CHAPTER NINE
Specks waited on tenterhooks, at the edge of the metal platform, his eyes peering through his glasses at his imprisoned comrades. Now was the time to be cautious, to time things just right - long enough that he could ensure the electricity surge had completely dispersed, but not so long that the Nazis had time to rouse and discover what he and Billy had done. Muttering calculations and theories under his breath, he counted down to zero, ultimately taking a hesitant step onto the platform. There was no electrical reaction. Confident he could continue, Specks shuffled his way over to a series of windlasses that were placed on a nearby column.
‘If my calculations are correct,’ he mumbled to himself, as he studied the mechanisms, ‘the suspended isolation of the Captain and the brothers, coupled with the facts that they are held up by non-conductive means, and that their only attachment to the machine or its relations is fragile wiring that would most definitely melt before passing a complete current into their bodies, means they should all be, in theory, unscathed by the electrocution.’
With great effort, Specks cranked the windlasses free, and rather roughly the three men were lowered to the ground with a bump. On impact the harnesses entrapping them sprung open and their limp bodies were released, flopping facedown onto the metal platform. Specks walked with difficulty to Charlie, dropping to his knees, heaving the large man onto his back with all his strength. Thankfully he could see that he was breathing. He tugged the cap off his head and placed it to one side, before delicately removing the rest of the wiring which was somewhat melted - some were electrodes stuck on the skin, and others inserted directly into his flesh. Specks quickly turned his attention to the brothers, crawling over to them, whilst clutching at his stomach, which was starting to secrete an odd coloured bile. As quickly as he could manage he did the same for them, before himself collapsing on the floor, utterly drained.
But there was no time to rest, as out of the blue Charlie flinched and groaned, immediately catching Specks’ attention. Sure enough, the Captain’s body was twitching. Within seconds Specks was back on his feet, scurrying over to him. He stumbled over one of the Nazis guns, booting it into the side of Charlie by mistake.
‘Captain? Captain Crumble? Can you hear me?’ he asked, half collapsing on to the man, before gently slapping his cheeks in an attempt to wake him. He put two fingers on Charlie’s left wrist and counted the beats. ‘Pulse is strong.’ He placed a hand on his forehead. ‘Temperature slightly elevated. But nothing unexpected.’
But in his concentration of playing nurse, Specks had not noticed that behind him one of the Nazi soldiers had woken, dazed, confused and incredibly angry. The soldier quickly got his bearings, shaking off the effects of the electrocution, wiping blood that was dripping from his nose, and was now seeing what was occurring in the room. His dark eyes clamped onto the little saviour, still busy trying to wake Charlie. Without a sound the Nazi picked up his rifle from the floor, took aim and began to approach the man, unnoticed.
‘Captain?’ asked Specks, as the soldier behind him stepped closer. ‘Sir?’ The Nazi moved closer still. ‘Please wake up, Captain.’ The enemy was almost upon him, with his finger rested on the trigger, ready to squeeze. ‘Charlie?’
All of a sudden Charlie’s hand came to life, snatching the gun kicked at him just moments ago. He was so quick in his movements. Charlie opened his eyes, raised his head, aimed at the approaching Nazi, and shot him twice in the chest. The soldier instantly went down, dead. Charlie dropped the gun, his head fell back down, and he let out a painful breath.
‘Specks,’ he croaked, his throat dry and hoarse, having not spoken for days. ‘What have I told you about keeping an eye on the entire area?’
‘Always mind your surroundings,’ came the brother’s unexpected answer in unison.
Charlie and Specks glanced over to see the two brothers helping each other up from the ground, already demonstrating a little bit of sibling rivalry in the form of light punches and shoves, coupled with pats on the back and handshakes. Charlie pulled himself up, using Specks as a crutch, allowing himself a brief moment to get his head together.
