Fallback (The Adventures of Eric and Ursula Book 3)

by A. D. Winch

  Jean Kurtz approached the bed and stood next Eric’s head. She watched the sheet rise and fall as Eric breathed.

  Professor Schwarzkopf looked over his shoulder. There was an out of reach camera above the door. He waved at it, studying the angle it was pointing at and then stepped backwards into the corner below it. The camera could no longer see him.

  “I need to get my breath back,” Professor Schwarzkopf lied and politely asked, “Please could you check its pulse and make sure it cannot escape. I would very much appreciate your help.”

  Kurtz looked surprised but turned her back to him and did as she had been asked. She lifted the sheet from Eric’s hand. The plastic binding that the OSS used to secure all prisoners was wrapped around his wrist and the wood frame. It was tied so tight that the binding had cut into Eric’s skin. Kurtz checked his pulse. Meanwhile, Professor Schwarzkopf quickly removed his body sock. He had an identical one underneath.

  Kurtz finished just as Professor Schwarzkopf stepped forward. If he stood right beside Eric’s feet, he was convinced that he would block the camera’s view of the bed. The spare body sock was squeezed between his knees. He relaxed and kicked it under the bed.

  “Please, is he secure?” Professor Schwarzkopf asked Jean Kurtz.

  “Oh yes,” she replied, running her finger pleasurably over the binding.

  “His pulse is normal?”

  “It is slightly raised but not alarmingly so. I am sure it was fine until it heard your voice.”

  “You are probably right, but I hope it recognises my voice. Can you hear me?” Professor Schwarzkopf addressed the body shape and slowly walked round the bed.

  “Yes,” said Eric bitterly.

  “We met before. In the hospital room. My name is Professor Schwarzkopf. Do you remember?”

  “Yes,” Eric’s voice softened slightly. He focused on the man talking to him, and he sensed that something was going to happen.

  “I told you that I would see you again and here I am.”

  The sheet covering Eric’s head continued to rise and fall as he breathed.

  “I have my colleague with me – a lady called Jean Kurtz. It is very important that she is here.”

  As Professor Schwarzkopf passed between Kurtz and the bed, he slipped his fingers under the sheet and placed a scalpel in Eric’s hand. He continued to circle, kicking off his shoe covers and pushing them under the bed as he went. He was wearing another pair underneath them.

  “We would like your help. My colleague and I will know if you are lying. If you do lie, I will beat you myself.”

  Kurtz looked genuinely shocked by Professor Schwarzkopf’s words but quickly warmed to the idea and poked Eric hard in the stomach to make the point.

  Professor Schwarzkopf stopped by Eric’s head and looked down at the body in front of him. He removed his plastic cap and scratched his head.

  “I swear that these things,” he shook the cap in the air, “make my dandruff worse.”

  He scratched at his almost bald head. There was no sign of flakey skin, and then he placed the cap back over his few remaining black hairs. There had been two caps on his head; he dropped the other under the bed with the other items.

  A sense of relief came over Professor Schwarzkopf. The first part of his plan was working. It was time to move to the second part.

  “Would you like to question it or shall I?” Professor Schwarzkopf asked Kurtz.

  “Er, you can,” she replied, not knowing what to ask White King.

  Professor Schwarzkopf moved around Eric until he was right beside Kurtz. Their hips were almost touching. He removed a small syringe from his pocket, placed his arm around her and rested his hand on her buttock. As soon as he touched her, he pushed the needle through the cloth and into her skin.

  “Did you just pinch my butt?” asked Kurtz, looking appalled. She tried to move away, but Professor Schwarzkopf moved her closer and pressed the syringe until it was empty.

  “I apologise,” he said. “I do not know what came over me.”

  “How dare you! I’m reporting you for sexual harassment!”

  The contents of the syringe quickly entered her blood stream. Despite wanting to move away, she found that her feet were not obeying her command, and she remained uncomfortably close to Professor Schwarzkopf.

