Oscar (5 page)

#

The sun was blazing, burning Sam’s tear-soaked face as he waited for what fate had in store. Miriam joined the party in the middle of the street. She walked up to Sam and granted him a final say before his execution.

‘Don’t do this – please.’ he begged. ‘I can make it up to you, I promise, just don’t kill me.’

She pondered his request. ‘Hmmm…no.’ was her reply. ‘Why should I spare you? You’ve placed everyone in danger, and now we have to leave the safety of this place here.’

‘I could be of use to you.’ he added quickly, trying to delay the inevitable. ‘Please, let me be of service to you.’ His begging was becoming embarrassing, and she couldn’t cope with his incessant whining for too much longer. She headed back to the ramshackle house and stepped inside.

Sam watched with trepidation for her return, only to see her step back onto the street as she brandished a roll of electrical tape. As she approached she began to unravel the tape and bit off just enough for what she needed. With one swift movement, the tape was placed over his mouth.

‘There, that’s better.’ she said. ‘Now I don’t have to listen to your whining and begging.’

He began to struggle, but it was all in vain. Slowly, Miriam walked behind the chair. He tried to turn his head to see what she was doing, but each time she moved out of his line of vision. She quietly gestured for Robert’s gun, which he had already prepared for the shot to be taken. She ran her fingers through Sam’s streaky blonde hair and aimed the piece at his head. Without hesitation she pulled the trigger, and death was instantaneous.

‘We need to gather up and leave.’ she said in a nonchalant fashion. ‘If we go now, we’ll have a day on the patrols. I assure you, the government will have sent patrols out for one of their own.’

‘I’ll get the boy. You rally the troops.’ she ordered, as she left her two cohorts. She turned round and briefly added, ‘And leave that piece of shit there, the crows can have him.’

T
he blistering sun beat down on Janna’s face. She sat along the sidewall adjacent to hut number five, taking in the welcoming (if slightly tight) air. For now, she was safe from the camp’s brutality, hidden from view of everyone, taking herself to her happy place and for once, not thinking about David.

The tranquillity wouldn’t last. The guards had been made aware of her absence from work detail, and they wasted little time in sounding the alarm. She would be treated as an escapee upon being found, and would be punished accordingly. The time for games was long past.

She remained seated with her back against the wall, wearing a defiant look on her face. She knew the alarm was for her, and resigned herself to what lay in store. She closed her eyes, and for a fleeting moment forgot about her situation. Thoughts of being elsewhere were soon to be abandoned, as she felt someone grabbing at her from behind. She found herself being hauled over the top of the wall and dropped to the ground on the other side. One of the two guards rolled her onto her belly. Knowing the routine all too well, she placed her hands behind her back without the help of the guards.

‘You’re in for it now, Saracen.’ One of the guards chimed. ‘You’ll be dead by morning for sure.’

‘Finally!’ She spat.

She was swiftly forced to her feet and led away from the huts into the compound. Her arms were bent upwards, forcing her head down towards the ground. All eyes were fixed in Janna’s direction as she was dragged towards the administration building. She couldn’t hide her pain, and made no attempt to disguise it as she’d done in the past. The guards just carried on regardless, purposely making the journey even more unpleasant.

‘You’ll stop your whining, bitch, if you know what’s good for you,’ the lead guard snarled in her ear. ‘There’ll be plenty to cry about once we get you inside.’

The guards mocked her openly, laughing at her misfortune every step of the way.

‘Just kill me now, you fat, ugly, bastards!’ she growled through gritted teeth.

All they could do was laugh at her and her ludicrous suggestion.

‘And take away the doctor’s pleasure of killing you himself? Not likely.’ The lead guard snapped, putting even more pressure on her arms. Her face contorted in agony again.

#

For the first time since her arrival at labour camp three, her thoughts were for her son Oscar alone. She had almost forgotten about him, too caught up in her misfortune and torment to worry about what he might be going through. She wondered to herself:
Is he safe? Is he still alive?
The last thought was the one that broke her. Her overactive imagination was running rampant, and she felt as if she couldn’t control a torrential bout of tears or the irresistible urge to scream. She never felt as helpless as when she stood in front of the doctor, waiting for the outcome of her earlier truancy. She bowed her head to hide the fact that she was crying.

