Ok, from now on this is going to be updated every Wednesday, because otherwise I forget about it. Oops. Well, hope everyone had a good Christmas, and have great New Year! Erm... nothing else to say really, I'm not making excuses because I seem to do that far too much for this story.
Anyway, onto the story...
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Alex Rider. Unfortunately, Anthony Horrowitz does, despite all my efforts. Kudos to him for coming up with the amazing plot and characters!
***
The faces had changed, when he got back. Strangers walked passed as often as not and many faces were notably missing. He didn't ask where they were. He didn't need to.
He talked briefly to the Sergeant in charge of the stretch of trench he had been assigned to and found his dug out. Two metal framed bunk beds were crammed into the space. Alex had to stoop to avoid hitting his head and there was barely two feet between the two levels and not even that between the upper level and the ceiling. Alex was suddenly very glad he wasn't claustrophobic. Apparently conditions were a lot more cramped on this stretch.
Two men were already in the room, one lying on a bunk, the other standing in the corner.
"You our new roommate then?" asked the one on the bed, without opening his eyes.
"Yeah," said Alex.
"Try not to get yourself killed," he said, before turning over to face the wall.
Alex shifted his eyes to look at the man in the corner. He smiled wearily and crossed to the blond.
"Excuse Steve, ok? He's taking our last roommate's death kind of hard. We'd known each other quite a while."
Alex's eyes clouded in empathy. He'd lost friends in this god-forsaken war too, until he learnt only to care for those who were safe. There were only three people he cared for now. It was too painful to do otherwise.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled.
The man shrugged. "Shit happens. Nothing we can do about it."
Alex winced at the cold tone that had suddenly overtaken the man's tone and searched for a change of subject.
"So, he's Steven, and you are...?"
"Graham," said the man gruffly. "Been in this war pretty much since the beginning. Steve joined six months after me, once he finished his university course. We were in the same class, but I left half way through to come here. Bloody stupid thing to do, with hindsight. What about you? What's your story?"
"Half German, half English. Live in Germany with my sister, her husband and her son. Joined the English army division because I grew up there until my mother died. Been in this war for three months, since my eighteenth birthday."
"Facts," laughed Steve, harshly from the bunk. "It's just facts. It doesn't mean anything."
"It's all we need to know," said Alex, wearily.
They were all so tired. Tired of never knowing if they would survive the day, tired of wondering who else had died, tired of killing.
And so, so tired of grieving for the lost.
There was a moment's silence, then the rough canvas covering the doorway was pulled aside.
Another man walked in, around Alex's age with black hair. Alex blinked.
"Tom?" he asked incredulously.
"Alex?" said the boy, a smile breaking over his drawn features. "Jesus, never thought I'd see you again."
"Yeah, sorry about not keeping in contact."
"It's fine, mate," interrupted Tom. "Feel like making introductions?"
"Tom, this is Graham and Steve. Steve, Graham, this is Tom. He's completely mental. Be warned."
Steve didn't even turn over but Graham grinned.
"Hi. So, you two know each other?"
"We went to school together until we were sixteen, then my mum died and I moved to Germany. We just kind of... lost contact."
"These things happen," said Tom, philosophically. Neither of them said it had been very deliberate. Tom was a link to Alex Rider. Alex Walschmitt didn't have a clue who he was, couldn't have a clue who he was unless he wanted to risk MI6 finding him.
He glanced over to the free bunk. It was on the top. Without saying anything, he picked Alex's things off the bottom bunk and chucked them up, before sitting down on the recently vacated bunk.
"Hey!" protested Alex, from the corner.
Tom shrugged. "You didn't really think I was going to climb up there to sit down did you? You're the one who-"
He broke off abruptly. "Sorry," he muttered, abashed.
Graham was looking at them curiously but neither of them answered. Alex had thought of a cover for that particular slip quite quickly but he would have to give it to Tom to pass along. He'd tell him when he got him alone.
***
The days passed in a blur of explosions and shouts and at night fire lit the sky. There was never a moment to rest. Graham and Steve learnt that Alex's 'mum' had died in a climbing accident. Steve began to talk and Alex actually became friends with him and Graham, despite all his rules about not caring. The four of them actually began to be known as a group, and a lucky one at that.
Three weeks later, Alex was on watch. He peered through the scope on his rifle at the far trench. It was quiet today, no explosions in no man's land, though a few landed behind the trenches. His eyes were drooping – he had been up for almost thirty hours. There had been an emergency last night as a shell landed in the trench and every soldier had been needed to hastily repair it, deal with the injured and guard against enemies taking advantage of the chaos.
He only had an hour left before he was replaced. If he could just stay awake until then. A sound behind him drew his attention. It was a soldier. Alex thought he had arrived last week, but he hadn't learnt his name yet.
"The Sergeant wants to see you," said the young man nervously. "He sent me to replace you and to tell you to meet him in your dug-out."
Alex nodded and passed the man the rifle.
