Silent Night

by Clifford, Riley

  In the morning, Rupert’s coat was frozen into stiff pleats and a film of muddy ice had crusted around his boots, so thick that he couldn’t get to his laces. The others were awake. Marie had opened the top of the lantern and was heating a small thermos of water over the little flame.

  “Your major is outside doing leaps and nonsense,” said Marie, her nose turned upward. Rupert stood and stretched, and went to the window where the lantern had been last night. Major Thompson was out in the small open space in front of the barn doing calisthenics.

  “He’s not my major any more than he’s yours,” said Rupert, coming back to the lantern. “What have you got there?”

  “Café,” said Marie.

  Rupert reached into his rucksack and pulled out a half-squashed paper packet of soda crackers. “Would you care to share breakfast?” he said. She wouldn’t give him any coffee if he didn’t share something with her, he knew. And Rupert would have given his left arm for any kind of warmth.

  Marie considered this for a moment. “Oui,” she said. And then, “Do you think that we should save un petit peu for le major?”

  Rupert thought about that for a moment. “What do you think he’d do if we didn’t?”

  “Eat us for his breakfast?” said Marie.

  Rupert almost laughed. Almost. Except it was too close to being an actual, possible truth that he didn’t think it quite prudent. But still, they saved him a few of the crackers and a sip of coffee.

  “Why are you here?” Rupert asked as they ate. “I mean — helping to get the Ekat back?”

  “Do you want to know why I am here, or why it is not some big and strong Janus man with the muscles and things?” said Marie.

  “Both,” said Rupert.

  Marie pursed her lips for a moment. “It is no good to have a war in your home. My brother fights; my papa has taken sick. It is not good here. France is ruined. And when I heard that they had taken this Dr. Woolsey, and that he was to make weapons for the Germans — I could not let that happen.”

  “But what can you do to stop it?” said Rupert. “I mean — you’re a Janus. What are you going to do?”

  Marie narrowed her eyes. “You are rude. And I will like to see you try to get across la Lys without my help. I will like to see you speak German and French and English, please.”

  “All right, fine,” said Rupert.

  “Do you know what it is like,” said Marie, “to see your family so broken? My brother is off at the war — I may never see him again. But I think he would be glad I do this. Even though he hates the Tomas and the Lucian. He thinks that you are what make war.”

  “I have a brother, too,” said Rupert, taking a sip of the coffee. “He’s off fighting, too. Like me, I guess.”

  “Do you worry for him?” she asked.

  “It’s complicated,” said Rupert. Before, he hadn’t, really. Everyone had made the war seem so innocuous — like no one would actually ever be hurt or die from it. Now, suddenly, he did find himself wondering where Albert was along the line. Was he cold and wet, too? Did he think of Rupert, and where he had gone? “I didn’t before. But I do now. I want him to make it home as much as I want me to make it home, I guess. He’s my brother.”

  After their rationed breakfast, Major Thompson gathered them all together for a strategy session.

  The Ekat scientist was being held just across the Lys River — which was also just on the other side of the German trenches — in a factory. Major Thompson’s sources told him that it was heavily guarded by soldiers.

  “Well, that much would be obvious,” said Marie. “Do you think that they would just leave him on a leash in the middle of a field?”

  Major Thompson scowled. “That’s enough out of you for now.”

  They would go to the river today, Major Thompson said, to survey the area. And then, that night, they would make their move.

  “If I may, Major,” said Rupert, “don’t you think we should wait for a break in the weather? It looks like snow, and the last thing we’d want to do is leave a trail to where we are camped.”

  Rupert certainly wasn’t scared — a Lucian would never back away from a challenge — and certainly not in front of a Janus or a Tomas. Something like that would equate to generations of shame upon the forefathers — or something else like out of a Greek tragedy. Rupert refused to be a part of that. Still, he would feel a little more at ease if he knew he weren’t going into enemy territory that very night.

  “I just don’t see who put you in charge of this operation,” Rupert continued. “This isn’t a military mission; your rank doesn’t mean anything here. As the future head of the Lucian branch, I strongly feel that I should be put into the leadership position.”

  “I object,” said Marie. “This is my land, and my country. I should say what we do.”

  “And I say out of the three of us, I’m the only one with any battlefield experience. So let’s have the two of you stop your whining and let’s get ready,” said the major.

  “I don’t like your tone, Major. I don’t like it at all,” said Marie.

  “I don’t care,” said the major. “Just do what I say.”

  The trio hid their few things in testy silence — the cold lantern, a blanket, a rucksack — under the hay, and set out for the river.

  “Let’s go this way,” said the major, steering them left out of the barn. Marie stopped in her tracks and shook her head.

  “Absolument non,” she said. “That is through the bogs and past the main road. We will be trapped, or caught. Non, we go this way.” She pointed to the right.

  “Look, mademoiselle,” said the major. “I know you’re from these parts, but we Tomas know our way around. We are expert navigators. You ever heard of James Cook? Or Blackbeard?”

  “Yes. So if we end up on a boat in the sea, you may be captain then,” said Marie. “But while in France, I will say where to go.”

