Page 152 of Strangers in Time

“Do you really think you’ll leave England, Charlie, after the war’s done?”

“I never been out ’a London, ’cept when we went to Cornwall. I might like to see some of the world before I die.”

“You have a long way to go before then.”

At that very moment an explosion rocked nearby.

Molly reached out a hand and closed it around Charlie’s. He squeezed back.

“It’ll be okay.”

Molly nodded, but she didn’t look like she believed him.

The next blast struck closer and with stunning power. The ceiling above creaked and groaned, and the huge wooden posts holding it up seemed to shiver.

“V-2s,” said Charlie knowledgably. “No hum or buzz, with the planes comin’ and the bombs fallin’.”

Molly nodded. She knew Charlie was extremely knowledgeable about such things.

Another blast hit, even closer, and dust and crud and bits of the place fell on top of them. Some screamed; others scrambled to find cover when there was really none to be had.

Charlie held tight to Molly, and they bent lower as the panicked wails of little children filled the now-smoky space.

“They say these V-2 rockets fly by radio beam,” Charlie said in an even, calm voice. “We try to block that signal. And we got pretty good at it.”

Molly knew he was doing this to take her mind off what was going on. She appreciated this gesture, but it did nothing to rid her of the terror she was feeling.

“Yes, I heard something like that, too,” she said tremulously.

“It’ll be okay, Molly, really. We’ve made it this far.”

Another explosion hit so close that one wall of the vast room partially collapsed, pushing dust and dirt and shattered wood in a tidal wave toward them.

Everyone ran from the destruction.

As they huddled against the far wall, with all looking anxiously upward at the tons of material sitting precariously above them, Molly said quietly, “It just feels different this time, Charlie.”

Charlie stared at the ceiling that seemed to be giving way bit by bit.

Itdoesfeel different this time, he thought.

As Oliver ran along the streets he didn’t bother to look up. There was nothing to see. No planes, no howls from Jericho’s Trumpets. This was clearly a V-2 rocket attack. It was only metal machines coming to kill them, no flesh-and-blood pilots and navigators and bombardiers required. And you would never see or hear them coming. Like his friend Major Bryant had said, you’d be dead before you even knew you were no longer living.

He had one more couple on his list to find. He pounded on the door of their home. “Mr. and Mrs. Perkins. You must come. Quickly now. Please.”

A blast hit somewhere nearby, and Oliver looked up to see a building collapse nearby. He put his shoulder to the door and knocked it in, toppled through, and shoved the door shut behind him as the concussive wave from the blast swept across the street and blew out the front windows of the house. However, the door had not fully closed, and it was hit with incredible force. Oliver was lying on the floor with his feet against the door, but it was blown open so powerfully that he was propelled across the room, where he smacked into a dining room table.

“Mr. and Mrs. Perkins!” He staggered upright and looked in every room. No one was there. He ran back out into the streets and hustled toward the shelter. He had seen plumes of smoke and fire, and they were coming from the very building where Charlie and Molly were sheltering. Another direct hit there, and they would be done for.

They are going to survive this bloody awful war if I have any say about it.

He redoubled his efforts to reach them. He would take them and the others to a safer location. He turned the corner right as a V-2 rocket struck at that exact spot.

A LEGACYGIVEN

HE LEFT THE BOTHof you The Book Keep,” the man in a somber brown suit, and with a handlebar mustache, said as he looked over the typed papers.

Seated in the study, Molly and Charlie stared dully at the man, who was Ignatius Oliver’s solicitor, as he went over the contents of Ignatius Oliver’s last will and testament.

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