Isabella’s Airman (18 page)

It was quicker to go down the other side, and blissful seconds later my feet hit the ground.
Thank God
. Marc scrambled over rapidly, silent and efficient, while I stood there, shaking. Curling his fingers around my hand, he tugged me, and we ran across the blacked-out grass and then a harder surface to the building.

Christ. If we were caught, what would happen? The risk for Marc far outweighed the penalty for me. He’d gotten me here. I
wouldn’t
put him in more danger.
Come on, Isabella.
I sucked in a breath, tamped down the rising swell of panic, and followed him exactly.

He paused at the door, did something clever with the lock, and then yanked it open and hauled me inside before closing it quietly behind us. A dimly lit corridor stretched ahead, and a dull beeping noise chimed over our heads. Shit. Was that an alarm? Had we triggered it? I twisted and looked for signs of security guards bearing down on us, but we were alone. Marc pulled on my hand and led me along.

I adjusted my scarf to make sure it still obscured my face. He wore a dark knit hat, pulled low.
There may be cameras. Think of Davy. Remember why you’re doing this.

Through a door. The beeping noise continued, slightly louder. Down another corridor, and then through a set of swing doors, and suddenly we were in a portal generator. I recognized this setup from my first jump. Monitors across the wall. The huge bank of tech equipment. Medical boxes full of supplies. And the portal.

It hung in the air, like a fabric curtain from a pole, shimmering and beautiful. It was ethereal to look at, and I couldn’t help but pause and admire the sheer beauty of it.

I’d never see this again. I’d never see Marc again. He was my last link to my old life. My heart thudded, and for a second I feared I’d throw up again. Deep breath. And another. I swallowed down the nausea.
Keep it together.

Marc was busy at the controls.
Focus
. How were we doing for time? I stared at my watch. Coming on to four minutes. I knew once the portal activated, Marc was only seconds away from shutting it down and getting the hell out of there.

I was petrified.

All the doubts I’d been ignoring, all the fears, all rushed to the surface and clamored inside my head. I couldn’t do this. It was too risky. My knees were shaking so badly, I needed to sit down. I was crazy. Why had I thought this would work?

The portal hummed. It was powering up.

I wanted to run. I wanted to be sick. My stomach twisted in knots, and there was no air in my lungs.

What was to stop me staying here and making a life in the colonies? I’d seen couples together, families, young children laughing and playing. The life I wanted.

I wanted that with Davy.
Think of Davy.
Together, with me carrying his baby.
Our
baby.

Marc touched my arm. The portal was ready. The fluid, light-filled beauty was gone. In its place hung a thick fog. It was time.

My mouth was as dry as the Sahara, and I couldn’t swallow past the boulder in my throat. I flung my arms around Marc and squeezed for dear life. In my head, I thanked him, begged him to stay safe, and said good-bye.

Wriggling free, I gazed at his dark eyes for the last time. This cousin I barely knew, whom I could never repay. He smiled. Did he understand?

I turned around and stepped onto the platform. Two steps. That was all. I could do this.

Out of all the things I expected to happen, I wasn’t prepared for Marc to clamp his hand across my mouth and step through the portal with me.

We lurched together through the fog and landed on a hard surface on the far side, Marc’s hand still tight over my mouth. Was he worried I’d back out? With me attached to his body, he hauled me a few steps away. The fog dissolved to an eerie green light for a second before winking out altogether. No one would ever know it had been there.

Why the hell would Marc jump with me? As soon as he released his hand from my mouth, I spun around to face him. “What are you doing?” I muffled my cry against his chest. “Why in God’s name did you do that?”

“Did you really think I’d let you jump alone?” He had the nerve to look offended. “
Ghardians
jump in pairs. It’s too dangerous for a singleton.”

“But,” I groped helplessly for the right words, “everything you said about me being on my own? You never mentioned coming with me.”

“I had to be sure you were committed, Isabella.”

“How will you get back?” A new thought sideswiped me. “
Are
you going back?”

“I have to, otherwise I’ll be hunted, and I’ve no intention of putting you at risk.” He paused. “Right now, we’ve more pressing concerns. Like finding out exactly when and where we are.”

“We don’t know that because…?”