‘Captain. You… and the brothers were taken,’ stuttered Specks, who was clearly feeling unwell, but all too eager to explain things to him. ‘And then you were kept in a prolonged state of R.E.M sleep, a state of unconsciousness, sir. And the scientists…’ He pointed haphazardly at the floored figures. ‘They were manipulating and… possibly even causing you all to have vivid dreams. You see Captain, my theory is that this machine is designed to…’
But Charlie raised a hand and silenced the man. ‘The science experiment is over. You can bring me up to speed later.’ Charlie’s voice was resolute, but Specks looked a little upset by the interruption. ‘It’s okay, Specks. You can put it all in your report. Now, everybody check in.’
Yankee and Doodle had already found their way over to their weapons, which were stashed on a table near the back of the room, along with all of their possessions.
‘Little woozy, Cap. But I’ll be all set for action in three minutes, tops!’ replied Yankee, swinging his sub-machine gun round to his back, whilst holstering his pistol.
‘Yeah, check that, Captain. Five minutes, a couple of shots of tequila, and I’ll be ready to take on Hitler himself!’ added Doodle, trying to outdo his brother. He holstered his duel pistols, and began loading his shotgun, grabbing every available bullet he could find.
Yankee picked up his deck of cards and shoved them in his boot, before throwing his bag round his back. He snatched up Charlie’s pistol and photo, and passed them over to him, with a respectful nod.
‘Where’s Billy?’ asked Charlie, perplexed at the boy’s absence, holstering his gun and delicately sliding the photo into his jacket pocket.
‘Erm… You see… Captain…’ stammered Specks, trying his best to think where to start. ‘The thing is… He was very insistent… And you know he never listens to me…’
Charlie and the brothers waited with as much patience as they could muster as Specks fumbled his way through an explanation. But before he could get anywhere of great detail a second voice, familiar only to Charlie, announced itself, seizing everyone’s attention.
‘Perhaps I could spread some illumination on that,’ came the sinister, and all too delighted voice from above. They all looked up to the entrance of the basement. There he was, standing relaxed, casually resting on his cane, looking down his nose at them all. He was the purpose for their entire backlog of missions, their final goal, their ultimate villain, and he was within reach. He remained hidden in the shadows, his grey eyes piercing through the darkness at them. The One Eyed Man stood next to him, like a gigantic bodyguard, a sniper rifle in hand. ‘The boy is dead.’
‘You lie,’ proclaimed Charlie, taking a bold step forward.
‘Do I?’
The ambience in the room had instantly changed at the announcement of the villain. This was serious. And given long enough, fear would immobilize them all. So they made a rash move. Charlie, Yankee and Doodle all went for their guns, desperate to take a shot, but none of them were fast enough, as the One Eyed Man swiftly raised his sniper rifle and targeted Specks’ head.
Charlie dropped his pistol back into its holster and nodded to his men to stand down. Yankee and Doodle did so, begrudgingly.
‘I take it this is your doing,’ remarked Charlie.
‘Of course,’ grinned the fiend.
‘And what exactly do you want with us?’
‘Charlie, my dear friend, I don’t have time to engage in such senseless small talk with you. It’s irrelevant for you to know anything more than I wish to allow. Besides, conversing with me is merely your naive attempt at stalling my next move, allowing yourself time to think up some kind of strategy to claim victory over me. Am I right?’ Charlie didn’t reply. ‘Of course I am. One thing you always forget Charlie, I am the smartest person in every room. Always. Without exception. You rely on fighting far too much to win. You t
hink muscle is might. I disagree. The mind is truly what is all-powerful.’ Charlie thought as quickly as he could, somehow hoping to outwit the man standing over them all. ‘But already I have divulged too much. I should probably be on my way. You know, I’m finding your company quite boring today. You all really need to lighten up! So, ta-ta for now, Charlie. I’m certain we’ll cross paths again.’
Charlie growled with contempt, taking another bold step forward, but the One Eyed Man took a single shot at the floor just in front of his feet. And without warning he pulled a smoke grenade from his belt and tossed it at them. Immediately it ignited into a thick cloud of black smoke, flooding the room in a thick heavy smog, momentarily blinding the squad. Moments later it began to clear, the boys coughing and spluttering on its fumes. Charlie’s eyes narrowed as he saw an empty space where his nemesis had once been standing. He and his disfigured bodyguard were gone.
