by Tony Roberts
She nodded. “Yes, you’re right. Alright, I’ll see what I can do. I might not be able to arrange everything tonight; I’m tired. You stay hidden and I’ll bring some water and food and leave them just on the other side of this fence.”
Casca squeezed her hand through the fence. Then a movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and he slid backwards into cover. The next moment a voice boomed out. “Hey, Miss, what are you doing here?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
It was a dicey moment, but Alison coped with it well enough. “I thought I saw a fox or something out there.”
The guard came to the fence and stared hard in the direction she’d pointed. Casca was off to one side and lying down behind a wall that was standing due mostly to optimism rather than gravity. It was just as well he’d seen the guard coming out of the darkness and slipped away before the guard could make out any details beyond the fence.
“Best come away from the fence, Miss,” the guard said helpfully. “Might be dingoes or rats out there.”
“Do they have dingoes here?” Alison asked, turning away and leading the guard towards the hospital buildings. The buildings weren’t permanent erections; they were tents, shacks and huts. The army had thrown them up in a hurry and it didn’t look as if they’d survive long if left alone.
“I don’t know – but it’s not worth the risk trying to find out,” the guard said as they walked away into the distance. Casca puffed out his cheeks, then wondered what on earth a dingo was. He’d have to ask Alison when he next saw her.
Over the next day Casca spent an uncomfortable time sleeping out under the stars and then finding a hiding place further away from the fence as in daylight more could be seen. He did find a pile of rocks that hid him from the hospital and he arranged some rocks to allow him a spyhole. In the afternoon he saw Alison walking along the fence and watched as she made sure there was nobody watching, then threw a bundle of cloth over the fence. It landed just over the barrier, the nurse not being strong enough to throw it any further. Casca cursed; the next guard to come along would see it for sure. As she walked away, Casca scuttled out of his hiding place, grabbed the bundle and retreated back to the place of concealment.
Alison had done him proud. Wrapped in the bundle was a small blanket, grey colored, a water bottle, a small bag in which were bread and cheese, and a letter. The letter was a short message to him, telling him to wait until she signaled to him come after dark. The other part of the message was a list of duties carried out by Greek and Turkish locals. Casca was surprised Turks were allowed to work, but since the island had been nominally Turkish before the war and seized before the campaign had gotten under way, it stood to reason most of the population were Turkish.
He wasn’t going to do catering; he avoided that like the plague. Laundering, cleaning, porters and physical manual jobs were listed. Casca decided a physical odd-job position was more to his liking. Besides, if it was outdoors, then he would avoid Rocky. He knew in his heart that eventually he’d have to confront Rocky as to why he was helping the military police. It really ate at him. But he’d have to do it the day he left Imbros. He knew he ought to avoid the young Australian but that itch wouldn’t be satisfied until it was eased with knowing.
The night came and Casca got the blanket ready. He moved up close to the fence and waited. Alison appeared after a while, looked left and right, then beckoned him. The blanket was thrown over the top strand and he slid up onto it, pulled himself over and dropped down on the inside. The fence shook and rattled. Cursing, he lifted the blanket. It caught. Cursing more, he tugged and hauled at it. The fence rattled like a child’s toy. “Get off, damn you!” Casca urged the blanket, and it finally ripped and came free. Running hard for the door that Alison was now framed in, clutching the torn blanket, he looked left and right to make sure no guards were in sight.
He got in and was urgently tugged along a narrow passageway with a cloth roof. It looked like a gap in between two wooden long huts. Turning right, they passed through yet another door and then were in a hut and a short corridor to another door. On the left was a further door and she showed him into the room beyond. The room was spartan, small and furnished only with a narrow bunk and a cupboard. The floor was bare wood.
“This is my room,” she explained. “I couldn’t get you anywhere else.”
“Suits me fine,” Casca said. “As long as nobody finds me.”
“You’ll have to be quiet. I don’t want anyone even guessing I’ve got a man in my room!”
