by A. D. Winch
Within a few minutes, they had turned into the tunnel. Ursula quickly accelerated, trying to widen the gap between themselves and the agents. The OSS had yet to reach them. Eric looked over his shoulder at the entrance, but it disappeared as the tunnel curved round to the right. For now, at least, they were safe. Ursula did not slow down and instead rapidly approached a lorry ahead of them. It was keeping to the speed limit of seventy kilometres per hour, and it gave Ursula another idea.
Brown canvas flapped around the lorry's trailer, and it was clear that it was carrying nothing. Ursula drove right up to the back until her front wheel almost touched the bumper. She could clearly see the number plate but could barely see the brake lights as she was so close.
"Jump over my shoulder and…," she never finished her sentence. Eric had already read her thoughts and was already standing on the motorbike. He made sure he was balanced and lifted one foot onto Ursula's shoulder, squashing her into the seat.
Now! she thought.
Eric pushed away from the bike, leapt over Ursula and landed on the back of the lorry, which continued on regardless. Ursula slowed down and let the gap widen to about one hundred metres. The tunnel exit was fast approaching, and she had to get on the trailer before it was out in the open.
With every passing metre, Eric looked and felt more worried. Finally, the distance was sufficient, and she accelerated as fast as the bike would allow her. Her speed rose quickly from fifty to sixty, past seventy and up towards one hundred. At the same time, the distance closed to eighty metres then forty and then twenty. There were ten metres left, and she pulled her legs up, so she was squatting on the seat. With five metres to go, she pulled the bike's front brake as hard as she could.
The back wheel lifted clear off the road as the front skidded across it, leaving a black line on the tarmac. As she let go of the handlebars, she was thrown forwards. There was a terrible crash as the bike somersaulted and smashed into the road, sending sparks into the air.
Ursula flew into the back of the lorry. She landed on the trailer's splintered wood floor and executed a perfect forward roll into a standing position. As she stumbled towards the cab, Eric reacted and caught her.
"I am seriously impressed," he said and punched her softly on the arm.
They both fell onto the wood and did not move.
The lorry was already out of the tunnel and on its way to collect its first load of the day.
Back in Roswell, Agent Hoover watched as the agents entered the tunnel. He could see both entrances but had yet to see White King and Black Queen emerge.
Where are they? he wondered. Where are they?
Agent Angel disturbed his thoughts.
"I don't like this Hoover, if…"
He didn't get to finish as Agent Yamasee came through on the loud speakers.
"We have found the motorbike. There has been a crash. There is no sign of the targets. Unless they switched vehicles, they must have fled through one of the pedestrian emergency exits leading out from the tunnel.
As she spoke, Agent Hoover relayed images from her helmet camera onto one of the screens before them.
OSS agents were picking up the motorbike and moving it to the walkway by the tunnel walls. The entire right side of the bike had crumpled as if it had been made of paper. Both the rear and front lights were smashed, and the handlebars were buckled.
"Look back down the road," Agent Angel ordered.
Agent Yamasee turned her head. All the OSS agents were moving their bikes onto the walkway. On the road next to them, there were black streaks and lines etched into the tarmac. A few metres behind was a pile of clear plastic glass and further behind pieces of red glass. From the first pieces of glass to where the bike had come to rest, there was a distance of over thirty metres.
"A bike doesn't just crash without a rider," Agent Angel said to Agent Hoover. "If they had jumped from the motorbike, it would have slowed down and then slid along on its side. Neither the front nor the rear light would have smashed. This was a proper crash. It hasn't been staged."
"So, where are White King and Black Queen now?" asked Agent Hoover.
"Search the emergency exits," ordered Agent Angel. "They must be injured."
Team Moro split up and spread out down the tunnel. They each took an emergency exit near to the crash and set out to locate the targets.
The lorry slowed down as it reached another set of traffic lights, and the change of speed prompted Eric and Ursula to stand up. They walked towards the very back of the trailer. As soon as it had stopped, they jumped out onto the road and surprised an early morning commuter who was half asleep behind the wheel of his car.
To their left was a park, and they ran until they were under the trees. Street lights penetrated the darkness under the canopy and cast shadows on the wet grass around them.
"Do you know where we are?" Ursula asked.
Eric looked around before answering. "Yes. We're about halfway to the airport."
"How do we get there?"
"We can walk, run or," and he took money from his pocket, "we can hail a cab!"
"Where did you get that money from?" Ursula questioned. "And where will we find a taxi?"
"I took some money from my room and there are always taxis around. We'll find one."
Forty minutes later, they were in a yellow cab heading for the airport. The taxi driver failed to hide his surprise at the age of his clients, but once he had established that they had enough money he was happy to take them.
When they arrived at the airport, Eric asked him to stop at terminal one. It was not where he or Ursula wanted to go but following Ursula's advice, he had decided that it was for the best.
They got out of the taxi and entered the terminal building. Once the yellow cab had driven away, they walked back outside and along the airport road to the freight terminal. Along the way, they kept close to the bushes and trees near to the road, and they turned their backs towards oncoming vehicles.
