EPISODE FIFTEEN
1169 Words
FIFTEEN
We did not sleep for the rest of the night. With the door re-bolted, and a heavy piece of faulty equipment pulled across and jammed hard up against it, we took off our outer coats and slumped into the chairs.
Pendergrass produced a bottle of whisky and some tumblers. I enjoyed my drink, not speaking until everybody were into their own.
"Terry, time to face facts. To come to grips with the idea we might discover something abnormal on our hands, but with two people meeting very gruesome deaths, and we understand that this is no ordinary murderer."
Roome nodded.
"I agree. We're on our own, with U-Boats circling the isle and with the skies being patrolled by both the RAF and the Luftwaffe, we're what is known as f****d!"
"This isn't something straightforward."
I pointed a finger at the outer wall.
"That thing may be more dangerous than we think."
"How do you mean?"
All heads turned my way, and I drew a deep breath.
"I don't know. Let us call it instinct!"
Pendergrass shifted his feet and cleared his throat, embarrassed.
"Do you think it might not be of this earth?"
Somebody gave a little laugh, causing Pendergrass face to colour.
McQueen came to his rescue.
"Hang on, not so daft as it sounds."
He got up and walked to his operations desk in the corner. He took the top piece of paper off a pile on his tray and turned back to us.
"One of the RAF pilots who flew over the other day, said they thought they saw some wreckage floating near the beach."
He paused and considered for a moment.
"Said it appeared like the tail fin of a missile!"
*
By morning, the snowfall had been very deep. McQueen brought steaming mugs of tea to the breakfast of piled plates of porridge and bacon and eggs. Perhaps because of the daylight the atmosphere is quieter, not so doom-laden as the night before. We ate well.
"I'm thinking you'll stay with us for a while; the road's impassable."
I took a sip of the hot liquid and gawped up at McQueen.
"Thanks. We must return to Onehouse. The safety of the population is my responsibility. Can you help?"
McQueen scratched his head.
"Well, it's irregular, but you could borrow our boat. The sea's not too rough just now. Just the U-Boats to be aware of."
"I'll take my chances."
McQueen frowned.
"We're supposed to keep it if our boys end-up in the briny. I could end up in a lot of trouble."
I finished the last spoonful of porridge and lifted my plate away to make room for the bacon and eggs.
"Couldn't you come with us and bring it back."
McQueen considered doubtfully.
"Yes, but then I'll be leaving my post."
He shook his head.
"No, I will lend you the craft. Try to return it to us in one piece as soon as possible."
It lay at the end of a little jetty set in a rock-strewn cove. The sea grey and choppy, the wind carrying a fine spray that glistened on eyebrows and the hairs of our faces.
With difficulty the covered body, the strange humanoid form still causing revulsion in me, lowered to the waiting Pendergrass, standing in the bottom of the cruiser. Turner's bits and pieces, collected from the wrecked tent, handed down in a bag.
Roome and I climbed down, the coastguard steadying the vessel and offering a hand, before climbing out.
Roome reached up and shook McQueen's hand.
"I can depend on you to keep your head down, now, can't I? No false heroics."
McQueen gave a mirthless chuckle.
"Don't worry about us. We've kept the German's at bay for over two years, so some little green-man from Venus, will receive more than he bargained for."
He patted the Bren-Gun under his arm and scanned around the snow-covered cliffs.
Roome smiled.
"Good man."
With the water slapping against the hull, we cast off, and with me at the controls gunned the engine.
We pitched and butted out into the small cove, and as it came around to pass the head, we both glanced back.
McQueen was still on the jetty. He raised his arm in farewell, gun above his head, then, like a curtain pulled across, the rocky cliff obscured him from sight.
The view as we cross the bay was breath-taking. The snow-covered mountains swept down to the ocean from low clouds which covered their peaks. At their feet, the town of Onehouse, a collection of black dots against the white which resolved into the houses as we make our way out into the icy North-Sea.
We sat in an uneasy silence, I thought about the sighting of the rocket-fin by the RAF. Every black wave carried an extra menace, rearing up behind us before washing past on the way to the shore with a hiss and a salty spray.
Roome stood at the stern, with a pair of binoculars fixed on the open depths, looking for any sign of a periscope.
It took two hours before we entered the harbour, by which time we were freezing cold.
As we tied up, a small crowd gathered and peered down at us from the towering quay. Roome climbed up the metal ladder, his chin strap holding his hat in place.
"Keep back there, please!"
A lad of about fourteen did not look, impressed.
"What you got there, Mr Roome?"
"Never you mind young Andy. Run up to base and tell Sergeant Allum we need a vehicle down here fast. There's sixpence in it for you if you're back here in five minutes."
Before he finished speaking, Andy was away around the corner. He earned his money. A Willys MB Jeep came back in four minutes, with Sergeant Allum at the wheel.
With block and tackle rigged up, and the stiff body of Corporal Turner swung up on to the quayside and then loaded into the vehicle.
Roome turned to me.
"I'm going to put a night-time curfew on the entire islet. Going to be a hell of a job to police but at least then I will have some sort of understanding where everybody is."
I nodded as Roome jumped into the front passenger seat of the vehicle. He leaned closer, as I moved approached the vehicle.
"Let us meet again after Doctor Walton has given Turner the once over. Perhaps we can work out some sort of joint idea as to just what we might be up against."
I hunched my shoulders and tried to shrink further into my fleece as I shivered with the cold.
"Of course. What time? I could do with some rest."
Roome regarded his watch.
"It's going to be a busy day, and I don't expect Walton will be able to get around to Turner until later. What about seven o'clock tonight - at the path, lab?"
"Right."
Roome gave Sergeant Allum a nod.
"Take care."
The Jeep drove off.
- Writer
