EPISODE THIRTY
726 Words
THIRTY
The men gaped without expression at one another, then pulled themselves to their frozen feet. Their numbed hands and cramped conditions made things awkward for them, they prepared themselves for the drop. They help each other strap loads on their backs, beneath the high-mounted parachutes, then struggled into their white waterproof snow trousers.
Gesetze went one better. He pulled a voluminous snow-smock over his head, zipped it up with difficulty and drew the hood over his head. He turned round as a hand tapped the hummocked outline below his white smock.
"I like to say this."
Dänzer’s voice sounded diffident.
"But I don't reckon your radio is going to the stand the shock of landing."
"Why not?"
Gesetze appeared to be more lugubrious than ever.
"Been done before."
"Not by you, it hasn't. By my reckoning you are going to hit the ground with a terminal velocity of a hundred and eighty miles and an hour. Not to put too fine a point on it, I think you are going to experience some difficulty in opening your chute.
Gesetze looked at him, and at his other five smock less companions, then nodded and touched his smock.
"You mean I put this on after we reach the ground?"
"Well."
Dänzer, spoke with consideration.
"I think it would help."
He grinned at Gesetze, who grinned back. Even the other men started to smile. The release of tension within that frozen fuselage, almost palpable.
*
I found Joanne having a late lunch. She leapt up as soon as I walked in a and ran and put her arms around me, pressing her cheek against mine.
"Oh, darling, I am so glad to see you."
Over the moon. I hugged her back.
"Easy now. I wasn't in any danger."
She lifted her head away, her smile rueful.
"Sorry. You ate?"
"No."
"Come on then. There might be some stew left in the pot."
I unhitched my gun belt and took off his outer jacket.
I tackled the pile of steaming meat and vegetables, breaking off chunks of brown bread and dipping it into the rich gravy.
Between mouthfuls, I told her what had happened, and of the strange craft on the beach.
Her eyes widened.
"Are you suggesting this island is a crash-site of something from outer space then?"
I shook my head, unable to speak straight away because of a hot mouthful of potato. I took a gulp of water to cool it down.
"Roome thinks it came from the sea, but nobody can say yet whether it's from space or not. It had a swastika on the fuselage, and it had not crashed, or burnt in the atmosphere in fact, I did not detect any damage on it at all. But it is special all right. Never felt anything like that before."
She leant forward and picked a piece of meat from his plate.
"How do you mean?"
I halted a forkful of steaming meat on its way to his mouth.
"It's warm."
Joanne had the appearance of being puzzled.
"What is?"
"The craft. It feels as though it's alive."
She almost choked, her face green, and shocked. When she continued to cough, I got up and gave her a thump on the back.
"All right now?"
She nodded, wiping at the tears streaming down her face.
Her voice was small.
"How disgusting. Do you think it is...alive?"
He sat down again and gave a chuckle.
"Of course not. It must be some sort of Nazi Germany technological advance. There is an air of sophistication about it, though. You can tell it is full of complexities. A wolf in sheep's clothing."
I took some bread and plunged it into the gravy.
"When you've finished work, come and see for yourself."
"No way. I'm too busy."
She got up and crossed to the solid fuel range.
"A cup of tea?"
"Please."
She poured out a mugful and set it down on the table beside me.
"What are you going to do now?"
I checked the time.
"Get back to Roome and see what time he'd like me to do my stint of guard duty."
She came round and played with the back of my chair.
"Must you rush away? I won't be opening the shop this afternoon until four o'clock, and I put a notice on the door."
- Writer
