the guinea pig. Just to make sure it is okay before you leave.”
The moment she said this, Ursula regretted it.
Maybe I really am the guinea pig, she thought, the poor kid making sure everything is fine, so the rich kid isn’t shot or blown into a million pieces.
She shuddered involuntarily.
“Well, I am worth considerably more than you,” said Eric. “But don’t worry, I’ll be right behind you to pick up the pieces.”
The ten minutes passed slowly, and Ursula wondered if she would ever leave. Her fingers played with the cowboy hat strap. She had butterflies in her stomach from fear of getting lost.
She has already seen the station from satellite photos on the internet. She knew the route, but it was the first time she would actually go there.
“Time to go,” announced Eric and threw her a black skateboard with a skull and crossbones on the underside. “Good luck.”
Ursula caught the skateboard and clambered quickly to the top of the bank. Eric watched as the pink, cowgirl hat disappeared over the top, and he set his watch timer to ten minutes.
The first time Ursula had skateboarded was with a neighbour in Paris before she had even heard of Eric Meyer. The neighbour had shown her some tricks he had spent months mastering and Ursula copied them perfectly. It was also the last time she had been on a skateboard. Her neighbour had not been impressed that she could do, within minutes, what he had spent hundreds of hours practising, and he wouldn’t let her on it again.
Unfortunately, this sort of thing happened a lot to Ursula. She liked to think she was a fast learner and often she just adapted skills she had already learnt. In the skateboard case, she had already done similar things on Mémé’s four-wheeled potted plant stand but others didn’t see it that way. Other children in particular called her a show-off when they were being polite and all other kinds of names when they weren’t.
The thoughts made Ursula sad, and she quickly turned her attention to the skateboard that she threw down onto the smooth path. She made sure the hat’s strap was tucked securely under her chin, put her left foot on the skateboard and kicked off with her right. After a few more kicks, she was speeding down the path; passing autumnal trees and weaving around dog muck by tilting her body. At the bottom of the path, she reached a road, placed her weight on the rear of the skateboard to brake, and slowed to a stop.
The road ahead led upwards towards trees and a park. It was quiet and apart from a few parked cars, was empty. Ursula picked up the skateboard and ran up the hill. When she reached the top, she ran down a high staircase into a park, jumped back on the skateboard and kicked off again. In front of her, she could see the trees from the vineyard that grew below Eric’s family villa. Almost all the grapes had been picked and those that remained looked exposed and vulnerable. Ursula felt the same as she slalomed between walkers in the park in her bright pink, cowboy hat.
In no time at all, she reached the bottom of the hill. To her right, she could see the station. She picked up her board waited for a red and white tram to rattle past and then ran towards it. By the time she arrived on the platform, ten minutes had passed, and Eric had just set off.
Eric was happily on a skateboard with a leopard print across the bottom. The wheels were turning fast, and he was already going much quicker than Ursula. It was not as good as his usual board, but he doubted it was as expensive. Andrea never seemed to buy the very best, claiming that a well-known name does not justify an expensive price tag. As he swerved around a hole, he adjusted his designer cap, kicked again and shot off faster down the path.
There was no need to do so, but Eric jumped the board over the cracks in the pavement he encountered, pushing his legs down and then springing up above the ground. As he neared the end of the path, he checked the road ahead and then kicked again to accelerate. He loved the feel of the air blowing past him as he sped along. Just before he reached the kerb, he sprang up again, lifting himself and the board over a metre and a half in the air. At the highest point, he bent his knees, brought the board towards him, grabbed it, straightened his legs slightly and broke into a run as he hit the ground.
A large smile grew across his face as he ran up the quiet road to the park. He could see the staircase and the metal bannister running down next it. His run became a sprint, and he covered the last twenty metres in a little over two seconds before jumping towards the bannister. While in the air, he placed the board quickly under his feet and the leopard print landed firmly on the metal rail. Instantly he began to slide down, and his hands gripped tightly to each end of the board. Approaching the bottom, he sprang into the air once more, landed at speed on the path and shot off through the park. One part of him wanted to stop and to look at his family’s villa above the vineyard. However, the other part of him was having too much fun, and he put out a leg and kicked again to go even faster. The people in the park were blurs as he slalomed between them.