"You know how to use it?" he asked, gruffly. The man nodded.
"Good," he said before turning and walking off.
He ducked into his dug-out.
Graham, Steven and Tom were all there, lined up and standing to attention opposite the sergeant. Alex's eyes widened slightly and he quickly tagged onto the end of the line.
"At ease, gentlemen," said the sergeant. "I received a request to send my best soldiers to a meeting in London. It seems that you four have quite a reputation. You will be leaving in two hours."
"Sir?" said Tom.
"Yes Harris?"
"What is the meeting about?"
"I don't know," said the Sergeant. "I received the order this morning with no other information. Are there any problems?"
The four soldiers shook their heads.
"Good. Be ready to leave two hours."
***
Alex tried to push down his feelings of unease as he entered the room. There were perhaps fifty soldiers lazing around it. He glanced at Graham, Tom and Steve behind him.
"What do you reckon this is about?" he asked, quietly.
"No idea," said Tom. "You know as much as us."
Alex frowned. He didn't like not knowing what he was heading into.
"ALRIGHT!" Someone yelled. "Line up! I don't have time to waste on teaching you children how to stand to attention so you better be able to!"
Alex winced and leapt into his place of the line. Graham was on his right, Tom his left and Steve on Graham's other side.
The soldier – a real soldier this time, not someone who had joined the army with maybe a week's training – eyed tem critically. "It'll do," he said eventually. Alex took the chance to lean forward slightly and glance at the man.
He winced and pulled back.
It was Wolf.
"Of all the flaming luck," he cursed under his breath.
"What?" whispered Tom, next to him.
"It's Wolf," he hissed.
"As in SAS, Brecon Beacons, saved-your-arse-countless-times Wolf?"
"yes," hissed Alex in frustration.
"Hey! You think it's ok to talk down there?" called Wolf.
"No Sir! Sorry Sir!" called Tom, snapping back to attention. But it was too late. Wolf was already striding down the row.
"Damn right it's not ok! The head of special operations will be coming here to address you and you had better treat her with more respect than you just did!"
Beside Tom, Alex moaned. Just his bloody luck.
"If you don't-" but Wolf cut off mid rant when he came face to face with Alex.
"Cub?" he whispered, obviously startled. "What the hell are you doing here? You're supposed to be playing dead, not joining the army!"
"Yeah well what were the chances of meeting anyone who knew me? How many trench soldiers does the head of special operations meet, do you think?" he hissed, angrily.
"You need to get out of here," said Wolf, "Jones will be here in-"
The door at the far side of the room opened and Alex groaned again. Too late.
"Something the matter, Wolf?" asked a familiar voice.
"No, ma'am."
Alex began casting his eyes around the room, desperate for a way out. There were two doors, one being guarded by two soldiers and one through which Mrs Jones had just come. He only knew that one of them lead out; the other could have lead to a dead end, for all he knew.
He didn't have any choice. Every second he delayed Mrs Jones was coming closer.
He swallowed and glanced around once more. He didn't have a choice.
He sprinted to the door, launching an attack at the soldiers before he even reached them. It was probably a shame that they weren't wearing their SAS uniform. He wasn't expecting them to put up a fight and that cost him. All to soon he was on his knees with a rifle jammed into his neck.
"Alex Rider," said Mrs Jones, walking closer. "I thought you were dead." She turned to Wolf. "I thought that you killed him? Your unit was sent on the assignment."
"Most people don't like being ordered to kill a sixteen year old," snarled Alex.
"They are SAS. They do what there told."
"Obviously not," said Alex, sullenly.
"Well, I guess we have found our soldier," she said. "Bring him."
"No," said Alex. "I'm not doing it."
"Why not?"
"Because it's a suicide mission," said Alex. "If it wasn't you'd send an agent or a soldier, not pick cannon fodder out of the trenches."
"Look at it this way, Rider. You're alive. Therefore the death sentence on you is still active. If you don't agree, we could always just carry out the sentence right now."
As if to emphasise the point, the rifle was pushed into his neck, sending him sprawling. A foot came down on his back and a hand yanked his head up by his hair.
"What is your answer, Rider?"
***
Oh, and can I take the opportunity to advertise the Reviews with Meaning discussion forum, based around, rather obviously, leaving good reviews, replying to reviews and trying to reduce the number of one or two word reviews. Basically, we have a wall of fame and 'How to leave reviews with meaning'. So if you all leave nice long, meaningful reviews, not just on here, but on other peoples stories and if you get yourself nominated, your name will go up there and everyone can thank you! (Ok we're working on the prestige, we swear. But wouldn't it be nice to get rid of "update" or "update please" or "Update soon"? It's nice to know that people like the story, but why do they like it? What could be improved? What is their favourite? Is it getting familiar to another story?)
Yeah... I've already posted that in Past of Shadows, but I thought I'd put it here for those of you who don't read it. Anyway, check it out!
Oh... and please review!