  “Listen to me, Eric,” Professor Schwarzkopf spoke urgently. “In twenty seconds, Kurtz will fall unconscious. When she does, you must grab her, pull her under the sheet and then fall beneath the bed. Put on the clothes that you find there.”

  “You bas…tar…,” Kurtz started to say but her mouth refused to say anymore.

  Professor Schwarzkopf propped Kurtz up against the bed, placed her hand in his and gently pushed her forward, so the red cushion was near to Eric.

  The soldier in front of the screens watched as Jean Kurtz placed her head onto White King’s shoulder. He was worried that she was getting too close and putting herself in danger. His finger hovered over the door opening button. All seemed well though, and then the red cushion slid off her head and onto the floor.

  The cell was silent, but Professor Schwarzkopf could hear his heart beating loudly. He coughed and walked towards the door. He stood at Eric’s feet, stretched up and blocked the camera. Within three seconds, Kurtz slumped onto the bed.

  The soldier watching was unable to see Jean Kurtz, but Professor Schwarzkopf did not seem worried, so neither was he.

  Eric caught Kurtz with his free hand and pulled her under the sheet as he slipped off the bed. Her torso was under the dirty material, but Eric had to push her legs up from below. Professor Schwarzkopf rocked from one foot to the other but did not move from his position blocking the camera. He hoped that he had shielded the switch and covered Kurtz’s legs with the sheet as he rocked.

  “Be quick. Put the red cushion on your head and come and stand with me. Keep your back to the camera.”

  Underneath the bed, Eric had released his other hand and was putting on the clothes. A few moments later he was standing at the foot of the bed too. Professor Schwarzkopf touched the red cushion, and it moulded itself to Eric’s head. The whole switch had taken less than twenty seconds.

  The soldier watching laughed when he saw that Kurtz still had the red cushion on her head.

  Professor Schwarzkopf stood at the end of the bed, breathing slowly and regaining their composure as they did do. Eric felt fingers tickle his palm, and a face mask was pushed into his hand. He put it on.

  “We still have more questions to ask. Go and stand where Kurtz was but keep your back to the camera.”

  Unlike the old Eric, the new one followed the old man’s instruction without questioning. Professor Schwarzkopf circled the bed once more. He addressed the unconscious Kurtz but was talking to Eric.

  “Place your head down so the red cushion is near Kurtz’s hand, stay there for a few seconds and then shake your head as if it has not worked. Bang your fist on the bed frame as if you were angry, then go and stand at the feet again. Move your head as if you were talking to me. And don’t worry, there are no microphones in here. We only have to worry about what the camera sees.”

  Eric did as he was asked. Meanwhile, Professor Schwarzkopf stood by Kurtz’s head. Once Eric was in position, he continued to talk.

  “In your upper arm is a chip that traces your exact position. In which shoulder is it please?”

  Eric had to check and replied, “Left.”

  “Good, when I rejoin you, you will pass the scalpel to me. You will then walk around the bed keeping your head low, poke Kurtz in the stomach the same way she did to you and then you will trip and bang your left shoulder on a corner of the bed.”

  As he spoke, he slid his hands under the sheets and removed Kurtz’s security pass. He kept it out of sight of the camera, rejoined Eric and placed it in his hand.

  “Removing the chip will be painful. Please be prepared.”

  There was no way for Eric to know whether he should trust this old man, but his s
enses told him that he should. Professor Schwarzkopf was full of anger, regret, bitterness and oddly, paternal love. He was nervous and keen to leave. Nothing about him told Eric that he was to be feared.

  Eric walked away and moved around the bed. He tripped spectacularly, and his shoulder slammed into the corner of the bed frame.

  In the room with the screens, Larry winced.

  “That’s gonna hurt,” he muttered to himself.

  Professor Schwarzkopf stepped forward to pick Eric up. He placed his left hand on Eric’s shoulder. The material of the body sock was thin and so was Eric’s T-shirt.

  Professor Schwarzkopf pinched the skin so tight that Eric’s flesh and the chip were forced upwards. His right hand came round and, as he lifted Eric up, he sliced through the material and Eric’s flesh.

