The Second Siege (14 page)

A shadow fell across the page. David snapped the book shut as the two whirled around to see the red-bearded sailor standing over them. A knowing smile spread across his hard face as he took a long draw off another cigarette.

“Tsk, tsk,” said the sailor, grimacing to reveal a row of yellow teeth.

David cringed as the man stretched a gloved hand toward them.

Instead of snatching away the book, however, the sailor’s fingers closed around the mess of wires that lay on the rope. He removed his gloves and began to untangle them.

“These belong to
Erasmus,
” he said in a heavy accent. “Maybe bad boys don’t know, but things are very bad in Europe, yes? Radio tells us where we can go. Understand? No more mischief—Karl is watching, eh?”

He wagged his finger at them and clomped on down the deck with a satisfied smirk.

“At least he didn’t seem to know what the book is,” said Max, exhaling a moment later. “And now we know he speaks English.”

David nodded but said nothing. The corners of his mouth tightened as he fastened the book’s clasp and slid it under his sweater.

“What are you going to do with that?” asked Max.

“Nothing yet,” David said crossly. “It’ll have to wait now that Karl’s watching us. This isn’t the place to do it, anyway.”

“Do what?” asked Max, feeling a sudden tremor of cold race down his spine.

“Summon Astaroth, of course,” replied David, bracing himself as the trawler’s bow rose up the face of a gray-green swell.

Late that night, Max was smooshed against the wall of the control room while the crew of the
Erasmus
continued to pile inside. The captain bellowed for quiet while Karl fiddled with the radio, adjusting a knob with the tiniest of movements to scan through the shortwave frequencies. For several minutes only static crackled through the tinny speaker. Frowning, the men spooned at leftover bowls of a pungent fish soup thickened with flour.

“Something’s comin’ through!” she shrieked. “Shut up, shut up!”

Max shut his eyes and strained to listen. There was indeed a voice crackling through the interference, as though calling to them from another world. It was a woman’s voice, with an English accent, and it spoke in a calm and even tone. The static subsided and the voice could be heard.

“. . . from emergency headquarters outside London. All citizens of the European Union are required to report to their nearest government office for registration, emergency supplies, and further instructions. Foreign travel is forbidden. Those who fail to register or attempt to leave any member country will be arrested. Any individual found to be harboring any unregistered persons is subject to arrest. Your cooperation during this difficult time is greatly appreciated. This is a message from the BBC, transmitted from emergency headquarters outside London.”

A quiet patter of voices filled the cabin as the announcement was repeated. While those who spoke English translated for their shipmates, Max watched as Cooper slipped through the crowd for a quiet word with the captain. Karl continued fiddling with the radio, but Max saw him glance occasionally at Cooper and the captain, as though he were listening. Max hurried toward the door, where Miss Boon and Mr. McDaniels were standing.

“What’s this mean, Dad?”

“I don’t know,” said his father, squeezing Max’s shoulder. “It doesn’t sound good.”

Max turned quickly to Miss Boon.

“What’s Cooper telling the captain?” he asked.

“I wish I knew,” muttered his teacher. “I’m sure we’ll find out soon. Meanwhile, it’s late. David’s already gone to bed and so should you.”

“But there might be more news!” Max protested. He glanced again at Karl and lowered his voice to an urgent hiss. “And I don’t trust that guy by the radio. David and I think he’s spying on us.”

Miss Boon stood on tiptoe and clucked her tongue.

“I’m on it,” she muttered. “If there’s any more news, I’ll be sure to tell you. Now off to bed—or else we can get a head start on tomorrow’s lessons.”

Max began to speak, but Miss Boon flicked him a look that quashed all protest. His father yawned and slung an arm over Max’s shoulder.

“I’m going to turn in, too,” he said. “Claim the cot before Mum snares it!”

David was not asleep when the McDanielses climbed down into the cabin. He was standing shirtless before a small vanity mirror that was bolted to the wall. He held a lamp in his hand, creating a ghostly effect on his mirrored face. His reflection shifted its gaze to watch them descend.

“No,” said David, reaching for his shirt. His voice sounded oddly detached. “I had my last surgery three years ago today, you know.”

“I didn’t know you’d had surgery,” said Mr. McDaniels, shooing Nick off the cot.

David smiled. “Heart surgery,” he said, turning around to reveal a long pink scar down the center of his chest. “Actually, a heart
transplant,
” he clarified. “Three years ago . . . it was my second one.”

