Oscar
Authors: Unknown
COPYRIGHT 2015
All rights reserved
CHAPTER ONE
“
Come on—Wake up.”
Oscar woke to the sound of his mother whispering in his ear as she jostled him awake.
He rolled over to face her.
“Why? Where are we going?” he asked, still almost asleep.
“No questions,” Janna said ominously, “You need to get up.”
She pecked him on the forehead and pulled him out of bed gently. Oscar’s father looked through the bedroom curtain at the throng outside their home.
One of the newly-formed government patrols stood at attention outside the Saracens’ front door, waiting for them to come out. The patrol was ready for resistance; in case they were reluctant to face the consequences of their recent actions.
David and Janna were regarded as political activists, disseminating their conspiracy theories on why the war between England and Scotland began in the first place. The reason for the initial outbreak was simple: England’s greed-fuelled seizure of Scottish lands and properties. The Scots awaited the day that they would become an independent country and when that day came, they jumped into battle to try and regain what was rightfully theirs. For six years they had been trying—and failing at every turn.
Prime Minister Edward Myosin’s paranoia had grown out of control, and his need to rid England of conspirators and enemies of the state had manifested itself in the worst ways. He had ordered that labour camps be built along the North/South divide to house his antagonists, who were captured through witch-hunts which brought them into the open, and to ‘justice’.
At first, the Saracens were not known antagonists. It was only when the government discovered that the couple had been conducting secret meetings to discuss the incursions that they found themselves in real danger.
There was nowhere for them to go. The patrol had all but hemmed them into their own home. They knew they couldn’t save themselves, but they could save Oscar.
“You need to go to your safe place,” Janna said, with deep sadness in her voice. “Your father and I have to go now, but someone will come for you.” Oscar just stared blankly at her as she kissed him on the forehead again, tears rolling down her cheeks. She turned to David and rose to join him. He could do nothing but stare blankly at the boy looking back at him, searching his eyes for answers. His son was only seven, and didn’t understand what was about to happen.
Oscar knew what he had to do to remain safe as he watched his parents walk down the stairs and out of his life to whatever lay in store for them. Janna resisted the urge to glance back at Oscar, the turmoil in her heart only betrayed by a slight turn of the head.
#
The Saracens stepped out onto their porch. Immediately, they were ordered to drop to their knees with their hands on their heads. Guns trained at them, primed and ready.
“Get over there and secure them.” the lead patrolman barked at his idle subordinates. “Then get them in the van.”
The patrolmen carried out the instruction as ordered. They took David and Janna in hand, cuffing their hands behind their backs.
“Get to your feet.” one of the patrolmen whispered menacingly in Janna’s ear.
She rose unsteadily and lost her balance slightly before being dragged to the awaiting transport. She turned to look at David, and almost fainted.
For no apparent reason, David had been pushed face-first into the concrete by one of the patrolmen, who then began to kick his helpless victim to a pulp. His misery was exacerbated by the participation of another aggressor.
Janna’s attention was swiftly redirected by a sharp blow to the head.
‘Eyes front, treacherous bitch.’ sneered the patrolman leading her to the transport.
‘Stop!’ shouted the lead patrolman, seeing his subordinates beating David to within an inch of his life. ‘There’ll be time for that later. Just get him in the van.’
Bloodied and battered, he was dragged towards the van which stood with doors open.
‘Get up there.’ the patrolmen ordered.
Janna stepped up into the transport, before David was lifted in his semiconscious state and thrown in hard. The doors were slammed behind them once their captors had boarded. The lead patrolman made his way to the front and mounted the passenger seat, ordering the driver to go.
#
Oscar heard everything from his seclusion—his father’s assault, the abuse being slung at his mother, and finally the doors of the van slamming, and the wheels screeching off. He sat in silence, too scared to move or do anything for fear of being caught himself. The patrolmen’s violence held no bounds as far as age was concerned. They would have treated him with the same contempt as they had his parents. They had no compassion. They were evil incarnate.
#
He waited patiently for someone to come for him, but nobody did.
Why did his mother tell him that someone would come? Was it to try and make him feel better?
The people still standing outside the Saracen home were already moving on from the exhibition of brutality; they were now discussing how long they would last, taking bets on their dire situation. Nobody had realised that Oscar was still in the house, until he poked his head through his bedroom curtain to look down on those trying to profit from his parents’ misfortune.
The only one to notice his little head in the window was Sam Johnson, a nearby neighbour and close friend of the family. He kept this observation to himself, before smiling privately and thinking, ‘
I must go back for him tonight!
’
Sam had been a supporter of the Saracens’ political beliefs and the secret rallies that they held. He had been shocked by the disdain which the patrols had shown in their treatment of the Saracens, and shuddered to think of what awaited them at the camps. He also thought of Oscar, who was too young to fend for himself at his tender age. He wouldn’t know the first thing about surviving on his own.
At twenty-five years of age, Sam was still a young man himself—but he did know a little something of the world, and he resolved to find Oscar and keep him by his side.
#
Night fell over the suburb where Oscar’s home stood on the outskirts of Piccadilly. It was quiet again after the day’s events. He had cried himself to sleep with a picture of his parents clutched desperately in his hands. Till his last waking breath, he wondered what was happening to them at that very moment.
Were they hurting?
He did not know, nor did he want to think about it.
