Safe Harbor

| 13 |

"We've heard reports that it's been another---difficult evening----in England----as bombs continue to rain down---"

Static noise filters out of my radio, the first amount of progress I'd made since unearthing it out of my rucksack half an hour ago. I fiddle with the dials curiously, trying my hardest to get it to work right. I wanted to know what was going on back home, and what was going on in the world in the time I'd been away. Already, it felt like centuries had passed in the short amount of time we'd been on the ship. Everyone could feel the slow wave of tantalizing boredom, suffocating uncertainty, and most of all, jarring fear begin to consume each of us as the clock continued to tick by.

I'd been with Keda for most of the morning, only leaving her later, in the hands of Bianca and Eva to get some much needed time for myself. I'd intended to take a nap--I hadn't been getting much sleep as of late-- but stopped short when I found my rucksack, laying in a heap by the bed I occupied. Inside, much forgotten, was that last parting gift from my father.

"Now---for CBS Radio Network---straight from the---London after dark---Edward R. Murrow."

This bloke was in London; he must have some news to tell. "If only I could get this damned thing working," I mutter under my breath, eyes narrowed, deep in concentration. I turn the dials around and adjust the settings on the wooden box, and the sound disappears altogether. "No..." I exclaim, disbelievingly. "Come on!"

I'm more than disappointed; I'm frustrated. Channeling my emotions outwards, I kick the box away from me, shaking my head with a small sigh. I wish Jean-Luc was here. He was a master with his hands, and could fix just about anything, as we'd learned the other day when one of the sails on the ship ripped. He simply devised a new one, out of the extra bed sheets the rest of us weren't using, earning the respect of Damien in a heartbeat.

"This is London." All of a sudden, clear, continuous sound pours out of the box, now sitting a couple of inches away from me. I stare at it for a second, in disbelief once more. Looks like brute force does work after all. I crack a small smile, but before I can pat myself on the back for fixing it, more words begin to pour out. A noise pierces the air like sirens, making me jump a little, startled.

"This is Trafalgar Square. The noise you hear at the moment is the sound of the air-raid siren," The man--Edward R. Murrow--continued, without an ounce of fear in his voice. "But by now, this has become a common thing for the people, who simply do their best to take shelter and pray that they live to see another day."

I soak in his words like a sponge, horror and fear clouding my mind. I knew London was being bombed before... But this time, it was different. This time, I knew what it felt like, to hear those sirens, and to hear those screams. This time, I knew what it was like to feel fear stop your heart for the briefest of moments, to be so confused and dazed and lost at what was going on around you. This time, I knew what it was like to step into the aftermath, to say goodbye to loved ones forever. This time, the words cut through my heat like a blade, digging deep and plunging into raw memories.

"We call it the Blitz-- short for Blitzkrieg, which means lightning war in German," Murrow continued, just as calmly as before, as the sirens continued to blare all around him. "And it's fitting. Over 100 tons of high explosives have been dropped on London alone this past month, with other cities around the country feeling Germany's wrath as well. Casualties are high, but what's even higher is the morale around these parts," Murrow muses. "This is what it means to be British: this is what it means to be a Londoner-- we don't frighten easily. Families band together for safety and comfort, attempting to retain any sense of normalcy they can. One goes about their life nowadays in a cat-and-mouse type way, ears just waiting for the sound of siren to ring. Many are beginning to evacuate en masse, but many more are choosing to stay firmly where they are, refusing to be unflapped by these brazen attacks."