CHAPTER THREE
Time passed, the hour was late, not that it was entirely possible to distinguish anything through the devastating storm that was consuming everything in sight. The grandfather clock standing broken at the top of the stairs in the sanctuary of the mansion only made matters worse, with all its long, thin hands stuck in the upwards position, suggesting somewhere close to midnight.
Outside the confines of the stately home the tempest continued to grow, relentless as it ravaged the already damaged landscape. Rain poured down from the sky, winds gusted in every direction, whilst a wealth of lightning lit up the heavens. The ominous iron gates that had so eagerly slammed shut behind the squad shifted awkwardly on their hinges, barely staying upright. The swamp, which had now broken over the top of the pathway, and flooded the grounds, had as a result caused a treacherously deep divide between the manor and the rest of the world. The soldiers inside were cut off. The house itself was taking a fair beating. Tiles flew from the rooftop, slatted window screen doors flailed around, back and forth, and even the crooked tower at the top of the building swayed a little. Truly this was a storm to end all storms.
Inside the mansion the storm filled the building with many eerie and bizarre sounds as it crashed down upon it. The whole structure seemed to be creaking and cracking from every nook and cranny, from high up in the rooftop, right down to the floorboards beneath their very feet. Sure enough, the men who were taking refuge inside were deeply unsettled at their sudden imprisonment.
They were still planted in the room they had not too long ago performed some very rushed and bodged surgery. As ordered, Yankee and Doodle were stationed at the alcove that led to the hallway, the room’s only entrance, on watch. They had of course done a brief survey of the mansion, just enough to ensure it was as abandoned as it had first appeared. Their search was frugal, having found little more than some empty rooms, which contained nothing more than decorations - more grand features, beautiful paintings and ridiculously high ceilings. A lot of the rooms they had come across had been locked, but now was not the time for them to be curious. Either way, they had found no signs of life and reported back to their Captain, rather happy to retire for the night and dry off near the fire. And now they sat, as ordered by Charlie, either side of the alcove, just to be on the safe side - after all, you never knew who or what else might come through the door seeking refuge on a night such as this! Being the playful boys they were, to pass the time and possibly more so to stay awake, the brothers got back to their usual habits, playing a fluffed game of cards, fondly bantering jibes at each other, whilst keeping their weapons close to hand.
Charlie and Billy, however, were sitting either side of the fireplace, both keeping watchful eyes on Specks. Billy was slouched against one of the pillars, looking more like a hormone imbalanced teenager than the soldier he had mistakenly become of late. Charlie sat relaxed and composed, quietly oozing that self-confidence and serenity he possessed - which the rest of the men were very thankful for. Specks was still unconscious, and had been moved to the chaise longue, which itself had been dragged close to the fire. His breathing was slow but steady, and it appeared he was no longer bleeding from his wound. However, he had lost an awful lot of blood during transit to the mansion, and the rest of the squad knew this all too well. He was very weak, with a possibly infected wound, and moving him in such bad weather conditions was incredibly risky. They had no options. So, for now, all the group could do was be thankful for a roof over their heads, shelter from the storm, and somewhere for Specks to recover.
‘Did you catch a look at the sniper?’ asked Billy, out of the blue.
Yankee and Doodle both raised their eyes from their card game, but said nothing. They had all recognised the shooter. Truth be told, over the last few months, and through their various absurd missions that they’d either sourced out, or haplessly stumbled across, they had come across that same soldier time and time again. They had unofficially entitled him the One Eyed Man. And it was quite apparent to the squad that Specks’ shooter was ‘His’ right hand man. Charlie slowly nodded, taking in a long and time consuming breath. But he didn’t want to answer.
‘Why don’t you get some sleep?’ he suggested, softly. ‘I’ve got this covered.’
‘He had that same eye patch on,’ snapped Billy, ignoring Charlie’s idea. ‘And you know why he’s got that eye patch on, don’t you? Stupid Nazi bugger couldn’t be more recognizable if he tried. He’s been following us on and off for months, you know. And this time he’s put down Specks! What’s he going to do next? If I get my hands on him I’m gonna…’
‘You’re gonna calm down, that’s what you’re going to do,’ intervened Charlie, seeing Billy’s agitation, eager to distinguish his anger.
The pair went quiet for a moment, both thinking the same thing. The current theory going was that the One Eyed Man was in fact the Nazi-wolf that Charlie had not only shot in the eye, but also booted into the pits of the perilous valley, in the pair’s first epic battle together on the train. Charlie wasn’t sure if he believed it, but the brothers enjoyed a good yarn more than anybody, so any chance they got they would regale the adventure and ongoing situation to any passing good guys.
Charlie took his watch away from Specks for a moment, and studied Billy carefully. It wasn’t often the squad got to have any ‘down time’ like this, and the pair seldom had a real conversation which didn’t involve shouting out death defying orders, or rushing through insane escape plans in a single breath. Even though Charlie had spent so much time with the young man, he still knew very little about him. But then, that was hardly surprising, given the incredibly complex and unknown background of the boy. Charlie whistled to Yankee, who impulsively opened up his backpack and pulled a piece of metal out. He threw it to Charlie, who studied it carefully, twisting it round in his hands, taking in every groove. Billy didn’t seem interested.
