Chapter 3
It had been a month in the new world. Well, sort of. Reepicheep had to keep reminding Charlie that time within this realm never passed, and that the passing of night and day only existed to maintain their sleeping and training schedules. "Time passing without passing," the Mouse chuckled to himself. "This world moves without Time." It was a difficult concept to grasp, one that Charlie struggled with for the first two weeks.
"It certainly doesn't feel like time isn't passing," he'd complain.
"Well, it isn't," said Reepicheep. "And it was Aslan's design, so we must trust in His way." This was usually his answer when he couldn't think up one on his own.
But despite Charlie's doubts, Aslan would appear at times, standing at the edge of the clearing and watching as the two trained, never saying a word. Charlie guessed the Lion had other things to worry about, problems to solve in other worlds that had nothing to do with him. Still, Aslan's presence at all was reassuring, and soon Charlie began to trust that Time didn't truly move.
As for the actual training, it was intense, and it had started the day he arrived.
Immediately after Reepicheep introduced himself, he broke off two branches from a nearby tree and threw one at Charlie. "Now, fight!" the Rat cried, and leapt forward with unnatural speed.
Charlie, even with all his military special forces training, could not keep up with the barrage of attacks, and within five seconds he knew he'd have bruises all over his body. Within ten, Reepicheep had hit him on the hand and Charlie dropped the stick with a cry of pain.
"Tsk, tsk," said the Mouse, as he bent down to pick up Charlie's weapon. "Some work is required."
"No shit," said Charlie as he massaged his sore arms. "And why with the sticks? Can't I just walk into the Nightmare with an assault rifle and waste 'em?" he asked.
"I already tried firearms," replied Reepicheep. "Swords work much better against the Nightmare's monsters. Bullets did next to nothing, even with Aslan's blessing upon them."
One day, about a month into his training, and after a particularly intense day, the Mouse, panting heavily, looked up at the horizon and noted the sun had begun to set. "We're done for the day," he declared. Charlie silently thanked God, as he was drenched in sweat and his muscles were sore. Reepicheep, meanwhile, walked over to the center of the clearing and drove his stick into the soil. "Hmm…" The Mouse sniffed at the ground for a minute, catching something of interest.
"What?"
"There's still magic from the creation of this world," Reepicheep replied. He curled himself up on the ground into a tight ball. The sun had set; night had fallen.
"What do you mean?" asked Charlie.
Reepicheep turned over. "Eh? Oh, the magic—this world is still forming itself," he explained, "and magic still penetrates very deep."
"What does that mean?" asked Charlie. He yawned, realizing he didn't actually care, but he listened to the Mouse anyway.
"It means strange things can happen, for this realm's natural laws do not exist yet. Which reminds me—something Azaroth gave me—" Reepicheep arose and, mumbling to himself all the while, went into his bag that he kept at the edge of the clearing (containing the Mouse's favorite foods, certain magical trinkets, paper and quill and ink for notes on training, a few blunted training weapons, and so forth) and pulled out a strange and terrible looking stone knife.
"What's that?" asked Charlie.
"It's a knife," he replied simply. He looked up, and seeing Charlie's confused expression was not resolved, exclaimed, "dear me! Did Queen Susan never tell you of her adventures in Narnia?"
"She told me it was a fantasy game she played with her siblings when they were bored staying at some old coot's countryside manor," Charlie recalled after a moment.
Reepicheep laughed again, but a sad gleam betrayed him in his eyes. "A game?" He gave an amused laugh. "Goodness me, Narnia was most certainly not a game!"
"Yeah, I figured that out."
And so, Reepicheep delved into the history of Narnia, and despite his earlier lack of interest, Charlie listened, perhaps not intently, but the Mouse was certainly not talking to a statue, either.
