X-Calibre Trilogy: Dead Run | By : jwieda Category: X-men Comics > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 1147 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men comics, or any of the characters from it. I make no money from from the writing of this story. |
“God is dead.”
The wind was coming in something awful off the coast,
bringing with it the noise and the stench of the dropping bombs. Ricky and I
were looking up at our Dad for whatever guidance he could give us before the
Nazis made landfall.
“God is dead,” he repeated, “so don’t rely on him for
anything.”
I remember thinking it was an odd thing for him to say – my
Dad, who had been praying for a miracle hours before, who used to sneak us to
Anglican services . . .
The echoing blast of the guns off the coast made me jump.
Things were different now. Things were worse, much worse. The Churchill
Bulldogs had been discovered, and all of Britain
was going to pay for the treachery. We were there when they shot down the
doors; Ricky and I ran with the others while Dad struggled with Mum’s bloody
corpse.
“Please God, no, don’t take my Maggie away . . .”
He wouldn’t talk about Mum after that. I always reckoned
they dragged him along without her. He was alive, she wasn’t. Simple, and when
you’ve got to run you don’t get choices.
There weren’t any choices then, either. The Bulldogs were
scattered, the pack being hunted by the dogs of war. And me
and Dad and Ricky were waiting for the evacuation vessel, a gift of solidarity
from some Yank in New York.
The ship was huge. I thought so. Everything looks big when
you’re eight. It didn’t make me feel safe to go up the gangplank behind my
brother; I knew what it meant for us. Children and women first . . . I was
gently shuffled along, hurry up now dears . . .
They missed. I’m almost sure of that. The ship pitched
violently and those closest to the doors were hit by shrapnel from exploding
rounds and shattered dock. The crew shouted orders and we were gone, heading
out to sea. Ricky and I weren’t the only ones crying. We weren’t the only ones
who had to leave someone behind.
God was dead, and now so was our Dad.
They left us alone almost the whole way. We dropped anchor
near what someone called “Cajun Country” and that was when the Irishmen running
the ship came to talk to us.
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