While the Storm Rages, page 19
‘I’ll find you the biggest bowl of food ever when we get there,’ she said to Frank, fussing his muzzle. ‘I promise.’ And that seemed to move the old boy on again, leaving Clem’s hands free to navigate the map. She managed to keep them relatively close to the river, which pleased Noah no end. It made him feel like they were moving closer with every step if he caught sight of the Thames, winding its way behind them, all the way back to the city. But by early afternoon, the trees had grown denser, which brought a sense of unease to them both. It could’ve been their hunger growing, adding to their paranoia, but it felt like there were too many places to hide here, too many opportunities for someone to lie in wait. And battling through all the undergrowth and bushes really slowed down their pace.
‘Do you not think we’d be safer and quicker walking the riverbank?’ Noah asked.
‘I’m sure we would,’ Clem replied. ‘But we’d also be very easy to spot by anyone sailing down it. We need to keep the river in our sights but we can’t be exposed. And look here, if I’m reading this right, then we should be back in the open soon. It won’t feel so bad then, I promise.’
So they plodded on, Noah trying to ease his fears by throwing sticks for Winn into the densest undergrowth, in the hope that she would scare away or at least unearth possible assailants. Every bird call or snapping twig had his senses on high alert: whilst the dog’s sticks were in his grasp he found himself clutching them like clubs.
But when danger came an hour later, it came from an unexpected place.
‘What’s that noise?’ Noah fretted, his eyes flitting skywards. He stumbled through the last of the trees as a large, fallow field stretched out in front of them.
The sound grew louder and more familiar.
‘It’s Spitfires again,’ he said with relief, though he couldn’t see them yet. ‘I’d put money on it.’
His eyes scoured the skies in the hope of spotting the planes. He needed something to lift his spirits and these planes never failed. They were magnificent, thrilling machines. But when he finally got his wish, off in the distance, he was surprised to see only one plane, instead of the squadron they’d witnessed earlier.
‘Why’s that plane on its own?’ he asked.
Clem shrugged. The plane flew nearer, lower, noisier.
‘And why’s it so loud? It’s making the noise of four of them.’
It got louder and louder, so deafening that they were soon clutching at their ears.
‘Something’s not right,’ said Noah. The plane was flying lower and lower, too low, and seemed to be dipping further. Its engine sounded more like a tractor than a fighter plane, and it was now spitting out smoke.
‘Has it been shot at?’ yelled Clem over the din.
‘I don’t know. Maybe the Nazis have started firing. Maybe they’re on their way.’
‘We’d have seen them, wouldn’t we?’
‘I don’t know but I don’t like this,’ shouted Noah, the ringing in his ears so loud that he may well have been speaking to himself. ‘It’s going to come down. Jesus, Clem, it’s coming right at us.’
The dogs didn’t need to be told. They sensed it already and bolted away.
‘Run!’ yelped Noah.
They sprinted as best they could across the field, but it was a struggle. Noah couldn’t help but turn again and again, to make sure they were outrunning the plane, but of course they weren’t. So they pivoted, dashing at a right angle, away from its path. But each time they turned, the Spitfire seemed to do the same, as though it were chasing them.
Noah looked again, and now the only thing that filled his eyeline was the propeller, scything gleefully towards him. This was it, he thought. This was how it would end.
As the thunder and smoke reached a crescendo, and they felt the wind whip up a frenzy around them, Noah and Clem threw themselves to the ground, feeling the grass flatten, giving way to hard, rutted mud that pulled at their bare knees.
Noah felt the scream in his throat but could not hear it. He couldn’t stop it either, as the Spitfire thundered over them. But even when it passed, he knew the danger wasn’t over, because the plane was speeding rapidly to the ground. And when the collision happened, who knew how far the explosion would reach.
Noah cowered, pulled Winn under his arms and braced himself, waiting for the storm to rage.