He began with a history of Narnia—how Professor Kirke as a child brought Jadis, the White Witch, at the dawn of time in Narnia; how the reign of King Frank and Queen Helen's line came to an end after nine hundred years, when it was overthrown by Jadis; how Jadis herself was overthrown by the four Pevensie children; how the White Witch had used the very knife Reepicheep now held to "sacrifice" Aslan at the Stone Table in exchange for Edmund's life being spared; how Aslan returned from the dead; and finally, Reepicheep ended with the battle resulting in Jadis's death and the defeat of her army. "And so," Reepicheep concluded after about a half hour, "that is the history I was taught as a young mouse, of the four who sat upon the throne at Cair Paravel."
He then planted the knife up to the hilt in the soft soil in the clearing's center, pulled his own sword out, and proceeded to curl back up into a tight ball. "Now, we sleep, child," he said and yawned. "Tomorrow at sunrise we begin training. Be proud of yourself; you're nearly ready to visit the Nightmare."
Althoug sore, Charlie wasn't tired yet. For a few minutes he tossed and turned on the plush soft grass of the clearing. No blankets were needed, nor beds of any kind, as per Aslan's design—hard and rough in daylight, yet at night, the world was as soft as the most luxurious mattress. Despite the comfort provided by the magic, a strange urge to explore had overtaken him, so without much thought, Charlie got up and disappeared behind the trees at the edge of the clearing.
August 5th, 1953, 00:23 hours, North Korea
It was dark. Charlie frantically followed the rest of his team through the forest, holding up an injured U.N. aid worker. "C'mon, buddy," he encouraged the man, who was limping terribly. Enemy soldiers were pursuing them, getting closer every second.
A shot whizzed past Charlie's ear, coming from ahead. Before he could warn his squad, they were ambushed, somehow overtaken from behind. Charlie grabbed the prisoner and ducked down behind a tree and into the bushes as gunfire erupted.
When it was over, Charlie didn't move. The footsteps of enemy soldiers kept getting closer, then further, then closer again, as they searched around, shouting commands at each other in Korean. He wished their translator were still with them. That might give him some clue as to how to proceed, if he knew what they were thinking. But, finally, as the U.S. support helicopter flew low overhead, its spotlight shining down on the forest, the enemy soldiers retreated to their camp.
Relieved, Charlie was about to get up and help the prisoner stand when the light overhead suddenly turned to an intense orange and, a moment later, the huge deafening boom of an explosion hit his ears and he ducked back to the forest floor. Small pieces of flaming metal rained around him, igniting the brush, and Charlie could only stay still on the ground, alone, as the world around him burned…
......
"Ha!" Charlie awoke with a start and bolted upright, sweating profusely. Where was he?
In a bed, it seemed. He looked out the window, noting the dull light of a city skyline and the sounds of a city street stories below. He was in an apartment. Such small realizations came slowly as his mind began to recover from the shock of the nightmare.
Something beside him stirred. "Charlie?" she called. A light clicked in his head. Someone.
Susan.
Most of it came back quickly after that. He was in Susan's flat in London. He remembered taking one week leave from active duty at Lakeheath, spending it with Susan.
"Charlie?" she called again softly. She sat up, the city lights illuminating her angelic face. "What's wrong?" she asked.
Charlie sighed, wiping sweat from his brow. "'Nother nightmare," he said. He felt cold, as if feverish, and his muscles were weak. He felt sick.
Susan moved closer to him and held him. "That's the third time in a month," she said, concern in her voice. It had happened while he was still on duty, culminating in a frantic midnight call, and ending with Susan delicately soothing him over the phone back to a state of calm.
"Happens," said Charlie. "And three in a month is an all-time low for me."
"I'd prefer it to not happen at all," said Susan, turning to him. "It's not healthy." She was worried; it showed in her eyes, almost sucking Charlie into her gaze, mindlessly adoring her gorgeous eyes.
In the end, he held her reassuringly, whispering, "it's fine. I'll be fine, I promise."
"I truly hope so."
A/N: I've always loved Reepicheep.