‘Specks says it’s made from the same material as your arm,’ he said. But there was no response from Billy. ‘He did a few brief routine experiments on it. Reports he can’t break it. Sure it can be molded, dented even. But never divided. He is impressed. And you know anything that impresses him concerns me!’
‘Uh-huh,’ replied Billy, flatly.
Barely a week ago, the squad had returned to the crash site where they had first met Billy, and retrieved some of the vessel. But they had scarcely had a moment to examine the material, so Yankee and Doodle had been lumbering it round in their backpacks ever since.
‘Never know. We might find a use for it yet,’ finished Charlie, tossing the metal back to Yankee.
‘You’re just terrified that I really am one of ‘His’ projects, and I’m going to turn on you at any moment,’ suggested Billy.
‘Are you still having the nightmares?’ asked Charlie, trying to ignore the comment. But again Billy didn’t reply, instead resorting to pointlessly throwing a couple of pieces of flint into the fire. ‘Billy, do me a favour. Just cheer up and talk to me. I’d be really grateful for the conversation.’
Billy shifted uncomfortably on the floor, pulling his messy hair from his face and staring wide eyed into the fire. He looked utterly mesmerised by its dancing flames.
‘The…’ but he stopped himself. It was all too apparent he wasn’t comfortable talking about anything personal, and he didn’t know where to begin. He stumbled over his words many times. ‘I…’ but again he stopped, clearing his throat, clearly irritated with his own intricacies. ‘It’s strange. It’s really strange. Every night, the same thing. The same faces over and over again. And it doesn’t matter what I do, or how hard I try. I can’t make them out properly. I never see them, I can only feel them.’
‘Please,’ encouraged Charlie, rather interested.
Billy took a long breath, unnecessarily playing with his hair. ‘The kid,’ he laughed to himself lightly. ‘He is so annoying and awkward and needy and in the way. He’s just a pain in my backside. And when I see him I just want to…’ he clenched hi
s teeth and squeezed his fists, ‘I just want to rip his tiny little head off. Or my hair out. One of those two. I haven’t decided yet. Depends on my mood.’ He looked up at Charlie and grinned. ‘Stupid thing is… for some reason unknown to me, I actually like him. He drives me mad. Infuriates me. Bugs the hell out of me. But I like him.’
‘Who do you think he is?’ asked Charlie, gently trying to push the conversation along. But Billy shook his head in reply - a firm no. ‘Okay then. What about the girl?’
A cheeky smirk, scarcely noticeable, appeared on the left side of Billy’s mouth - that said it all for Charlie, who himself began to grin.
‘Is she pretty?’ he asked.
‘She’s beautiful,’ Billy blurted out. The pair caught each other’s eye and lightly laughed at the comment. And for the briefest of moments they actually enjoyed themselves. ‘I don’t know. All I know is when I see her I get the same feelings. Things clear. She calms my head, warms my heart and puts fire in my belly.’
‘You big girl’s blouse!’ remarked Charlie, playfully.
In quick succession the thought of a pretty girl triggered Charlie to think of his own family, and he pulled out the photo from his pocket. He gazed at it longingly, stroking two fingers across its surface.
‘What’s your wife’s name again?’ asked Billy, although he remembered.
‘Eve,’ replied the Captain, passing the photo over proudly. ‘And Caleb will be ten in the next couple of weeks.’
Billy looked at the black and white photo. He couldn’t help but smile at the ridiculous loveliness protruding from the image. In it stood Charlie, looking clean-cut, and happy, with an arm draped over his wife, Eve. She looked kind, smiling lovingly up at her husband, with her dark hair tied up practically in a bun. And at the bottom, squeezed in between the pair, was their son, Caleb. He was a tiny thing, with messy light coloured hair and a huge smile on his face, the only one really looking in the direction of the camera. The photo oozed pure bliss, and if Billy was honest, it made him feel a little jealous, but he smiled all the same, before passing it back. Charlie delicately put the picture in his pocket, and tapped it twice, just for luck.
‘Bet you can’t wait to get back to them,’ remarked Billy, doing his utmost to say the right thing. Charlie smiled in reply, but there was a momentary look of sadness in his eyes. ‘I wish I knew if I had a...’ began Billy, stopping himself once again. But Charlie knew what he was going to say.
‘Maybe you do,’ he said. ‘Is it really all still just a blank? Everything before the crash I mean?’ Billy nodded in reply, clearing his throat, shifting awkwardly against the pillar. He scratched at his temples and rubbed his face aggressively in thought. ‘But…’ pressed Charlie, cautious in his actions.
‘Sometimes I see things in my dreams. Things that seem very real. Like thoughts or memories. As if I know more than I realise. But before I can get a moment to articulate them, to comprehend them, to dissect the buggers, they’re already gone. And not just like I’m struggling to recall something. I mean gone, like they’ve been deleted! I don’t know. Maybe I’m just talking nonsense.’
‘Memories?’
