“Are you all right?” Norm’s mouth formed the words she couldn’t hear. The wind, howling through the new holes in the Fort, ripped his words away almost as he said them.
She tried to answer him, but the explosion had also knocked the wind out of her lungs. She nodded. It hurt, but at least her eyes quit revolving. She started to get up and Norm jumped to help her. That’s when she saw what was left of the radio station over his shoulder.
His Forty cal was a gone-pecan. The pieces of the radio that were still there were a tangle of wires and deformed, still smoking metal. How had he survived it? She looked him over. He had a new wound above his right eye and she thought she saw other rips in various places of his gear, but he was clearly better than what was left of his chair. He had to have moved before the explosion. It was the only explanation.
“We have to get to Fitz!” Norm shouted.
Mel nodded again. It took too much energy to shout. She added her strength to Norm’s. If they could get the hatch turned up to where they could open it….
“The hydraulics are gone!” Now she had to shout. If they had a lever or more help, but Harry and Roy needed to man their guns. They were already down two guns, three if you counted Norm’s. Once they saw the smoke from the damaged engines, the FW’s would be on them like wolves on a wounded deer, trying to cut them out of the herd.
Norm still struggled to move the turret around.
“Is he still alive?” Norm didn’t answer. “Norm!” She grabbed his arm. “Is he alive?”
Norm slumped slightly. “I don’t know.” For the first time, he looked around and saw what was left of his station. His face went white. She didn’t have to tell him what he’d escaped. How many more hits, how many more holes could they get and stay airborne?
Mel found a gap in the turret. “Fitz! Fitz!” He didn’t move. His head sagged forward, but it was his chest that made her stomach lurch. Mel sat back. “It looks like his chest is gone.” She looked at Norm. “I think he’s gone.”
“You’re bleeding.” Norm touched a spot above her eye. At least that is what she thought he did. She couldn’t feel anything anymore.
“So are you.” For a long moment they stared at each other, as sorrow was replaced with…puzzled.
“What’s wrong?”
Before he could answer, the plane vibrated and lurched, not from a blast, though. It sounded more like engine trouble. Now Mel realized that she couldn’t hear the crew. Did she forget to plug in again? She pulled on the line and realized it was still connected.
“I think the intercom is down.”
No one was shooting at them. The flak was gone, but no FW’s either. And why was she wondering what it meant instead of giving thanks for small mercies?
“I’m going to go to the cockpit. Jack needs to know what’s going on.” She hesitated. “Someone should check on Kennedy. He’s cut off without an intercom.” How long would the FW’s hold off?
Norm nodded and started toward the tail, moving like an old man. She didn’t like being separated from him, but she didn’t know what else to do.
Mel forced herself to turn back to the radio room. It wasn’t a pretty sight. The hole was big enough to fall through. Not fun with the plane still inclined to lurch unexpectedly, but there wasn’t an alternate route. She identified hand holds, got on her knees and started across. A sudden jerk tumbled her toward the hole. She flailed about for several panicked heartbeats and managed to grab the edge of the table, followed by the edge of the hatch. Inside the bomb bay, it seemed almost benign without the bombs, though they’d found another use for one of the racks. Someone had lifted Ben there. His arm hung limply down, swinging slightly as she passed by him. At least they’d closed the doors.
She reached Ben’s position and tried not see the splashes of blood turning from red to brown. For some reason brown didn’t reduce the gruesome level that much. Mel gave silent thanks for gloves and stepped forward, slipped and fell in it, smearing her clothes with the still damp blood. Above her, the turret was shattered, the gun gone. She could see straight up. Just off center was another plane in the formation. It looked like their ball turret was out of commission, too.
She could see the cockpit but decided to check on Ram and Larsen first. They both gave her a quick thumbs up and she retreated, this time not stopping until she was crouched behind Jack. To his left, Ric sat staring straight ahead. There was something odd about his stillness, but Mel didn’t have time to worry about him. Jack was still trying to raise them over the intercom. She thumped his shoulder.
