Inside the crate, James sweated, and he kicked the blanket down to his feet. There were a few airholes, so he could breathe, but his body heat stayed trapped inside the walls. He kept his hands up to his chest, yet every now and then James reached down to make sure the gun was still there. His sweaty palms slipped across the barrel. He prayed that he wouldn't have to use it.
Every turn they took caused everything in the back to shift, including James. The first few times it happened; James braced himself against the sides of the crate. It shifted to the side slightly, but never tumbled or crashed as he heard other things do. Soon his body got used to the turns, especially as they became more frequent later. He didn't know how long it had been since they started driving, but he didn't think there should have been these many turns so far into the journey. The thought of them being lost crossed his mind, and it terrified him.
James tried not to dwell on those thoughts, however. A tiny part of him still wanted to believe he would make it to England alive. And even though every confusing turn made his heart race, they never got caught.
The truck stopped after a while of just heading straight. James believed they had found the main road again. When the engine shut off, the boy placed his hands on the lid of the crate. Though the two boxes Newkirk had set on top pushed back against him with more force. He brought his arms back over his chest, and his fingers trembled.
Three solid knocks echoed from the top of the crate. James' heart pounded as the lid slid off and the Brit's face hovered above him. The man helped the kid out of the crate. The gun clanked against the wood as James dropped it.
The duo ambled out of the truck by way of a flashlight that Newkirk held. At the mouth of the truck, James smelt saltwater, and he heard the gentle waves crashing against the shore.
They climbed down into the mounds of sand. James sunk up to his ankles. Newkirk helped him drag his feet through the soft, grainy sand to the damp, compact sand.
"Watch your step," Newkirk warned, leading them up to something uneven. There was soft creaking beneath their feet as they walked, and the sound of the waves became deafening.
"Are we on a pier?" James asked, hand reaching out for a railing.
"Well submarines can't very well go on shore, now can they?" Newkirk replied. He stopped them a few paces short of walking off the pier and turned on the flashlight. He signaled out into the inky blackness. With every click of the button James felt his heart rate beat faster and faster.
Among the sounds of the crashing waves came the rush of splitting water. Mechanical clinks entered the cacophony and James felt the pier shake. Lights emerged from the water along with the hull of an entire sub.
Newkirk shined his flashlight on the entrance of the sub as the hatch opened. A man in a white uniform and tipped his cap to Newkirk. He extended a hand to James.
The kid felt frozen. His feet stuck to the wood like glue. The Brit gripped the boy's arm and lead him forward. Every step felt like the wood would give way and he'd plunge into the icy depths of the water to wake up back outside Stalag 13.
But the warm hand that grabbed his to help him onto the ship told him that this was real. Even having a minor heart attack after slipping on the damp ship told him this was real.
The man in white steadied the boy on top of the sub. "You're almost home, son," the man said getting on top of the sub as well as to allow James room to descend.
James didn't know how to respond. He looked down the hatch and saw a glowing, green light illuminating a control room. The man said something to him again, but the sound of the ocean swallowed it up.
"You're gonna be alright, mate. You're in good hands," said Newkirk from behind.
The boy turned around and saw the Brit giving him a smile. For a moment the Gestapo uniform vanished, and James saw the other in his RAF outfit. "Don't be a stranger, alright? After the war, I better see you in Paris for a show," James called back. The two waved goodbye before James climbed down the ladder. The man went in behind James and closed the hatch. The soldier helped him into a seat as they submerged.
A/N:
Merry Christmas to all and a happy New Year! I thought I would give y'all a little Christmas present since the story is wrapping up. The final chapter will be published this Saturday.