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| The Merlin Factor. Chapter Nine. | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Dec 17 2015, 01:59 AM (105 Views) | |
| crow | Dec 17 2015, 01:59 AM Post #1 |
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The Merlin Factor. Chapter Nine. Part Two: The Battle. Recovery. England: The North Sea, off Sheringham, Norfolk, 1940. It would not be long now. The cold was moving upwards and in. Up to my heart, squeezing it flat, slowing the blood and pulling a slick grey curtain across my vision. No use to fight. No point. My legs were long forgotten, along with my groin. Already dead. The foul salt flooded my mouth again, replacing breath with murderous, solid extinction. Even the pain was fading as my body temperature plunged toward the point from which there could be no return. Ah, fuck it, anyway. I sobbed a final, hopeless sob and sank beneath the dark, uncaring waters, far beyond the stage of fright, into an opaque vault of nothingness. Some part of my brain continued, automatically, to monitor the last few inches of the recording tape that was my life. Click, buzz. Shutting down. Going off the air. Only the test pattern remained now; a grey on grey lattice of random electrons, dwindling, dwindling, fading to black... ...bump... A dull, soggy impact. Gradual dismemberment accompanied by a dull roaring. Choke... Pain! "Blimey! 'e's got no bleedin' cloves on!" "...is 'e gorn?" "Dunno, do I? 'e's not far orf oi reckon..." "Gawd. Poor bleeder...'e won't make it..." "...see any uvvers 'en?" "Nah...dunno...just the one, looks like..." "Well is he dead?" "...fink so, Cap'n. What should I do?" "Get him warm, man! Get him below and give him a chance, for Christ's sake! And get a move on!" "...aye..." Ahhhh. Oh the pain. Dead? Water for air. No breath. A hammer blow to the neck... "...careful there, man. Maybe 'e's still tickin' like..." "...not likely, is it? Cor, jus' look at 'im..." Random electrons in a frenzy. Connect. Connect! Startup. Hurry! Online. Go! Power up. Switches... Like a great, slumbering machine, the waterlogged mind shook and shuddered like an electric motor starved for power. Buzzing ineffectually, scrabbling for enough amperage to turn over. No no. No can do. Not. Never. Null. Uhhh. "...uhhh..." Gurgle. "Blimey, Frankie, boy! Joo 'ear that?" "The bugger's alive! Christ! Quick, get the Cap'n..." "...aah...mm..m..." "Easy, boy. Frankie'll see yer right. Jus' you lie still, like. Get yer some grog, so I will. Ah'd yer like that then, eh?" I knew I was alive. Suddenly. The shock of it almost killed me again. Nothing is more difficult than to relinquish death, once you have accepted it. Nothing. "'ere y'are, boy. Sip this. Fix yer right up, it will. Elickser uv the Gods, it is. 'ere!" Molten lava ran down over my useless tongue, gouging tunnels through the salty death inside me. I exploded into a column of solid, bilious water, stinking and thick. They had brought me back just to murder me. "Easy does it, boy. Jus' a drop, like. No 'urry. All the time in the world, there is." Another fiery invasion, only this time it finished me. "...'ere...you all right...easy......un....g..roo.........." ***** Shadows came and went. Disembodied phantoms. Oh the disappointment. I'd thought I might yet live. And the relief. Thank God I hadn't. Floating. Still underwater. Warmer now. Mmmm. A sudden wave of - what - sexual pleasure? Uh. Oh. More. Yes, more, oh please... Rising to a needle pointed summit. Balanced there. Impaled! Always dead. No matter what. But the feeling... More. Higher. Faster. Over the top and accelerating downward. Oh. Ohhhhhhh... Out into the light. Splatter. Hard vacuum. Slippery suction and baby cotton wool. Groan. Mmmm. Out. "...be all right...take time...realize...flying again..." Nothing was important. Who cared? Not I. This was great. Oh the comfort. Oh those lips. They did feel like lips. Mmmm. ***** They came frequently. Nurses in blue and white. Tight belts and caring, rubber-gloved hands that knew no barriers. Firm, professional fingers that probed wherever they liked and never once apologized. Doctors too. They never touched. They rigged the set and watched while their scripts were enacted to their specifications. A woman leaned over me. Attractive yet motherly. Not a nurse. She called me Johnny and kissed me in a way that made me squirm and gasp. She said she loved me and thanked God I was safe. Nice. She spoke in hushed tones to the doctor who wore the funny half-moon spectacles, casting anxious glances in my direction. I smiled, faintly, still adrift somewhere very far from this room. "I can take you home, tomorrow, Johnny." She leaned over me again, and I noticed the size of her bust as it brushed against my