  And so Marie led the way, much to the obvious embarrassment of Major Thompson. Rupert trailed along uncomfortably. She wound them around through the trees, following a small stream that led into a larger brook, which then made a right into the thick, rushing Lys.

  Rupert looked across the water. That was enemy territory, over there. Strange, how it looked so much like their side.

  They followed the main rush of the Lys for about a mile. Then the sounds of men and machinery began to mingle with the bubbling, rolling sounds of the water.

  On the other side, black and looming against the gray December sky, was a great block of a factory. Chimneys like witch’s fingers reached up toward the white sun and spewed thick gray clouds of smoke.

  “It used to make dyes for our linen and wool. Now it makes the gas,” said Marie, in a voice that made Rupert shiver. He’d heard about the gas. No one on either side had used it yet, but it hung there, like a knife over the heads of every soldier on either side of the war. People said it could turn your skin to blisters and burn your eyes out of your head. If it didn’t kill you when it touched you, if you managed to get away, it would still kill you later. Once you met the gas, there was no escaping it.

  “It looks like it makes soldiers,” said Major Thompson. And that was true. The factory was swarming with men in German uniforms, like workers in an anthill. They patrolled the fence around the building, and the water line; they walked along the top with long-range guns and binoculars. They drove in and out in smoky, sputtering cars and atop commissioned farm horses. They had hundreds of guns between all of them, and if they so much as caught a whiff of Brit or Frenchwoman, they’d shoot to kill.

  Yes, by all means, thought Rupert. This is the perfect place to try and invade with an army of three.

  “You can’t be serious about this,” said Rupert. “They’re everywhere! There’s no way we’ll get in here.” This is what you get, he thought, for lis
tening to a Tomas and a Janus.

  Rupert felt himself shrinking away. They were three people — one a farm girl; one a soldier; and one a brave and handsome and intelligent sort of fellow, but one admittedly lacking in search-and-rescue experience. They were three people to find one person in the midst of an enormous factory guarded by dozens and dozens of other people with frightening weapons.

  He glanced at the others. Marie was chewing on the inside of her cheek, her forehead creased. The major was muttering to himself, counting softly under his breath. They crept a little farther down the water, trying to angle to see the other side of the building. Along the south side was a gated yard, where piles of supplies stood under guard. The west side was against the water, and the north side was nothing but smooth wall with windows along the third floor. They couldn’t see the east side, but Marie said that was where the main entrance was.

  It seemed impossible to Rupert. There were obstacles no matter what way you looked at things.

  “Tonight,” Major Thompson said. “There will be fewer guards. We’ll do it then.”

  That evening, Rupert sat on the old crate in the barn with the lantern lit at his feet. Marie was napping, and the major was hunched over, looking at something in the dirt. Rupert looked down at the watch in his hands; it had been his grandfather’s. Rupert had brought it with him, and now he watched the seconds tick by. The tick was so loud, it was like cymbals crashing in his brain, and he couldn’t help but to think that every second that went by was one more second that moved him toward getting killed.

  “Wake up, Marie,” said the major, calling both Marie and Rupert over to his drawing. Marie immediately opened her eyes and sat up, looking like she’d just seen a ghost in her sleep. Rupert pulled the crate over to look at the major’s map.

  He’d drawn out the river and the factory, and then made notes where he had seen the guards that morning.

  “We cross the river here,” Marie said, indicating a spot in the river just a little southwest of the factory. “The water is slow and shallow.”

  “Fine,” said the major, marking their path. “Then once we’re over —”

  “We enter the factory in disguise. As German soldiers,” said Marie.

  “Not all of us speak German,” Rupert reminded her.

  “Pity, that,” said Marie. Rupert scowled at her.

  “No,” said the major. “We can climb the wall here.” He pointed to the north side of the factory. “There wasn’t a searchlight set up on this side. We’ll scale the wall up to the third floor — there’ll be fewer guards on such a high floor — and enter through the window.”

  “You must be joking!” said Marie. “Davenport will never be able to climb so high! His arms are too puny.”

  “Hey!” said Rupert. “Like you can climb a wall in a skirt. You’d get us caught. No, we’ll go around this way. There’s bound to be a back entrance on the river side — I’d put one there, if I were building a factory. And my family’s built plenty of factories in England. I know all about it.” Which was almost true. Uncle Chester had invested in a weaving factory, back before the turn of the century.

  “We cannot do it three ways at once,” said Marie. “Disguise will be the easiest way to get in and look for the doctor.”

  “And where are we going to get three German uniforms? Plus, you’re a girl. And we don’t speak German. How many times do I have to say that?” Rupert argued.

  The major leaned away from his map and rubbed his hands over his face. “If you two don’t stop bickering and listen to what it is that we’re going to be doing, I’m locking you both in the barn and throwing snakes in through the windows.”

  “It’s wintertime; they’re all asleep,” said Rupert.

  “I WILL WAKE THEM UP,” roared the major, to which both Rupert and Marie hissed at him to be quiet.