‘There’s this one that keeps repeating, involving my arm.’ He looked down at his metal contraption, which he both loved and despised, though he admitted neither, and turned it slowly in the orange glow of the fire. ‘I open my eyes and I’m in this massive room. Like nothing you’ve ever seen before. It’s some kind of cavern, hundreds of feet underground, breathtaking. All around me are hundreds of these large tubes filled with bright light that…’ he thought for a second, ‘pulsate all around the room. And they’re all heading towards this… thing that’s right in front of me. I don’t know what it is, but what I do know is that it’s the centre of everything. It just seems to be made up of nothing but light and glass and power. Whatever it is, it’s important. And I have to turn it off. It’s why I’m there. And…’ Billy grew more and more animated as he divulged his story. ‘Now don’t ask me how I know this, but somehow, for some reason, I know that my arm, right here,’ he raised it slightly in the air, scrutinising the thing, ‘is the key to turning off whatever it is I’m standing in front of. And time is running out. So, I make my move. I break into a sprint, dash forward over this small pathway as fast as I can. I collide into the base of the thing and immediately thrust my arm right into the middle of it.’
Charlie patiently waited for the rest of the story, but it didn’t come. Billy could see out of the corner of his eye that even Yankee and Doodle had stopped their card game to listen. Without a sound they all lingered on Billy’s last words, until finally they succumbed to their intrigue.
‘And…’ snapped Charlie and the brothers simultaneously.
‘And nothing. I wake up,’ answered Billy, rather bluntly, finishing the story all too abruptly.
The listening men muttered annoyances under their breath, shaking their heads.
‘Billy, my boy,’ spoke Charlie, chuckling to himself. ‘You are the master of cliffhangers. And based on the events of today, I mean that both figuratively and literally!’ He snatched a pillow from the chaise longue and threw it straight at Billy’s face.
Charlie began to fiddle around with his boot, removing a small metallic device from it.
‘What’s that?’ asked Billy.
‘Something me and Specks thought up,’ he replied.
‘Well, what does it do?’
But then something unexpected happened.
They had so quickly got used to the storm outside that it had almost become white noise. However, with a beginning crack that grabbed all of their attention, they could hear lightning bolt after lightning bolt hitting the ground outside, right next to the mansion, repetitively, intensifying with each strike. This was followed almost immediately by an unfamiliar whirring sound, like an engine suddenly powering up, the noise rapidly filling the house. The men jumped to their feet, troubled and tense. The bulbs above, which were not previously working, began to bulge with light. Brighter they became, until they were so dazzling it was hard to look at the things. Charlie and the boys bolted into the now lit hallway, the light intensifying all the time, the noise excruciating, and the lightning strikes outside, unyielding. They were confused, panicked, and looking around hopelessly. And just as everything got unbearable, it all of a sudden climaxed. The lightning abruptly ceased with a final thunderous roar vibrating throughout the house. The whirring noise slowed down, until completely diminishing. And every light bulb burst into smithereens, plummeting the house back into darkness.
There was silence.
‘What in God’s name just happened?’ came Yankee’s voice from the black.
‘This place… is haunted,’ answered Doodle.
‘Haunted by ghosts?’ asked his brother, excitedly.
‘You know anything else that haunts? You doofus!’
But Charlie was in no mood for the brothers far-fetched ideas. He shoved them all back into the warmth and shelter of their refuge, and looked them up and down.
‘Haunted? Are you being serious?’ he asked, shaking his head at them both.
‘What? You don’t believe in ghosts?’ asked Yankee.
‘Not for a second. It’s probably just some kind of power surge, brought on by the lightning, resulting in the electrics failing. Heck, if Specks were awake he’d back me up!’ snapped the Captain. ‘I don’t know why I’m even talking to you two,’ he finished, returning to his original spot by the fireplace and next to Specks.
‘Ghosts can blow light bulbs,’ muttered Doodle, quietly, his brother nodding in accord. ‘Remember that archaeologist fella we crossed paths with a while back?’
‘Yeah. He had that cool hat,’ replied Yankee.
‘Said he’d been digging up treasures in the dirt over the last few years, and seen one or two strange things along the way. I’m telling you man… Ghosts!’
Billy couldn’t help but grin at them both, charmed with their imagination. The brothers s
at down and got back to their card game, chatting their respective ideas with each other. Billy joined Charlie back by the fire. They didn’t say anything. The Captain looked unusually distressed, and Billy knew not to bother him at times like this.
‘I suggest you all get some sleep,’ Charlie said brusquely, not looking at the men. ‘I’ll take first watch. And once the storm has cleared, and Specks is safe to move, we leave, and we search for friendly territory and get a decent medic to fix him up proper. Specks is our top priority. Do I make myself clear?’
Billy and the brothers nodded in reply, all too exhausted to question his orders. And soon enough, one by one, they fell asleep. Charlie sat for a time, looking into the fire, and keeping an ear out for anything unusual. He hadn’t said anything, but the short event had concerned him deeply. They didn’t have a clue what they had walked into. Given their track record, anything was possible, and likely to happen! And after a long while of thinking, entirely against his will, Charlie joined his men, and fell into a deep and troubled asleep.