Act I: Resurrection
November 17, 1944
Rouen, France
Alice boarded the USS LST-6 with haste as the men poured on board. She said 'excuse me' and 'pardon there' more times than she cared to count, being a half-to-full-head shorter than the milling crowd. The men hustled into the wide maw of the transport ship, swallowing the crowd whole like some ancient marine monster.
"Lieutenant Shaw?" a voice called through the mill. "Miss Shaw!" A hand waved, trying to get her attention. Alice cut left through the crowd, feeling not unlike a wounded animal swimming for shore against the current. She gasped a little as a hand pulled her up a step and she could finally see more than six inches in front of her nose.
"Captain Ben Franklin, pleasure to meet you, Ma'am." he held out a hand for her to shake, which she did gleefully.
"Did your parents have a love for history, Sir?" she asked to accompany the firm grip.
He grinned, releasing her hand. "You could say that. Your berth is up front and up two levels – picked the best lodgings in the house just for you – figured you might want some rack time."
"Much appreciated," Alice sighed gratefully, following him through a tight series of doors and steep stairs up to the Main Deck. She breathed in the fresh river air as it rushed over the steel decking. The view was short-lived as she had to trot to keep up with the Captain's long stride.
A few curious faces peered from their quarters as she walked by, evidently intrigued by her presence, but the officers also seemed to want rest of their own, the doors closing with muted noises.
Captain Franklin gestured to a door at the very edge of the hall. "Don't close the door to the head – it tends to lock itself, and then we'd have to come rescue you. It'd be mighty embarrassing, ma'am."
"Don't close the bathroom door; got it. Anything else?" she asked.
"Window gives you a nice breeze, if you feel a little green," he offered.
Alice smiled. "I don't get seasick, but thanks anyway."
"Get comfortable – we've got a slow slither down river, then more funny shapes to cross the channel. Five to ten hours, give or take an exciting few minutes."
Alice let out a swift breath. "Wow – ok. Definitely time for a Blanket Drill."
"We'll get you to London in no time flat – enjoy the ride." He gave a slight salute, more like a wave, and closed her door as he exited.
Alice looked around the tiny officer's bunk, taking in the tiny circle of glass that claimed to be a window and the narrow spit of real estate advertised as a bed. She dumped her bag on the upper bunk and kicked off her boots to sit on the lower bunk, not bothering to take off her med pack or even shed her jacket.
The mattress was softer than anything she'd had for over a year, and it was barely an inch thick. Heaven, she thought, flopping over onto the equally thin pillow. She fell asleep almost instantly, cradled by a comfort she'd forgotten to miss. The rocking of the boat in the water kept her under as they journeyed to the sea.
The soldier stood and aimed as if to fire at Dum Dum, but froze as a rock sailed over his head – missing his head by a mile, but gathering his attention and causing him to reflexively turn. Alice surged forward to crowd his space and make her a more difficult target. She swiftly removed the knife from the German's side, turned it, and jammed it upwards into his ribs.
He screamed, like a dying child. He screamed, louder than a dying animal. He screamed, blood pouring from his side, drenching her in the evidence of her destruction. It came out like a river, washing her away, away, away from her friends. She called out to them for help, but they couldn't hear her. Their backs remained turned as she grasped at the branches rushing by in reverse, but her bloody hands slipped too easily from their rough surface.
She was carried far away from her friends, the screaming still singing loud, sharp, and wild in her ears. Bullets rained down in a hailstorm from above, singing in violent but melodious chorus. The words cut through the thick air, singing 'Ave Maria, Ave Maria, Mater dei'.
Alice tried to shield herself from the lethal fire, but it required dunking her head in the river of blood. Her side burned as the fire of God came seeking vengeance from above. Her lungs burned as she nearly drowned in the churning, rolling waves.
Alice gasped for air as she sat upright in her bunk and immediately smacked her head on the steel underside of the bunk above. She fell back, rubbing her sore forehead and swearing profusely. Alice kicked the sweltering blanket off her legs and swung them around, leaning out of the bunk to try and catch her breath.
I need a drink, she thought, groaning as she stood. But I doubt they've got anything stronger than water on board. Washing her face would have to suffice. Her toes curled slightly up and away from the cold steel, and she absently slipped her feet into her boots to ward off the chill but didn't bother to lace them up.
