Chapter 7

The floor continued to pitch with the occasional roll as they rode out the storm. Chief watched, trying to keep his face neutral. He knew if he looked scared that it would trigger Garrison's 'take charge' attitude which would be great if he could take charge, but under the circumstances, not going to happen. Just watch and see how the officer would handle it. He seemed a lot calmer than when he had woken up. Maybe he could get Gavin to have a look at him although after throwing him around he might just refuse.

"It's the alarm. I thought it was to abandon ship," said Garrison. Chief caught a glimpse of some emotion he could not decipher before the officer turned away and tried to stretch out on the bunk. "Look, maybe I'm just tired. I'll lay down for a bit, maybe get rid of this headache."

Garrison was covering. Did he truly believe that he could sleep it away? He had to know it wouldn't. Maybe he was stalling for time, hoping to bluff Chief. All these thoughts ran charging through his mind. What was he to do? He sat back and waited.

It only took a few minutes until the officer turned back to his team member. "It's not is it?" He put his hands over his ears, then removed them, then recovered them pressing harder, this time looking Chief in the eye. Chief shook his head slowly keeping his face neutral. It saddened him to see the face fall and the shoulders slump. The look the Indian saw was resignation and that hurt. Garrison would never just give up. He must be hurt worse than he thought. Maybe the Captain would consider this an emergency and take them back to England. He didn't honestly think so but maybe mention it to him anyway.

"You can't hear that alarm, can you?" Chief shook his head. "It's in my head isn't it?" There was no panic just concern. "You know don't you?" He sighed as Chief nodded. "I can't hear. You're going to have to figure out how to tell me what's going on."

This was going to be hard, thought Chief, there was no way he was going to try writing it out. He indicated the boat around them then holding his hand out fingers together, palm down he mimicked a boat sailing in rough water. Garrison nodded so then he held a fist to his mouth and the other hand covered his ear then dropped his one hand and put a finger to his lips.

"Radio silence. How long?"

He held up his left wrist and pointing to his watch he made a circle.

"Twelve hours." Twelve hours to get his hearing back, they both hoped.

Twelve hours turned out to be less than four hours. Garrison had stretched out on the bunk, asleep and Chief was propped in the corner, dozing as best he could, when a sailor poked his head in. "Captain wants to see you, sir." Garrison had not stirred and the sailor was looking at him so he stood stiffly and followed.

He was ushered onto the dimly lit bridge. "How're you feeling, warmed up?" asked the captain. Chief nodded as he scanned the horizon then back to the captain. "We received an alert to change course. I informed them of your presence. I am afraid I have to put you ashore." Chief nodded, there was no help for it.

The two men stood on the shore watching as the dingy disappeared into the dark as it was paddled back out to sea. The worst of the storm that had tossed them about earlier had blown itself out, leaving heavy swells and an overcast sky. The boat with it's shallow draft would normally allow close access to the shore but the swells had presented a problem. As the crew had paddled shoreward, they had used the sound of the breakers to pinpoint their landing. Shouldering the pack of supplies the captain had given them they began their short trek inland. In the dark they could not go far but they had to get off the exposed beach.

It was hard to tell what time it was when Chief awoke. The sky was still overcast, the gusty winds occasionally brought showers. They were both cold and tired but the sooner they got moving the better. As the light improved Chief began to look for landmarks. He had studied the Captains maps and committed as much as possible to memory so he had an idea of the lay of the land, he just did not know where he was on it. Rousing his sleeping partner, the two men, damp from resting in the wet ground, began their careful reconnaissance. An hour later Chief spotted the house which meant a road and eventually a town. The Captain had shown them a map approximating where they would land but because of the dark they could not be sure until they found a signpost or a town. This was an area he had not been in so Garrison did not know of any Resistance contacts. They were on their own.