50
The ground shook, giving way as the Spitfire splintered. One wing flew to the right, the other hung on grimly, though it was broken beyond recognition. Smoke poured from the front, belching into the air, covering them all in the blackest of fugs.
‘Clem?’ Noah spluttered. ‘Are you and Frank all right?’ He knew Winn was, as she was burrowing anxiously into his side.
A cough echoed through the fog, followed by a definite but scared call of ‘yes’ soon after.
‘Follow me, then. We shouldn’t be this close,’ Noah yelled, though he actually had no idea just how far away the Spitfire had landed.
He clambered to his feet, half-expecting to feel pain somewhere, although mercifully there was none. With Winn at his side he stumbled to where the light was brighter, constantly calling to Clem so she could follow his voice.
They reached daylight twenty seconds or so later, collapsing to the ground, Frank in particular was terrified. No matter how many times Clem reassured him, the little dog wouldn’t have it, scrabbling at her chest as if trying to hide down the front of her clothes.
‘Is he all right?’ asked Noah.
‘He will be.’
After fussing Winn, Noah turned his attention to the wreck. Close up, the Spitfire looked huge, though that could’ve been due to the wreckage that jutted from the ground in various shards. Smoke continued to pour from the back, but it was the cockpit that held Noah’s attention. He didn’t want to imagine what shape the pilot, still slumped over his controls, would be in, but he couldn’t help it. There was someone in there: a life, someone’s son, someone’s dad. And that pulled at Noah, made his feet twitch.
‘Don’t you even think about it, Noah,’ said Clem. ‘I see what you’re thinking and I’m telling you right now, if you so much as take one step towards that plane then me and Frank will rugby tackle you, do you hear me?’
‘Yes but—’
‘But nothing, Noah. The only thing living in this field is us, these dogs, and that smoke. And who knows how long till it’s not smoke any more but flames.’
He knew what she was saying. He’d already thought it himself, but that didn’t just mean he could stand by and watch. What if the pilot was still alive? What if his heart was beating as fast as Noah’s, what if he was just as scared? He couldn’t stand there and watch the man perish.
But just as his brain told his feet to get moving, someone else beat him to it. From their left, some fifty feet away, a figure broke from the treeline at lightning speed. A man. He covered the ground in no time, not pausing or flinching at the smoke or devastation in front of him. He only stopped when he reached the cockpit and pulled at the glass.
‘We should help him,’ Noah said. He couldn’t take his eyes off the man, and his feet began to move. The rest of him didn’t though, thanks to the restraining arms of Clem. Not to mention the jaws of Winn, attached to his right sock. How could they be so strong when they were so so tired?
‘Don’t even think about!’ Clem roared. ‘How long do you think it’ll be before it explodes?’
‘That won’t happen if I get there quickly.’
‘It’s not happening at all, Noah. You’re staying here with me.’ And she gripped even harder.
But before he could wrestle himself free, the plumes of smoke near the tailfin sparked into life like a phoenix: orange, reds and yellows licking into the air. The man, facing the opposite way as he tugged at the cockpit, had no idea.
‘We’ve got to do something!’ yelled Noah. But Clem still wouldn’t let him go.
So instead they yelled. Noah waving any limbs free of restraint. Even the dogs joined in. The man finally peered over his shoulder as he pulled, and although Noah and Clem were some distance away, they could still see his eyes widen in shock and horror. He had to run, it was clear, but he only did so after one, final abortive yank at the glass.
The children yelled on, warning him, fearing that the flame might only be inches away now from the fuel line, and no matter how hard the man sprinted, they didn’t see how he could magic himself away in time.
They were right. For when the explosion came, it brought the mightiest of booms, sending a mushroom cloud of fire high above the trees that ringed the clearing. It chased the man, eating the grass that led to his feet, and when the earth couldn’t satisfy its hunger, it blew the man ten feet into the air, his arms windmilling, just as the Spitfire’s rotor had as it plummeted to earth.
He fell to the ground, back first, legs hitting the earth like a broken doll.