The floor was surprisingly steady as she walked to the little toilet off her cabin, chancing a glance out the tiny porthole to the gentle waves of the English Channel. The light of late afternoon was starting to yield a pretty red sky, visible occasionally though the large clouds.
Alice stepped over the high threshold of the bathroom, and turned on the water. She let some accumulate in the sink before splashing it on her face, scrubbing a little with her hands to scrape the salt away. Much better, she thought.
A loud alarm cut through her thoughts and the relative peace of the moment. A beating of boots joined the clamor, responding to a call that Alice had yet to process. The ship heaved suddenly to one side, throwing Alice against the bathroom wall and slamming the door shut behind her. Her head rang soundly against a steel wall and her arm twisted at a funny angle. Her cry of pain was completely drowned out by an explosive noise so loud – so loud – that she couldn't hear at all.
Alice tried to stand but the ship lurched again, bucking violently like a wild horse. Alice's head cracked against the wall, in the same spot, and the world went dark.
Alice woke cold, wet, and confused. The world was in motion beneath her in a distinctly nauseating way, and she pressed a hand against her stomach to quell the motion. Her hand fell to her side, splashing into icy-cold water. She recoiled the hand sharply, wiping it against her shirt. What the hell?
She stood, unsteady on her feet, and the cold water clung to her body, making her slip and slow to movement. It didn't help at all that the room had apparently tilted when she was out, with the floor leaning at a dangerous angle.
Water was burbling up through the sides of the door in an apparent breach. Alice took the handle and gave it a swift turn and push, hoping she could out-muscle the rising water. The handle, however, failed to catch. Alice blinked and tried it again.
No luck.
Realization dawned over her in an icy wave far colder than the water rising around her knees. "Don't close the door to the head – it tends to lock itself, and then we'd have to come rescue you. It'd be mighty embarrassing, ma'am."
The ship groaned and the floor dipped dangerously. Alice braced herself against the door, trying to avoid breaking her nose against the steel. Her brain rushed to come up with an escape plan. Okay, she rushed, I'm trapped in the head, and the ship is taking on water. Her brain couldn't wrap around the word 'sinking'.
Alice searched the bathroom, opening cabinets to find nothing of any use; bar of soap, thin washcloth, and a toothbrush. Useless, she swore internally as she didn't bother closing the cabinet doors. Alice ran a hand over her face, tucking one thumb into her belt – Alice's usual standing position.
Nothing in her kit, braced against her lower back still, would be much help either. She had bandages, medicinal plants, sewing needles and suture thread, and whatever else Bucky had managed to tuck in there without her knowing. Doesn't hurt to look, she reasoned as she slid the pouch around to her front. Alice's kit was all she had.
The water sloshed around her knees, splashing upsettingly high as she fought to keep her balance. Damn, she thought, I was right. Her pack contained exactly what it was supposed to, add a few shoelaces and a small red-handled pocketknife. Alice let the lid flap shut, and pressed a hand to her chest, feeling for the comforting weight of Bucky's round in an attempt to slow her frantic heart. She wrapped the cording around her fingers, letting the weight of the round tighten the tether. I just need a portable battering ram is all, she thought manically.
The bullet tapped against her sternum and Alice's brain did a little reset. I don't need a battering ram for the whole door, she thought slowly, just the lock. Alice yanked at the cording and the bullet flew up an out of her shirt, smacking her in the face.
Alice held the round close to her face, examining the head stamp and primer cap. She was looking for any mark, any indication that Bucky had diffused the round before giving it to her. The cap was present and pristine – no indication that the gunpowder had been removed from the round.
A nervous bubble of laughter tore through her throat as her hand struggled with the knotting around the round, trying to pull it free. Dodo gave me a live round, she thought as she both mentally berated Bucky and praised the heavens, full of explosives.
She pulled the round off of the cording, clenching the bullet between her teeth she pulled hard, hard, at the round. It slipped free – and so did a few of her teeth – but the motion startled her. The surge of adrenaline had invigorated her muscles but royally screwed with coordination. As a result, Alice swallowed the bullet like a modern person might accidentally swallow an ice cube. She gagged, her stomach rebelling against the odd action, but she didn't have the time to dwell on it.
Alice shoved the casing, still full of gunpowder, into the lock mechanism. She took the thin wash cloth from the open cabinet behind her and tucked it around the casing as tight as possible to seal it in place. Now for the fun part, she thought, opening her bag. She pulled out the biggest sewing needle she had and Bucky's pocket knife. She was going to make her own firing pin.