Four old men barked at him, as he flew past them. Three couples were left bemused as he crouched down and sped under their held hands. A dog owner was left scratching his head as Eric jumped off the board, over the dog lead and then landed cleanly back on it. At the bottom of the park, he jumped off the kerb, spun in the air, so the board pointed towards the station, and continued. A taxi pulled out in front of him, but Eric crouched down, grabbed hold of the bumper and was towed all the way to the station entrance. Before the taxi stopped Eric let go, raced around it and onto the path at the side of the building. Only then did he jump off his board. He placed it under his arm and calmly walked onto the platform.
Vršovice station had only recently been renovated. Cracks had been plastered over holes in the walls filled in and missing bricks replaced. It looked as good as new. The platforms, however, had weeds growing through the concrete, and the rain shelters were rusting.
Eric looked across at the different platforms. On platform three, a team wearing bright orange vests were busily cleaning stationary sleeping wagons. On platform two, a little red train waited for passengers to board while its engine noisily rattled. Only platform one had no trains but as Eric looked down the line, he could see one approaching. He turned his head and looked back down the platform. In the middle, Alexander and Andrea stood with their rucksacks, looking like a couple of tourists. At the other end, Ursula stood in her very noticeable cowboy hat. She too was looking at the approaching train.
A blue and grey double decker train, known locally as an elefant, sped along the platform before braking loudly. The screeching of the brakes was extremely loud, and Eric raised his hands to his head to cover his ears. It was then that he noticed his cap was missing. He patted his blond hair, but it was gone. Frantically he scanned the platform around him but it was nowhere to be seen. The doors of the carriage opened with a gentle hiss and Eric questioned whether he should get on or stay and find his cap.
It must have fallen while I was skateboarding, he thought and quickly climbed onto the train. He dropped his head and decided he would not look-up until he was safe again.
On the platform, the guard blew his whistle, and the train pulled away. It was a short journey through the familiar tunnel, and they soon pulled into Prague’s main station.
Eric got off with his head bowed and followed people’s feet to the staircases leading down from the platforms. In the underpass, he waited anxiously for the others.
“Where’s your hat?” asked Alexander angrily the moment Eric arrived, and quickly removed a red bandana from his rucksack.
“I don’t know,” replied Eric crossly, “I…”
Before Eric could continue, Alexander pushed him roughly around.
“Stand still,” he said briskly and tied the bandana around Eric’s head. “You know what we told you. How could you have been so careless? Why do you thi
nk I wear this cap all the time?”
“Because you’re going bald and are vain,” said Eric viciously. “I hardly planned to lose it so lay off!”
Just then Ursula arrived.
“Where’s Andrea?” she asked, trying to ignore the stand-off between Eric and Alexander.
Alexander turned away from Eric, “She’s gone to get tickets.”
An uncomfortable silence fell upon the three of them, and they waited for Andrea without exchanging another word. A few minutes later they saw her walking towards them.
As she got level with them, she said to Alexander, “Come with me."
She gave Eric and Ursula a paper cup of coffee each and continued walking.
The underpass was busy with people running to catch trains or passengers who had just arrived. The crowd consumed Andrea and Alexander, and they were soon out of sight. Ursula’s mouth dropped open; she tried to say something but did not know what to say.
And now what? she thought to herself, but as she tried to think what to do Eric interrupted her thoughts.
“I don’t drink cheap, instant coffee,” he said in disgust.
He was about to throw the cup away when Ursula caught sight of something and stopped him.
“Look! Around the cup,” she said.
Eric held the cup up and, in perfectly formed letters around the rim, Andrea had written, ‘Platform 2, Carriage 173, Couchette Bunk 93 to 99, board in 1 minute.’ On Ursula’s cup, she had written the same except for the last four words. She had changed these to, ‘board in 3 minutes.’
“I’m still not drinking it,” said Eric.
Ursula laughed, “I don’t think it matters.”
When the minute was up, Eric walked away from Ursula. He found the sign for ‘Platform 2’ and walked up the stairs. The train was already waiting at the platform. A green, diesel engine was being coupled to the first of fourteen carriages. Eric scanned the wagons looking for number 173 with the couchettes. It was not hard to spot. Carriage 173 was dark blue and in big, white letters along its side was written, ‘Sleeping wagon,’ ‘Couchette,’ ‘Vagon 173,’ and ‘Couchetti.’ The door had already been opened. As he climbed the steps onto the carriage, he read ‘Inter-city Phoenix. Praha hlavní nádraží - Amsterdam Centraal.’
