Oscar (2 page)

Instantly, the van doors were swung open with force. Janna was faced with two more guards as she looked beyond the vans interior.

‘Get down from there, you treacherous whore.’ one of the camp’s guards sneered, turning his attention to the patrolmen on the opposite side. ‘Bring that heap of dog chow with you.’ he added, pointing at David.

The patrolmen took charge of both prisoners, manhandling them all the way to the administrations officer. Janna knew that from that moment on, her life would not be worth living. She prayed for a quick death as soon as her feet landed on the gravel.
What have we done? How could we have been so stupid?
These were the only questions that repeated themselves in her mind, while all the time she and David were at the mercy of the patrolmen.

#

Restrained and helpless, they were both brought face to face with the camp’s administration officer. His demeanour was monstrous; he was evil personified, sat in his high back chair. He stared menacingly at the pair stood in front of him, tapping his fingers on his desk with an air of impatience. Janna didn’t know what she was to say or do. She just stood staring at the brute in front of her.

‘We’re going to have fun with you, aren’t we?’ he said with a sneer, and then pointed hurriedly at David. ‘This one can be taken to the infirmary.’

Maybe they will look after him,
she thought to herself, as two idle guards dragged David out of her line of sight. She was only fooling herself with that notion.

‘You! What’s your name?’ the administrator barked.

‘Janna Saracen, sir.’

‘Age.’

‘31.’

The administrator wrote this down, and then looked up at her again.

‘You have been charged with sedition under the current laws.’ he added sternly. ‘You will remain here at our pleasure, or until death takes you from us. Is that clear?’

She was pretty clear on where she stood; whatever the case, death would be the final outcome. She hung her head forlornly, staring at the bloodstained floor in horror.

‘Take her away.’ the administrator ordered.

‘Get moving, you.’ her escort snarled in her ear, dragging her away from the desk by the scruff of her neck. She winced before hastily rearranging her expression, trying not to show how weak she felt.

#

Relieved of her restraints, Janna waited for the next order to be screamed at her.

‘Take your clothes off and throw them to me when you’re done.’ the guard growled.

She took off her clothes slowly, watching the guard’s face change with every item she removed. Again, the thought of rape entered her mind.

‘Come on, you bitch – hurry up.’ the guard barked in frustration.

She sped up and tossed her stinking, sweaty clothes in the guard’s face, not realising the implications of her actions. She would regret that small streak of defiance. The guard’s eyes began to burn holes in her, his stare full of hatred.

‘You’ll pay for that.’ he picked up the clothes and made her stand naked in the freezing room. She felt herself turning blue with cold. It was so icy that it hurt. The guard grabbed her arms and pushed her towards the shower cubicle before turning the hose on her. She cried out as the freezing water blasted her skin.

‘Turn around.’ the guard grunted.

She turned around gingerly, her back now facing the guard. She placed her hands on either side of the cubicle, bracing herself for the next freezing gush. As the water hit her, she arched her back. A little while after, the guard turned off the hose and tossed it aside. He then picked up a bag of white powder he had dragged over—scooped some into a metal spoon, and threw it over her.

‘Turn around.’ he squealed again.

She turned round and closed her eyes tight to avoid getting the powder in them. Once the delousing procedure was complete, the guard pulled her out of the shower block and cuffed her hands behind her back again for the journey to the dispensary. She had never been so vulnerable. Naked and unable to defend herself, she was at the mercy of the guard until they reached their destination.

A few more yards separated her and her escort from the dispensary, and the clothes that she so desperately needed. The guard stood behind her, pressing his body up against hers, squaring her up on the white line, three feet away from the counter—she could feel his member throbbing against her frozen skin, making her cringe.

‘Do not move from this spot, is that understood.’ he growled in her ear. ‘See what you get if you do.’

He moved away from her, taking her clothes around the back for storage. Again, she found herself waiting far too long. Freezing and petrified, she could barely contain her emotions—but for her own sake, she had to.