Alice didn't have the luxury of time to take deep breaths to steady her hand. She held the needle against the primer cap with her left hand, and lined up the handle of the knife with the other. Alice slammed the knife towards the needle as hard as she could.
The needle skittered off to one side, missing the blasting cap but succeeding in shoving the needle deep into her hand. Alice took a steadying breath as she pulled the needle out. She wiped the blood on her shirt to prevent any more accidents. A trickle of blood and hot pain reminded her of the limited time, in case the water at waist-level wasn't enough of a reminder.
The casing had maybe three grams of gunpowder in it, but she needed it to work, needed it to blast the lock open. For all of that to happen, she needed to hit the primer with her firing pin. Alice took one last steadying breath and cracked at the needle with Bucky's knife.
The less than dramatic whoompf heard on Alice's side of the door was a welcome sound, sweeter than any chorus of angels. Alice seized the door handle and turned it with all of the muscle she could manage, and it turned. She had to heave and push against the water trying to keep her trapped in the bathroom. The water line surged up to her shoulders as she forced the door open.
Alice's bunk was swiftly losing the battle to the ocean, pouring rapidly into the room from a hole in the side of the ship that dipped up and down above and below the water line of the ocean. Alice felt like she was swimming in a loose parachute for all the clothes she was wearing. She pulled her shirt open, popping all the buttons and ripping it free. She didn't notice that her dog tags had gotten tangled up into the sleeve as she dropped it with a slap against the surface of the water, shucking her boots as well.
Alice mis-timed her dive for the opening, catching it as the boat tucked under a high wave. The water pushed her back against the ship, and the rocking steel pushing her down, down, down. Bubbles of precious air escaped through her mouth as she descended forcefully into the dark gloom of the English Channel.
The ship pinning her down slowed its roll, and Alice was able to push away. Her lungs burned for oxygen as she swam for the light through the frigid, murky water. She couldn't feel her hands very well, and her feet were just big globs of meat flopping away at the ends of her tiring legs.
Alice was so cold, she could feel her brain trying to shrivel up inside her skull; she was sure of it. She was so cold, Alice was sure her body was auto-amputating a toe or a foot or a hand. She was so cold, Alice could hear the warm chuckle of a friend, tucking a warm blanket around her shoulders to ward off the winter snow. You stay under there; I'll get a fire started.
No arguments here, Alice thought. She wanted to sink lower into the blanket, but couldn't seem to find the edges. She thought maybe, if she closed her eyes, it would be easier to feel the wool. But her hands were so cold… so cold.
Alice felt a pull – behind her chest, tugging her through gravity and through light and through. Gravity spun her like a test tube in a centrifuge, threatening to tear her apart when the cold had just tried to keep her together forever, forever. Through her closed eyes the colors warped past a spectrum she had known, blinding her and showing her a world beyond beyond.
Alice could sort of feel when the spinning stopped and although she still felt a rocking sensation, the surface beneath her was sturdy and still.
"Goddamit, kid – breathe," a gruff voice commanded.
Breathe? Alice thought. She tried to move her chest but found it too full of other things to bother with air. A memory flickered in the reflexive part of her brain and Alice choked on the water from the Channel, coughing it up in burbling spurts.
"There you go, get it all out." The gruff voice sounded relieved, helping Alice roll over onto her side and clear her lungs.
Alice could barely pry her eyes open – they felt scratchy and old. They watered as she did it anyway, her hands big blurry blobs as she tried to orient herself on what felt like an old wood floor. "Wh-" she stammered, unable to make real sounds properly. "Wh-?" The question danced away, falling out of her mouth.
Her eyes focused poorly on the hand helping her to stand, following it up to a face with one glowing, robotic eye. "You're back, kid," Cable informed her. "Mission accomplished."
A/N: This was the chapter that made me estimate May as a release date. I started work on this in maybe… December? It's hard, because there's not a lot of dialogue. My typical method for getting through some rough content is to write out all of the dialogue, then go back and fill in the action and the emotions. When there's not so much talking… it's a lot more challenging. I also needed to do it justice because I'm sure every one of you was curious – desperately so – to know if/how Alice escaped death on the LST-6.
I'm experiencing a bit of a block getting through some of the upcoming content, and I'm hoping posting this will help clear that up.
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