“The intercom is out. So’s the radio. Fitz is dead. Norm is checking on Kennedy. Harry and Roy were okay a few minutes ago. Ram and Larsen are fine, too.” Which was a massive overstatement. No one was fine. Not after their baptism by blood and fire. And it was just the beginning….well, it was supposed to be the beginning. What if they made it back to England? She shouldn’t be so happy about that, but then, she shouldn’t be here.
“We’ve lost an engine and will probably lose another soon.” Jack rubbed tiredly at his goggles. “We’re going to fall out of the formation before long. We won’t be able to keep up.”
Mel eased forward until she was between the two men. She could see blood on Jack’s clothes. So he’d helped moved Ben. Jack glanced at her. She couldn’t tell if or what he was thinking.
“If we could make feet wet,” was that a brief smile over the term? “But once we fall behind…”
He didn’t have to spell it out for her.
“When they see our turrets gone, the other guys will try to cover as long as they can, but if anyone stays with us, we’ll just endanger them, too.” He stared straight ahead. “You should have…”
Mel cut him off. “There’s no time for that.”
“Yeah, well…”
“Tell me what I can do to help.”
“Keep your head down. Once we drop out—”
He didn’t have to spell it out for her. She looked at Ric. He hadn’t looked at her. She started to back out, she wanted to check on Norm and that’s when she saw it.
Blood. Fresh and red and dripping off the edge of his seat.
There was a first aid kit in the cockpit. Mel found it.
“Where are you hit?”
Ric turned his head her direction but didn’t speak. Jack couldn’t help. She felt his frustration, heard it, too, when he asked, “How bad is it?”
“I don’t know.” She bent down, trying to find where the blood trail began. After some probing, she found a spot low down on his back. She leaned around and found the place where it had gone in. This was way beyond the scope of a kit—or her.
“I can’t feel my legs,” Ric said. He didn’t sound upset, just surprised.
“It’s the cold,” Mel said. “You’re just cold.”
“Cold,” he repeated. He frowned. “Am I dying? I have a date tonight.”
Mel wadded some bandaging together and shoved in to the hole in his back, then repeated this for the front. It wasn’t much, but she wasn’t a surgeon, which is what he needed. Was fate redressing some balance by giving Norm’s injuries to Ric? What—or who—would be required in that moment when Ric was supposed to take a bullet for Jack?
“He needs medical care,” Mel said. “He needs—“
“No.” Ric straightened and it seemed the fog in his eyes cleared a bit. “No.” A note of pleading entered his voice. “Don’t write me off, Jack. Not yet.” He tried to smile. It was a dismal failure. “I have a date.” This time he sounded more like himself.
“Well,” Mel tried to match his light tone, “we can’t let her down then.” She hesitated. “Are you in pain?”
Ric looked almost startled, and then pleased. “No. I’m not. That’s good, right?”
“Yeah,” Mel gave him the first real smile she’d ever given him. “That’s real good, Ric.”
His cocky grin was a shadow of its former glory. “I knew you couldn’t resist me.”
“No,” Mel sa
id, steadily, “I couldn’t.” Where Ric couldn’t see, Mel reached out, found Jack’s arm and gripped it. “No girl can resist you, Ric.”
“That’s right…” His voice thickened and gaze his blurred. He closed his eyes. “Let me know when you need me, Jack. Team…player…”
It was all wrong, but she didn’t care. She didn’t have time to care. She leaned her head against Jack’s shoulder and drew strength from the contact. It wasn’t like falling apart was an available option, but that didn’t stop her from wanting to. She lifted her head.
“I should check on the guys.”
Jack managed a quick look and a nod. Worry had dug deep lines into his face, but his mouth was set in a firm line.
“Keep your head down, Mel.”