“What’s through the door out there?”
“One of the wards. It’s for the wounded. I’m on duty every day for three days then I have a day off. There is a senior matron who checks on us frequently, so you can’t leave this room during daylight hours.”
“The sooner I get a job as a Greek here the better,” Casca said.
“How long do you think it’ll be? I’m taking one heck of a risk with you being here, you know.”
“I’m grateful,” Casca replied. “A couple of days. Leave me to talk to one of the townsfolk who works here and maybe I can get a job with his help.”
“You’re crazy,” Alison said, a smile on her face. “I don’t even know why I’m doing this!”
“Well I can think of one good reason,” Casca said and pulled her to him, kissing her long and deep.
Alison was surprised, but she didn’t struggle. Casca’s hands were exploring her body, running over her linen outfit, sliding up and down her back and thighs. She had experimented a few years ago in Australia with a couple of her neighbors’ teenage sons, one memorable incident being in a local water hole when she’d discovered what had been between a male’s legs, and what happened when she played with it for too long. The boy had been abashed at his lack of control, but it had encouraged her to try more experiments and she’d finally gone ‘all the way’ with one boy she’d fancied. It hadn’t been what she’d hoped for exactly, but at least she knew what to expect.
Casca though was the first ‘man’ to touch her like this, and she hoped that it wouldn’t be another disappointment. He was a big strong man and his manliness had excited her. Now they were together, illegally, it made it the more exciting. And his hands were sending tingles through her body in a way she hadn’t recalled before. His kisses were turning her on the more and she definitely wanted to see him without clothes on. As a nurse she’d seen men unclothed, so there were no surprises in store for her – or so she believed.
She was lowered to the bunk and felt her clothes being unbuttoned. The uniform, stiff and starchy, was soon on the floor and she felt his hands and lips exploring all over her body. Moaning softly, she arched her back and fought hard to keep as quiet as she could. The waves of pleasure continued to build and she knew she was losing the fight to remain silent.
Casca solved the problem. He passed her his belt. He mimicked biting on it and Alison slipped it between her teeth and clamped down hard. Now he was kissing her all over and using his centuries of knowledge to drive her mad with desire. When he slid into her she felt as if she was going to faint. Casca was fully in control. Alison’s body was athletic and firm. The last such woman he could recall that was anything like this was the pirate Katie Parnell. She was one heck of a woman, and he would have dearly loved to have known her longer than the few short days he did.
Alison wasn’t anywhere near as brazen and uninhibited, but she had a body that reminded him of her. And now she was squealing softly behind the belt, her eyes rolling. Her fists beat on the bunk, then came up and began to scratch his back as he rode her. Casca didn’t mind; many of his scars had been won honorably on the battlefield. These scars were just as honorable, but they would fade in a few days.
He rode faster, mindful of the noise the bunk was making. It was making too much damned noise, so he picked her up off the bunk, placed her on the pile of clothes on the floor, and then continued, without the worry of making noise. He could now give her his all and she was be
yond control, ripping his flesh repeatedly and dribbling out of her mouth down the leather belt, her squeals a continuous low soft sound.
Casca held his explosive shout of triumph back as he finally came, and held her close for a few moments before untangling himself from her vise-like grip. He looked at the blood on her fingernails and began sucking on them.
Alison spat out the belt and licked her lips. “Why are you doing that?”
“Humor me,” he grinned and carried on. He couldn’t possibly tell her that she ran the risk of poisoning herself if she took in his blood. It was to her almost as erotic as what he’d done before. She was coming down off her high and lay there, sweat cooling on her body. God that had been good! Much, much better than anything she’d experienced before. Then she looked at his body and couldn’t help but stare.
“Heavens – your scars! What the devil happened to you?”
“Bear. They have plenty in Canada.”