‘Eyes front, Saracen.’ the lead guard snarled in her ear.

She lifted her head to reveal a tearstained face; as they watched, her pitiful expression was replaced by one of driven defiance and anger at the thought of having to listen to the doctor’s high-pitched, annoyingly squeaky voice for one more second.

‘Oh come on, will you?’ she snapped. ‘Just say what you intend to do with me, and get it over with.’

She knew what would come next, and braced herself for the usual body blow she received each time she stepped out of line. One swift, violent thump to the back of the head forced her to the floor in a state of unconsciousness.

The doctor gave directions as to what should happen to her, and the guards took great pleasure in carrying out his instructions to the fullest.

#

Janna came to, and the first thing she was aware of was her body screaming in pain.
What happened to me? What hurts so much?
She blinked and focused, only to see all the camp’s inmates staring at her with shocked looks on their faces. They had been forced to watch her as a reminder never to disobey the guards, or break any of the camp’s strict guidelines.

She had been stripped of her orange overalls, leaving her naked. They had crucified her. Nails protruded from her wrists and the rest of her body had been wrapped in barbed wire, cutting deep into her skin. She was slowly bleeding out, and there she would stay until her last breath. Anybody who tried to help her, or even went near her, would be subjected to the same misery. The blazing sun added to her searing pain, dehydrating her and burning her skin. Again, all she could bring herself to think about was Oscar. It was the not knowing that was really killing her.

It was the first time she had really thought about the other inmates, as she looked at their drawn faces and their pain-racked, malnourished bodies. Some were so sickly that they resembled bones dressed in just skin, nothing else. It was a wonder that they had survived for so long. She turned her head slightly and caught sight of the kennels, the dogs fighting over a flesh-covered bone like scavengers who hadn’t eaten in days…
was it what remained of David?
She didn’t know.

She could feel herself ebbing away with every hour that past: puddles of blood forming around her feet and in between her toes, her skin blistering and her lips cracking under the heat of the midday sun. Her mouth felt like she had eaten a handful of sand. She almost passed out from the loss of blood, but every time she sank, a guard would come and violently prevent her from losing consciousness. The doctor had given express wishes that her crucifixion would be slow and painful, and not the quick, easy death she wanted.

#

After five long hours, the doctor came and watched Janna’s death throes.

‘You—take the nails out of her wrists,’ he demanded, pointing towards an idle guard. ‘Death will come quicker for her now.’

He almost sounded sorry for her, as she hung on to her last breath. The nails had been driven through the veins in her wrists; once pulled out, the flow of blood would quicken. It would only take a short time for her to lose consciousness permanently—just a matter of minutes.

One by one the nails were removed, and the blood began to seep out. Her breathing became erratic for a brief moment and then began to slow, before the death rattle as her last breath left her body. The doctor walked up to her and placed an ear to her chest.

‘She’s dead. Cut her down—feed her to the dogs.’

The doctor walked away from the bloody mess that hung in front of him.

‘Do as he says, get her down.’ barked the head guard. ‘Take her to the infirmary for dissection.’

‘You lot, get back to work!’ he screamed at the rest of the prisoners. ‘Quick, quick—unless you want to end up like her.’ He pointed at Janna’s lifeless, limp body.

The inmates scattered, but only one of them looked back at her—and that was mouse, who shed a discreet tear for her as she left the horror scene.

‘Now you can join your husband in the afterlife.’ she whispered under her breath as an afterthought. ‘Rest in peace, Janna Saracen.’

B
lurry-eyed and sleepy, Oscar tried to focus on his surroundings and the people who had, in effect, kidnapped him.

‘Where’s Sammy?’ he asked softly, directing his question to anyone who was listening. Nobody answered him at first, but he repeated the question several times until everyone around him grew tired of his persistence.

‘OK, shut up now.’ Max barked angrily. ‘Your so-called friend was trying to get us all killed.’

