War For The World

CHAPTER FOUR

The loaf of bread lasted only a few short moments before it was being digested in the mans stomach. He sat against a plank of wood, making a conscious effort to make as little noise as possible. This was easier said than done however, and the loose floorboards he sat on creaked and groaned under the weight of the 27-year-old man.
He turned his attention to the compass nestled into his back pocket. The arrow pointed out that North was a bit to his left, giving the man solace in the fact that at least he was certain on his own axis. The arrow was worn and wavered, the glass case of the compass cracked. The inscription on the back of it had begun to collect grime and dirt within the carved lines of the steel casing. He gripped it tight, pressing it against his chest.

Movement from downstairs, his eyes followed the shadow and he was able to make out Joan in the kitchen sitting by herself, reading through some documents.
He had thanked his lucky stars that it had been her he had come across and not another Nazi sympathiser.

Images came back to haunt him. The crash, the droning sound of the eject warning, bloodied and hanging in that tree for hours.
He was confident that he'd regained most of his strength back by now, and was busy preparing his daring escape from the clutches of the Nazis when Joan appeared once more in front of him from the hole in the wall. When had she made her way upstairs?
"We need to talk" she said, in hushed tone.
Her broken English was rough but translatable, and he shuffled to one side, a dull pain in his shoulder he hadn't noticed earlier flaring up in the process.
He noticed Joan had gotten herself changed from the time she was downstairs to her sudden appearance between the wall. She was wearing some sort of light blue nightie, the only other piece of clothing on her were two pink socks covering her feet. As she leaned in between the hole in the wall, her outfit became more revealing and the man blushed to himself. He made a conscious effort to avoid looking too far down her body, an act easier said than done for an isolated soldier of war.
He realised she was standing there staring back at him, and the silence begged for release.
"What's wrong. Do we have a problem Joan"
She shook her head, "No, no problem. Things are getting tight, people are suspecting. I think my son suspects. We need to move you soon"
He frowned in thought, absentmindedly twirling the compass in his hand.
"I understand. I need to make some sort of rendezvous with someone from the United Kingdom. Here"
He handed her a letter, scrawled on was the name Roma Getsky.
"She's with the resistance. Tell her its from Alex Wayne. She'll understand. Once that's under control we should be able to start-"
A large boom reverberated outside and the entire house shook, the sound of glass windows smashing. Alex peered out the other side of the house and saw glass littering the floor of Joans room.
"Stay" she said quickly, grabbing the loose piece of the wall and moving it back into place before Alex could make another word in.

He sat there, suddenly dropped back into shadows, nothing but the streams of light peering through the give him solace.
Something was going on, he could feel it in his gut. The allies had no plans to bomb this place, at least no plans that he knew of.
Bloody hell he thought to himself, it's those yanks again. They've gone and gotten themselves trigger happy, fucking up his own plans of escape.
He was so tired. Food had obviously been hard to come by as of late, and Alex was not accustomed to being stationary for this long a time. The adrenaline he got from fighting battles or sneaking in undercover into enemy territory had become a foreign concept for him, and the urge to reveal himself and fight his way out rose to the surface.
Alex leaned back once more, assuming his normal position and began his wait for Joan to return.

* * *

Outside the building and in among the streets, everything seemed relatively fine. Joan had run outside in nothing but her night gown and socks, a constant reminder that she should be in bed dreaming of better days by now. She took a step onto the bricked footpath and felt a damp sensation seep its way into her socks and against her feet, now there was no going back.