The freight terminal was the same building that Eric and Alexander had used for their flight to Pompeii. It was a grey rectangular block with the name of companies written in large, bright lettering across the top. Eric looked up, to check they were entering the correct one, and walked in with Ursula.
Little had changed since their last visit. Yellow lines marked out areas on the floor, and boxes were piled up high within these. A forklift truck scooted down the lanes between them, lifting pallets and taking them to the far end of the warehouse and outside to a waiting plane.
Eric and Ursula followed the forklift. Next to the exit, they approached a portacabin. They peered through the dirty glass. Alexander paced up and down, bringing his fingers near to his mouth and then pulling them away again. Andrea sat completely still on one of the ripped chairs. Only her eyes moved, and she watched Alexander like a hawk.
Eric tapped on the glass, and Alexander jumped back as if he had suddenly received an electric shock. His face quickly changed to one of surprise when he saw Eric and Ursula. He ran to the door and beckoned them in.
"Thank God, you made it!" he said to them and immediately accompanied this with, "You weren't followed, were you?"
Ursula explained their escape while picking splinters of wood from her clothing. He appeared to relax as she spoke, but neither of the children knew for sure. While she told their story, he interrupted her to offer his congratulations or show his surprise. When she finished, he applauded them both.
"That's incredible, don't you think, Andrea?"
Andrea had been listening closely to the whole story.
"As I said to you Alexander, you would have slowed them down."
She looked at both children. If she could have been alarmed, she would have been. They had even more grey hairs and even more prominent wrinkles than she had seen on them before. As she analysed their appearance, both children seemed to hit a wall of tiredness and flopped onto the chairs. They would need rest and sun. During the summer, they were energised. This night's
events had had the opposite effect. When they reached their destination, she would force them to sunbathe and would increase their sun-rich food diet.
"Captain Hudson is set to land at eight-zero-seven. Customs' officials have cleared the cargo. I have been told that our boxes will be loaded before eight forty-five. Refuelling will also have been completed by this time. As soon as we are ready, we will leave. Now, you must rest."
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Chapter 15 – Across the Atlantic
The aircraft engines made a dull droning noise within the small cabin. Nobody paid any attention to it. They had all sat separately before take-off, positioning themselves around boxes of 'modern art' that had been secured around the interior. No one had spoken since leaving Prague. No one had left their chair either, apart from Andrea, who was in the cockpit with Captain Hudson.
"How do you feel?" Alexander asked, looking back towards Eric and Ursula. They were both sat in the row behind him.
"Tired," Eric replied through a yawn. "And you? You're not throwing up?"
"I learnt from last time. I took a travel sickness tablet before we took off. And this time we are not flying through a storm." He looked over at Ursula and asked, "Are you okay?"
There was no response. Her head rested against the Perspex window, and her eyes were closed.
"I think, I’ll do the same," Eric said and slouched into his chair. He removed the red cushion from a bag next to him and let it mould around his neck until he was comfortable. Within a minute, he was asleep.
Alexander stood up and looked at the two sleeping children. There were grey pockets of hair all over their heads now. Wrinkles were visible below their eyes, around their mouth and even on their necks. From what the children said, the chase from the OSS had been both exhilarating and tiring. What they had achieved was incredible, but the results were evident for all to see.
Exercise ages the children, thought Alexander. A lack of sunlight ages the children. Put these two factors together, and this is what happens. There was no immediate solution. They had no old/new blood for another transfusion, so the only action they could take would be to get Eric and Ursula into the sun and make sure their diet was sun-rich. This was all they could do until they acquired some alien DNA.
"Is something on your mind?" Johan asked from the last row in the small plane.
"I am worried about Eric and Ursula."
"Aren't we all? This is why we are going to Roswell."
Alexander walked past the other few rows and sat down across from Johan.
"Is this the only reason we are going to Roswell? To help the children?"
"You doubt your father," laughed Johan and coughed.
Alexander ignored the 'father' remark. "I don't doubt you, but I wonder about your motives. You have only known Eric a short while, and Ursula even less, so why are you putting yourself at risk too?"
Johan wiped his mouth with a handkerchief and repeated the question, "Why are you helping them?"
"Because they're special. They're unique and need to be protected. What's more, they're my mother's work, and I've spent my life trying to preserve her research. But I asked you."
Johan sat back and thought before answering. The chair squeaked, and he waited for it to stop before beginning.
"The OSS are too powerful. They think they are untouchable, and this is dangerous. They fear these extraordinary children. In Eric and Ursula, I see a way to redress the balance but only if we can give them long and healthy lives. On a wider level, I want the OSS to be scared. On a personal level, I don’t want to see ones so young die before they even have a chance to live. I know you think I was reckless in Greece - encouraging the children to jump out of aeroplanes, to drink wine, to have fun and to live. But if their lives are going to be short, and the chances are more likely that they will be, then at least they should be full. What is the expression in English? Better to live one day as a lion than a lifetime as a mouse."