She wasn’t too sure that all the scars were animal. Her recent experiences as a nurse had given her some idea of what scars from scratches looked like. These were too regular. And there were rough circular ones too, that looked like old gunshot wounds. And the one down the center of his chest over his heart?
Casca got up and helped her onto the bunk. “It’s going to be a squeeze sleeping together,” he said softly. “But I think we’ll manage.”
She giggled. “We’ll sleep well, that’s for sure.”
Casca smiled. “Eventually.”
Giggling, Alison pulled him down onto her and he began exploring her again. Before she lost herself too much, she grabbed for the belt and held it tight. She didn’t doubt for a moment she was going to need it again.
The next day Casca found Alison had hoarded some clothing from the laundry in the wardrobe, and when she went on duty, tried some on. Much of it was too tight but he finally found a dirty off-white shirt and a pair of trousers made of a material like goat – it certainly smelt like it – and he could wander around outside as a civilian. His uniform he left in the wardrobe.
The other clothes he carried. The first non-military person he came across he hailed in Greek. “Where’s the laundry? Where these can be cleaned?”
“Dump it in the main hall. They have people working there who take it.”
Casca found the main entrance, guarded by two Anzac soldiers and made sure he didn’t look at them too much as he passed by. The hall was a bustling mass of people. Wounded soldiers lay on stretchers being tended and other medical staff rushed about here and there. Casca wandered about, looking bewildered, and eventually a harassed looking doctor bumped into him. “You put there, yes?” he said loudly and slowly.
“Nai, bebaius, O Sir!” Casca smiled widely and bowed.
The doctor sighed and went on his way. Casca threw the clothes in an untidy heap on the table that acted as a front desk. “Sir said I had to do this,” he said loudly and in as rapid Greek as he could.
The secretary sat behind the table looked at him in distaste, then at the creased and rumpled pile of clothing. He shouted for a porter to pick it up and a Greek came running, short, smiling and eager to please. “Come with me,” the small Greek said, grabbing the clothing. “Where are you from?” he asked, leading Casca down a passage that went out the rear and then along a path to another building that was flanked by water tanks and had a high stacked chimney growing out of the roof.
“Rhodes,” Casca said. “I arrived here yesterday. The British are collecting many people to do their dirty jobs, but it pays.”
“Yes, it pays,” his companion echoed. “Tell me, have you anywhere to stay?”
“No. I don’t want to stay with any Turks.”
The Greek spat on the ground. “I agree. They are cowed by the British, but they have made our community’s life hard here. I long for the return of the days when we ruled this part of the world.”
Casca agreed, but he knew those days had long gone. His memories of serving the emperors of the Greek Eastern Roman Empire – Byzantium – were many and very colorful. But it had all ended centuries ago.
“When the Turks are defeated we will take back what it rightfully ours! Including the Big City!”
“Constantinople?” Casca was mildly surprised.
“But of course! It is our capital! It’s about time those dogs were kicked out and put in the kennels they deserve.”
Casca said nothing. How the Turks would view that claim was anyone’s guess, but two nations each claiming the same city as their capital was bound to lead to trouble. That would mean it was more sensible for the Greek government to come into the war on the side of the Allies.
The little man, Spiros, showed Casca the laundry and where to put the clothes. Casca tugged Spiros’ sleeve when they got outside again. “The truth is, I have no official job here. I’m a poor farmer who’s lost everything and thought that here maybe I could make some money in the pay of the British.”
Spiros ran a finger down the side of his nose. “Ah, worry not, my friend. I know a cousin who is very good with making papers and documents. He owes me a favor. I can get some made for you that will get you in and out of here with no trouble. Tell me, how did you get in?”
“Over the fence. It was difficult.”
Spiros tutted. “If you get caught in here without a pass you’ll be arrested. I’ll find you papers this afternoon. Come to this spot as night falls and we can then fix everything. You can stay at my brother’s house. He has a spare room. Very reasonable price!”
