Felix Jones And The Book Of Words (A Felix Jones Adventure 1)

by Julian Roderick

  “Nooooooooooo!” came the shriek from the dark copse.

  Tom staggered out from the shadows towards his father. Gordon held the sabre towards Tom and gasped his final words, “It’s your turn now.” Sobbing uncontrollably Tom took the sabre and fell to his knees next to his father’s body.

  29

  Tom was inconsolable. Felix and Buckley helped him back to Buckley’s caretaker’s cottage.

  “My father spent all afternoon telling me about The Guardians and their duty. My temperature was the first time I had felt the ear burning.”

  “I’m so sorry,” sobbed Felix, feeling his best friend’s pain. “I should have saved him.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I knew this would come but I wasn’t expecting it to be after a few hours.” Tom said tearfully. The two best friends hugged; their bond would be stronger than ever from now on. Buckley brought them both a mug of hot tea. Having lost his father to The Brethren the previous week, he sympathised with Tom.

  “We will protect you the best we can,” said Tom with a brave smile.

  “We’ll fight them together you mean,” winked Felix. He would not let these two go without a fight now he had his sword. “I need to find out about the history of The Book of Words and why The Brethren want it,” Felix stated determinedly.

  “That can wait,” said Buckley. “He needs to go home.”

  Felix and Tom walked home slowly carrying their swords loosely in their hands.

  “We can’t walk round school with these on our belts.” Tom knew they had to carry the swords but didn’t know how to hide them from the other students.

  “No, we’ll have to wear long coats,” laughed Felix.

  “And look like right weirdoes!” chortled Tom.

  “You have a point,” said Felix with a grin.

  Silently they both began addressing the problem.

  “I’ve got it,” squealed Tom. “Buckley hides his in his broom, we can hide ours in something we can carry”

  “Good thinking, but what,” asked Felix.

  “Our guitar cases,” beamed Tom.

  The pair had taken up playing the instrument in primary school, and they now were part of the school rock society. Nobody would bat an eyelid at the sight of the pair carrying guitars around school. When they reached Tom’s home they hid the swords in the garden shed and Felix walked Tom to the door where he was met by a tearful Mrs Matthews.

  “What’s wrong mum?” asked Tom pretending he was clueless as to his father’s fate.

  “It’s your father,” she sobbed. “He’s had an accident.”

  “Not the one on the common?” asked Tom. “We passed it on our way home.”

  “He’s been hit by a lorry,” she croaked, “he was pushing an old man out of its way but they were both hit and killed.”

  The realisation of the evening’s events hit the boys like a train and they both hugged Mrs Matthews in floods of tears. They knew the truth but somehow the book had hidden it from the world. Felix made everyone some tea. He knew this may not be the last bad news Mrs Matthews could receive at the hands of the Brethren. He promised himself that he would find a way to protect his friend and end all this nonsense. Tom did not ask for this any more than he had asked to be the Keeper. He said his goodbyes, collected his sword and slowly made his way home.

  30

  The front page of the local paper was filled with the story of the tragic accident on the common. It spoke of the brave hero who had given his life to try and save others. Felix smiled as he knew Gordon had given his life for more than just his fellow Guardian. He did not know exactly what, but it was bigger than the Brethren and the Book, of that he was sure.

  “This is awful,” said his mum.

  “I know, Tom was in bits last night and so was Mrs Matthews,” reported Felix.

  “I’ll go round and see her later, see if she needs anything,” she said kindly.

  Surprisingly, there was a knock at the door at the usual time, and there stood Tom with his guitar case on his back. He looked as if he had not slept a wink.

  “You should be at home!” said Felix.

  “I have a new job, it would a pity to be late on my first day,” replied Tom with a smile. Felix put his arm around his friend, slung his guitar on his back and they set off for school.

  Everyone kept their distance from the pair, not knowing what to say to Tom. He was taken to the Head of Year’s office and spoken to about how to cope with his grief, but he returned to lessons fairly quickly.

  “My mum says we have to get back to normal as fast as we can. Dad had told her our secret years ago but she didn’t believe him until last night.”

