A World Apart (28 page)

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CHAPTER EIGHT

An Unlikely Acquaintance

‘There are so many things I have forgot,

That once were much to me, or that were not,

All lost, as is a childless women’s child,

And its child’s children, in the undefiled

Abyss of what can never be again.

I have forgot, too, names of the mighty men

That fought and lost or won in the old wars,

Of kings and fiends and gods,

And most of the stars.

Some things I have forgot that I forget,

But lesser things are, remembered yet

Then all the others.

One name that I have not-though

‘tis an empty thingless name- forgot

Never can die because spring after spring

Some thrushes learn to say it as they sing.

There is always one at midday

Saying it clear and tart-

The name, only I hear.

While perhaps I am thinking

Of the elder scent

That is like food, or while

I am content.

With the wild rose scent that

Is like memory

This name is suddenly cried to me.

From somewhere in the bushes by a bird

Over and over again, A pure thrush word’ [Edward Thomas, Faber and Faber]

Cranks and bolts of clanging machinery filled the docking bay as the ship gently entered its arms. Neville remained stationery, looking endlessly from the window he had discovered. The warm feeling of returning back to England made his hands tingle like never before, his eyes moving rapidly as he scanned the shores and beyond, simply overwhelmed by the deeply soothing contented feeling inside. The size of the coast increased as he watched emphatically, the sun beaming graciously, spreading itself over the smooth golden sand and reflecting sharp sparkles off the calm brilliant blue sea, waves crashing kindly against rocks and piers, creating bubbly white froth as they collided. Neville starred into the sea, squinting to see deeper down through the crisp water as he watched the sea surge forward to touch the shore and then roll lazily away.

The hills that Neville used to recall were no longer present and instead overgrown trees, bushes and natural bogs paraded the hill halves. Houses were nowhere to be seen, and if they were it would be strenuous to see. The years of abandonment was true to see, which made Neville wondered what it would be like when he reaches the island. Even though the day was bright and prosperous, Neville felt a disturbing cold air followed by a murky atmosphere, which ran doubts through his mind about leaving the ship. He has no idea what the country is like anymore and the thought of this injected fear that ran quickly through his body. By now a few things were visible and he was fixed upon the remains of buildings he could remember, along with cars, factories and even farms, all burnt to a crisp. The diminishing rustic stench was so powerful it could be tasted; the soul of the country vulnerably lost and unwillingly withered.

The ship wobbled and creaked as the ship came to a halt, Neville assuming that it had arrived. There was a short delay in Neville realising, he was that self-absorbed in his thoughts. Neville pounced alarmingly into the air at the thought of being caught by a guard of some sort on deck. He quickly decided to locate the nearest exit and evade capture as soon as possible, postponing his next movements until he reached a safe house. He turned promptly and glanced towards the office where he had discovered maps, briefings and navigational equipment, scurrying amongst the documents for a clue to the nearest exit. Neville accidentally knocked the lamp flying across the room, which smashed into large pieces, the dim light slowly fading until it burnt out completely. He picked up the pieces and tried to assemble them, which ended in it looking staggeringly different compared to its original state. Footsteps and deep chatter could be heard coming from above Neville, instantly diverting his attention to the ceiling above in an attempt to decipher the conversation. A pioneering whine syringed through the thick steel above, coming from an old fork lift truck on the ship’s deck, which was transporting cargo on and off the ship, lifting large numbers of crates and steel containers. Neville trembled at the sounds above, as well as the fear of being captured after getting so close would be such a shame. It has been years since Neville last stepped foot in England, something that he thought to be a distant desire but now in the realms of the opportunity he was certain to try he best to search for his family and uncover his past. Stepping around a rather large crate he saw a narrow walkway leading to a battered brown door at the end, which was covered in dust and without a door handle. The metallic blue shone infectiously into the eyes of Neville, making him lose footing and bump into a sharp corner. His eyes started to weep as he placed a comforting hand on the damaged area and carried on walking, clearly overridden by the prospect of leaving this dingy storage room. Neville started to walk cautiously down the narrow opening; unaware that he had ripped his black t-shirt and that he was bleeding. Drops of blood trickled down his arm and splashed onto the hard concrete, making a perfectly round dot to the left of the floor.

Arriving at the door, Neville immediately tried for the handle, not realising that there was nothing there as he slumped forward and frowned on his return. He placed both hands on the brown door, weaving lines of the knots and tree grains were visible, as he held his breath and began pushing with all his might and enthusiasm. Still he continued to force the door open but nothing was happening so he decided to take a few steps back and charge at it, heading at full speed with his shoulder aimed towards the door. Neville initiated a countdown to himself before he leaped from his position and set off like athlete’s in a sprint. The door gave way but part of it was caught on something, the speed of impact sent Neville flying over the partially opened door and rolling head first down a mass elevation of stairs, echoing loudly as he plunged down further. His arms and legs swung in all directions possible, smacking and cracking on the thick steel handrails. Looking down upon Neville was a distraught image that was hindered by the contagiously dark staircase, his body being at the very end all mangled and injured that he could hardly catch his breath. The view back up to the door through Neville’s eyes looked a million miles away, the continuous white beam of light reaching down towards him. Neville thought he was about to fall unconscious but luckily the feeling evaporated and all that was left was a blurry sight that made him nauseated and lethargic.