Casca didn’t doubt it for a moment. He was going to owe little Spiros a lot from what he could tell. But if it meant he had papers and a pass and a job, then all the better. All he needed next was to get travel off Imbros and leave the British and Australian armies far behind. But that would also mean saying goodbye to Alison.
He returned to her room and waited. He was getting hungry but the arrival of Alison around mid-day changed that. She had managed to grab a loaf and more cheese. There was also a bottle of water. He brought her up to date with events. She looked pleased. But the news that she’d seen Clark in the main hall that morning dampened their mood. “He was with Rocky. He’s managed to get him transferred too. I think he has some influence with the authorities. He’s only an orderly, yet he manages to get his way with everyone. He gives me the creeps.”
“He’s a persistence swine, I’ll give him that. I shouldn’t stay here too long. Spiros is getting me papers to get out this evening, and I’ll hire myself out as a handy man. It’ll keep me outside and away from Rocky. Clark won’t be looking for a Greek. As long as Rocky doesn’t see me things will be alright.”
He wasn’t sure if Clark would recognize him; back in Alexandria he was still red raw and burned from the flamethrower attack, and now he was virtually back to his old self. But he wouldn’t like to bet on it too much. “Alison, we both know I can’t stay here on Imbros. The longer I’m here the greater the chance they’ll find me and arrest me. Then it’ll be all over.”
“But I’ll hide you here!” she said forcefully, her face showing the anxiety that was in her voice. “Then we can go to Australia when this is all over!”
“Alison, you know it’s not sensible. You’ll be arrested too. I’ll be shot, that’s for certain, and you? Prison maybe. You’ve got a life ahead of you, I have one provided I can get away. My time here is practically done. You have to let me go.”
“I don’t want to,” she sobbed, crushing his fingers in her hands. “I love you!”
“Alison…” Casca said helplessly.
“Oh, go then!” she shouted suddenly, “leave me just when you made me fall in love with you!” and she stormed out of the room, crying.
“Damn it,” he said to the swinging door. He hoped to hell she didn’t attract attention with her behavior. Women! The blessing and the curse of men at the same time….. He ate half the bread and cheese and left the rest wrapped up. If she didn’t return to eat it then he’d finish it off later. He slipped out
and looked around outside but Alison wasn’t in sight. Soldiers were more in evidence and it was clear someone had ordered a tightening of security. Damn that man Clark – and damn Rocky.
Alison still hadn’t reappeared by late afternoon. Casca finished off the food and drink, and in a sour mood, made his way to the agreed rendezvous point with Spiros. The little Greek was there and slipped him the paperwork. Where he’d gotten the official looking stamped pass was anyone’s guess, but with so many locals working within the hospital’s administrative wheels it was inevitable that someone would have an opportunity somewhere to sneak out official papers.
Casca thanked him and Spiros led the way to the gate. Two soldiers stood on guard and stood out to inspect the papers the two men held out.
Just then a smartly dressed captain in military police uniform stepped out of the guard hut and stared hard at Casca. “Let me see this one’s pass.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Casca stood still as the tall captain examined the papers. He looked hard at Casca, then back at the document. He snorted, then looked at Spiros, a distinctly unfriendly look on his face. “Been up to your illegal forging activities again, Spiros?”
“I don’t know what you mean, Sir,” the little Greek said, outraged. “I am an honest man doing an honest job in very difficult times!” His English was good but very heavily accented. Casca decided to pretend he understood no English. He stood there, a comical frown on his face.
“What is wrong?” he asked in Greek.
The captain pointed at Casca. “Tell your friend, Spiros, that he’s carrying forged paperwork and I want to see what else he’s got. I’ve been waiting for you to try something like this.”
Casca felt his blood run cold. Things were looking fairly bleak. Two men with guns now taking an active interest in the pair of them and a third, armed with a revolver, albeit holstered, standing next to the gate which was shut. Spiros relayed the captain’s words, with the addition that his brother had been sloppy this time round, but maybe the haste had been the problem.