  In his hand, Professor Schwarzkopf held a tiny part of Eric and the chip that would have foiled their escape before they had even started. He flicked it under the bed, put the scalpel back in his pocket and helped Eric towards the door.

  The scalpel was so sharp, and the slice had been so quick that it took a second for Eric’s brain to realize what had happened. Once it had, the pain took hold, and Eric let out an involuntary scream.

  “Sorry, Eric,” apologized Professor Schwarzkopf as they stood facing the door. “Whimper and cry by all means but do not say anything and keep your head low.”

  A loud hiss stopped Professor Schwarzkopf from saying anything else and then the door opened. He placed an arm around Eric and a hand over the wound. Blood poured through his fingers, down Eric’s body sock and onto the floor.

  The guard stood outside with his gun pointing at them both.

  “What happened? Larry said you fell. Was it White King? I’ll teach him a lesson for ya!”

  Professor Schwarzkopf approached the guard, “White King did nothing. It was an unfortunate accident. Miss Kurtz tripped. Close the door and allow me to get her to the infirmary.”

  The guard looked over Professor Schwarzkopf’s shoulder. White King had moved slightly, but he was still under the sheet.

  “Larry, close cell three,” the guard said.

  Once the door was closed, the rat scuttled over the floor. He found the chip still attached to Eric’s flesh and sniffed at it curiously.

  The guard led them quickly out of the cellblock. As the prison bars closed and sealed off the corridor behind them, he tutted and shook his head.

  “Who’s going to clear up all that blood?” he pointed at the line of red that was splashed all over the floor.

  “After I’ve got her to the infirmary. I’ll come and help, if you would like,” replied Professor Schwarzkopf as he led Eric quickly away, “I will see you later.”

  “See ya, Pops,” said the guard and looked at the bloody mess again.

  The elevator took a while to come, and Professor Schwarzkopf’s heart continued to beat worryingly fast. In his head, he counted. If an alarm had been triggered, the soldiers would be onto them in about thirty seconds. As he passed thirty-five, his heart began to slow down.

  The soldier in the TV room watched them wait. Underneath the two figures were written two names ‘Professor Schwarzkopf’ and ‘Jean Kurtz.'

  “Keep your head down,” Professor Schwarzkopf instructed. He looked over his shoulder and made a sign to the camera that indicated the elevator was taking a long time.

  When he faced forward again, he asked, “How are you doing?”

  “I’ll live,” replied Eric, through clenched teeth.

  Eventually, the elevator arrived, and they got in. As the doors closed behind them, they heard the guard shout, “Hey Larry, where’s that mop?”

  Back to Contents

  ***

  Chapter 20 – Welcome to Alien Country

  “We don’t have time for formal introductions. Please call me Johan.”

  The elevator climbed past the second floor below ground level.

  “I think I know what I am doing, but this is the first time I have ever done something like this,” he started to cough.

  The elevator rumbled past the first floor below ground level.

  “I’m Eric. Where are we and where are we going?”

  “We are in Roswell, in New Mexico, and right now we are going to try to get off this base. We have about twenty minutes until Kurtz wakes up, unless they discover the switch earlier.”

  The elevator stopped, and the doors slowly opened.

  “Keep your head down,” and Professor Schwarzkopf led Eric out of the lift and into the hangar.

  It was not the first time that Professor Schwarzkopf had felt hidden while being surrounded by people. A troop unit was making their final preparations before going out into the desert. Mechanics were replacing wheels on one of the drones, and soldiers went back and forth performing assigned tasks.

  A few personnel cast glances at the new arrivals, but nobody believed it was anything unusual. Some of the mechanics recognised the two individuals in their protective clothing from earlier and thought nothing of it. Professor Schwarzkopf led Eric past the makeshift lab where the spacecraft were hidden and towards the hangar’s entrance.

  “Johan. Kurtz,” boomed a voice.

  Agent Angel closed the door behind him and marched towards them. There was no point in trying to outrun him as this would be suspicious, but nor could they meet him. Within a few seconds of talking, he would realise that Kurtz was in fact Eric. Faced with no other option, Professor Schwarzkopf spun around and walked Eric back towards the lab.