The house turned out to be derelict, the roof had fallen in long ago, no windows remained intact and even the floor had rotted out. They could smell the decay. As they walked Chief remained alert to his surroundings which was why he moved them off the road when he heard the approaching vehicle. From their vantage point behind the low stony outcropping they watched an ancient car rattle past driven by an equally ancient driver. Chief admired the sound of the engine, the huge grill, the back swept fenders and even the bustle back. It was a fine machine, and as much as he needed wheels, he would not hurt an old man to get it. Maybe if he saw it parked somewhere …

It was a long lonely trudge along the deserted road, their only company was the gulls lazily circling and occasionally calling overhead. The sky was still overcast and sea rough from the strong winds that continued to blow. Chief inhaled the salty air and it reminded him of when he had first come to New York and stood by the harbour only here there was no smells of dead fish or fuel or smoke and no boat horns. This was peace and quiet, solitude. Maybe if he lived long enough he would come back here for a while, rest his soul and ease his heart. This was a sad business they were in. Yes, some evil was destroyed and he had a hand in that but too many good people died as well.

Chief looked out to the sea. It was hard to tell where the sea stopped and the sky began, they were the same rolling grey. There might have even been fog out there. Seemed to be a lot of fog in this part of the world.

Funny how a guy could change, he mused. There was a time when this was all he wanted, solitude but now… It had to have been living with guys and working with them, guys with a common goal, guys who worked hard, and relaxed just as hard. Here, there was no back biting, no distrust. This wasn't like pulling a job where everyone was out for themselves. He didn't have to worry about someone ratting him out. He and Casino might fight once in a while but it was mostly blowing off steam. There was no revenge or keeping score. This was different. A guy could get quite comfortable with this setup.

And Garrison, he thought as he turned to check on the man in question who was plodding along a pace behind him. He was a good man, tough, firm, infuriating at times but a good man. He sure hoped he would survive the war. That led him to wondering what would he do after it was all over. Maybe he would marry and have a couple of kids. He almost smiled at the vision of a little blonde girl and boy running out to greet their daddy as he came home from work.

The scene faded. Unless he could get Garrison back to England and the doctors could fix what ever was wrong then there would be no happy scenes with children and a wife for the man who had set him straight. He pictured a broken down man, living on the street begging. No. No matter what, he would look after him.

They had been walking for an hour and had seen no one. This was obviously not a well travelled area. Chief hoped it was as thin in Germans as it was in people but then realized that if there were no Germans then there was little chance of a Resistance cell with a radio. They would have to keep walking.

Chief had known hunger, had lived with it, and knew Garrison had as well. Under other circumstances he would ignore the need but Garrison was looking pale and that determined look he usually wore during a mission had changed to one of confusion with a tinge of fear. He could have deluded himself that that was caused by the deafness but this was Garrison he was looking at. He would never let a simple thing as being deaf stop him. There had to be more to it than that. Maybe he was hurt in other ways. The only thing Chief could do was get him food and rest. That meant a place to stay for a few hours. The food the Captain had provided consisted of a thermos, now considerably cooled, and some sandwiches. What Garrison needed was something hot. He continued to scan the area. This coastal road that they were on would eventually lead to a town but because it followed the coast there was no cover from the cold damp wind that continued to blow. They would have to make do. Seeing a low stone wall eight feet off the road, he headed for it.

"What 're you doing? We have to keep going," demanded the officer who had remained standing on the side of the road.

Chief pointed at his leader then put his palms together and placed them beside his face signalling rest.

"No, no time. We have to keep moving." Against his better judgement Chief conceded.

Sometime later Chief saw the faint plume of smoke. Maybe it was a farmhouse where they might get food. The road they travelled followed the irregular coast but if they cut across the meadow they could save themselves time and steps.

Again when Chief angled off the road the officer objected. "We've only got a few hours of daylight left. Let's keep going." This time he did not stop but continued down the road. Chief had to walk back to his side and touch his arm. "I know you're tired Chief," he said without even looking at his team member, "but we can go a little farther."

This time Chief grabbed his arm, pointed to the smoke and tipped his head to indicate they should go that way.

Garrison squinted off in the direction indicated before he shook his head. "That's not a good place to stop. Just a little farther, okay?"

"Warden." Chief knew he couldn't be heard, it just slipped out. He looked back to the horizon to make sure the smoke was still there. It was. Couldn't he see it? He pointed again and again Garrison squinted and shook his head. Chief squatted down, pretended to fix a fire and held out his hands as if warming them. Looking up to see if he was being watched he indicated the smoke from the fire then pointed to the horizon.