  “She must be worried sick about you,” Felix sympathised as he was too, knowing that the next time he would meet those creatures Tom was honour bound to protect him.

  “She understood and told me to be careful. I’m having a fencing lesson tonight. Want to come?” Tom asked Felix.

  “May as well,” said Felix. “We know it will come in handy.”

  The day continued as any normal school day. All students in Year 8 were given a letter to take home. There was to be a talk as part of their Religious Education lessons from an old Jewish gentlemen, a survivor of the holocaust during the Second World War. Felix’s mind immediately turned to Emile. The last time he had seen him he was about to be loaded onto a boat and shipped off to a death camp.

  Felix felt guilty. He could not leave Emile there to die at the hands of the German gas chambers. On the way home Felix was feeling low. Tom tried cheering him up with jokes and gossip but nothing worked.

  “I have to go back,” said Felix excitedly. “I have to save Emile from this!” he said waving the letter in Tom’s face. Tom suddenly realised where the Germans were taking Emile and his family.

  “How can you go back?” Tom blurted out. “And who’s going to look after you? All the Guardians are dead.”

  “There is someone,” said Felix “Trevor.”

  “Trevor? He’s just a soldier, he can’t fight the Brethren!” shouted Tom, “I’m coming with you and don’t try and stop me. I’m your Guardian now!”

  Felix grabbed him by the arm and they ran back to Felix’s house. Felix shouted, “Mum, we’ve got a project on Paris to do. Where are dad’s photos and booklets?”

  “In the shoebox under his desk,” came the helpful reply.

  The pair bounded up the stairs and into the study. They emptied the shoebox onto the floor. Felix grabbed a photo of the Eiffel Tower showing his dad and his drunk mates on rugby tour. He checked he had the Book and sword and placed the photo in a clearing amongst the mess. He smiled at Tom and jumped into the air. Tom pushed his friend onto the chair.

  “What are you doing?” screamed Felix.

  “How the hell are we going to get back to here? I’m coming too” said Tom. “You’ll need my help. It’ll take time to find the object and you don’t know where it will be, we may not have that long to search.”

  Remembering the journey from Berlin, Felix took out his mobile and took a photo of the room.

  “There!” he said, “sorted!”

  Without warning, Felix pushed Tom out of the room and jumped onto the photo of his dad. By the time Tom ran back into the room, Felix had disappeared.

  Felix felt safe in the rainbow vortex as he travelled, and he waited for the sudden thump when he arrived at his destination. He came round and heard singing. He opened his eyes and there stood his dad and his mates singing rugby songs. He was in Paris, but it was 1988 not 1944. He had needed a photo form June 1944 to get to Emile. He laughed at the drunken idiots staggering towards the Tower, placed his mobile on the floor and jumped into it. He was on his way back home. He opened his eyes hoping he was on the floor of the study.

  Tom was livid. “All done?” he asked angrily.

  “Wrong time,” said Felix with a smile. “Where are the books on Paris? We need a picture of 1944.”

  “Dad told me about a memorial to the Jews who
were shipped from Paris. There’s a tunnel under Notre Dame filled with candles. One for each of the people taken from there. I don’t want Emile to be a candle!” screamed Felix as he frantically threw papers everywhere. Together they searched through the pile on the floor.

  “Here it is!” screeched Tom, handing Felix a leaflet. On the front cover was a picture of the memorial. But that was no good - they would end up in the time when the photo was taken. He opened the leaflet and there it was - June 12th 1944, a picture of the loading of the prisoners. He threw it on the floor and grabbed his phone, sword and the Book. Before he could jump, Tom knocked him onto the chair.

  “How are we going to get back?” said a worried Tom, jogging Felix’s memory.

  Felix laughed and held up his phone to take a photo of the room. Quickly, he jumped into the photo shouting, “Sorry mate, I can’t let you come.” Tom hurled himself forward and grabbed hold of Felix just in time. The pair passed out once again.