chest. She smelled of - of warmth and summer - of so many things I couldn't put names to as I tried to locate myself. "Get a good night's sleep, dear. I miss you terribly..." A tear ran down her cheek and she kissed me again, holding my face in her leather-gloved hands. I could roll my eyes just enough to watch her behind as she left the room. What a strange outfit. Old-fashioned. Very sexy. Seamed stockings and shiny high-heels. The nurse leaned over me again, feeding pills into my cotton mouth along with a glass of what looked like water but tasted like turpentine. Groan. "...who...who was that?" I croaked. The nurse looked at me strangely. "Don't you remember, Johnny?" "...Johnny..." It was so hard to talk. "Not Johnny...who..?" She disappeared briefly, before returning with the half-moon Doctor. "What's this then, Sergeant? Having a little trouble with the old noggin, are we?" He chuckled, adjusting an antiquated-looking stethoscope around his neck. "You've had a nasty bump on the head, Sergeant. Only natural, you know, that things should be a little foggy for a day or so. Not to worry. We'll have you back in the air in no time." I stared at him. Ridiculous. Not a straight answer in sight. I made a supreme effort: "...look. Just tell me... Just tell me one thing..." I had to pause for a moment to remember the rest. "Am...am I dead?" He looked at the nurse and they both laughed, filling the little white room with sterile echoes. "Good heavens, Johnny," the nurse patted my hand. "What a thing to say!" "You're very much alive, Sergeant," laughed the Doctor. "As I said, a nasty lump on the old skull, what? Nothing to worry about. Nothing at all. Now you just try to rest..." He stopped at the sudden nearby wailing of sirens. "Damn them! Nurse, get Sergeant Hawken down to the shelter, will you. Easy does it. He's not a fit man just yet." Then to me: "We'll talk later, Sergeant. Try to rest." He span around and hurried out the door. "All right, Johnny. Hang on. We'll have you there in a jif." I watched the ceiling rush past as the nurse propelled the bed along a corridor, down a ramp and into a large room full of other nurses and bedridden men. She stroked my hair briefly and then was gone. "Oi! Johnny, boy!" A tall man in a blue uniform staggered over to me, lurching on a pair of crutches. "Thought you'd bought it, ol' boy. Got a bit of a wallop myself, as you can see. Feel better, do you?" His ridiculous moustache was wider than his face and I had to giggle, or at least try. It was a quick giggle though. Too hard to keep it up. Much too hard. "Who are you?" At least my voice was coming back. The man burst into laughter. "Damned if I know, old boy! Just a bleedin' brolly-hopper like you. Tell me, did you ditch or jump? Lost sight of you after we got bounced an' then my kite just sort of fell to bits over Cromer. Almost landed on the pier! But I missed it. Damned parachutes scare the livin' daylights out of me. Sort of involves a bit of black magic to get the things to open, eh?" He slapped my shoulder and I remembered how much I hurt. "Oh, sorry old boy. Bit tender are we?" I blinked. What the hell? What the devil was going on. The man in blue looked upwards at the ceiling as a great roaring sound filled the room, rose to a frightening crescendo and slowly faded away again. I noticed the badges and insignia. A pilot? R.A.F.? "Bastards!" He turned back to me, murder in his eyes. "Got to get fit, Johnny, boy. Them fuckers are thick as thieves up there. Bastards..." I reached out and touched his hand. "Who are you?" His face sagged. He took a deep breath and swayed on his crutches. "You're not jesting then? Jesus, man. Lose your memory, did you?" He sighed, a vast compassion wiping out the murder that had disfigured him moments before. "I'm Fred. You know me, Johnny. We get pissed together at the King's Skull. Every bleedin' night. Well. We did until you fell in with that ol' 'anworth lady. Seen her 'ave you?" "Who?" "You're in a right state mate. Honest to God. She's your bit o' stuff, for 'eaven's sake." He paused, considering. "Isn't she? The squadron all thinks so, but you never say a word about 'er. Anyway. She's old enough to be your bleedin' mother." He clicked his tongue. "Ought to be ashamed of yourself, old boy. Pick on someone your own age. 