by A. D. Winch
Eric took in the scene and worked out whether he could get to the sea. It wasn’t impossible but neither did he feel optimistic. Firstly, he would have to descend this building and sprint through the trees towards one of the base’s walls. He would then have to scale them and get over the barbed wire. If he managed to do this while being pursued by the unit below him, he would still have to travel another few kilometres to get to the town. By this point, he was sure that the soldiers would be happy to put a bullet in his legs. It would not be easy, but Eric relished a challenge.
Eric took a deep breath and ran over the flat roof. Cables and large satellite dishes blocked his path, but he dived under them without losing any speed. In spite of the situation, he was enjoying himself.
On the roof, was a little building no bigger than a wardrobe. He ran towards it but the door opened, and four soldiers poured out. Eric skidded to a halt. The soldiers spread out and slowly moved towards him. He had no option but to walk back until he was trapped.
Out of the corner of his eye, Eric could see a lower building to his right. The wind pushed against his left side, driving him towards it. Eric spun on his toes and sprinted towards the roof’s edge. He leapt into the air and jumped over four metres towards the other roof. Gravity pulled him down and as he hit concrete slabs he fell into a roll. The soldiers did not follow him and Eric soon saw why – there was no way down. He was two floors up with nowhere to go. Already, there were two soldiers approaching on the ground below and in a few moments they would be joined by the others.
Without thinking of the consequences, Eric jumped over the side. He fell quickly towards the ground and the instant he felt his toes touch the sandy dirt he bent his knees and crouched down. For a moment, he did not move. There was no pain in his legs or back or any other part of his body. He had fallen two floors and suffered no injury. The surprise had temporarily paralysed him.
A voice pulled him back to reality, and he looked up to see the soldiers once more in an arc around him.
“Lay down on your front and put your hands behind your head,” ordered the Sergeant.
Eric smirked and ran at them. Just before he was about to collide with one of the soldiers, he launched himself into the air. His left foot landed on the gun, his right foot on the soldier’s shoulder. A huge grin had appeared across Eric’s face. He landed on the floor behind the soldiers, slipped on the dirt and then two of them jumped on top of him.
Eric felt himself being squashed into the ground. He struggled, fought and managed to throw the soldiers off but three more then jumped on him. The soldiers grabbed hold of his feet and hands, and one fell heavily onto Eric’s chest.
“I’m Sergeant Kerry,” said the soldier spitting into Eric’s face, “and this is for Lieutenant Gomez.”
Sergeant Kerry pulled back his arm and punched Eric hard in the face. His knuckles smashed into Eric’s nose and blood spurted out from his nostrils.
Tears of pain began to form in Eric’s eyes, but he held them back. The world started to spin, and his energy quickly evaporated. The Sergeant punched him again, and Eric fought to stay conscious as the soldiers dragged him away. He kicked and screamed as they took him back down to the cellblock. They carried him into his room and threw him inside. Eric slid across the floor, and his head collided with the cold radiator. In spite of everything, he was smiling again. He now knew what he was capable of. Before, he had been confined by what he thought he could do. Never would he have thought that they could fall two floors without a scratch or throw two trained soldiers off of himself. His thinking had started to change. An added bonus from the morning's excitement was that he now had a picture in his mind of where he was.
Eric lay against the radiator and tried to send this picture to Ursula. It gave him hope, and that was what he needed. He continued to focus on the picture and on Ursula until he could no longer concentrate. His nose was throbbing painfully, and his eyes were puffing up.
He lifted his head until it rested on the cool metal and knocked out a rhythm on the metal with his fingers. It made a pleasant, hollow ringing sound. Eric closed his eyes and imagined that the radiator was his drum kit at home. He played out some more rhythms and tried to distract himself from the pain.
After a while, he heard a noise coming from the radiator. He stopped playing and listened.