The guard came back with the overalls and slip-ons, which he tossed next to her on the floor. He then strode over and took her restraints off for a second time.

‘Put them on, and be quick about it.’ he grouched.

Janna said nothing to make her situation worse. She had already felt the guard’s spite, almost freezing to death as a consequence of her defiance.

No sooner was she dressed than the guard placed the cuffs back on. Where he thought she was going to go was anyone’s guess. She had nowhere to run or hide, so what was the point of putting the cuffs on time and time again? Maybe he liked to revel in her vulnerable state and wanted to make her feel helpless in every way. It had reached the point where she felt the need to speak out, and sod the consequences.

‘Where the hell do you think I’m going to go, you stupid idiot?’ she shrieked.

The guard’s response was so quick, she almost didn’t believe it happened until her face was in the dirt. He had pushed her to the ground and placed his foot on her face.

‘Keep it up, bitch.’ he replied with menace. ‘And see if I don’t kick your pretty little head in.’

She gritted her teeth as the weight of the guard’s foot was lifted from her face. She was then pulled to her knees and stood up forcefully.

‘You’d best pray for a quick death, because I’ll see to it that you suffer in every way possible.’ he hissed. ‘In fact, I have something to show you before I take you to the huts.’

He led her to what was known as ‘the infirmary’, which was in fact, a slaughterhouse. David had been laid out on a steel table belly-down, with his head placed on a wooden block. It was a crude sort of chopping block, still covered in the last victim’s blood. She was taken into the room where he lay in his semi-conscious state, helpless and unable to escape his impending doom. The guard stood behind her and held her head in position to make sure that she saw what was about to happen to her beloved husband.

‘If you dare scream or close your eyes, you’ll be next.’

All she could do was watch as the camp’s doctor approached his hapless victim with a crude, almost blunt axe. She tried to struggle, but as soon as she did, the guard’s hands squeezed her head tighter. She let out an almighty scream, and resigned herself to the fact that she was going to watch her husband being murdered in front of her.

Stroke after stroke, the axe fell on David’s neck, cutting deeper with every attempt but not killing him straight away. She could hear the sound of him gargling on his own blood as it swilled around in his mouth.

She fell to the floor and screamed to the heavens. ‘Please! Just finish it.’ she begged. ‘I can’t watch another second of this.’

The guard stood her up again and held her in place. She became hysterical as the doctor continued to hack away at her husband’s head.

‘The dogs are in for a treat tonight.’ the doctor chortled.

She growled angrily, goading the guard watching her to beat her unconscious. He left her lying in a pool of her own blood.

The doctor saw that he wasn’t going to be able to detach his victim’s head as easily as he’d hoped, but he did put him out of his misery by slitting his throat. The barbarity he had shown his victim was for Janna’s eyes only. He never had any intention of killing the man in such a manner, instead intending to give him a lethal overdose and then watch him sink into oblivion.

#

Two of the camp’s guards dragged an unconscious Janna towards the furthest hut of five in the compound. They dropped her to the floor in a heap and opened the door to reveal twenty terrified faces. She was uncuffed and dumped inside unceremoniously. No sooner had the door shut behind them than the other inmates went to her aid, but only three had any intentions of really helping her. The others had been so sex-starved that they just wanted to have their wicked way with her. The guard wasn’t joking when he said he was going to make her life miserable, and putting her in an all-male hut confirmed it. It was horrifying trying to fend off the rabid hounds and their unwanted advances as they challenged every fibre in her body, hardening her to what lay in store.

S
o far, Sam and Oscar’s journey had been hazard-free. In fact, it was almost eerie, scarily quiet. The time was almost six ‘o’clock in the evening, and their hunger was outweighing their need to get to their destination. Many miles had been covered since they left the Saracen home in the early hours. They had been on the move for twelve hours, with only small rest breaks along the way. The only thing that had stopped them collapsing with exhaustion was the copious amounts of water that they had been drinking as the day wore on. Oscar had even learnt the art of pissing on the hard shoulder along the main road, and thought he was very grown up for doing it. There was nobody around to tell him that he couldn’t, only Sam, from whom he had picked it up in the first place.