“I will if you will.” She leaned forward and lightly kissed a small, very cold bare spot, then turned and left him, clinging to one frail hope: so far no one had died who hadn’t died before. It wasn’t a happy thought to know she was on the list of those who didn’t make it, but she wasn’t supposed to be here, so that should help…somehow…she hoped….
She scrambled back the way she’d come, half ran across the ramp, not looking down at the doors. There wasn’t time to worry about anything but getting to Norm. In the radio room, he had the signal lamp out, letting the formation know their situation. It blinked and blinked. A lot of words when two would have done: we’re toast.
“What can I do?”
“Look for bandits.”
She nodded and chose a spot straddling the hatch between the radio room and the inert ball turret. She could see Harry and Roy tensely scanning the sky. Past them, just barely visible over the tucked up wheel, Kennedy was still in his spot. These were all good men and she was proud to be there with. Freaking scared, but so very proud.
She glanced at her watch. Jack didn’t remember exactly what time they’d been shot down. He’d been too busy to look at his watch, but he knew when they landed in hostile territory. It was almost that time now. It looked like they were going to miss that appointment, too.
* * * * *
On the ground, the Oberleutnant lifted his binoculars and scanned the sky for chutes, theirs and American ones. Radio traffic claimed multiple hits, but so far the bombers were airborne and heading for the coast. Herr Oberst Thorhaus had sent patrols out as soon as the bombers passed through the flak batteries on the coast. It wasn’t easy to cover so much ground where fliers could come down, but they would do their best. Eventually they would find them all. Any locals inclined to give aid and comfort would pay a heavy price, as they well knew. A few fools still tried. He relaxed for a moment, lowered the glasses and flexed his fingers. The cold made them stiff and awkward.
It seemed like one of the planes in the formation was lagging a bit. He lifted binoculars and scanned the sky again, but unheeded, unbothered, the formation flew on. He watched for a few more minutes, until he was sure, yes, it was definitely falling out of the formation. It looked like it might be losing altitude, as well. He called it in. He wouldn’t be the only one, but Herr Oberst Thorhaus wouldn’t fault them for the repetition. He did, however, dislike inattention.
* * * * *
They passed the other time line’s crash point with the FW’s still MIA. There was no question that they would go down, they were still too far from the coast to have a chance; the only question was when? With each moment the FW’s didn’t appear, it only made the tension worse. Mel felt it when they lost their second engine, felt the sputter and the slowing as their air speed was reduced. She couldn’t see it, but she knew they would start falling out of the formation now. They were losing altitude, too. Jack was still hoping to make it to feet wet. Splashing down in the channel wasn’t a get-out-of-German-hands card, but it did give them a chance of getting picked up by a sub or patrol boat if they didn’t freeze to death first.
Every nerve in Mel’s body was pulled tight, her senses stretched out past their normal limits as she waited for the next attack wave and wondered why it didn’t come. Each minute that passed took them closer to the coast. Would fate try to stop them or could they cheat it? Had she so altered the time line that they had a chance of making it out of here? And if she did, what impact would it have on her family’s time line if Norm had to go into battle again?
She didn’t have answers—or the ability to do anything about any of it. If the future had changed, it seemed like she should remember the change, but she didn’t. It seemed that Jack’s theory that when time was in flux, that a time traveler was buffered from the changes until the period of flux was over was true. That could be what was happening, though she didn’t feel that buffered. What she felt was battered.
Since no one could hear her thoughts but herself, Mel admitted that she wasn’t averse to making it back to England. If being up here and getting shot at was this bad, how much worse would it be down there being chased by an occupying force? She hadn’t, she realized, really thought about what it would be like to be in hostile territory, hunted and hungry. And without access to a bathroom. Just thinking it made her realize she needed to pee. Jeeze-Louise, shouldn’t it be frozen or scared dry? Weren’t things bad enough without that?