It’s a pretty awful rhythm, he thought. There was no melody or time, just a random series of short and long taps. The taps ended and then started again. It sounded random again, but just like before. They stopped and started again, but this time he recognised the pattern. Slowly, it dawned on him. He wasn’t listening to a rhythm but instead to morse code.
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***
Chapter 4 – A Good Chat
“Jerome, what are you doing down there?” Mémé asked, looking up from her knitting.
Granddad Benjamin was sat on the floor next to a radiator with his ear pressed against it. In one hand, he held a piece of paper and in the other a pencil.
“Silence woman, I am using morse code and trying to communicate with the person banging on the radiator,” he replied.
“There is no need to speak to me like that,” she said with a sigh. “Well, if you do manage to communicate try to find out where we are and what all that noise was outside.”
Mémé continued her knitting while looking around the room they were in. She would have chosen the lilac paint herself if she had been given the option, and the big double bed did not sag like the one at home. The armchair she sat in was very comfortable, and the large flat screen TV on the wall showed all her favourite programmes. They even had an en-suite bathroom. In many ways, it was not too different from being at home, except it was much smaller, and she didn’t have to clean or cook. She did miss this, and the food was not as good as when she made it herself. On several occasions, she had asked if she could do some cooking but she was politely told, ‘no.’ All things considered their current situation wasn’t as terrible as it had initially seemed.
When the men first appeared at their apartment door, and barged their way in, she had feared the worst. They had pointed guns at them, and Mémé was convinced that she was going to be shot or tortured. In the end, all they did was make the Benjamins pack a suitcase each. After night had fallen, they were taken out of the building, put into a car and driven to a private airport. Mémé had quite enjoyed the flight, in spite of being sleepy. Two of the men accompanied them. They had not said much but had been polite and offered drinks.
As soon as they arrived, they were shown to this room and given some privacy. Mémé had sat down on the bed. She was feeling very tired, but Granddad Benjamin was pacing up and down the room like a caged wolf. In all the years she had known him, she had never seen him so angry. The big, warm smile that she loved had vanished from his face, and he looked as if he was about to explode.
“Come and rest,” Mémé told him.
“How can I rest? We don’t where we are, why we are here or if we will ever leave?”
“There is nothing we can do now.”
Granddad Benjamin fumed and ignored Mémé. His pacing slowed down and turned into a shuffle, but he still wouldn’t look at his wife.
Mémé got up from the bed and stood directly in her husband’s path.
“Jerome Antoine Benjamin!” she began, with an edge in her voice. “Nearly fifty years ago, in the presence of God, our family and friends, you made a vow to be my faithful partner in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, and in joy as well as in sorrow. This may well be a bad time, and you are not going to ignore me! You are going to support me, and you can start by lying down next to me, as you have done for all our marital life.”
Granddad Benjamin looked as if he was considering her words.
“Lie down before you have a heart attack, you old fool!” she ordered.
Granddad Benjamin did as he was told and lay down. He was as stiff as a board and just stared at the ceiling. Mémé lay down
beside him.
They lay in silence. There was no other noise in the room or outside it.
“Do you really think I’m an old fool?” Granddad Benjamin whispered sadly.
Mémé took his hand, “If you work yourself up so much that you have a heart attack or get sick again then yes, I do think you’re an old fool.”
She moved closer to him and turned onto her side so she could face her husband.
“But you’re my old fool and I love you.”
Granddad Benjamin smiled and ran his fingers through her hair. For a while, neither of them spoke but just appreciated the warmth of the other.
“What are we going to do, Jerome?” asked Mémé.
Granddad Benjamin thought before answering, “We wait to see what they want from us and in the meantime, you’re right, we rest.”
Over the next four weeks, it turned out that all ‘they’ wanted from the Benjamins was to talk to them.
After they had rested that night, a man and a woman came to their room but knocked before entering. They were dressed in sand-coloured army fatigues and politely asked the Benjamins to follow them.
