Epiworld (15 page)

‘If you like,’ I shrug, ‘but it won’t be the truth.’

I don’t think it’s twenty ninety-nine; it’s not hot enough for that. It feels like two thousand and fourteen still. The sun’s out, but it’s cool, and we don’t have as much grass as this in my time. It seems to stretch for miles. There’s a dark wood behind us, a steep hill ahead of us, and birds flying high over our heads. It’s quiet. There’s no one around but us...

...and there’s no sign of Chase, either!

‘Damn it! We’ve lost the git!’ I thump the ground angrily. ‘We were too late getting through the bloody portal!’ 

Chase, if you’re alive...

Nothing. He’s still dead, then, or he’s refusing to answer.

‘So much for going home!’ I shout furiously.

‘Travis,’ Demi says in a hushed voice, ‘look over there.’

She’s pointing to the hill. There’s a trail of smoke billowing from behind it.

‘It’s too thick to be chimney smoke,’ she says. ‘Something’s on fire.’

‘So?’ I snap. ‘I’m more concerned about Chase! He’s either escaped into another time, or he’s landed here, somewhere where I can’t get to him. What are we going to do now?’

‘Find out where we are?’ Demi suggests, getting up. ‘Look for another of your portal-thingies? Whatever, I’m not staying in this bloody field for hours!’

‘Demi,’ I begin, ‘about the portals. Chase said...’

My voice is drowned by a loud thundering noise. We press our hands hard to our ears as a huge winged monster emerges through the smoke towards us, flying so low we can almost touch it.

‘What’s that?’ I yell.

‘An aeroplane,’ Demi yells back. ‘It’s pretty old, too.’ At last the racket from the engine lessens as the plane flies up over the tree-tops. ‘World War Two, I think.’

‘Uh?’

‘World War Two,’ Demi repeats, ‘the nineteen thirty-nine to forty-five war. We did it in history at school, and I’ve been to enough museums, seen enough films, and read enough books to know what I’m looking at. That’s a British fighter plane; a spitfire, maybe, or a bomber, I don’t know. I can only tell it’s ours by the insignia, the blue circle with a white outline, and red centre.’

‘So we could be in the year nineteen forty-something, in the middle of a war? Great!’

‘Either that,’ says Demi, ‘or we’ve stumbled into an air show. Come on, I want to see what’s causing all that smoke.’

Reluctantly I follow her up the hill. The smoke is getting thicker. Showers of ash rain on us, and the heat from the flames is breathtaking. Demi coughs, my eyes are stinging. It’s a steep climb to the top, but at last we make it.

‘Oh – my – God!’ murmurs Demi.

We’re gazing down into a valley where an inferno is raging. We’re both nearly choking now, holding our arms over our faces to shield them from the heat. I can just make out the crumpled remains of a plane. Crushed metal is strewn all over the field. The propeller is lying in two halves.

‘It must’ve just crashed,’ she says quietly.

Men are rushing to the crash site, on foot, on motorbikes, and in lorries, all dressed in the same clothes, and all carrying guns.

‘I know those guns,’ I whisper. ‘An old one had one of those; a “rifle” he called it. It was left to him by his grandfather.’

They’re shouting to one another in a strange language I can’t understand. Suddenly Demi pulls at my arm.

‘Get down!’ We drop to the ground, peering at the scene through the long grass. ‘I recognise those uniforms. We seem to be in a Nazi occupied territory!’

I don’t have a clue what she’s on about, so she explains.

‘If this is World War Two, and this is Germany, or France, or Poland who they occupied, we’ve had it. Nazi Germany was our enemy in the war, and they owned half of Europe. They’ve probably just shot the plane down, and are looking for survivors.’

‘They won’t find any, not in that lot!’

‘We should get out of here. If they catch us they might think we’re spies, and shoot us.’

‘Can you understand what they’re saying?’ I ask, frowning at the strange words. It sounds like they’re growling to me.

‘No; I can’t speak German,’ Demi replies, ‘not fluently, anyway. I did German at school, but they’re speaking too quickly for me to understand them. We’d better go before we’re seen.’

We shuffle backwards, keeping our heads down; then we hear a shout. ‘
Halt
!’

‘Uh-oh, they’ve seen us!’ I hiss.

‘If we run they’ll shoot us!’ says Demi in a panic.

Motorbikes start storming up the hill. I grab her hand.

‘It’s harder to hit a moving target!’