'as she been in to see you then?" "There was a woman in to see me today," I felt so tired. "Sort of - sexy. Nice bum. Big tits and high heels. She kissed me. Twice." Thinking about her bosom made me feel much better. "That's 'er. Right bleedin' man-eater, I'd say. Good in the sack, is she?" My heart was hammering. My God. Who was I? Who was she? Why the hell was I lying in this place with this - this Fred - who spoke of the `squadron'? And Cromer? He had said Cromer. I used to live there once. Didn't I? But it wasn't here! Wasn't now... I really didn't want to have to deal with any of this, right now. No. Oh no... "Eh? She good, then? Johnny? Hey, Johnny?" He shook his head and wandered away, muttering, when he realized Johnny was, once again, fast asleep. ***** I did, in fact, feel very much better the following day. I could sit up and eat my porridge with the best of them. I felt an enormous relief when I was able to look into a mirror, while shaving, and certify that it was, in fact, me that I saw there. I had been worried about that. My dreams had been absolutely normal. Which in itself was very suspicious, since nothing else was anything like normal at all. I knew who I was, somewhere just beneath a very thin veneer of not-knowing, and it wasn't anyone who had anything to do with any of this. I would remember. I was sure I would. And then I would tell someone in authority and get this whole mess put straight. I would. She strode into the little white room around two in the afternoon, smiling bravely, and looking quite spectacular. She leaned over me again and kissed my ear in what was obviously a familiar and loving way. She smelled so good. "How very nice to see you, Johnny, dear. You look much better." She stopped, cupped my chin in her hand - she still wore those black leather gloves - and looked into my eyes. Worried. "The Doctor said you were having a little amnesia, Johnny. Do you... I mean, well..." "Lady - uh - Holworth, Lady..?" "She smiled a soft, mature smile. An arch smile. "Hanworth. Marion Hanworth. I hope you haven't forgotten about me, Johnny? Have you?" I was becoming ludicrously aroused at her very presence. Maybe my private parts knew more about her than my mind did. I badly needed someone to cling to just then and I was very glad that it could be someone like her. "Let's get you dressed, then, shall we? Come along..." She helped me to stand, somewhat shakily, her gloved fingers nimbly shedding the rumpled linen hospital robe. After making a quick inventory of my nude body as I shivered, feeling like a child before her, she smiled again and held up a uniform. A blue one, just like the one Fred had been wearing in the shelter. Right down to the wings and the three chevrons on the sleeves. "No extra holes, anyway, thank heavens. You must have had an awful time, Johnny dear. Doctor says I am to take good care of you for a day or two, but then, I'm afraid, the squadron wants you back. Here. Put these on. Do you need help?" I winced, bending over to step into the shorts, and she took the opportunity to assist, standing behind me so that her breasts nuzzled the small of my back. She was a rather tall woman, and in those heels, she was slightly taller than me. She passed her hands over my stomach and whispered: "Oh Johnny. I'm going to take special care of you tonight. Just the way you like it. Would you like that dear? Are you up to it?" I struggled to concentrate on getting dressed, my fly buttons suddenly unwilling to accommodate me. There was something badly wrong with my back. Every time I moved, a bolt of pain shot all the way from my hips to my brain. I could only grunt something, which she evidently took for assent. Who was this woman? "Good luck, Sergeant!" The nurse - I never learned her name - waved as we passed. Doctor half-moon looked up from his latest patient, holding up his hand. "Ah. Off then are we? Good show. I wouldn't fly any sooner than you have to, Sergeant Hawken. Nasty shock, you've had. Coming back to you, is it? Hmmm?" "I - ah - well..." I couldn't seem to speak coherently yet. "Don't worry. You'll be fine. Get a few of those Jerries for us, eh? But be careful. Best of luck to you." He held the door as Marion guided me through. "Thank you Doctor. He'll be a new man tomorrow." She winked. "You have my word." As soon as we were alone, she held me tightly and clamped her lips down hard over mine, her arms encircling me in a surprisingly strong grip. How much more of this could I take? Was this really my - what had Fred said - my `bit of stuff'? It was embarrassing. But I congratulated myself, anyway. What a woman. I must be a breast man. Lord, what a pair... She helped me into her car, a beautifully-maintained antique Austin, and I started at the realization that the wheel was on the wrong side. Or the right side. Or... England. I was English. I had lived in Cromer at some point. Up in Norfolk. That was it. That was about all I knew. It made no sense at all. A pilot? Sudden fear gripped me. Was I supposed to go out and fly an aircraft? "I... I... I can't do it!" She turned to me, brow wrinkled, reaching out. "There, there, dear. Everything is all right. Auntie Marion will look after you." I stared at her, dizzy