  31

  The vortex journey was filled with trepidation. This time they really were on a mission. This was not about the Book, this was personal. They woke up on the bridge looking down on the shipping dock alongside Notre Dame. Tom was kneeling over Felix with that stupid big grin on his face.

  “What did you do that for?” whispered Felix.

  “I told you, I’m your Guardian. You’re not going anywhere without me,” Tom said bravely. He added, “Anyway, you’re the only one that can kill these things, so if you think I’m fighting them without you, you can think again.” Felix knew he couldn’t talk Tom out of it. It was late evening. The clock on a church said half past seven. They were early. The pair made their way to Trevor’s safe house.

  Disbelief was the only way to describe Trevor’s face when he saw the boys at the door.

  “What in the name of all that is good are you doing back here?”

  “We’ve come to save Emile,” said Felix.

  “Jack died to get you home and you stand there wanting to save Emile.” Trevor was very angry.

  “We have to,” pleaded Felix, before telling Trevor what they had seen before his journey home and what it meant for Emile.

  “You’ve brought your sword this time then,” Trevor quipped.

  “You never know who will be there,” said Felix.

  “I’ve got mine too!” screamed Tom waving his sabre around like Zorro.

  “Who in God’s name gave him a sword?” laughed Trevor, “They must be bonkers!”

  The peace of the evening was shattered by a distant explosion. The Brethren had arrived. Trevor threw the boot polish to the boys along with some old clothes and a rucksack. They once again stuffed their uniforms into the sack and the trio set off into the gloomy evening light. They weaved in and out of the lanes past many familiar buildings until they reached the street on which Emile had been placed in a safe house. There in full view he was being dragged into an open back truck along with his mother, who was carrying what must have been Emile’s toddler brother. The truck departed for the shipping dock.

  “Where is Emile Dupont?” came a gravelly voice from behind them.

  Trevor turned and let rip with his machine gun, but the bullets went straight through the monks with no effect on their wellbeing.

  “Leave this to us,” shouted Tom as if he’d been doing this all his life. He pushed passed Trevor and lunged at the first monk. Felix drew his sword and in a short and swift fight in the confined space there were soon four piles of bones. Smiling broadly Trevor quipped, “You’ve come on a tad in the last 70 years!” The three of them sat there laughing for a moment taking in what the two teenagers had just accomplished.

  They ran down to the river and headed towards the bridge.

  “How are we going to save him?” whispered Felix. Trevor came to an abrupt stop next to a small rowing boat.

  “Jump in,” he murmured. The boat hugged the river bank as Tom and Trevor slowly rowed towards Notre Dame. They could see the truck unloading the people from Emile’s neighbourhood. Felix tapped Trevor on the back and pointed at the unfolding scene. Trevor nodded and began rowing towards the barge that the Jews were being crammed onto. There were four guards and two people in the wheelhouse.

  “I’ll sort the wheelhouse, you take the guards once we’re underway.” Trevor wished them good luck and left the boys.

  Tom climbed up the side of the barge, pulling Felix up behind him. They slipped onto the crowded deck and hid amongst the families who clutched their belongings and children close to them. Emile and his family were thrown onto the barge. They huddled in a corner and Emile’s mother started wailing like a lot of the other frightened women. Felix and Tom crept slowly over to Emile. Felix placed his hand over Emile’s mouth. Emile turned ready to fight but smiled when he saw Felix.

  “What are you doing here?” the French boy whispered excitedly.

  “I know where this boat is going. We’ve come back to get you off it,” said Felix.

  “No!” whimpered Emile “The second rule of the Book.”

  “What rules?” said Tom sharply. “Nobody said anything about any rules. I never follow them anyway,” he added defiantly.

  “When you go home get Felix to ask the Book,” Emile replied as he reached for his sword. It was gone. Felix pulled back his coat to reveal the Keeper’s weapon.

  “Future Keeper wins again,” laughed Felix.

  He gave Emile a knife and pointed to the guards at the rear of the barge. Emile nodded in unspoken understanding. Five minutes after the barge set off there were two loud splashes quickly followed by two more. Felix looked in the wheelhouse. Trevor winked at him. Two gagged Germans lay at his feet. The barge moved slowly and elegantly up the River Seine gliding through the shimmering summer moonlight.