The Benjamins were escorted out of their room, along the corridor to the door furthest away from them. The woman took a key from her pocket and opened it. The room was decorated a slightly lighter lilac than their room, and large paintings of desert scenes covered the walls. The Benjamins sat down on a large sofa, and their two escorts sat down on armchairs opposite them. A circular coffee table had been placed between the furniture. It was covered in biscuits, tea and coffee.
“May I?” asked Mémé.
“Please help yourself,” the lady replied in French.
“Allow us to introduce ourselves,” said the man.
Mémé looked at him. He had a thick, black beard which covered most of his face. She had once been told not to trust men with big beards because, to quote her mother, ‘they’re hiding something under all that hair.’ As he spoke, Mémé gazed at his face, to see if he was hiding something. She saw nothing out of the ordinary. His teeth looked perfectly symmetrical, his eyes looked sharp and his nose was slightly bent as if it had once been broken.
“My name is First Lieutenant Olivier Martel, and this is First Lieutenant Florence Caron,” he pointed across at the lady and Mémé looked at her.
“A pleasure to meet you and please call us Olivier and Florence,” her voice had a melody to it and even though she spoke French fluently, the Benjamins could tell that she was not from France.
In Mémé’s eyes, Florence Caron did not look like a soldier. Her body was too slim and her features too soft. She had obviously taken time over her appearance, even when wearing army fatigues. Her blonde hair had been neatly tied back, her eyebrows were perfectly aligned, and her skin was rosy and healthy looking.
“You are probably wondering why you are here,” said Olivier.
Granddad Benjamin leant forward in his chair, “Yes we are, and you'd better have some bloody good answers.”
“Jerome!” exclaimed Mémé. “Language!”
Olivier tried to hold back a snigger but failed.
“And you can stop giggling too,” she scolded.
Looking a little more sheepish than before, Olivier spoke, “I hope I have some good answers for you, but I will begin with a question. Do you know that the girl you call Ursula Benjamin is not from this earth?”
“Yes,” replied the Benjamins at once.
Olivier smiled, “That makes things slightly easier. In this case, do you know if you are safe from her?”
Mémé looked thoroughly confused, “Safe? What are you talking about?”
Olivier looked at the ceiling as he gathered his thoughts, before turning back to the Benjamins.
“Madame Benjamin, a tiger cub is a cute pet initially but when it becomes an adult, it will kill.”
“What are you implying?” asked Granddad Benjamin, obviously annoyed.
“I’m not implying anything. I am saying that you are good people for raising Ursula as your own but like every parent or grandparent,” he pointed at them, “you don’t know what kind of adult your child will become. In this case, we have the added complication in that Ursula is not from Earth nor does she have the same genetic make-up as you or I. She is a unique individual, and nobody can know what will happen to her when she hits puberty and becomes a woman. If, indeed, that is what she will become.”
Granddad Benjamin looked furious, “You are implying something, Monsieur. You are implying that our Ursula who we brought up to be a polite, well-mannered, friendly and honest person is going to hit puberty and suddenly turn into a blood-sucking, murdering, green alien.”
Florence quickly joined in the conversation, “Please do not read anything into the questions that we ask. When Ursula becomes a woman that is all that may happen but we don’t know for sure. Neither of us,” she pointed to Olivier, “believe she will turn into a green alien but, we are concerned for her and worried that she may not develop like other girls. If such a situation arises, she will need support and guidance.”
Granddad Benjamin grabbed a biscuit and held it tightly in his hands. Crumbs fell to the floor, and Mémé picked them up.
“If you don’t know,” he rammed the biscuit into his mouth, “then…”
Mémé tutted, “Jerome, don’t talk with your mouth full.”
Granddad Benjamin swallowed the biscuit quickly and continued, “Then you have to concede that Ursula may grow up to be a beautiful, intelligent woman who does nothing but good.”
Olivier shifted in his chair and thought over Granddad Benjamin’s words.