with what felt like acute disappointment. Crushed. "Auntie?" I couldn't believe it. "You - you're my Aunt?" She laughed. A strange, embarrassed little laugh. Out of character for what I had so far seen of her. "Just a manner of speaking, dear. You like to call me Auntie. Surely you remember?" I stared at her blankly. "I see you don't. Never mind. It will all come back. You'll see. Perhaps you'll recognize the way as we drive." Well I tried. Maybe I really was incredibly concussed or shocked or something. All I really knew for sure was that I was in a constant state of sexual arousal and at the same time in the grip of a gnawing dread of something utterly nightmarish in the process of unfolding before my very eyes. It would all come back. Eventually. I recognized nothing. A stranger in a land grown strange. In a body grown strange, in the intimate company of a strange woman with strange ways. Strange was more than just a word, right then. It was the world and everything in it. The light was hurting my eyes. A sudden moaning thunder brought me back into sharp focus, craning my neck to identify the sound. That sound... The Sound! A name sprang, unbidden, into my mind. Merlin. The single word that characterized the glorious, nostalgic music that was blaring towards me now like the vast orchestra of a host of avenging angels. It grew and grew, its pitch dropping an octave at the instant of maximum effect. Like a locomotive hurtling by on some breakneck journey. Three sleek aircraft thundered by fifty feet up and disappeared in an instant, trailing a haunting, whistling moan. Moist eyed, I stared after them and knew... "Your crowd, I expect," she turned and smiled. "Beating-up the countryside as usual. Our engines, anyway. Did you see them?" "Spitfires," I said. A trapdoor opened in the fabric of my life and suddenly I saw through it to the other side. This was not my life. And yet it was. Had been. Would be. Forever, perhaps. "Uh - ah - Marion?" My hands were sweaty, slick with stark reaction. "Yes, dear?" "I... w - would you help me? I - oh - oh Auntie, I need you!" I started to sob. Shaking uncontrollably. The true gravity of the situation came flooding in on me like a tidal wave, annihilating everything. I was, without a doubt, going to die. I knew it. Not the slightest doubt. I was terrified. Somehow, Marion eased me from the car and inside her home. I was fit for nothing at all. Nothing. Entirely lost in a maelstrom of terror. She telephoned the hospital and spoke at length with the Doctor. I suffered and sobbed until she came back to sit beside me on the couch. "There, there, my darling. Shhh." She really did treat me as if she were my Aunt, crooning and baby-talking me into compliance. "Doctor says you will be under shock for a while. You must realize dear, that what you are feeling is not unusual. You are very upset. Very frightened, too, and who could blame you? I want you to cry. Men should cry much more often than they do. Would you like me to help you cry, Johnny? Would it help if I spanked you?" All was confusion. I wanted only to give up. To surrender. A man can only deal with so much. Only so much. I shook and sobbed, imploring her with my eyes, until she pulled me gently towards her and laid me over her lap. I felt her fingers lowering my uniform trousers and waited for the slap to come. It was coming back now, things sliding into place. A sharp jolt as the first blow landed, and another and another. She was good at this. Did it often. It was why I needed her. Why I adored her. She knew what I needed and enjoyed giving it to me. A way to deal with the horror of flight. The horror of what the Nazis had done to the wonder of flight. She knew me. Loved me like a son. Treated me as one, except for her boundless appetite for sex. She had pulled me through this before, and would again. Marion. Auntie Marion. I wailed and sobbed until the tears were gone, lying across her strong, silken thighs, entirely grateful and completely lost. ***** The brief respite fled like a fox before the hounds. It was strangely unpleasant the way my body and mind recovered from their mutual ordeal. Much too fast. An uncontrollable slide down a steepening slope into continuing terror. Marion, as usual, babied me, encouraging unlimited access to her marvellous breasts, baring her large, dark nipples and guiding my lips down to them. Motherly, protective, but at the same time giving me gentle pep-talks about how it was my duty to get back up there and kill the Huns. For my country. For honor. But most of all, for her. They had all been right. The half-moon Doctor, Fred, the nurse... It looked that way. I began to remember more and more, to recognize feelings and situations. I studied road maps, in some confusion at