Oscar (3 page)

‘Wait!’ he screamed at the top of his lungs, hoping that the ferry attendant would hear him. But the barrier came crashing down, and the ferry let out an ear-piercing screech to mark the beginning of its journey. He put Oscar down and squatted, placing his head in his hands out of frustration before realising that it wouldn’t be long before the ferry returned. It was only a fifteen-minute journey one way. The most they would have to wait would be an hour, but it was still an inconvenience. He wanted to get to Dartford sooner rather than later; the darker it got, the more the hazards would grow.

#

Sam could see the ferry returning in the distance. Oscar had been dosing while they waited.

‘Come on, little man – the ferry’s docking.’ he said, as he nudged him awake. ‘We need to get to the barriers.’

The attendant raised the barrier again to let the small influx of people exit from the ferry. Sam grabbed hold of Oscar’s hand tightly, as people barged past them without a care in the world.

It appeared that they were the only passengers making their way south; they had the whole ferry to themselves. It was a choppy journey on an uneasy River Thames, making Oscar feel sick, trying not too lose the contents of his stomach.

‘You don’t look too well, Oscar.’ Sam said with a hint of concern. ‘You seem to have turned a peculiar shade of green.’

Seeing the boy turn greener and greener, Sam took hold of him and forced his finger down his throat before running him to the side of the boat. The next moment, he was watching his breakfast sailing down the Thames.

‘There, does that make you feel better?’ asked Sam.

Oscar gave a solitary nod of the head in reply, wiping his mouth on the corner of his jacket.

‘Good lad.’ Sam said, side-hugging the boy.

The ferry dock was looming in the distance, and once they disembarked they would head in the direction of Charlton—then, from there to Catford. The ferry was coming into port, docking at its station with a clunk.

The barriers lifted and the ramp came down. Both of them moved swiftly away in the direction of the military hospital that sat majestically to the right of them on their way to Charlton.

#

A veil of darkness fell upon them, and their need to get out of the open grew with every minute. There was a derelict housing estate just on the outskirts of Charlton, which lay over the brow of a hill that they had been struggling up. It would suffice as a place to shelter for the night. It had become a sanctuary for the homeless and others trying to escape the brutal trappings of Central London.

Slowly and cautiously, they crept their way through. They tried to avoid looking through the windows of the properties they passed by, but it didn’t stop the occupants of those buildings from watching their every move.

They could feel eyes on them, and it was hard not to stare back. Oscar’s curiosity got the better of him, as he looked at the many eyes staring in his direction.

‘Oscar, turn away. Don’t stare at them.’

He didn’t want trouble: all he wanted was to find shelter. He could see that he was not going to get a peaceful transition. The vagrants came out in droves to see what these two intruders were doing on their territory.

‘Oi! You two—little and bloody large,’ the leader screamed. ‘Piss off will yer.’

Sam dared to approach the menacing figure, but in a cautionary stance. He held his hands out in a calming manner.

‘I ain’t looking for trouble; I just want shelter for me and the boy.’

A middle-aged woman came from behind the threatening figure and looked upon him, then over at Oscar. She beckoned him over. He was now beginning to realise that she was the one in charge of the scruffy, unkempt rabble that came out to greet them.

‘Where do you hail from, young man?’ she asked inquisitively. There was no reply. ‘Oh, come on. It was a simple enough question. Don’t you think it warrants an answer?’

He looked at her reluctantly. ‘I’m sorry ma’am–––’ the woman laughed at him.

‘Do I look like you should be calling me ma’am? Please don’t. It makes me feel older than I want to be. My name is Miriam and this lot behind me are my followers—and collectively, we are known as The Independent Mind.’

Sam had heard a lot about this elusive group, and how they were intent on bringing down the government. It was the only thing the people of London were talking about, apart from the war.

He stood in awe as he answered her question. ‘We have come from Piccadilly.’

‘Why are you so far away from home?’ she asked probingly. ‘Are you running from something? We’re all running from something, so I assume that you are too? Is the government after you?’