“Yes, erm, that could happen,” he replied unconvincingly.
Florence answered with more conviction, “You are right, Monsieur Benjamin, but you don’t know and neither do we. For this reason, we would like to talk to you and find out everything you know about Ursula.”
Olivier removed a tablet computer from under the chair and turned it on as Florence spoke.
“This will help all of us get a clearer view about Ursula Benjamin and enable us to help her in the future if such assistance is needed.”
Granddad Benjamin brought his fist down hard on the table, “We’re not telling you anything.”
The biscuits flew into the air and fell onto the ground.
“Jerome, control your temper,” scolded Mémé and leant down to pick up the biscuits. Florence helped her.
“What if we don’t?” asked Granddad Benjamin.
Olivier answered without emotion, “We will make your time here very uncomfortable. However, if you talk to us then we will provide you with anything we can, to make your time with us as pleasant as possible and when you have finished we will take you home.”
“Who is 'we'?” asked Granddad Benjamin and looked Olivier Martel right in the eye.
“For the duration of your visit, ‘we’ is myself and First Lieutenant Florence Caron. That is all you need to know.”
Florence and Mémé collected the remaining crumbs and put them back on the table.
“I can appreciate that this situation is unusual,” said Florence, “but our job is to gather intelligence about the unknown and Ursula Benjamin is an unknown. She is one of only two human beings on Earth, that we are aware of, who are not completely human. This is unprecedented in world history as far as we are aware. We need to know everything about her. I am asking you nicely to please help us.”
Granddad Benjamin folded his arms in defiance and replied, “It is up to my wife!”
“You can be so stubborn sometimes, Jerome. We’re too old to make life difficult for ourselves.” She turned to face Florence. “We will help you, Mademoiselle Caron, but in exchange you must tell us what you know about Ursula. In particular, where she is now.”
Florence put her hand to her ear while she considered Mémé’s request.
“Okay, that seems fair. We last saw Ursula in Poland. She broke into a Polish military base and then fled. From what we know, we
appeared fine when she escaped the base but we lost her after that. As we get any additional information, I will share it with you. I am sorry that I cannot be of more help. I can assure you that we are doing everything we can to locate her and bring her here. Now, if you don’t mind, please could you tell us about Ursula. Please begin with your earliest memory of her.”
Like all grandparents, Mémé enjoyed talking about her granddaughter and that was what she was going to do. If they wanted to know everything then, that’s what she would tell them. However, they could not read her mind, and certain ‘unique’ stages of Ursula development would remain forgotten. Until she trusted Florence and Olivier completely, she would struggle to remember the parts that she knew they would be most keen to hear.
Four hours later they stopped for lunch. Mémé was still talking about finding Ursula in the underpass. She had not mentioned Alexander or the pod. By this point, Granddad Benjamin was no longer angry. He had worked out what his wife was doing and had slipped into a relaxed, coma-like state. Every so often, he added something to the narrative but he let his wife do most of the talking. He watched Olivier and Florence hang on Mémé’s every word and inside he laughed.
If they were going to insist on asking questions about every detail, like ‘was there anything unusual about her cry?’ or ‘what colour was her excrement?’ - this was going to take weeks. As long as they treated them well, he could handle it. Now that Ursula and Eric weren’t in Paris there was nothing pulling him back home.
Mémé looked up from her knitting. Granddad Benjamin was still on the floor beside the radiator; tapping the metal with his pencil and then scribbling things down.
“Jero…”
“Shhh. E, R, I, C. It’s Eric! It’s Eric.” He jumped up and down, did a small jig and sat down again. “No more questions,” he told her.
When they heard a knock on their door, he hid the paper down the front of his trousers. Florence brought in their dinner and placed it on their small dining table. Over a meal of beef stew and aubergine salad, Granddad Benjamin showed his wife the paper. Written upon it was: Eric, prison, escape failed, army base, near sea, Arabic town, am fine, how are you? I miss you.