Tomorrow's Guardian

CHAPTER TWENTY–SIX – PRISONERS AGAIN

  Teuber reached over and retrieved his Luger from the top of the cabinet and put it away in its holster. Then he answered. “I don’t have much choice, Thomas Oakley. You will have to come with me.”

  “To this detention camp?” Tom asked, suddenly alarmed.

  Teuber nodded and then it appeared that a thought came to him. “Actually, this might work quite well for us,” he said. “Those friends of yours – Dyson and Hawker?”

  “Edward and Charlie: what about them?”

  “When I last heard, they were due to be transferred to the detention camp to await questioning by Captain Redfeld.”

  “Well, I suppose that is something. Hopefully, we can find them perhaps. But then what?”

  “We must get you home,” Tueber said.

  Tom nodded. “Can you do that? Open a portal?”

  “A portal? Ah you mean the door to your world. Well ... no I can’t. Redfeld calls it Projection – that’s how he visits your reality. I think perhaps Neoptolemas can – he must have some way of getting here because it has always been in my world that we have met. I assumed you could, for if not, how then did you get here?”

  Deciding not to disclose his ability to Walk, Tom explained about Mary re–opening the portal that Redfeld had made during the attack in Trafalgar Square.

  Teuber looked thoughtful. “I have been wondering about all this since I learned what Redfeld has been doing. Evidently he has trained a special squad of men in Projection. Yesterday I heard that he had used them to capture spies, as he put it, from your reality. Even in a high security facility like this one, rumours do fly. Until recently I knew he was able to visit your world, but I did not know he could take anyone with him.

  “So, you have never heard of him doing that before yesterday?”

  “No.” The officer shook his head. “So then, this Mary – could she not open the portal for you?”

  “No, I really don’t think she can just open one up herself, it has to be there to be opened, if you know what I mean.”

  “Erm ... I think so.” There was a knock at the door and one of Teuber’s men opened it.

  “Is everything all right, sir? The Colonel said we were to transfer the prisoners to Newbury.”

  “Everything is fine, Unteroffizier. I was just interrogating the prisoner. Right you,” he now barked at Tom, “outside. You have a transport to catch.”

  They were marched briskly to an elevator and hustled inside. With a lurch, it descended down through many levels until abruptly coming to a halt. When the doors opened, Tom could see they were in an underground parking bay or garage. To one side, mechanics had a car’s engine stripped down and were working on it. Nearby, other vehicles stood ready for refuelling and there was a strong smell of diesel in the air.

  Beyond the fuel pumps, a couple of dozen trucks were parked. Tom and Mary were led to one of them and made to clamber up inside. Long, low benches ran down both sides of the truck’s interior and they were ordered to sit on one and then a manacle was fastened to their ankles and secured to a chain running the length of the bench. After that the guards jumped back down and for a moment the two prisoners were alone.

  Tom glanced over at his companion and saw that she was shaking a little and staring about her with a frightened expression on her pale little face. He tried to reassure her. “Mary, I can sense the Flow of Time and see the map again. I can Walk us away whenever we want.”

  At this news, the girl visibly relaxed. “Then, why not do it now?”

  “Well, firstly, we need to find Edward and Charlie and secondly, that officer who arrested us – Lieutenant Teuber ? it turns out he is working for Neoptolemas ...” and Tom told Mary about the conversation with Teuber. He left aside his doubts about the Professor. She had enough to worry about without adding that fear to the pot.

  “So you see that if we go along in this truck, we should find Edward and Charlie. If we run now, we may never find them. Moreover, if we did leave, questions would be asked. Sooner or later Redfeld would hear and he is not stupid. When he found out that Teuber had us in his hands and we escaped, the Lieutenant would get into trouble. Even if Redfeld did not discover Teuber was an ally of the Prof ...”

  “God forbid!” whispered Mary.

  “Exactly; either way he would be blamed and held accountable for our escape. In this world I don’t suppose that would be good, do you?”

  Mary shook her head. “You’re thinking that Teuber has risked himself to keep your presence here a secret, so it seems only fair not to betray him. It is a noble thought and surely God will protect and prosper those who hold such sentiments. I will so pray that he will.”

  “If you believe that praying will prevent us getting killed for me following my stupid conscience, then by all means pray. But do it in a while; let us make our plans first, eh?”

  “So then, what do we do?” Mary asked.

  “Well, as the place we are going is where Edward and Charlie are then we go there and we find them. Then we escape and go home.”

  For the first time in a long while Mary laughed. “That took a lot of planning!”