“There’s usually someone on the other end to calibrate the landing.” He adjusted the bag across his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

In my shock at Marc jumping, I’d completely neglected to take note of our location. We were indoors, a dimly lit plain room with no windows. A damp smell lingered. A cellar?

Marc was already checking the door, a sturdy wooden construction. He opened it with care and peered through the gap. “All quiet. Come on.”

Pulling what was left of my wits together, I followed him and found him marking the outside of the door with a piece of chalk from his bag. “I need to find it again if I have any chance of getting back.”

The door opened onto a long corridor with a strangely familiar curved ceiling and small white tiles covering the walls. I knew I hadn’t been there before, but I’d seen pictures.

Marc looked quizzically at me. “Well? You’re the expert for this period.”

“I think this is the London Underground. The Tube.”

“That would make sense. Readily accessible and protected from the bombing above ground.”

“The general public used the Tube stations as bomb shelters, so we should be fine to mingle with the crowds without drawing suspicion.”

To our right, the corridor ended, and so we headed left, Marc adding little green X’s in chalk at regular intervals. There were people not far away. We could hear footsteps and muffled voices, and soon enough we rounded a corner, climbed a short flight of stairs, and found ourselves at the end of a busy railway platform.

“Piccadilly.” I pointed to the name, boldly displayed on the wall. “I think that’s in the city center.” I hadn’t studied London, other than at the most general level. My geography of the city was non-existent. Marc had referred to me as the expert for the period, but that was laughable.

Anxiety lurked in my chest, buoyed along on a wave of receding adrenaline. Now the shock of the jump had worn off, I just felt scared. In the seconds since we walked onto the platform, the space around us had shrunk, with people steadily joining the crowd.

“It’s a little after two, according to the clock,” said Marc. “I’m guessing afternoon rather than early morning.” He paused to pick up a dropped newspaper and hand it to the middle-aged woman who’d been rearranging her bag. As we walked away, he spoke again. “December twenty-ninth.”

Okay, this wasn’t good. In fact, this was very bad. I took a deep breath. “It looks as though people are setting up for the night already. We’re unlikely to get out of the city today, so I think we should stay down here until morning.”

“Agreed.”

We found a space next to the wall and sat on the floor. Marc produced a rolled up fine-knit blanket from his bag, and with that and our coats, we made ourselves as comfortable as was possible. The people around us were good natured, chattering and laughing as they rigged up folding beds and canvas chairs. Somebody pushed a trolley dispensing cups of tea, and the overall atmosphere was one of calm.

They had no idea of the firestorm that would rage that night. I shivered at the thought. Whatever happened, we had to stay underground.

“So tell me.” I looked up at Marc, sitting next to me. “What are your plans?”

“In thirty-six hours, the portal will reopen, and I’ll jump back. If I’ve configured it correctly, I’ll land a few seconds after we left and still have time to exit safely. My vehicle is in the woods, and I’ll drive back to New Oxford.”

“I think you’re crazy.” I swallowed hard. “But thank you. I know it’s not going to be easy for me, and having you here at first helps. I don’t feel so alone.”

Marc flashed me a rare smile and slipped his arm around my shoulder. He gave me a squeeze. “I never intended to abandon you. I won’t be able to stay long, but hopefully it’s enough to get you somewhere safe.”

I hoped so too.

The hours passed slowly, dragging from early to late afternoon, and the platform steadily filled with people setting up for the night. The trains continued to run, punctuating the chatter with their whoosh and rumble as they entered the station. I’d never been in such a crowd, not even at Mildenhall, and I shrank closer to Marc. His presence comforted me, more than I could have thought. Who would ever imagine my cold
ghardian
cousin behaving like this? Breaking the most serious laws to help a runaway was bad enough, but actively encouraging me to find love, to follow my heart, was unbelievable.

What had motivated him to do this? I’d asked, but he refused to be drawn into answering. Would he find a love of his own one day? I hoped so.

I slumped half asleep against him, while the day drifted by. Would we hear the bombs down here? It was late December and would be dark by now. What time would the raid start? I refused to think about all the other issues to be faced. There would be time enough tomorrow and in the days that followed. Tonight was a chance to catch my breath.