  As the hours ticked by, there were only three things that everyone could agree on: One was that they find the doctor, and two was that they bring him home. Three was that the other two Cahills were stupid and slow and utterly incapable of an intelligent thought. “Let’s just get on with it,” said the major. And then they went. Back through the woods and to the stream and the brook and the river, all by the light of a waning moon.

  “This way now,” said Marie, taking them down a deer path that Rupert hadn’t seen before. This led to the marshy edge and across a flat and rocky strip where the water slowed and it didn’t seem so deep. “We can cross here.”

  The water was bright silver under the moon. “You’re daft,” said Rupert. “They’ll see us. How very like a Janus to not think things through.”

  “Tais-toi, Davenport,” Marie snarled. “I am growing tired of your attitude, too.”

  “Quiet,” Major Thompson hissed. Across the way, over the sound of water, they heard the sound of voices.

  “That’s German,” said Rupert. And it was. “You led us right into the Germans!”

  Marie pursed her lips and then scowled. But Major Thompson held up a hand and the other two froze. The German soldiers had turned toward them. Rupert didn’t think they could see the Cahills — it was too dark and they were hidden by the trees — but they all froze anyhow.

  “Wer ist es?” called one of the soldiers.

  Marie pressed her hands over her mouth, like she was afraid that she wasn’t in control of any noises that would come out. Major Thompson fingered the gun at his belt. Rupert had seen guns before, of course. Hunting ones, and then the artillery and the guns at the front. But he had never seen the faces or heard the voices, up close, of the enemy soldiers that they’d shot at. This soldier had blond hair and he spoke with a slight lisp. It seemed wrong to kill a person once you knew what color their hair was and whether or not they had a lisp.

  “Es ist nichts. Es ist nur ein tier,” said the German soldier’s companion. He waved the other one over, and they settled down to a game of cards.

  “They think we’re an animal,” said Marie.

  “Two-thirds right,” said Rupert.

  “Well, we can’t go this way now,” hissed Major Thompson. “Some kind of help you are.”

  “I am,” Marie snapped back. “How should I know that they would be here?”

  “Your whole reason for being here is that you said you knew things,” snarled the major.

  “Quiet!” said Rupert. “Obviously, crossing here isn’t going to work. We’re going to have to find another place.”

  “Follow me,” said Major Thompson. He pointed downstream, toward an old wooden bridge, and then wasted no time leaping silently through the forest. For such a large man, the major was remarkably agile. Marie and Rupert followed, slower and suspicious.

  The water under the bridge was ripping past much faster than it had been a little farther upstream. “We’ll go across with the bridge,” said the major.

  “They’ll see us if we do that, you idiot,” hissed Marie. “We should go back down and cross over the river. We can handle two or three guards. It is no problem.”

  “We’re not going over the bridge,” said Major Thompson, as if this idea were pure genius. “We’re going under it.”

  And that was just about the stupidest thing that Rupert had ever heard. But Major Thompson didn’t give them any time to question his decision. He went right over to the supports holding up the bridge. It was a web of wet and cold logs, crossing one another the whole way over. Rupert had an uneasy feeling about this. How very like a Tomas, to pick the most impossible way across a bridge. No one could do this and make it over alive. But Major Thompson grasped a log and climbed up into the trusses.

  Rupert shook his head. Marie was already plowing ahead, muttering something in French. Rupert didn’t need a translation — he could get the gist of it from her tone.

  Rupert grimaced and put his hands to the supports. And he began to ho
ist himself up into the dark, wet space beneath the bridge. The wood was cold and covered in icy patches. His hands slid numbly over the wood, and he tried to ignore the splinters and slime. He was shaking with tension, hoping above anything that he didn’t fall. The water would sweep him away and then he would die a no one, washed up on the side of a nowhere river.

  Major Thompson was already on the other side, urging Marie and Rupert to move faster. Rupert gritted his teeth. Of course it was easy for the major — but for those of them who weren’t hulking monsters capable of superhuman physical feats, it was going to take just a moment more.

  Every muscle in Rupert’s body strained to hold tight to the wooden beams. Beneath him, the river splashed and sprayed icy water onto his clothes, and his hands prickled and burned with what he hoped was not frostbite. Overhead, he could hear footsteps and horse steps and the gravelly rumble of the few cars that came and went.

  It was terrifying. But at the same time, he got a thrill from it. If he could risk taking a hand away from the bridge, he’d thumb his nose at those stupid soldiers who thought they were smart and skilled enough to mess with the Cahill family and get away with it.

  On the far side of the river, the major and Marie helped Rupert shimmy down the last support beam without making a splash. Knee-deep in icy rushes, they crouched and waded toward shore. Spotlights shone down from the factory and swooped around, casting light on corners that wanted to stay in shadow.

  There was a moment on the German side of the river when all three Cahills looked at one another with expectation.

  “Right, then,” said the major. “Guess I’m going this way,” he said, pointing around toward the north wall. Marie and Rupert made no motion to go with him.

  “You can’t expect us to follow,” said Rupert. “No one except you, Major, can climb a wall. And no one but Marie can speak German enough to get through the door. We’ll do what I say, and we’ll find a better way in. It was stupid to come this far without a plan!”