  “Yeah, well,” Tom shrugged, “now I came to think about it, we don’t know anything, so we can’t make much of a plan, can we?”

  The noise of marching boots coming closer made them both look towards the rear of the truck.

  “So, maybe you had better start with the praying after all,” Tom whispered.

  The rear doors swung open again and a dozen anxious looking prisoners were pushed in and made to sit next to or opposite Tom and Mary before being secured with manacles and chains. Tom glanced at them. Most were men, but there were some women and also two terrified little girls. They held tightly to a frightened young woman whom Tom surmised was their mother. Then the doors were slammed shut and Tom felt a vibration as the engine started up and they were away.

  For the next hour or more the truck droned along, stopping and starting and heaving this way and that. Tom began to feel a bit car sick and to take his mind off it, reached out for the map. They were going west along the main roads towards Newbury. It might have been the M4 – it certainly was following its route – but Tom knew that the motorways were built after the war. So, here, in the Britain of The Twisted Reality, they would have been built by the German occupying forces. Perhaps they were called autobahns, like the German ones were, Tom mused idly.

  Suddenly, the truck slowed down and gave a lurch to the left before stopping. Tom could hear other vehicles pulling over and the crank of handbrakes being tugged on. Outside, he could hear the roar of other vehicles still hurtling past them. A moment later, the rear doors opened and a guard leaned in, inspected them and unlocked the long chain at one end. Then he waved at the prisoners to shuffle out. This was difficult as their ankles were still manacled together, so Tom had to help Mary. In a few minutes they were standing with their fellow prisoners by the side of the motorway. Woods lined the edge of the road on both sides, but in the distance Tom could see the lights of a large town – Newbury perhaps. Back the way they had come, Tom noticed the glow of a larger city. Was it London? That did not seem possible: they were at least fifty miles from the capital. Then again, a vast swathe of the eastern night sky was stained a darker black by a huge pall of polluted smoke and fumes. It seemed that in this world the factories of a monstrously swollen London had spread out like a cancer across the entire south east of England.

  It was getting quite dark now, but Tom could see that there were indeed scores of cars and trucks pulled over to one side, mostly civilian vehicles, but some army vehicles like theirs. Meanwhile, a large convoy of transports was surging by. There were, it seemed, hundreds of them. They were military trucks, painted a greyish green colour, each one adorned with the lightning bolt flag, fluttering from a small pole upon each bonnet.

  In front of their truck, Tom could see Teuber talking to another officer who was dressed in a black uniform with a red armband. Other
soldiers in the same uniform seemed to be waving batons and directing the traffic. These were Military Police, Tom assumed. He heard a few words in German flow across to him.

  “Sie müssen hier warten. Der Konvoi fährt nach Exeter ...”

  Tom was starting to learn German at school. The military policeman had said something about the convoy heading for Exeter. That sounded odd. Why would a large army be going to Exeter? Dartmoor was near Exeter. He had heard that Dartmoor was sometimes used for army manoeuvres in his own world, so perhaps that was true here too. But, it did seem an excessively large force just for an exercise.

  Eventually, the convoy had passed by and soon afterwards the prisoners were all loaded up again into the trucks, the chains locked and they were off. The rocking of the truck was vaguely soporific and Tom saw that Mary had dozed off to sleep. He, though, wanted to know where they were going so he fought against the drowsiness and, leaning back against the side of the transport, connected again with the map in order to follow the route they were taking. This time the journey was not long, for the truck soon left the motorway and then followed a minor road for quarter of an hour before turning off it down a track. Braking suddenly, the transport came to a halt, throwing Tom forwards against Mary, waking her up with a start.

  “Sorry!” he whispered. “But, I think we are there, here ... wherever we are.”

  The rear door swung open and a torch light shone into Tom’s face, flickered across to Mary; ran along the one row of scared prisoners and back up the other. The chain was again removed and someone barked an order. “Out you lot!” Tom recognised the voice as belonging to Lieutenant Teuber.

  They scrambled out and assembled in an open space lit by floodlights and surrounded by long, low huts. Tom blinked: the place looked just like the prisoner of war camp in the old World War Two movie, The Great Escape. These structures, however, were more permanent, made of concrete and steel rather than wood.

  Mary and the other female prisoners were directed to one side of the ground and the men and boys to the other; then the women were led off. Mary looked back fearfully at Tom, who tried to go after her to tell her not to worry, but one of the guards stepped forward and shoved him back into line.