‘On my heels,’ ordered Charlie, already striding up the stairs three at a time.
With rage in his heart the Captain tore out of the basement, eager to get his hands on the fleeing fiend. The front door was ajar, swinging back and forth in the terrorising winds. Charlie didn’t care, but he could see the house had caught fire, and it was spreading up the walls and along the carpets, quickly engulfing the beautiful décor and features. He burst through the front door, landing on the porch, ready for anything. The torrential weather took him off balance, his head still dizzy from his episode with the experiments, his body weak from the concoction of drugs he’d had pumped into it. He jumped off the porch and landed in water. Sure enough the swamp had flooded from the rain and now dominated the entire front of the property. He stopped himself for a moment, squinting around to better see his target, but it was almost impossible to make out anything of clarity. But just then a familiar noise sounded, a noise he was grateful to hear - it was Billy.
Charlie looked up just in time to see Billy’s distinct body tumbling down the multitudes of rooftops of the mansion. He was screaming, yelling and even swearing as he bounced against his will, his arm smashing through tiles as he tried to stop himself. Rapidly he ran out of rooftop and fell from the building, landing face down in the water and mud, right at Charlie’s feet. The Captain rolled him over with his boot.
‘Billy, you alright lad?’ he asked, thrilled to see the boy alive. There was still some copper wiring wrapped around his arm, and his clothes were singed all over, but he was definitely breathing, and his eyes were wide open, looking around mystified as to his whereabouts. Charlie held out a hand and pulled him to his feet. ‘Speak, Billy.’
The brothers skidded clumsily into the gathering, Specks clinging onto Yankee’s back like a human backpack. Quickly they welcomed the boy with happy jeers at his expense and manly embraces.
‘If anyone is taking note,’ he said, breathless, exhausted, struggling to focus on anything in particular, and patting himself in case of phantom fires. ‘Me, me right here, this guy, the one, the only, Billy Random…’ He pointed two thumbs at himself, stretching a grin across his blackened face. ‘I can withstand direct contact with lightning. Yup. Me and lightning get on like a house on fire.’ He looked to the mansion to see that it actually was on fire, with flames bellowing out the windows. ‘And I can take electricity of ridiculous levels!’ The men smiled at him, impressed. ‘Seriously, seriously hurts though.’
But Charlie could hear something besides the storm, and he burst down the waterlogged pathway in the direction of the noise, followed closely by his squad.
‘We did not just stumble across this project,’ he shouted back to the men, clearly heated and determined. ‘We were pushed here. Specks was not shot to kill. He was wounded on purpose, so we would be forced to take refuge at the closest possible location. This place. We were made to expose ourselves, so that those bastards could take advantage, and weasel their way into our minds.’
He raced ahead, leaving through the gates and turning left - his keen ears were closing in on the source of the noise. He ran through a cluster of trees that were swaying and lashing out in the winds. Charlie emerged into a clearing, pausing for only a second. Before him were two large black helicopters. He’d not seen the likes of these before, but he had heard about their designs and the test flights, and even been privy to looking over the blue prints. It didn’t surprise him that his arch-nemesis had managed to get his hands on such a prize. The closest helicopter immediately took off, carrying with it his two targets - sure enough, the shadowed figure and the One Eyed Man were safely on board, sitting in the fuselage. Charlie was desperate, and all too eager. Without thought he charged forward, heading for the second chopper, but the two pilots loading it caught sight of him and pulled their guns on the charging man. He didn’t have time to stop, take cover or change direction. The gunfire sounded, but he wasn’t hit. He watched the two Nazis slump to the floor, dead, and Doodle stepped out of the tree line with his shotgun in his hands, the barrels smoking.
‘I got your back, Cap,’ he boasted.
Charlie slammed into the side of the helicopter, already aware he didn’t know the first thing about how to fly the vehicle.