The children took in what they had just seen, then Noah shook himself free, and sprinted to where the man lay crumpled.
51
Sweat poured off Noah’ s face. Little wonder. He’d been closer to death in these past twenty-four hours than he had for the entirety of his life, but for some reason here he was again, sprinting in its direction. It was like he wasn’t in control of his actions.
Dropping to his knees, Noah went to shake the man, to make sure that he wasn’t leaning over another corpse, yet something made him stop, a fear of hurting him.
It turned out this was unnecessary, for although the man’s eyes were closed, they didn’t remain that way for long. A long slobbering lick to the face from Winn soon woke him up.
‘Did he get out?’ the man said, attempting to sit up, eyes rolling slightly as he tried to focus.
‘Steady on,’ replied Noah, as Clem and Frank arrived at his shoulder. ‘You flew quite a way when the plane exploded.’
But the man wasn’t listening, he was already scrabbling to his feet, and Noah realised that although he was older than them, there wasn’t a great deal in it. Six years maybe? Eighteen years old, nineteen at a push. He looked strong, wiry, though he was far from smartly dressed and that wasn’t due to the blast alone. His trousers were ill-fitting, baggy and frayed at the hem, held up by a pair of shabby braces that sat on top of a brown, collarless shirt. His hair was thick and brown, seeming to grow outwards rather than down. It had a nest-like quality to it: mossy, whilst tufts stuck out at uncomfortable and untameable angles.
‘What happened?’ the young man asked, flames reflecting in his widening eyes. ‘He got out, didn’t he? Tell me he got out.’
They said nothing. It was easier than telling the truth. The man shuffled from foot to foot, back and forth. It looked like he was considering running back towards the burning wreckage.
‘There was nothing you could do,’ Noah said. ‘We saw what you tried to do.’
‘The cockpit was stuck fast. Just couldn’t shift it.’
‘Where did you come from?’ Noah asked.
‘Home,’ the man replied, pointing back to the dense woods. Suddenly a second explosion from the plane shook the ground and had them all cowering once again.
‘Are you both all right?’ the young man asked. He looked them up and down, like they might be on fire themselves.
‘We’re fine, fine,’ Noah said.
The man was now pacing the ground, brow furrowed as he pulled at one particularly knotted piece of hair.
‘Are you all right?’ Clem asked him. ‘I’m Clem and this is Noah.’
The man didn’t seem to be listening. He was still distracted, agitated.
‘We’re going to have to get used to this, aren’t we?’ He pointed at the wreckage and flames. ‘I mean, war hasn’t even been declared yet and look, planes are already falling out of the skies.’
Noah looked at Clem, who looked right back, quizzically.
‘What do you mean?’ Noah said. ‘Have you been living in a cave for the last two days?’
The man stopped pacing and stared at him.
‘Not a cave, no. But, well, I haven’t been listening to the news. I’ve been... busy.’ He looked momentarily furtive.
Noah’s mind tried to fill in the gaps. How could someone possibly not know what had been happening? How could you not find a wireless or read a paper or speak to someone and know that the world was imploding? Had the man been in prison or something? Because he had the look of a fugitive.
But despite that Noah wasn’t scared of the man. He’d been up close to bad, bad people on this journey and he just knew this man wasn’t one of them. And if he didn’t know what was going on, then he deserved to know.
‘The Prime Minister,’ Noah said. ‘Well, he’s declared it, hasn’t he? We’re at war with Hitler. With Germany.’
The man sighed and dropped his head on to his chest. ‘It’s not a surprise,’ he said. ‘The only surprise is that it’s taken this long. And this death here, this pilot, it won’t be the last. There’ll be thousands of them, millions even, before it’s done.’
Noah found himself nodding. Couldn’t believe he’d just witnessed a man lose his life. ‘It’s already started in the city,’ he said. ‘There’s animals all over London, all over the country probably, being put to sleep. Which is why we’re not there any more. It’s why we’re here.’