  The guards checked their passes and allowed the scientists to pass.

  “Listen, Eric,” said Professor Schwarzkopf, stopping beside a row of body socks in the changing room. “You must go through that door,” he pointed to the plastic door leading into the lab, “and hide in the open silver spacecraft. When you get inside it, think it closed.”

  “What?” asked Eric.

  “The pod, the spacecraft, is controlled by thought. Only by thinking it closed in your head will it close. Now go.”

  The door slid open, and Eric ran through. There was a scientist in matching clothes to his own sat at a computer with his or her back to him. Otherwise, it seemed he was alone. Eric quickly scanned the three silver spacecraft in front of him. The open pod had a ladder leading up to it, and Eric could sense that it was the one he should go to. Something about it attracted him, but he was unsure as to why or how. He moved towards it but was not sure he could hide before Buddy Angel walked in. From behind the door he had just come through, he heard voices.

  “I’m sorry for running away like that, Buddy,” apologised Professor Schwarzkopf, stepping out of the chemical toilet and drying his hands, “but when you get to my age, I meant our age, and you need to go, you have to go.”

  “I don’t have that problem,” Agent Angel replied dismissively. “Anyway I have not come here to talk about your bathroom issues. I gave clearance to Kurtz for the two of you to see White King. I understand you are just returning from there. After the last incident between you and it, I wanted to make sure there was nothing that would give me cause for concern.”

  “I was professional. To have done another ‘performance’ was pointless.”

  “No offence, Johan, but I’d rather speak to Kurtz.”

  Agent Angel turned away and suddenly stopped. On the floor below him were drops of fresh blood. He knelt down to look.

  “Why is there blood on the floor, John?

  “Kurtz cut her shoulder in the boy’s cell.”

  Agent Angel eyed him suspiciously.

  “It’s true, Buddy. Contact the soldiers outside his cell. They’ll verify my story.”

  “Why isn’t she in the infirmary?”

  “The visit seemed beneficial, but Kurtz wanted to make sure. She ran back with the red cushion as she knew I couldn’t keep up and steal her glory.”

  Agent Angel laughed and marched out of the changing room and into the lab. Professor Schwarzkopf followed fretfully. The lab was calm. P
rofessor Warne was working on his computer and did not face them. There was no sign of Eric amongst the dart and the pods. Alarmingly, the pod the scientists were working on was still open.

  “Close,” murmured Eric. “Close.”

  He felt as if was sat inside an egg-shaped computer but it all seemed oddly familiar and homely. Wires poked out from the inner shell, and parts that he assumed made up a complicated circuit were all around him.

  “Close,” he said again.

  Voices were coming nearer.

  Eric shut his eyes and tried to picture the pod closed. As he did so, he wished that it would shield him from the people outside and suddenly he was sat in the dark. There had been no warning, no alarm and no noise. It had just happened. He opened his eyes, and he could have been back in his cell. Gingerly, he stood up as far as he could and touched the roof. He had done it. He had closed the pod with his mind.

  I wonder what is happening outside, thought Eric. You can’t have a spacecraft that you can’t see out of, can you?

  The darkness around him began to fade as the first rays of light entered through pinprick holes that silently expanded. He looked all around himself. Wires and circuitry had not moved, but the inner silver shell beyond had started to dissolve. The silver skin vanished in front of his eyes until it was completely translucent.

  Eric panicked, “Turn back! Turn back!”

  It was too late. Johan and Buddy Angel were walking towards the pod. They were bound to see him, but they didn’t. Buddy Angel even knocked on the outer shell, but both men seemed oblivious to his presence. Eric was reminded of the memory he had experienced when he had been brought before the rasping being. He could see all around himself as the two men circled the pod. He was invisible to them.

  “You’re telling me that you didn’t close it shut with Kurtz inside?” Agent Angel asked disbelievingly, staring Professor Schwarzkopf in the face.

  “I would swear on the Bible that I didn’t.”

  “If you are lying, you know that Kurtz will come and see me.”