‘Dammit,’ he barked, slamming a fist against the thing, and glaring up at the escaping chopper.
‘Wow, I ain’t never seen one of these before,’ remarked Yankee.
‘Me neither. What the hell is that, Captain?’ asked Doodle.
‘This appears to be a rotorcraft,’ stated Specks, who was still clinging onto the back of Yankee. ‘Designed to take off and land vertically. Still in prototype stage. They’re brand new. Very rare. Very impressive. Very complicated.’
‘And the bad guy’s got two of ’em?’ asked Doodle.
‘Well, no. Now we got one,’ chuckled Yankee, high-fiving his brother.
‘Unfortunately, this is nothing like a plane. Completely different type of piloting involved. Complicated mainly by the controlling of the dual rotors. One on the main shell and one on the tail…’ added Specks.
Charlie stared into the storm, watching his target slip through his fingers, as Specks volunteered too much information about exactly why they wouldn’t be able to fly the helicopter. He was so angry, so personally anguished by the events that had unfolded that he was struggling to contain his normal composure. But then Billy cleared his throat and said something that totally changed his mood.
‘I can fly it,’ he said, hesitantly. Everyone turned and looked at him, bemused by the statement. He began ripping the last of the copper wiring off his arm, and straightened his tie. ‘Don’t ask me how. Don’t ask me what. Don’t ask me why. But I recognise this machine. It’s familiar to me. I know how it works. And I can fly it.’
‘Well, that’s good enough for me,’ replied Charlie, in no need of any further explanation, slapping a grateful hand on Billy’s back. ‘Everybody on board. Let’s end this.’
Billy jumped into the pilot’s seat, Specks joining him at his side, watching his moves with excited eyes. Billy was clearly keyed up, finding his way around the complicated equipment with capable hands. He grasped the steering column, flicking a few dozen switches without thought, all the while ignoring the little scientist’s many questions. Both sets of propellers began to rotate, causing the entire helicopter to shake. Charlie and the brothers jumped into the fuselage, clinging tight to the side. Billy grasped the steering lever, which Specks informed him was called a cyclic, he pushed down a pedal at his feet, and released the brake, which Specks animatedly explained was named a collective. The helicopter took off, unsteadily launching and heading into the storm, in hot pursuit of their target. The chase wasn’t over just yet.
It was a rough ride, mainly due to the weather. Billy pushed the helicopter beyond its limits, quickly diminishing the distance between themselves and the enemy. He struggled against the endless winds that threw the chopper around precariously. It wasn’t long before they were right on the tail of the other helicopter, though visibility was poor.
‘Le
vel this thing up,’ shouted Charlie.
‘Yeah, I’ll get right on that,’ replied Billy, sarcastically.
Charlie hung out the side of the helicopter, standing with one foot on its feet. He was all too eager, blinded by his objective. He aimed his pistol at the direction of the fleeing helicopter and shot every bullet he had. But the distance was too great, and the bullets missed their target. He pulled himself back inside.
‘Put that infernal machine down now,’ he ordered his men.
The brothers leant out, Charlie holding onto the back of their uniforms, allowing them to better steady themselves. Persistently they shot through the darkness in the direction of their target, hitting the side of the fuselage. The fleeing helicopter noticed them and began to take evasive maneuvers, arching from left to right as it evaded the Americans’ onslaught.
‘Billy, get me as close to that thing as possible,’ shouted Charlie.
Billy did as instructed, maneuvering the helicopter to dangerous proximities. One wrong move and they were certain to collide. Without warning, Charlie leapt from the fuselage, swiftly soaring through the air, landing roughly on the runners of the fleeing helicopter. He clung on for dear life, the metal slippery in the rain. The One Eyed Man appeared, looming over him. The last time the two men had clashed in quarters as close as this was during their epic fight on top of the train that incredible night - but this time the roles were reversed. Immediately the One Eyed Man began stamping down on Charlie’s grip, grinning as he did so. But Charlie wasn’t there to fight. He was there to work. He pulled a small metallic device from the inside of his boot and slapped it onto the underbelly of the helicopter, sticking it securely in place.