The door swung hysterically as it opened outwardly, tearing some screws loose from the surrounding steel and revealing a blinding light, filling every crevice of the cargo room. Neville’s pupils contracted as he delayed to cover his eyes from the sun’s light. After a few moments he slowly uncovered his eyes, parting each finger simultaneously until he was stood looking outside curiously with a squint. The hills that Neville could make out looked deserted and damaged severely, which shocked Neville as he pictured the same scenery as a child much differently. The edge of the bay bore a worn sign instructing the tourist that they are at Southampton, although the ‘s’ and the ‘h’ were missing, Neville for the first time having a glimpse of his past. The coastline showed deep erosion on the cliff edges, as crumpled rocks, stone and soil filled the lower cliff bottom, covering what used to be a walkway to the sea front. As the ship drifted closer to the harbour Neville noticed rotten wooden shacks and shops, along with waste scattered in pools on the sea front, animal remains nearby that had been a victim to a wasteful society. The idea of coming back home has been on Neville’s mind for years, but he never could have imagined such a scale of aging. Despite all of this emptiness, Neville diverted his attention to the skies, where he smiled broadly at the splendid heat, as the weather was the one thing Neville didn’t miss. The sun stood proud as it endlessly starred down upon the Earth, glowing as the temperature increased slightly.

Neville moved closer to the door and looked out, where he saw a withered thin bridge leading to the harbour. Neville panicked as he saw a small gathering of around five men in uniforms and armour further down the harbour. It was now or never to make the escape for the shore, but for some reason Neville hesitated. He reverted back inside as he began to think of a plan, noticing more destruction and carnage around the island; steel pylons bent randomly and segments missing from small buildings in the distance. Neville walked back into the cargo room, listening intently for the dreaded sound of footsteps surging towards him. Neville stood half in and half out of the doorway, deciding to wait for a few moments to see if anyone had seen him, as he stared graciously at the sparkling reflections of sunlight on the water below. Neville thought restlessly as he tried to think of his next move, stroking his forehead in an attempt to ease the pressure he was feeling right now. He starts to contemplate whether to make a run for cover in a nearby building or whether to stealthily make his way back through the cargo room and head for the top deck. Whatever his plan, it was being thought out to every intricate detail known so that it would ensure his survival.

Neville’s grip on the frail railings dislodged, making his hand slide down the rounded deep pole, which created a squelching noise. Immediately he managed to restrain himself, although he gave an expression that looked as though he was deep in thought. Reaching back for the door handle seemed to take an age, as he pushed himself back inside, leaving the door open slightly as he started to retrace his footsteps back into the cargo room. He began following a trickling path of light that came in from the door. As he crept slowly back into the dusty room, he stopped walking and froze as a voice emerged from a small opening above Neville’s head and across the other side of the room, tiny stairs visible, leading to a dark silhouette. The whispers of a voice dispersed into the air, only just heard by Neville. The prospect of being captured and sent back to America sent shivers down his spine as the noise gradually increased, making his heart somersault. He suddenly bolted to the ground and clung onto a nearby crate that was out of the light. Neville glanced back towards the open door where the light danced endlessly on the floor as it was being reflected of the water. It was at that moment that Neville decided to prepare himself to make a life changing decision. If he was to make a run for it, he would have to be extremely cautious, as one wrong move would have himself alerted to the patrols and workers dotted around the vessel and docks. Seconds later, Neville placed one brave foot in front of the next and placing his hands tightly around the ropes either side. The wind blew him with some force, shaking the soft wood of the bridge and swinging him into the air. As he placed a foot forward he heard a bending groan from one of the planks of wood ahead. This alerted him straight away, his heart racing, as he felt a desire to control his heart rate, like chasing a leaf caught in an updraft. Eventually Neville plucked up enough courage and sprinted across the waggling bridge. Neville continuously looked around to see if he was visible, but to his amassment most of the patrol persons and workers were busy and had redirected moments prior to Neville crossing the bridge. Just as the edge of the bridge was in sight, Neville slipped and a plank dislodged, making him plunge towards the sea. Luckily he managed to hang to a strong piece of rope as he hung desperately below the bridge in a panic about being seen rather than the effects of the plunge. He spotted another section of rope dangling next to him, so he shimmied across to the concrete edge where he easily rectified his posture and rolled on to a small crevice underneath the main docks. Footsteps of solid boots echoed from above Neville’s head as he gradually maintained his normal breathing rhythm. Neville stared upwards as he was a man walk above him wearing a light grey uniform and muddy boots. Stripes of light covered Neville’s face as he stared relieving above, watching bits of soil and grass fall randomly on to his face.               Once he had caught up with his breathing he leaned towards the slits above his head, watching the patrols and workmen. Small tanks were being driven around the docking bay as they transported cargo from the ship. In a fit of rage, Neville grabbed the concrete block edge and pulled himself to the top. As quickly as he could he stood erect and dashed over to the disused shops and shacks, which were dotted here and there. Neville thudded the door, crashing his shoulder hard into the hard wood and chains that had been hung over the door, as Neville winced in agony. He looked over his shoulder whilst he stumbled through the various tools he had in his pockets, dropping some of them and making more noise, which increased his chances of being spotted greatly. Neville paused and diverted his eyes over his shoulder; his heart froze as he felt someone or something behind him. Neville bravely started to turn around as he saw nothing but a small group of patrols in the distance and heading Neville’s way. Neville began pushing the door, restraining the amount of nose he made at the same time, which made the whole process prolonged. The same noise could be heard again, only this time it was from the opposite direction. Neville looked the other way, as he saw a few more patrols walking quickly his way. Neville looked around for answers, spotting a small rectangular window at the foot of the shop and without thinking he booted the window with all his might. The window fell and smashed euphorically, alerting the patrols immediately as Neville heard them adjusting their guns and equipment and heading closer towards him. Neville slumped down to the ground and squeezed himself through the small window just in time as the patrols emerged from the corners, completely surrounding him. As he fell his ankle twisted and Neville let out a yelp but managed to keep his cries at bay, hobbling out of sight towards the darkened area of the room.