We tumble back down our side of the hill, aware that the ‘Nazis’ are right behind us. A shot rings out. Demi shrieks, but she hasn’t been hit. I drag her towards the wood. I figure if we can get under cover of the trees we can dodge them easily enough, but there’s no way it will work. Demi keeps tripping over her feet, and we can’t outrun those powerful engines.

‘Oh, sh...!’

It’s over in minutes. Brakes screech, men jump off the bikes which skid along the ground, and the weird voices shout at us again. There are about ten of them waving guns in our faces. Instinctively we put our hands up.

‘Don’t shoot!’ cries Demi.

‘
Englisch
!’ growls the man holding his pistol to my temple.

He’s older than the others. His uniform is different, too, black, whereas his mates are wearing brown. He’s wearing a peaked cap, a bit like the caps the health inspectors wear. The rest of his gang have round metal hats on their heads, like upturned bowls. There’s a symbol emblazoned on his collar, like two slash marks.

‘I’m – I’m not English, I’m S-Scottish,’ explains Demi lamely. ‘
Schottisch
. Travis, he’s
SS
,’ she whispers to me.

I shrug at her. He speaks in our language now. ‘Silence!’ and lashes out at Demi. She falls to the ground with a gasp, clutching her cheek.

‘Hey!’ I run towards him angrily, but his mates pull me back.

‘We shall take you to headquarters where you shall be interrogated.’ He drags Demi to her feet. There’s blood on her lip. ‘
Schnell
!’

‘What’s he saying?’ We’re marched away by a couple of the soldiers on foot, guns pointing at our backs. The rest of them follow on their bikes. ‘I don’t understand a bloody word!’

‘He’s telling us to be quick,’ replies Demi. ‘Do as he says. My granddad told me the
SS
were murderers...’

Demi shrieks again as a bullet lands at our feet; no, they don’t like us talking.

I’m not scared, but I am angry. I’m used to facing more terrifying situations than this with machines that have ten times the fire power. These cocky gits are nothing to the guards! I wonder what they’d do if a guard suddenly appeared along the track we’re heading towards. A lorry meets us instead. We’re bundled into the back, and told that if we say another word we’ll be shot.

We trundle along with only one soldier for company. He’s young, not much older than I am, his gun pointing firmly at us, his eyes staring coldly. He doesn’t seem to blink. It isn’t a fun journey to this ‘headquarters’. The road is bumpy, and we’re jostled about on our seats.

‘
Ow
!’ I bang my head on the side of the lorry.

‘
Seien Sie ruhig
!’ snaps the soldier, pointing his rifle at my face.

I rub the back of my head in fury. ‘Go to hell!’

‘Travis!’ squeaks Demi. ‘You heard what they said; they’ll shoot us if we don’t keep quiet!’

‘Let them! I’m not going to no soddin’ headquarters!’

I don’t care that I might get shot; I start hammering my fists against the back of the cab. ‘Let us out of here!’

My head feels like it might explode any minute. I’m over-stressed, starting to get dizzy. Demi is pulling at my arm, begging me to stop. I’m floored by a heavy blow to the back of my head.

Demi’s face is blurred, and behind her a soldier stands over us, shouting. I think the lorry has stopped. There’s a loud bang, and Demi’s grip tightens on my arm.

‘Travis! It’s a bomb!’

I’m shaken out of my fit. I sit up, alert now. We’re still in the lorry. Another bang; the lorry rolls over. Everything is upside down. There are bodies, arms, legs, guns, helmets everywhere...

...and then, the lorry finally stops rolling. I think it’s landed on its roof. There are no more loud noises, no more shouting, no more waving of guns.

Slowly I open my eyes. They’re stinging from the smoke; and where there’s smoke, there’s usually fire. The smell of burning is strong. I cough, wiping my eyes, trying to see through the fog. It’s hot, very hot. I can’t see the flames, but they must be close, maybe right outside. If we don’t get out now we’ll probably burn to death.

I push the soldier off my chest. His head is covered in blood, almost severed at the neck. I take his gun from his limp hand. Another body lies in the corner, barely recognisable as it’s also covered in blood from head to foot, but there’s the
SS
symbol on the collar of his jacket.

There’s no sign of Demi.

Clutching the gun I scramble over the debris, making my way to the back of the lorry, peering through the canvas to see what’s going on outside. There are small fires everywhere. The motorbikes are in pieces, and their drivers are wounded, lifeless, very likely dead. I search for Demi, but she’s nowhere to be seen.