"What if they were your own children?"
"You mean if it had been you at their age?"
"Yes," Alexander answered, crossing his arms. "Would you do the same?"
"I would have done exactly the same thing. I would have asked you what you wanted to do and then made sure you did it."
"What if it were drinking or taking drugs or gambling?"
"If you were going to die and that is what you wanted, I would let you."
"That's hardly good parenting!" said Alexander dismissively.
"I was hardly a parent," Johan replied and then added, "and it was not my fault."
He looked pleadingly at Alexander.
"I'm sorry, Johan, I don’t know why I said that."
"You're angry at the years you have lost. I know I am."
"But you don't show it! You spend more time with Eric than with me."
"The boy and I share a past. It may be a brief past, but it is one nevertheless. You and I share a 'holiday' in Greece. The boy and I share a similar 'reckless' view on life, you and I do not. If we had met twenty years earlier, I have no doubt that we would have loved each other dearly, but this is the wrong time for both of us. Years of paranoia have shaped you. I have been shaped by years of being trapped. You want to stay hidden. I want to be free. I fear it is too late for us."
"It's not too late! After this, it will all be different."
Johan moved forward and took Alexander's hand. He held it gently. Words kept coming to his lips, but he could not say them. Finally, he lied, "You're right. After this, it will all be different."
Andrea left the cockpit and walked to the rear of the plane. She stood above the two men and then sat between them.
"Captain Hudson will not be part of our Trojan horse plan. He believes that it is suicidal. However, I have convinced him to stay in the area. He will meet us at a private airfield near to Roswell after the event and bring us all back to Paris where I have made medical arrangements for the children upon our safe return."
"You make it sound so easy," Johan laughed.
"She does that," Alexander explained.
"I am not saying this will be easy. It will be difficult. The probability of success is very low. We have an advantage in that they will not be expecting us."
"That is definitely true. The OSS will not expect an attack in their backyard."
"In addition, we have the necessary resources to achieve our aim."
"I am worried about Eric and Ursula," Alexander said.
"They need to rest. We know this from previous exertions. When they wake we will feed them, and when we get to America we will place them in the sun. We are going to a desert state. This will not be a problem."
Over half way through the flight, Eric and Ursula awoke. They were given sun-dried food as well as a health shake, and they appeared to perk up a little. While they were eating and drinking, Johan reminded them about collecting alien DNA. He showed them how to use a syringe to extract 'blood' or similar bodily fluid, and a scalpel to scrape or remove tissue. Neither of the children was concerned by the procedures demonstrated. He hoped the diamond blade on the scalpel would be stronger than the instruments he had used many years ago.
When Johan had finished, he put the necessary equipment into the children's rucksacks. Meanwhile, Alexander gave everyone a tracking device. They had been inserted into a sweatband, and Alexander made them place these over their ankles. He looked at the laptop next to him, to check that their trackers were all receiving and gave a positive thumbs up.
"Great! Now I can find you. Just don't take them off."
"Is there anything else?" Eric asked.
"Yes," Alexander replied and went to the back of the plane. He found a shoebox and brought it into the gangway between the seats.
"Johan, this is for you."
He took out a small firearm and gave it to the old man, along with a box of ammunition.
"Wow!" said Eric, obviously pleased. "We're getting guns."
Alexander took two wate
r pistols and handed them to Eric and Ursula, along with bottles of water.
"You're joking!" Eric moaned. "I want a real gun like Johan."
"You're not getting one," Alexander told him.
Johan joined the conversation. "You will be facing the alien. I do not think bullets will do much damage, but I know that water can harm it."
"No," Eric disagreed. "You told me that water harmed the dead alien. There's a difference."
Johan shook his head. "If you fire a bullet into a living body or dead body the result is basically the same. I am sure you will find the same is true of the water pistol."
Reluctantly, Eric put the water pistol and the bottle into a small bag with the rest of the things he had been given. Ursula grinned as she placed the water pistol into her bag. Granddad Benjamin had given her a water pistol for her tenth birthday. The thought made her smile. It had been a fun toy that Ursula had appreciated. Mémé had not been so convinced and did not react well to her granddaughter receiving a water pistol in January. That night, her grandfather had slept in the bathtub.
Thinking of her grandparents made her worried. Would they ever be a family again? Would she ever see them again? She wanted to believe that she would, but even if they managed to get into the base at Roswell and out again; there was no guarantee that a cure would be found for their condition. The deadline was fast approaching. January was only two months away and after that it was anyone's guess how long they had left. What was even more worrying was that she felt tired in a way she had never felt before. Perhaps she just needed some sun. Maybe they both just needed some sun.
She looked across at Eric. In spite of Johan's explanation, he was slumped in his chair and sulking. While Johan tried to placate him, Ursula went to the cockpit. She knocked on the door and waited until she was invited in.
"Ursula Benjamin," Captain Hudson greeted warmly.
Ursula looked around the small area as if someone else would pop out from a hidden location.
"Are you looking for someone?"
"I thought you would have a co-pilot. Don't you have one?"