  The men and boys were now marched off towards a hut, herded inside and the door shut and padlocked behind them. The interior, which was dimly lit by only two light bulbs, was filled with a hundred or so bunk beds. The hut was already occupied by some thirty other prisoners, who studied the new inmates as they dispersed to find beds around the room.

  Tom was just about to select a quiet corner and attempt to Walk outside and find Mary, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Spinning round he found himself face to face with Edward. Charlie was a few feet behind him.

  “What took you so long?” Charlie asked smiling at him.

  “Thank God I’ve found you,” Tom said, his spirits lifting at the sight of them.

  “You should not have tried,” chided Edward. “It was far too risky you following us here to Redfeld’s world. You know Redfeld is here, don’t you? If he finds you ...”

  Tom nodded. “I saw him, but I wasn’t about to leave you two in the lurch, not after going to all that effort to rescue you in the first place! Anyway, Redfeld does not know I am here yet and we have an ally who might help us. His name is Lieutenant Teuber ...”

  “Who the hell is Loytnant Tueber?” demanded Charlie.

  “It’s how the Prussians pronounce Lieutenant, Charlie,” Edward replied. “Well the Germans, to you: but in my day it was Prussia. When I was a wet behind the ears officer cadet, I was sent to Prussia as an observer and picked up a bit of German then.”

  “Same question, whatever the language,” said Charlie in a bored voice. “Who is he?”

  So Tom explained how Teuber had helped them and would probably be a friend; or at least not an enemy, anyway. When he had finished, Charlie glanced at Edward with a sceptical look on his face.

  “You believe this Teuber then, do you? Did it occur to you that he might have been lying to find out what you know?” Charlie asked.

  Tom thought about that and then he thought about the business with the pistol. Would Teuber really have given him a gun if he was working for Redfeld? Well, possibly, if his belief in Redfeld’s cause was strong enough. But somehow he felt that he could trust the man. Something about him just felt right. In this horrible dark world there was something good – if that was that the right word – or at least honourable about the officer, which felt very different to how he felt about Redfeld. Charlie was right, though: Tom had only just met him. He shrugged. “Well, alright, I am not sure, but there’s not a lot I can do about it. Anyway, I am here now. Septimus and I agreed we need you to help defeat Redfeld’s plans.”

  Edward nodded and then rather stiffly put a hand on Tom’s shoulder. “Jolly kind of you to come, all the same.”

  Tom realised that this was the Victorian’s way of saying thank you and smiled. “No problem. We must get out of here and find Mary – she is in the women’s hut – and then get away if we can. I have no idea where we will find a portal to get home to our world.”

  Edward looked up sharply at that. “It is odd that you mention portals. Redfeld has already questioned us once, before transferring us here. He was very keen to know how you were able to Walk a group of us, all in one go. It seems he transports his men by creating portals or what he called ‘Gateways in Reality’. He also mentioned ‘projecting’ or something like that. Anyway he really questioned us on what you knew about them, how you opened them and how often.”

  “That’s crazy!” Tom shook his head, “I don’t know how to open them. Mary reopened the one in Trafalgar Square, but only because it was not fully shut – rather like reopening a scar or something.”

  “Or popping a seam on trousers?” Edward mused.

  “I just had a thought,” Tom pointed at Edward. “Redfeld cannot Walk other people, but he is able somehow to create these portals and use them to transport his men. Maybe there is some problem with doing it that way and if he could Walk them, as I can, it would solve the problem.”

  The other two looked confused now. “Oh I don’t know... maybe it’s dangerous or something ...” Tom trailed off, but he noticed that Edward was nodding.

  “Well, wrenching a hole in reality seems dangerous to me. Perhaps that is why he needs you.”

  “Only now he might not,” Charlie put in. “When we were being questioned, that Colonel Thiemann came in and the two of them talked as if we were not there: probably assumed we would not be for much longer, once they had finished with us.” Charlie ran a finger across his throat. Tom grimaced.

  “Anyway, that Colonel told Redfeld that he had just got a message from the Professor inviting Redfeld to a meeting at the British Museum.”

  “What!”

  “Yes, that’s what I thought at the time,” said Charlie. “It seems our Professor is talking to the enemy.”

  Tom nodded and now he told the others about his dreams of the Office; of Septimus and his deal with Redfeld, and of the Custodian’s meeting with the Professor.

  Edward and Charlie looked very glum by the time his tale had come to an end.

  “Who can we trust now?” Charlie asked.

  “Each other,” Tom said. “We have to rely on each other, Mary too; and I believe we can now trust Septimus. The Professor ...? I’m not sure; I want to trust him, but this news is worrying.”