He shook his head. ‘I’m trying to get the boy to Dartford. His parents have been arrested and I can’t run the risk of him falling into the hands of the patrols—they would kill him.’

‘I know about these patrols. I’ve heard they’re brutal.’ she replied.

He nodded by way of a reply.

‘Please, come, bring the boy.’ she said, welcoming him. ‘My home is your home for as long as you need it to be.’

Sam called his young charge over. ‘It’s safe, Oscar—come.’

He ran over to him and wrapped both of his arms around Sam’s waist. Sam pulled him in close, squeezing him reassuringly.

‘We’ll be fine, little man.’

Everybody moved out of the darkness and into the safety of their procured dwellings, with their welcomed guests in tow.

J
anna Saracen was beginning to question why she was still alive. She had been subjected to all manner of torments during her brief stay in labour camp three. Beaten and bloody and almost raped to death, she was looking for a way out of her miserable existence. The thought of killing herself had crossed her mind more than once, but she couldn’t find the courage to carry out her plans. Mentally, she had no more strength left. Physically, she was barely hanging on.

The three men who had come to her rescue in the beginning had quickly turned on her, and were now part of the problem. She hadn’t foreseen this. She was now totally alone, with no one left to protect her.

‘Come and get it, boys.’ she shouted at the top of her lungs, flinging herself on her bunk. One by one the male inmates ravaged her again, and she begged for any one of them to put her out of her misery once and for all.

‘Someone end this!’ she screamed, waiting for her final breath to arrive in the form of a mercy killing.

No sooner had the next inmate laid on top of her than the door swung open.

‘You, get off of her.’ The guard growled. ‘Come with me, Saracen, it’s your lucky day.’

Janna didn’t understand.

‘What? Where am I going?’ she asked, apprehensively.

‘We are putting you with the women,’ he explained. ‘The guard who put you in here has been dismissed.’ She was visibly shaken and confused. This guard was being far too nice.
What was really going on?
She was about to find out.

This seemingly nice guard took hold of her and cuffed her hands behind her back for the journey to the women’s enclosure. He wasn’t rough, but rather as gentle as he could be. This made her feel a little uneasy.
What are his intentions? Does he really have any? Am I reading too much into the situation?
These and many other questions rattled around in her head.

#

The guard had done as he had set out to do. Much to her relief, he had taken her to the women’s enclosure. He walked her up to the third hut in the line of five, slowly uncuffed her and opened the door wide.

She was faced with a room full of terrified women. The guard was not all he seemed after all. It was obvious by the looks on their faces that they had been made to do things that they didn’t want to do. Several women had beaten faces and bruises up their arms, which she put down to being manhandled.

The guard had now replaced any niceties with the traditional brutality that he had been accustomed to carrying out. He pushed her through the door and cackled maniacally to himself as he shut it behind him.

‘What the hell?’ she said hysterically. ‘What is this place?’

One of the women approached her and placed her hands on Janna’s shoulders, looking deeply into her eyes for a single moment.

‘You are right to be scared,’ she told her sternly. ‘This is what the guards refer to as the rape room. This is hell on earth, my dear.’

Janna took hold of the inmate’s hands and removed them from her shoulders. Slowly, she made her way over to the only bunk left and lay atop it, looking wearily at the faces staring at her. A sense of relief washed over her, but it wasn’t long before the door swung open again, and at least six of the labour camp guards came in. They spotted Janna straight away.

‘You can rest easy, ladies. There’s only one person we’re interested in tonight.’ one of the guards said, pointing at her.

She did nothing but lay there, but it wasn’t what she was expecting.

She was wrenched from her bunk by the lead guard, and thrown against the wall face first.

‘Put your hands on the wall and spread your legs.’ he growled. ‘The doctor wants to see you.’

He kicked her legs wider apart, and again her hands were cuffed behind her back. The only thing that ran through her head was the image of what the doctor had done to David on the night of their arrival.