His eyes widened, and then came the tears. The flow, uncontrollable. Miriam removed herself from her troupe’s company and made her way over to him. She knelt in front of him and took his face firmly in both hands.

‘Stop crying, Oscar.’ she said, softly. ‘Your
friend
wasn’t going to save you. He was a patrolman; do you know what that means?’

‘He was a bad man?’ he replied.

‘Yes, that’s right – he was a bad man,’ she responded, ‘who had no intention of helping you.’

He sniffed as she loosened her grip, and wiped away the tears as they ran down his chubby, adolescent cheeks. She threw a reassuring smile his way.

‘You’ll be safe with us,’ she said, patting him gently on the head. ‘We will see that no harm comes to you. Get your stuff ready, we’re leaving in five minutes.’

The corners of his lips began to curl upwards, as he attempted a smile to hide the fact that he was scared. He grabbed the only possession he had left, his coat, and threw it across his arm. He joined the others as they readied themselves for the journey away from Charlton, and from London.

#

Oscar stared up at the insignia that had caught his attention: a beautifully embroidered piece symbolising freedom, a centre piece for the flag. It was a fist punching the air, while wrapped in barbed wire. It just about summed up the group of people with whom he was reluctantly travelling.

Miriam looked down at him and couldn’t help but notice his fascination with the flag.

‘You like the flag, Oscar?’ she asked, the corners of her mouth forming a forced smile.

‘Yes, miss, I do—it’s pretty,’ was his unusual reply.

‘Pretty?’ she said, bemused. ‘It’s anything but pretty. Anyway, what do you know; you’re just a kid—pretty? Ha!’ She chuckled to herself at the suggestion. ‘The boy thinks our insignia is pretty.’ she shouted through to the others in front.

A collective laugh went up. Oscar’s smile turned very quickly into a frown.

‘Come, take my hand, little one,’ she extended her hand towards Oscar, who just looked at it. ‘I told you, don’t be scared of us, we are here to protect you, not hurt you. Now, take my hand.’

He reluctantly took it, and they walked to join the others.

#

Both Robert and Max had been charged with leading the group of men, women and children to safety while heading into the Kentish countryside. They had considered other places, but Kent seemed to be the safest area to hide in these uncertain times. Their intention was to lead the group within striking distance of the government’s main armoury. Although well protected, the armoury was never a gathering place for government officials; there were only a handful of people who remained on site permanently, and most of them were technicians. The people within the armoury weren’t interested in what was going on in the outside world, only in calibrating the weaponry used in the war.

It was a perfect vantage point for Miriam and her band of non-pure bloods to mount their planned attack. She had taken the time to formulate her plan over three years: they were attempting to single-handedly disarm the military by destroying the armoury. The site was heavily booby-trapped, which posed a major problem. Only the people on the inside knew where each trap was, as they themselves had laid them.

#

The light was fading fast as dusk approached. Miriam had given instructions to find a suitable place to bed down for the night. No less than two miles from their target, The Independent Mind happened across the abandoned homes of people who had evacuated the area. With the constant flow of military that passed through on their way to the armoury, it was no longer safe to live there; it was, however, an ideal place to stay for a couple of nights. Nobody would ever suspect that squatters were about to take over these lavish dwellings.

‘This will do quite nicely.’ she said to herself as she stepped through the door of one of the mansions. She grabbed hold of Oscar’s hand as she went. He was in awe, his mouth agape as they entered the vast hallway of their temporary accommodations. Chandeliers hung majestically from the ceiling and Oscar could do nothing but stare up as they glistened in the light.

‘It’s fantastic, isn’t it?’ she exclaimed, as she relished his sense of wonder.

Shortly after, the others joined them with the same reaction as Oscar had had on entering—their collective mouths agape.

‘Oscar, stay here for a bit?’ she asked, ‘I need to go and see what’s what.’

She left his side briefly to search her new surroundings. He stood there shuffling his feet and wringing his hands nervously. He could feel the others watching him, their eyes burning holes in his skin. But Miriam returned almost instantly, and she was holding out her hand for him to take.