Two engines down and still they flew toward the coast. She’d been so focused on the preliminary tasks of her mission and absorbing as much information as possible, she had run out of time to worry about the parachuting into occupied France part. Now that she had some time on her hands, she moved from uneasy to terrified without passing scared. It was bad enough that she had to do the jump, but now they would be jumping into the unknown. Jack hadn’t just briefed her on their target area. She’d been briefed on all of Europe, but not with as much detail. She knew a lot about the underground, the friendlies and unfriendlies in the whole of France, but that would still require her to figure out where they were and who could help them. Or hurt them.
She hated feeling helpless. Surely there was something she could do? She needed a plan, a strategy…or at least a vain hope to focus on until the brown stuff hit the fan. She saw a dark speck emerge from a distant cloud and head toward them. A moving brown speck…
She surged to her feet. “Bandit! Bandit!” She pointed and yelled and saw the action ripple down the plane. The FW’s were back.
* * * * *
The exchange of fire began again. Maybe it was getting shot at that rattled some thoughts free. Mel wasn’t sure. She realized there was one person on this plane who might know where they were, and where they were likely to be, if she could just get to him before he got shot. Mel scrambled forward and clambered down the narrow tunnel to the bombardier position. The first thing she saw was the Plexiglas bubble straight ahead—or what was left of it. Through the cracks and holes she could see an FW coming straight at them and not a thing she could do about it. It was like having a front row seat in hell.
Mel knew she should crawl back up the ladder. A pity her muscles and joints were frozen solid, her hands locked around the ladder. She could see the bright flashes from the FW’s guns. She heard bullets hit the Fort, punching into the metal like the wrath of God. She saw bullets strike various spots inside the bubble, tracking steadily in her direction. She was wondering if it would hurt, when someone grabbed her arm and pulled her to the floor. Then the FW passed to their right, focusing on a different part of the ship.
She wanted to leave, but where could she go? While time was fluxing around her, there was no safe place on this plane for her or anyone else.
“We need to get out of here.” It was Ram who’d pulled her down. Now he helped her up, urging her back up the tunnel with polite insistence. It was harder going up than it had been coming down. The plane was shuddering like it had the flu. Her foot slipped on a rung and she almost fell. Ram steadied her and then she was back up on the flight deck, with Ram and Larsen crouched beside her.
“She’s not going to stay up much longer,” Ram shouted.
“How far are we from the coast?” Mel asked, looking at Larsen.
“Maybe half an hour.”
Even as he spoke, there was a lurch and a noticeable slowing, as if a giant hand had grabbed the Fort and was trying to pull it out of the sky.
“We’re going down.” Larsen said it the same way one might comment on the color of the sky.
They all ducked down, as the FW’s took them on again, two of them raking down both sides with obvious delight.
Mel scrambled forward until she was by Jack again. Now she could see dark smoke streaming from their failed engines. The Fort wobbled from side to side as the one engine strained to keep the heavy Fort in the air.
Ric was still conscious, but he looked bad. The pool of blood under his seat had grown larger while she was gone. Now she could see the formation flying steadily away from them.
“Tell everyone to start bailing,” Jack managed to gasp out. Sweat poured down his face and then froze in thin strands. ”I’ll try to keep her level until everyone is out.”
When a Fort started to spin in, the centrifugal force made it almost impossible to bail out. But if their gunners bailed, the Fort would be a sitting duck for the FW’s.
Mel shouted the order to Ram and Larsen, but didn’t move.
“Get going, that’s an order.”
Mel thought about pointing out she wasn’t under his command, but she wasn’t sure she could squeeze the words past the ball of fear in her throat. How could she explain to him that he had to stay with him and Ric, no matter what? Their fortunes were tied together, for good or ill.
“We could try for Spain,” Ric managed to gasp out.
“We’ve got to bail, buddy. Mel, help him out of his seat—”
Ric shook his head almost violently. He looked at Mel for a moment, and she was struck by the look of peace in his normally restless gaze. “I’m done for. We both know it. You get out. I’ll keep her in the air. But…hurry.”
Out of Time Page 16