The roads they had taken were devoid of any kind of vehicle. Apart from the patrols, nobody was allowed to own transport; if they did, it was confiscated and melted down to make weaponry for the war effort. It was a case of walk to your destination, or stay put. Even public transport vehicles were melted down for weaponry.

#

Sam spotted a little lay-by a bit farther up the road, with what looked like a food wagon hidden around the corner.

‘Fancy a burger, little man?’ he chirped.

Oscar grinned from ear to ear and nodded vigorously.

‘Yes please.’

They ran as fast as they could towards the wagon, but they weren’t alone. A small group of people had already taken over it.

‘Stay here, Oscar—I won’t be long.’

His eyes followed Sam as he walked up to the wagon to see if they would be welcome. Watching from his vantage point, he bore witness to a shocking sight. It turned out that the people at the wagon were, in fact, outlaws. Oscar looked on in fear and helplessness as they started to rough him up, but even he could see that they were only rendering him helpless; he was not in danger of dying, or being seriously hurt by their violence.

‘You, boy, come here.’ One of the renegades barked. ‘Don’t make me come and get you.’

Oscar looked puzzled; the man’s accent was alien to him. He certainly wasn’t from around these parts. He did as he was told. They had no interest in harming a child. As it would turn out, they were victims just as much as he was.

Sam sat up finally, still dazed. ‘Who are you?’ he asked groggily.

‘We’re trying to get as far away from London as possible.’ the leader of the group explained. ‘We’re being hunted by the government for being Scottish.’

‘I’ve heard about people like you.’ he replied. ‘The government is calling you non-pure bloods, for want of a better term.’

‘That’s right, we are – but we’re not here to create a war this side of the border, we just want to get home.’

Sam stood up, and Oscar ran to his side.

‘Do you think they’ll feed us, Sammy?’ he asked, his famished stomach grumbling.

‘I don’t know.’ he groaned, holding his bruised left side.

Oscar dared to walk up to the Scotsman to ask him for a bite of the burger the man was brandishing in front of him.

‘Please, mister. Can I have a bite?’ he begged.

‘No you can’t, wee boy.’ said the burley Scotsman, before adding, ‘but I can make you your very own.’

Again, he grinned from ear to ear. ‘Can my friend have one as well?’

‘Now, you’re pushing your luck, boy.’ the Scotsman smiled. ‘Of course he can.’

Oscar ran back over to Sam, grabbed his hand and walked with him to the wagon for their share of the spoils.

They ate until their bellies were fit to burst. Some of the group members hadn’t eaten properly in days, whereas others had resorted to eating dead, maggot-infested animals from under their feet. It was the way things were heading. Food supplies were being rationed to the point of lunacy, and the only way forward was learning how to be resourceful. Sam and Oscar had been fortunate so far. They had had food in plentiful supply, but it was only a matter of time before they too would struggle to find their next mouthful. Bleak times lay ahead in the wake of the war: not just for the victims of the witch hunts, but for everyone still breathing and living within the government’s evil grasp.

#

With their rest period over, they decided it was time to part ways with their Scottish brethren. They would leave them to go about their separate journeys, as the Scottish would surely be heading in the direction of the Watford gap. It was the only safe way to the North, and to their country. The South was no longer an option.

The Scots would take the North Circular road, and its counterpart, the South Circular, would take Sam and Oscar to where they needed to go. They would need to go a couple of miles farther to reach Woolwich and take the ferry from there towards Catford. Their final destination was Dartford. The ferry was the only form of non-military transport left for the people to use; the government had at least extended them that.

There was no allotted time for reaching their destination, as long as they got there safely. So far, with the exception of the food wagon, their journey had been incident-free. The ferry loomed in the distance and Sam glanced down at Oscar.

‘Come on little man, we’re nearly there.’

He scooped Oscar up and ran with all his might, seeing the barriers closing for departure.