‘Sorry,’ growled the One Eyed Man. ‘No humans allowed.’
With a glare of revenge in his only eye, he lifted up his foot and stamped it down ferociously on Charlie’s hand. He lost his grip. He fell. But Billy and his squad were ready for him. He had already maneuvered the helicopter beneath him, rapidly arching it onto its side, somehow catching the Captain in the fuselage, colliding with Yankee and Doodle in a vain effort to grab hold of the man.
But there was no time to rest.
In the fleeing helicopter, the shadowed figure remained seated in his chair, looking, but not turning his head, at the keen attackers. Casually he lifted up his cane and tapped a large crate on the floor.
‘This is growing tedious. End this,’ he sighed. ‘End this now.’
The One Eyed Man nodded in response, ripping open the crate and pulling out a bazooka. He rested it on his shoulder and aimed it at the chasers. Without faltering he fired, sending the rocket soaring directly towards them.
‘Everyone take cover,’ yelled Charlie as he locked eyes on the advancing rocket.
Billy tried to avoid the shot, yanking the steering lever right, arching the helicopter, but it was already too late. The rocket hit the tail, exploding the rotor to pieces, instantly crippling the machine. Billy lost control, and they rapidly fell into a deep spin, heading straight down, fast. Everything that followed was blind luck from here on out.
As the ground approached Charlie deliberated their only option, repeating the order to his men: ‘Jump and roll. Jump and roll. Jump and roll.’
With nothing more than a few feet between themselves and the ground, Billy grabbed Specks, dragging him with him as he booted the cockpit door open and took a leap of faith, the pair disappearing into the void outside. Charlie and the brothers followed, jumping for their lives just as the helicopter hit the ground, the impact launching them high into the air. The propellers shattered and the fuselage folded in on itself. All too quickly the entire squadron smashed onto the grassy floor, rolling over and over. All were out for the count, aside from Charlie. He rolled along the earth, before springing to his feet and bursting into a run in the direction of the fleeing helicopter. But it was too late. He was gone.
‘SHOEBOX STONE,’ he screamed out with all his might, his voice merging into the thunderous storm, waving a clenched fist high above his head.
But he was helpless to do anything but watch. Watch the helicopter disappear into the tempest. Watch his target slip all too elegantly from his grasp. Watch the key to ending the war and getting himself back home escape. All with a deranged smile on its face, and a formidable hand waving nonchalantly back at him.
Charlie had lost the battle. But the war was still anyone’s game!
EPILOGUE
Two grueling days of incredible effort and anguish passed, until the disabled squadron somehow managed to stumble their way into friendly territory and happen across a large French army camp. Luck at last! They were welcomed with enormous hospitality that they had not seen for a long time, given shelter, food, drink and excellent medical care. Each of them had injuries that needed tending, but all were insistent that Specks be top priority. And after far more skilled hands than his previous surgeons worked on him, repairing any damage and eradicating all infections, the group quickly began to recover from their great ordeal, safe in the confines of the camp.
The conflict with their final target, the culprit whose name was known by very few people, Shoebox Stone, had left them scarred, both physically and mentally. They had been beaten beyond comprehension. Perhaps in their long list of previous adventures they had become complacent, allowing their egos to excel, thinking themselves untouchable. But the cold truth had pulled them back to reality, and now, hesitant as they were to talk about it, they each felt disillusioned about the Alpha-Omega missions, uncertain if there was actually any chance of success, now truly aware of the colossal odds they were up against.
So, even after they had all healed up, with full bellies for the first time in months, and plenty of water down their gullet, Charlie ordered them all to stay a while longer - 72 hours of downtime. He wanted them to enjoy themselves, to feel happy, to give them time to feel like men again, rather than just soldiers. He needed them all to remember what it was to be human, so they could keep in mind exactly what they were fighting for, in the vain hope that they might stand the slightest chance of winning. Deep down, though he hated to admit it to himself, Charlie knew that no matter what orders he gave in battle, and no matter how hard he tried, sacrifices were going to have to be made, deadly risks would be taken, and he knew for certain that there was little to no chance that all of them would make it back from the Alpha-Omega missions. But for the time being he had to put those thoughts to one side.