He didn’t know what reaction he expected the man to offer. Some people were not animal people, after all. But what happened next told Noah everything he needed to know about the stranger. Out of nowhere, a brilliant green bird swooped down: a flurry of feathers thwacking the air, until it landed, squarely on the man’s left shoulder. His hand went up to the bird, who rested its head reassuringly on his thumb.
‘You’d better tell me what’s happening,’ the man said. ‘Starting with this stuff about the animals.’
52
‘Er... there’s a parrot on your shoulder,’ said Noah, as if the man somehow hadn’t noticed.
‘She isn’t a parrot, she’s a parakeet called Esme.’ The man hadn’t taken his eyes off the plane, they glistened with sadness. He still looked like he had half a mind to dash back towards it.
‘I can’t believe it,’ he sighed. ‘Well, I can of course I can. There’s people in London, powerful people, who’ve wanted this war for years. I just don’t want to believe they’ve finally got their wish, that’s all. I mean, who’s going to tell that pilot’s family? They’ll never know what really happened, will they?’
‘What do you think happened? I mean, did someone shoot him down? Do you think the Germans have started to invade?’ Noah asked.
‘Not today. Sounded like an engine fault. But if what you say is true then it won’t be long until the sky is full of planes. And guns. And bombs. Messerschmitts, Heinkels, Dorniers.’
Noah didn’t like the sound of them.
The man still looked incensed. The parakeet paced along his shoulder too, back and forth, embodying his agitation.
‘Thing that makes me fume,’ the man went on, ‘is that pilot probably didn’t even think twice before joining up. Thought he was doing his duty,’ he spat the last word. ‘Because that’s what we’re all taught, isn’t it?’
Noah was struggling to understand what the man meant. But he didn’t have time to ask him, as over to their left came another disturbance, a group of people, six at least, stumbling out of the treeline, pointing the second they saw the flames.
‘Police,’ said Clem. ‘Maybe we shouldn’t be here.’
‘Why? What you done?’ asked the man, though he didn’t look too comfortable at the sight of the bobbies himself.
‘Nothing really,’ Noah gabbled. ‘We haven’t committed a crime or anything. But they’re looking for us anyway.’
‘That doesn’t make a lot of sense,’ said the man.
‘It’ll be all right, we just need to stay calm,’ Noah went on. ‘They’ll only care about the plane. They’re not going to realise who we are. Why would they?’
But as he focussed on the new arrivals, he realised that whilst four of the officers were haring in the direction of the plane, two of them were heading in their direction. And they weren’t ambling either.
‘Oh lord,’ said Clem. She’d never had a policeman so much as look in her direction before, never mind run towards her. Just to add to her fear, they were shouting now too.
‘You didn’t kill no one, did you?’ asked the man.
‘Do we look like murderers?’ replied Noah. He was ready to run, but had no idea in which direction.
‘No,’ said the man, quickly weighing things up. ‘Whatever you did, I don’t reckon the law deserves to catch you.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘If you want to stay free, follow me.’
‘Can we trust you?’
‘I’m all you’ve got,’ he replied. And before anyone could say anything else, he bolted away from the bobbies, leaving Noah, Clem and the dogs to race after him as if their lives and liberties depended on it.
53
They ran, sprinted in fact, but so did the police. And while the bobbies may have been carrying extra pounds, Clem had a wheezing Frank in her arms, who really slowed her down.
‘Give him to me!’ Noah shouted.
‘Why are we running?’ Clem gasped as Noah pulled Frank from her arms. ‘What if they don’t actually know who we are? Maybe they just want to ask us about the plane.’ But she soon accelerated when she heard their names shouted, followed by the word ‘STOP!’
‘Where are we going?’ Noah yelled.
‘Nearly there,’ the man replied, ‘but we need to be quicker or they’ll spot us as we hide.’
Noah looked ahead as they picked up the pace, expecting to see a small house or a shack at least, though how they could expect to go unfound in something so obvious, he had no idea.