‘Be strong.’ one of the inmates cried out, as Janna was pulled away from the wall and led out of the hut. Knowing all too well what was going to happen to her, the others stood in terrified silence, watching tentatively as the door slammed shut.

‘We should’ve told her.’ One of the women tearfully addressed the person known as the top dog.

‘Told her what? What should we have told her?’ the top dog growled. ‘It’s better that she finds out the hard way.’

Nothing more was said.

#

A look of terror spread itself across Janna’s face as she was led, one guard on either side, into the place where she had witnessed her husband’s murder. She desperately tried to pull herself away from what might lie in store for her, but her attempts were futile. With two burly, no-nonsense guards holding fast, she resigned herself for what lay ahead beyond the plastic curtain that led to the ‘infirmary’.

The first thing that caught her eye was the bloody chopping block, and what followed was a horrific vision of what she thought was about to befall her. But that was not what the doctor had in store for her.

‘Good evening, Mrs Saracen.’ the doctor greeted her with a menacing smile. ‘You are in for a treat, my dear.’

The guards either side of her lifted her off her feet and onto a thin plank of wood that constituted a platform. Above her head hung a noose.
What sick game am I about to play?
They looked up at her and watched as she began to lose balance. It was going to be a sadistic game of survival, and the odds were not in her favour.

‘At least let me get the noose around that pretty little neck of yours before you decide to fall.’ the doctor screeched.

She somehow managed to regain balance, not for his sake but for her own. The guards gazed up at her with evil intent written across their faces.

One of the guards used a step ladder to place the noose over her head and tightened it around her neck, so she couldn’t attempt to wriggle her way out of it.

‘This is a game I like to play with all my new subjects, Mrs Saracen,’ said the doctor, maniacally, ‘Make sure she doesn’t try anything stupid.’ he sniggered as he made his way out of the room. He left the two guards to keep an eye on her and make sure that she didn’t try to kill herself deliberately. The doctor wanted to keep her alive to satisfy his spiteful intent.

The gods were not smiling down on Janna Saracen at the moment. The guards had been charged to lift her back on the beam if she were to fall off, but all she wanted to do was die right then. The guards had turned away for the briefest of moments, giving her the perfect opportunity to end it all then and there. She quickly stepped off the plank, jolting her neck—her body writhing. The guards had been alerted of her suicide attempt by the snapping back of the rope and ran over, grabbing her legs.

‘Oh, no you don’t, Saracen.’ One of the guards shouted as they both lifted her back on the slim platform. She was barely conscious. The only thing that would keep her on the beam was if they pulled the rope taut, making the doctor’s game even more uncomfortable for her.

#

Do you think she will survive the doctor’s little game?
This was the only question that went through the minds of everybody else that occupied hut number three. It depended entirely on her. On first impressions, the answer they collectively came up with was no. She looked far too weak to withstand the doctor’s wicked brand of torture.

Over four hours had passed, but there was still no sign of Janna. Forty eager faces stared at the solid oak door that held them in, waiting for something to happen, and then it did! The door swung open with force and two guards dragged a partially-conscious Janna inside, her hands still cuffed. A collective look of relief covered the faces of the other women.

‘Her bunk is over there.’ The top dog pointed to the far left corner.

The guards had the decency to place her on her bunk, stomach down, before removing the cuffs. She slowly moved her hands to her neck and felt the rope burns that she had as a result of the doctor’s vicious game. The guards left the hut, leaving the women to tend to Janna’s wounds.

She could no longer remain stoic. Everything that she had been through over the past week had caught up with her emotionally. She let out an ear-piercing scream purely out of frustration, and nobody dared to go near her.

After a good few minutes, she finally exhausted herself to sleep as the others watched on helplessly. The one known only as ‘top dog’ had warned the others to let her be and go about their business as if nothing had happened, leaving her to sleep until morning. It would prove to be an uneasy rest, as she tossed and turned for the most part.

The one thing she wanted most of all was to meet her maker. She would have to endure another day of uncertainty and beyond under the camp’s brutal regime before she got what she wanted.