On their last night in camp, instructed by the rest of his allies, Billy waited impatiently outside their tent, trying his best to ignore the sneaky glances the French soldiers were daring at his arm. He could hear Yankee and Doodle inside arguing with Charlie about what was better - baseball or cricket, whilst Specks explained the rules of both. Billy didn’t know what was going on, but they were definitely working on something, a surprise of sorts, by the sounds of it. Finally, rowdy and in high spirits, they dragged Billy inside and presented him with his gift.
He didn’t know what to think of it at first. He wasn’t even quite sure what he was looking at. But he listened to Specks explain things as he studied the strange object with a mixture of intrigue and bewilderment. It was a metal outfit, built almost entirely from pieces of the crashed vessel Billy had arrived in. It resembled a right arm and hand, apparently designed to fit specifically around his own anomaly. Reluctantly, swayed rather heavily by the sheer enthusiasm of the boys, he tried it on. His metal arm slipped nicely into the sleeve as he twisted it on and snapped it into place. The armour was large, chunky, yet looked distinctly fashionable. His rubber hand was now encased in a metal glove similar to something from the medieval times, and looked quite deadly. His arm was covered in various pieces of metal, bolted and welded together. His shoulder was now enclosed by steel plates, curved and hammered into shape, to fit his body neatly. And at the very top, just on the bend of the shoulder, all the squadron’s initials had been scratched on.
Charlie took the liberty, doing up th
e belt that was grafted onto the shoulder piece, securing it tightly around Billy’s torso, locking the contraption firmly in place. He moved it around to get a better feel for it. After a time of self-indulgent punches and blocks, the boys intervened, telling him to clench his fist in a certain manner. And as he did so, he was surprised to see a small shield-like device rapidly emerge from his forearm. He asked what it was, suggesting a small wing without thinking. But Charlie replied with sarcasm, informing him that it was a ‘quick shield’, designed to deflect bullets from his thick head! Billy moved it around, placing it in front of his person, striking up a variety of defensive poses. He released his grip and watched the quick shield fold back into the rest of the forearm. Charlie grabbed the arm and twisted it around, revealing a small empty compartment on the inside. The Captain pushed something inside it - it was a makeshift compass of sorts, Specks’ design of course, with a thin bar built onto the right hand side, which boasted a small red light glowing at the bottom. The conversation got serious for a brief moment, as Charlie and Specks explained that this was the other half of the device the Captain had planted on Shoebox Stone’s helicopter - a tracking compass, designed purely to locate the beacon. Right now the compass read North East, the bar apparently representing distance, with twelve red lights glowing only once reaching your destination.
Compliments were aplenty. The brothers threw random energized words at Billy, whilst Specks contributed the science behind the design, clearly impressed with his own handiwork. And even Charlie let himself go briefly, mentioning something about Billy looking a little like a comic book hero from one of his son’s comic books. Billy liked the new addition to his body. Not just because it was an awesome piece of weaponry, but because it was a token of friendship. They vocalised their thanks towards the stray boy, claiming the gift represented how grateful they were to him for risking his life to save theirs. And also, as Charlie so elegantly put it, that it was a reminder that he should be immensely proud of his individuality, for as unique as he was, he was one of them now, and he always would be.
Finally, to mark the occasion they cracked open five bottles of beer, snagged a camera, borrowed a passing French soldier and posed for a photo. Yankee and Doodle draped themselves over each other, already swigging from their bottles greedily. Specks smiled awkwardly into the lens, looking miniscule against the others, and toying with his glasses as usual. And as for Charlie and Billy, they respectfully nodded to each other, clinking their bottles together in thanks. As the flash went off the moment was recorded forever. It was something wholesome, something rare, something real. And for Billy, it was something he would cling onto for a long, long time.
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