The deaf man watched then looked in the direction Chief was pointing. Again he squinted. "Okay. Good thing you have good eyes, I would have missed that."

The good news was that Garrison was going to follow him, the bad news was that not only was the man deaf but his vision was also affected. Had it been this bad on the boat or was it getting worse? Was either condition permanent? If it was, it spelled the end of Garrison's career and the end of the team. Damn, he had to get him back to England and to a hospital, fast.

The field they were crossing had not been ploughed for some time. There might have been cattle or sheep grazed here at one time but there did not appear to be any now. Some of the clumps of weeds had grown up six inches tall, other areas were very short. It was on one of these clumps that Garrison tripped and fell to his knees. Chief heard the sound and came back to see if he was hurt. Stunned, he sat still while Chief checked him over before climbing shakily to his feet.

As they moved inland scrubby bushes appeared in some of the shallow depressions. Up ahead small trees stood guard around the source of the smoke. Counting on the foliage to mask their approach the two men moved in closer. The house, when they could see it, was old. The paint, once white, had faded and peeled to the point the house was more grey than white. One of the small windows had been boarded up, the other was covered in dust and grime, looking as grey as the walls. Behind the house was a small shed and past that an old rusted truck. Chief motioned for Garrison to stay then moved silently toward the back. Looking to make sure there was no one watching he moved to the door. A quick look confirmed it was a chicken coop but there was only one chicken and no eggs. He eased back out and tried to open the truck hood. The few inches he was able to lift it before the rust squeaked told him not to bother, there was no battery.

As he approached Garrison's position he experienced a moment of fear when he could not see him. The officer had laid down to watch the house and had fallen asleep. There was nothing else he could do so he approached the house. Fearing a shotgun blast he walked slowly keeping his hands in sight. Nothing happened so he knocked on the door. After a long wait the door creaked open a few inches revealing a small figure silhouetted by the fire. He folded his hands in prayer and then mimed putting food in his mouth. He waited.

The door open slowly to reveal an ancient woman bundled up in rags and an old coat from the Great War. This was going to be the hardest part but he had to do it. He mimed eating, shook his head and pointed to the bushes where his friend was laying. She looked confused. He indicated one, placed his palm on his chest, then pointed to the bushes and then held his head in pain. Please make her understand, he thought to himself as he waited. He had to do something so he pointed to himself then to the shed then indicated he would carry wood to the fire. She looked at him then out into the yard. He wanted to open his mouth and beg but she opened the door a little farther and handed him a coal scuttle. He had to smile in relief and at the wily nature of the woman. Work first then food. He took the pail and looked about. She pointed with a gnarled finger toward the back of the house.

By the time he came back she was standing at the door with a bowl. He made to enter to put the scuttle by the fire but she blocked the way so he put it just inside the door. Wiping his hands on his pants he took the bowl, bowing in thanks. He turned and hurried to where his friend lay.

"What're you doing?" demanded Garrison when Chief woke him up. "How 'd you know they're not going to turn you in? You should've woken me. We've gotta get out of here."

Chief grabbed his arm forcing him to stop. "There's no phone," he said as he held an imaginary phone to his ear then held it out while shaking his head, "and no neighbours," he indicated the area around them, "to tell."

That seemed to placate his anger. "Maybe so, but next time you let me do the talking." Mollified he took the bowl of thin soup. "Where's yours?" Chief's indication of his stomach satisfied Garrison and he ate. Once the bowl was empty he wiped it as best he could then placed a few francs in it. Chief took it and returned it to the woman. When he returned Garrison was ready to go.

Chief indicated the shed and made the sign for sleep, saw his companion nod and together they moved into the coop. Their rest would be short, they wanted to be away before anyone might come calling on the old woman.

After about an hour they set off again. The sky was still overcast but the wind had dropped somewhat. They headed south east until there came to a road. "There," said Garrison as he pointed to a crossroad up ahead. "Barfleur, maybe we can get a ride on a fishing boat there. We'll be home before you know it. Let's go." He folded the map and put it in his jacket.

A sense of relief crept into Chief's soul. The old 'take charge' Garrison was back. Everything was going to be all right. He felt hope for the first time since, well, a long time. He did not smile, they weren't home yet and they had a long way to go. A lot could go wrong.