Continuum (Doctor Who Fanfiction)

Chapter 5 - Battle of Britain

I hesitantly reached for the door of the TARDIS.  I half expected to either be 1.) still in my bedroom or 2.) lost in outer space where I’d be crushed under the great amount of pressure and suffocate in the no-oxygen atmosphere.  I gripped the handle and pulled.  Cold air and the smell of smoke hit me harder than a basketball to my mouth.  I stepped out onto cobbled road.  The darkness of the night had swallowed everything up aside from a few street lamps –

BOOM! 

An explosion detonated right before my eyes, blowing the side of the nearest building to smithereens.  Chunks of rock and rubble hurdled though the air and dust clouds disrupted the skies.  The Doctor pulled me back inside and slammed the door shut.  With my back to the door, I couldn’t help but smile.  “That was extraordinary!”  I respired, the sound of bombs mingling in with the sirens of the air raid.

“What?  You were almost blown to bits right there!”  The Doctor exclaimed.  In his eyes he looked frightened almost.

“I know,” I laughed.  The feeling of anticipation and uncertainty cooked my insides and I felt myself laughing despite almost dying.  “How do we reach the underground bunkers?”

The Doctor quickly took a peek outside and turned back to me.  “Run!”  He grabbed my hand and began running.  I was pulled along out onto the cobbled roads and the door of the TARDIS shut on its own.  “Round that building!”

We ran, bombs going off all around us.  I sucked in corrupted, cold night air, the pounding of the bottom of my sneakers in time with the thrashing of my heart.  We rounded a building that strangely resembled one of the grocery stores back in 2010, when a bomb ignited nearly right infront of us, blowing half the building to debris.  The Doctor yanked me back and shielded me from falling chunks of brick and stone, pressing my back up against the wall of an opposite facing structure.  He looked back, the coast clear.  “That was close,” I whispered.  I looked around the Doctor’s arm and down the destroyed boulevard; masses of wreckage cluttered the streets and dust had begun settling on the ground.

“Hör sofort auf!”  I felt my blood run cold.  The Doctor spun around and defensively stood infront of me. 

“Christ, is that the S.S.?”  I respired, my breath visible.

“Possibly.”  I knew, from years of studying World War II, that we were knee deep in some schiss now.  At least ten to twelve S.S. Officers, the Germany Army, stood a few feet back, guns cocked and ready. 

“Wir bist du und was machst du hier?”  One shouted at us.  In the dark of the night, the remaining street lamps’ light reflected off the Swastika neatly pinned to the breast of their coats.  It gleamed at us, smiling. 

“Neimand,” I tried, the very little German I knew flying out the window.

“You understand them?”  The Doctor whispered to me, turning his head to the side.

“Hardly.” 

“Handë hinter dem rücken!”  They shouted at us.  It was mechanical almost, their voices.  Rehearsed it could have been.  Four men advanced and thrust us both forward, turning me around.  They pressed my body up against the stone wall, along with the Doctor.

“Get off,” I grumbled, struggling against them.  But their grip was iron and unyielding, their hands rock hard.  “Doctor, what now?”  I felt my heart in my throat but I reminded myself to conceal, not feel.  The S.S. men began searching us.  They ripped my backpack off my shoulders and tossed it to the road.

“You speak German, reason with them!”  He exclaimed.  As I felt one of men’s hands slide a bit too far down below the belt, I flipped.  In a moment of enraged pandemonium, I spun myself around and connected my fist with the S.S. Officer’s jaw.  My thoughts and actions collided like the cars of a train and I realized what I had done.  Not even a second passed before I had three men ontop of me, pinning me to the ground.