A hissing noise is coming from somewhere in the lorry’s underbelly, and petrol is trickling down the side of the canvas onto the road. Flames are rising from the cab. The driver will be toast now. I jump into the road, and start to run. The lorry explodes into a huge fireball just as I dive into a nearby ditch.

I cover my head with my hands as a heavy missile shoots towards me, landing on my shoulders. When I raise my eyes I see the lorry is nothing but a burning shell now. Lying beside me is what’s just hit me: a charred head. Cringing, I push it away before I start to climb out of the ditch. I’ve got to find Demi.

I jump back down again quickly when I see two young men appear through the smoke, carrying huge guns, dressed not as soldiers, but as civilians, talking in that same strange language. They wander around the corpses, kicking the feet of each in turn, picking up rifles and handguns, and looting the bodies. Then they disappear quickly into the woods, and when I think it’s safe, I crawl into the road. I have no idea who they are, and I don’t care. I’m only thinking of Demi.

I just hope she’s still alive, and that it won’t take long to find her.

I
search the soldiers’ bodies to see if there’s anything left for me to pilfer, but there’s nothing. No money, so nothing to buy food with. Well, I have the rifle taken from the soldier in the lorry, and a few bullets for that. It’s just as well I don’t have a lot to carry. Too much will slow me down.

I’ve no idea where Chase is right now. If he’s still dead, and in another time, then I have nothing to worry about; but the thought that he could still be alive gnaws at my brain as I try to decide whether to start my search for Demi on foot, or by bike. I’ve never ridden a bike before, but once I can figure it out I’ll get much further in less time than walking. I bet I can even ride through the wood, if I’m able to keep my balance on it.

I drag one of the bikes upright to inspect it. I don’t have a clue how to switch on the engine. Nothing happens when I press the button, or turn the key. There’s a lever on the side down by my foot. Maybe I have to push that down as well. I put my foot on it; the lever goes down, my foot slips off, and the engine roars into action.

The bike feels great to sit on, but it’s heavy. I turn the handlebars, which makes the engine roar. How do the soldiers ride? They just seem to move forward, resting their feet on the pedals, so I do the same. I’m wobbling. My balance is all over the place, and I soon fall off!

I skid along the ground, rolling over before finishing on my back. I groan, more in frustration than in pain. I sit up, glaring at the bike, its engine still rumbling, until I struggle to my feet.

‘How hard can it be?’ I murmur, pulling it up. ‘If those soldiers can ride these things I’m bloody sure I can!’

I mount the saddle again, and move forward. I’m still wobbling, but this time I manage to get further along before stumbling. I don’t fall off this time. I stay upright by putting my foot on the ground.

‘Come on!’

I refuse to give in, so I have another go, determined as ever to get this thing going. At last I’m riding, still a bit unsteadily, but eventually I gain confidence, and soon I’m flying down the road, the wind in my hair. I have no idea where I’m going, though; I’m aiming for nowhere. I don’t know where this road leads to.

At last I come to a junction; I need a plan. I need to stop mucking about, and start looking for Demi.

Maybe I should search the woods. It could be that she’s taken cover there. I hope she hasn’t run into those men. If they’re not afraid to blow people up there’s no saying what else they’re capable of. I wonder if they have a camp somewhere nearby. There may be more than two of them out there, but I can’t afford to worry about that.

It’s a dark, dense wood, with the trees spaced far enough apart to get the bike through, although I have to move slowly because the undergrowth is so thick. The engine is making a low rumbling sound, cutting out from time to time. I smile to myself, thinking about my failed escape from the institution, being chased by a guard trampling on the trees like they’re no more than twigs. I don’t expect to come across a guard now. There isn’t much danger of facing artificial intelligence in nineteen forty-something.

At last I spot a clearing in the distance with a couple of small, knocked-up huts made out of wood and bits of metal, and a pile of branches stacked up for a fire. Quickly I shut down the engine, dismount the bike, and move closer on foot, finally stopping behind a thick tree trunk, hoping that the man standing next to the pile hasn’t heard the bike. He’s trying to light the branches with something that looks like the lighter thing Demi uses for her cigarettes. He’s too far in the distance for me to tell whether he’s one of the men seen on the road after the explosion, but then my eyes focus on two large guns I recognise.