Did Robertson decide to change something? It was the only thing I could come up with, but he usually talked these major plot changes over with me. And I didn't think this guy was faking unconsciousness.
Hearing footsteps outside the door, I quickly dropped flat to the floor and moved underneath the unconscious sergeant's bunk.
Oi, stupid, I cursed myself silently as the door opened. Could you think of a more obvious hiding spot, genius? Under the bunk is always the first place they look, and then you'll be found out. I'm going to die before I figure out where I am.
Two people entered. The one with blue pants leaned against the support post near the middle of the cabin, with the other wandering around the bunks—probably checking underneath them. I moved further to the back, ignoring the feeling that I was probably lying in years of dust. I hoped I wouldn't sneeze.
"I told you, Newman wasn't in 'ere," one spoke in a bad English accent—Roxie's was even more convincing, and she was bad. Austin Powers bad. I mouthed 'groovy baby, yeah' underneath the bunk and smiled to myself.
The one over near the other side of the room stopped and returned to this side of the room. "I was sure that I saw him come in here, though. He didn't come out, so I thought he'd still be in here."
I could almost see the Englishman rolling his eyes. "You should be more observant then."
"I'm trying…" Obviously neither was all that observant, if they didn't notice the unconscious body above me. I tried to roll my shoulders, growing sore from sitting on the hard boards in one position. It hadn't been long since I'd first fled to the relative security, but I could practically hear my neck protesting. I carefully laid my head on my arms, crossed in front of me. I barely noticed the clink of my Celtic cross as it hit the boards.
"What was that?" Apparently they were learning to be observant.
I heard the footsteps cross closer to the bunk. I heard the unconscious Argentinean…no wait, wrong movie. Anyway, I heard the unconscious one moan a bit, tossing a limb around and knocking something metal over. "Its just Williams."
"He's out like a light!" The American sounded amazed. Typical. Not like he's never seen a man who's been broadsided by a plank for finding out about a German spy before. Okay, neither have I, but that's beside the point. I didn't sound so amazed. I think.
"What's this?" The Englishman said, and squeezing my eyes shut, I hoped he wasn't looking under the bunk. "That's a nasty bump."
I almost sighed in relief. Almost.
"I wonder what it was from?" I was beginning to notice that the American spoke really innocently. I mean, who wouldn't suspect the mysterious Newman? I would, even if I didn't see him clock Williams.
"Or who did it." The Englishman said suspiciously. There was a guy after my own instincts, despite the bad accent. I imagine others think my Scottish one is just as bad.