first, but soon came to a knowing of where I was and what it all meant. But still the feeling persisted. I was not meant to be here. This was not my life. Nor was this time my time. I fretted and struggled, trying to feel like a man but mostly failing. Sometime during the night I had awoken to the terrifying growl of alien aero-engines, booming over the fields and clattering against the window panes. A spine-chilling off-beat drum-roll. Sinister. The clamor faded rapidly away to be replaced by the familiar whistling groan of a fully-boosted Merlin engine, in close pursuit. I thought, too, that I heard the faint beat of Brownings and a dull Crump! far off in the night. A Defiant, probably. Or a night-flying Hurricane from Martlesham. Out to hammer another intruder into the English soil. I lay there shivering against the warmth of a naked Marion, hoping the morning would never come. But of course it did. A beautiful late-August morning; a hot, blazing reminder that for all the millions of Nazis, there would always be a sun in the sky. If only one were allowed to live to see it. "I'll drive you over to the station, dear. Have you had enough breakfast?" "Thank-you Auntie. I feel much better." I looked down at my familiar yet unfamiliar spit-polished shoes, wondering. "Ah - why do I call you Auntie?" She laughed, that vibrant alto laugh that said it all. "Johnny dear." She strode over and hugged me. "You call me Auntie because you like to. And because I like you to. Because you are my darling little boy, and because we are closer than mere lovers. Besides, I am older than you. It reminds you of how to behave. Is your corset comfortable?" She felt for it through my uniform. "It's rather tight," I looked into her eyes. "Do you think it's such a good idea? If any of the chaps knew..." She had given me one of her stiffly-boned corsets to wear since I had complained about my back. It had been badly twisted, and hurt like the devil. She had told me how sweet I looked as she pulled up the lacing, squeezing my waist down to girlish proportions. "It is a very good idea, Johnny. No one will see it, and so what if they do? I was reading that they are actually designing flight suits that lace up tightly. Apparently it helps to keep pilots from blacking out. Keeps the blood from leaving the head, or something. You might be glad of it in a dogfight." "It's - it's just so - so..." I gave up. It was a woman's. She wanted me to wear her underwear into combat. I shook my head and let her kiss me again. She liked very much to take the lead. I suppose I enjoyed it too and certainly I needed all the help I could get. Pilots were not known for their longevity. No. "Shall we go?" The drive was pleasant. Green fields and knobbly country lanes skittered by as she chatted about whatever came to mind. She reminded me to get in touch with the volunteers of the Sheringham lifeboat, for it had been they who had found me and brought me back from the dead. All I could think about was climbing back into a Spitfire and finding out if I could remember how to fly it. I wasn't ready. Any fool could see I wasn't ready. I blinked back a tear, wiping it quickly on my sleeve before she could see. Suddenly I turned to her, moved close and kissed her fragrant neck. "Thank-you, Auntie," I whispered. "I need you so very much. If you hadn't have been here, I don't think I would have made it..." "Oh Johnny. Johnny, Johnny. What shall we do with you? You're just such a darling. Thank you for your kind words. I shall think of them when I see you fly over. Do you think you will? Will they put you up today?" I sincerely hoped not. "Ah - well they might..." The very thought made me feel quite ill. "You never know. There's such a shortage, these days..." "Well if they do," she smiled sweetly, "be sure and shoot down some of those nasty Germans for me. As many as you can. Please?" "Yes, Auntie. I will do my best." They were going to kill me. I knew it. She just didn't understand. Nobody did. Why couldn't you do as much as you could for as long as you could, kill as many as you could and then simply leave it at that? That made a lot more sense than going up again and again, long after your nerve had gone, just to try for a few more. I would have done almost anything to retire. But there could be no retiring from this. They would rather shoot you than let you walk away. Such a waste. My life. But not mine to live. Out of control. Completely out of control. She stopped the car at the main gate and turned to me. "You'll be all right, Johnny. Don't worry. Call me when you're free. I'll be waiting." She kissed me once more, giving me a quick squeeze between my legs. "Go on. Be careful..." ***** |
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7:11 AM Jul 11