  “Well this is romantic,” said Tom, “a trip up the Seine by moonlight.” In the wheelhouse the four of them got the giggles.

  Once they had left the city Trevor moored the barge. He told the confused crowd that they were free. There was a loud cheer. Some grabbed their belongings and disappeared into the dark countryside. Many decided to carry on in the barge up the river and try to get to England and safety. Emile waved to his mother and younger brother as they sailed away into the night.

  “Best get you home again,” said Trevor to the beaming teenagers who had just saved hundreds of people from certain death.

  “Easy this time,” Felix replied as he pulled out his phone. “What will you do now?”

  “I’ll help the resistance disrupt the German retreat,” said Emile with great enthusiasm. “Trevor says he needs a new partner.”

  Felix threw his phone on the floor.

  “Right Monsieur Law let’s find some mischief,” Emile said to Trevor.

  “Trevor Law?” shouted Tom as the penny dropped and he smiled at Felix.

  “Yes, why?” asked Trevor.

  “No reason. Thank you and good bye,” shouted Felix as he jumped into his phone, Tom’s arms firmly hung around his chest.

  Trevor and Emile shrugged their shoulders and began the long walk back to Paris.

  32

  Felix was shaken back to life by Tom.

  “Well” he said.

  “Glad that’s done, I couldn’t sleep if we hadn’t gone back,” smiled Felix.

  He opened the Book and looked at the list of Keepers.

  “Why are you staring at a blank page?”

  “It’s not blank, you just can’t see it!” exclaimed Felix.

  “It’s not changing” said Felix dully, “He still dies in 1944.”

  Disappointedly, he slammed the Book shut and threw it against the wall. Tom left silently to get refreshments.

  “Why does he still die?” Felix asked the Book.

  He opened it to the second page. There the answer came:

  ‘There are rules dear boy. You cannot break the rules.’

  “What are the stupid rules?” he shouted. He was angry that his last journey was pointless.

  Rule 1
The power is honest. Only use the book for what you think is right and not for personal gain.

  Rule 2 You cannot change events in time.

  Rule 3 Ask the right questions on your quest and you will get helpful advice.

  Rule 4 Only one book and sword can work at one time.

  Rule 5 Seven days is all you have before time will end your reign as Keeper.

  Rule 6 The rest you will figure out as you go.

  He began to understand why the date on the list had not changed. He also understood how The Sheriff knew so much. He just had one unanswered question. What had happened to Emile?

  33

  They still did not quite believe that they could travel through time. Felix wanted to put the Book out of his mind for a few days. He hid it under his mattress and went about his business of school and play. The day finally came of the Holocaust survivor’s lecture. Tom and Felix were looking forward to it, but they had been warned by Miss Barker that the content might upset them and that there was no shame in crying. Tom had also been warned repeatedly that his humour would not be appreciated by anyone.

  Not really knowing what to expect, the whole of Year 8, all two hundred and fifty of them, were filed in and asked to sit silently in the school hall. Young Buckley was stood at the light switches and waved at Felix and Tom. They waved back, embarrassed, through the mocking stares of the students in front of them.

  Mrs Barker climbed up the steep wooden steps at the side of the stage and approached the microphone. She gave instructions on how they were to behave. There would be no whooping and hollering and no rhythmic clapping. The usual warning that usually ended up in rhythmic clapping! The lights were dimmed and the assembled crowd stood to welcome Wonky Donkey and a small grey haired gentleman with a large handlebar moustache. He was smartly dressed in a shirt, tie, blue blazer and grey trousers. They slowly made their way towards the stage. The old man was helped up onto the stage and was introduced to the expectant crowd. He spent the first half an hour giving a history of Jewish persecution during the war. The students were sat silently, every pair of eyes and ears focussed on the slideshow and every word out of the old man’s mouth. The children felt every emotion possible. Guilt, happiness, sadness, shame, joy came and went.