  “Yes, very worrying, if he is talking to Redfeld,” Edward commented.

  “It means more than that. Don’t you see? If he could get a message to Colonel Theilmann it means Teuber is telling the truth – about this point at least– that the Professor can travel to this world: to the Twisted Reality.”

  Edward’s mouth dropped open. “Ah ... now I understand why Redfeld got so excited with that message. Perhaps our nasty little Captain saw a chance to get out of the Professor what he has not been able to get out of you, at least not yet.”

&n
bsp; Tom nodded, “That makes sense if he is seeking an alternative way to travel between the two worlds.” Tom paced about the room, but stopped when a few other prisoners looked at him suspiciously. He lowered his voice. “We must get back to our world and speak to Septimus. But Walking won’t help me here. Leastways, I can see the map of this world so I can get us out of this hut; get Mary and escape, but then what? We will still be in the Twisted Reality; we’re stuck here.”

  “Can’t you still see the map for our world, Thomas? I can,” Edward said, looking puzzled. “Maybe it is because I have been here a few hours longer than you, but I can feel two maps now – one clear and in focus, but very confusing because much of it is different to what I expect to see: the places where the Twisted Reality is at variance from our world, I suppose. Then, I think I can feel another map behind it: but the other one is fainter and I can’t really focus on it. But it’s definitely there.”

  That stunned Tom. He had not tried to link to the map of his own world since he had attempted it in the projector room and failed. Closing his mind to his surroundings, he did so now and there, behind the map to the Twisted Reality he saw it: dim but still visible – rather like the ghostly shadow you can get on an old portable telly as you try to get it in focus – there was his own world.

  He reached out to it, felt a connection and with a pop was gone from the hut and its prisoners and was standing next to a very surprised cow, who for a moment, stopped chewing grass and looked at him. Surprise in the life of a cow does not last long and being a cow who likes to get on with the day, it soon went back to chewing the grass and ignored him.

  It was as dark here as in the Twisted Reality, but he was in a field just outside Newbury, with no prison in sight. With a whoop of delight, Tom startled the cow, who took to her heels. He reached out again in his mind and could see the Twisted Reality map, there behind his own world’s map and out of focus, just as his own had been moments ago. It was with great reluctance – and a not a little fear – that he returned to the prison hut. When he reappeared, Charlie and Edward had moved and were talking to two of the prisoners.

  “What do you mean he just vanished? That’s impossible!” Charlie was saying.

  “I tell you what I saw with my own eyes. That boy was standing there and just vanished!” insisted a thick set, red–headed man with tattoos on his arms.

  “Oh come on, really, does that seem likely?”

  “You calling me a liar, mate?” The redhead said, his face reddening and muscles bulging.

  Charlie turned and winked at Edward and Tom sensed he was about to start a fight.

  “What’s all this about?” Tom said and pushed forward between his friends. “I just slipped that’s all! We don’t want to start any trouble, do we,” he added with an emphasis in his voice that was directed at Edward and Charlie.

  “Eh? You playing games, pal?” the grunt continued.

  “No – look, I am sorry mate, really I am. Just slipped that’s all.”

  “Right – well watch it – no more trouble or you’re all for it, understand?” Then muttering under his breath and followed by his cronies, the grunt bustled off towards his bunk.

  Edward, Charlie and Tom huddled back together. “Careful, Tom, you almost got rumbled then,” Charlie muttered.

  “Sorry – but we’re ok. I can Walk to our world. We just need to rescue Mary and get out.”

  “Well then let us depart immediately!” Edward said.

  Tom did not move.

  “What’s the problem now?” Edward asked, his voice rising in exasperation.

  “Teuber is the problem,” Tom replied.

  Edward nodded and summarised the situation. “If we accomplish an escape then the fact that Charlie and I, plus a boy and girl, have escaped will reach Redfeld. Redfeld will put two and two together with the extreme likelihood of getting four. Teuber would get questioned and life could get very hard for him.”

  “You know, lads, in Septimus’ absence someone should be the one to say, ‘So what – is that our problem?’ So it had better be me,” Charlie said.

  Tom and Edward both stared at him flatly.

  “Oh, all right!” Charlie surrendered. “You are right – it wouldn’t be on. But, can I just ask, where is Mr Mason when you need him?”

  “Nursing a serious wound under the eagle eyes of Doctor Makepeace,” said Tom with a rueful grin.

  “Well then, we must decide what to do without him,” Edward stated.

  Tom looked over at the red–haired grunt, who was still watching them from his bunk.

  “I have an idea,” he said.