“Excuse me.” A young girl peered down at us. No older than twelve, she had a thin, pale face and huge dark eyes. Her cotton dress was neatly patched in several places, and she hopped from one foot to the other, as though agitated. “My mum sent me to find someone strong to help ’er.”

I frowned, puzzled, even as Marc scrambled to his feet. Why ask us? Realization slammed into me. Most of the people settled on the platform were either women and children, or the elderly. Marc was the only young man in sight. So much for hiding in the crowd.

“How can I help?” He towered over her, and she gazed up at him.

“We was on the bus. Coming ’ere.” Her thick accent was hard to follow. “It’s crashed, and she can’t get out. She’s got my little bruvver. He’s a cripple. In a chair. Please help.”

I glanced up at the clock. If the raid hadn’t started yet, it couldn’t be far off.

“Stay here, Isabella.” Marc was about to follow the child, but I couldn’t let him go alone.

“No, wait.” I pushed to my feet, grabbed our bags, and then scooped up the blanket. Our space would be taken within minutes. “I’m coming.”

“You’re staying here.” His eyebrows drew together in a stern look that others would find forbidding, but I knew him better now.

“No. Together or not at all.”

We pushed through the crowd, heading along the corridors and then riding the giant escalators up toward the surface. Several people tried to stop us. Some called that we were riding the wrong way.

An officious-looking old man blocked us at the top. “The sirens ’ave gone off. If you leave now, you might not get back in.”

Marc didn’t waste time trying to explain. He dodged past the man, followed the girl darting ahead, and I tried to keep up. I wouldn’t let them out of my sight.

If I’d thought it busy earlier, that was nothing compared to the torrent of people surging into the station now. I had to cling to Marc’s hand to make sure we didn’t get separated. We pushed through the crowd, unable to speak over the noise of the voices and trampling feet around us.

It was bright as day outside, and my step faltered in the doorway. Had Marc gotten the date wrong? Was it summer?

It was fire.

Noise assaulted my eardrums. The droning of the bombers overhead, like a million bees in a swarm. Staccato bursts of anti-aircraft fire from somewhere close-by. Over it all, the fire had a noise of its own, a roaring, sibilant hiss. Metal canisters clattered down from the sky, hitting the street with peculiar clinking noises. I’d never seen anything like them, and I stared, puzzled. A moment later, they exploded in a shower of green sparks and light, instantly setting fire to anything they touched.

“Incendiaries.” The name leaped to my lips. This was how the Germans had planned to destroy London.

“Isabella.” Marc gave me a shake. “Go back inside.”

I couldn’t do that. I knew I would survive, but I couldn’t stand by and watch him take any more risk. Digging deep, pushing past the fear, I shouted to the girl. “Where are we going?”

“There.” She lifted her arm, and I saw the bus. It lay on its side like a giant abandoned toy. Why was nobody helping? Another shower of incendiaries rained down on the street, and I understood. All the available people were busy putting them out. As fast as the canisters landed, someone ran up to stamp on them or beat them out with a spade.

“
Mum
.” The girl screeched and grabbed at my hand. “Is my mum okay?”

Marc was already circling the fallen bus, peering through the windows. He waved me closer. “There are people trapped inside.” He had to shout for me to hear him. “I need to get in there.” The way the bus had toppled over, the entry platform was now blocked.

“I got out there.” The girl pointed to a smashed window close to the ground. Bright orange flames and green phosphorous smoke reflected in every pane of glass, the patterns shifting and rearranging like a kaleidoscope.

“Isabella.” Marc’s voice stayed calm, and I took a deep breath. “Stand back. I need to clear the glass and climb in.”

The windows were small, and he was not. I heard shouts from inside the bus and the sound of a baby crying. My feet were frozen, but I knew what I had to do. Before I had time to think it through, I forced myself to move. “I’ll go in first. I’m smaller. I might be able to help inside.”

I saw the uncertainty in Marc’s eyes. With his military training, he was no doubt assessing my idea, ready to discard it. I didn’t give him the chance. Dropping to my knees, I crawled into position, ready to squeeze through the gap. Broken shards of glass lined the jagged hole, and I took care to cover my head securely with the scarf.