Sam had a spare key to the Saracens’ front door. He crept inside and made his way up to Oscar’s room, where he sat in the corner to watch over him until morning. His intentions were to move him away from Piccadilly and out of the main city. What would be safe? He didn’t know!
Dare he move him towards Kent or Essex
? Both bordered London, but he had relatives in Kent. Taking him to them made more sense than trying to find somewhere to hide out in war-torn Essex.
#
Oscar began to stir from his fitful sleep, blindly grabbing at his glasses perched on the edge of his bedside dresser. The sound caused Sam to wake up, and he wiped the residue from his sleep-filled eyes. The first thing he saw was a scared little boy, startled to see him sitting in his bedroom.
‘Don’t be frightened, Oscar.’ he said calmly. ‘I’m going to look after you from now on.’
He was not reassured, not one bit! So many emotions were running through his young, slumber-addled mind.
If he was finding it difficult to trust Sam, then who could he trust?
‘The last thing I want to do is see you get hurt, little man.’ he said. ‘Get washed and changed, and I’ll see you downstairs for a quick bite to eat.’
He did as he was told and got up. He grabbed his clothes from the end of the bed and made his way to the bathroom, shooting a sorrowful look Sam’s way.
‘Can I have eggs?’ He asked softly, in his adolescent, squeaky voice.
‘You can have whatever you like, little man,’ he replied, smiling. ‘If eggs are what you want, how do you want them?’
Oscar smiled back, and then answered. ‘Scrambled, and on toast—please.’
‘Sure thing, little man.’
Sam rose from the chair that he had been sitting in all night and exited the room, leaving Oscar to get ready.
#
Sam sat at the head of the kitchen table, drinking his morning tea and munching on a piece of buttered toast. Oscar peered round the door, watching his every move.
‘Come, little man – eat your breakfast.’
He looked at the steaming pile of scrambled eggs, sat on the bed of toast that he had requested. He took a seat and continued to stare at the plate of food.
‘Eat up—we have a long day ahead of us.’ Sam sounded almost agitated. ‘We need to leave before anyone notices us.’
Oscar wasted little time in finishing the plate of food in front of him. Once they had finished, they hastily made their way towards the front door. Sam knelt down and peeked through the letterbox to see what was happening on the outside—a sharp breeze hit him in the face, making his eyes water.
Was it safe to leave?
From what he could see, yes.
He grabbed Oscar’s coat and handed it to him.
‘Put this on, it’s cold outside.’
Oscar slowly grabbed the coat, and put it on tentatively.
They opened the front door cautiously and walked out into the open, leaving the warmth and safety of the Saracen household behind them.
The street in front of them was deserted as the sun began to rise over the brow. It shone directly onto Oscar’s bi-focal lenses, blinding him as it got brighter. Sam grabbed hold of Oscar’s hand and ran as fast as he could. His little legs struggled to keep up, tripping and falling all over the place. Sam stopped momentarily and looked down at the boy, before crouching in front of him and tapping his back.
‘Here, climb up.’
He climbed onto Sam’s back and held on as tightly as he could as the man rose to his feet again, and bombed it down the street before people started to rise for the day.
#
Now far enough away from Piccadilly, Sam could relax.
‘Jump down, little man.’ he said, out of breath. ‘It’s safe now. No more running.’
Oscar fell to his feet and then walked beside him, looking up. He took hold of his hand as a form of reassurance. Sam threw him a wry smile and squeezed his hand back gently.
‘Where are we going, Sammy?’ he asked, with a hint of excitement in his soft voice.
‘Wait and see, little man, wait and see.’ he replied. ‘I think you’ll like it.’
T
he Saracens had arrived at their destination: labour camp three. The van carrying them screeched to a halt in front of the entrance. Hell on earth awaited them beyond the razor wire and the ten-foot gate that would separate them from the world that they knew.
The sentry on the other side opened the gate wide enough for the van to pass through, shutting it as soon as the vehicle drove by him. He had an evil glint in his eye as he watched them drive by.
The journey from the gate to the administration building seemed to take a lifetime to complete, while Janna and David sat hopelessly inside the van.
The small flap that separated the prisoners from the drivers’ compartment was opened by the lead patrolman, who glanced at Janna menacingly. There was nothing she could say or do about it for fear of retribution. The thought of being raped ran rampant through her mind as she stared at his sallow, menacing face. David, still semi-conscious after his beating, was in no position to defend her.
She never felt so helpless. She couldn’t move her cuffed hands; she couldn’t speak or struggle. It was no use.
‘We’ve got some wonderful delights lined up for you, my pretty.’ the lead patrolman snarled. ‘As for him, he’ll be fed to the dogs soon enough.’
Her eyes widened in terror and the flap slammed shut again. She had heard of such things happening in the camps, but didn’t put much stock in them. She and her husband had dismissed it as silly nonsense on the gossipmongers’ part. The realisation hit her: in all likelihood, she would become a widow today. If David couldn’t be put to work straight away, what was the point of keeping him alive?
Again the van screeched to a violent halt, this time propelling Janna from her position on the bench to the floor.
One of the patrolmen grabbed hold of her and forced her back on the bench to wait for the order to disembark.
‘Stay still.’ the patrolman shouted angrily in her face, making her flinch.
She sat as still as death, with her eyes shut tightly as she waited for the van doors to swing open.
‘Open up.’ shouted a voice from the other side.