“I didn’t know that,” exclaimed Mr. McDaniels, leaning forward to peer at the scar while Max placed Nick inside a padded crate. Max had seen it before, but his roommate was always quick to hide it. Now David stood exposed, considering the pale line of tissue with a distant expression. He traced his finger along the scar.

“Two other people died so I could live,” he murmured. “It makes me sad sometimes.”

“No,” rumbled Mr. McDaniels sympathetically. “That’s not the way to look at it, son. Those poor souls’ time had come. I think they’d be happy to know they gave you a chance to live. They get to live on through you! The way I see it, you’ve done each other a favor.”

David smiled appreciatively and dimmed the lamp to the radiance of a nightlight before wriggling back beneath his blankets. Max said nothing, but slipped off his shoes and climbed into his own makeshift bed near the kitchenette.

“There’s so much happening,” David said, his voice sounding very small, even in the snug cabin. “There are times when I don’t think I can stand it anymore. I know what you heard on the radio. They’re starting to do the same things in America, too—it’s all too terrible to even think about.”

“How could you know all that if you’ve been down here?” asked Mr. McDaniels.

David didn’t reply.

Max listened to the low whine of the ship’s engines and wondered just whom his roommate had been speaking to. He scanned the cabin for the red book, but it was nowhere to be seen. Several moments passed before David spoke again.

“I try not to think of my mom, but I can’t help it,” he said, his voice as tense as stretched wire. “I want to know she’s all right.”

Max stopped looking for the red book and propped himself up on an elbow. This was the first time David had mentioned his mother since she had moved and left no forwarding address the previous year.

“She is, David,” said Mr. McDaniels soothingly.

“Adults
always
want to say things are fine, even when they don’t know,” David sighed. “I’d rather
know
if something’s bad than just believe that it’s good.”

Mr. McDaniels grunted. “That’s interesting. I think you and Max are cut from the same cloth. Me? I’d rather believe the best. Maybe I’m a fool, but it keeps me afloat.”

Max heard the jingle of keys and change as his father rummaged about for his wallet.

“Turn that lamp up a bit and come over here, David. You too, Max.”

Max and David converged on Mr. McDaniels’s cot and sat on its edge. In the soft yellow glow of the cabin, Mr. McDaniels looked like a sleepy bear, warm and content in his nightshirt of striped flannel. He held a small photograph gently at its corners.

“I want to show you my Bryn,” he said softly.

“I’ve seen pictures of Mrs. McDaniels before,” said David, hugging his knees. “Max has pictures of you all back at Rowan.”

“No,” said Mr. McDaniels, “those pictures are of
our
Bryn McDaniels—my wife and Max’s mother. This is
my
Bryn.”

He handed the faded picture to David, who scooted over to make room for Max. The photo was of Max’s mother and he had never seen it before. She had been quite young when it was taken—younger even than Miss Boon. Dark eyes, brimming with laughter, flashed up from her newspaper as she lounged at an outdoor café. She had the same proud bearing as Max, the same sharp cheekbones and shining black hair.

“This is the woman I fell in love with,” said Mr. McDaniels, “and the woman who loved me back even though she was way out of my league. Most beautiful creature I’d ever seen. And smart! I swear, David, the woman knew everything—she’d even give
you
a run for your money!”

The cot shook with Mr. McDaniels’s chuckle. Max looked hard at his father, whose eyes were shining like those of a happy little boy. Scott McDaniels sighed and thumped David on the knee.

“I haven’t seen my Bryn for a long time now. In my heart of hearts, though, I know I’ll see her again. That gives me hope, and hope keeps me going.”

“I don’t know,” said David slowly. “Hope seems like it could be a dangerous thing, Mr. McDaniels. I think it could drive me crazy or distract me from what I have to do.”

Mr. McDaniels started to answer but stopped at the sound of footsteps coming down the hatch. Cooper stood on the bottom stair holding an armful of canned food.

“Pack up your things,” he said quietly. “We’re heading straight for the mainland. They’re intercepting all boat traffic in the Channel. We’ll have to make for Frankfurt by land.”

“Where are they dropping us off?” asked Mr. McDaniels.

“Spain,” muttered Cooper, letting the cans spill from his arms into an open pack.

“Spain?”
groaned Mr. McDaniels. “But that’s hundreds of miles away from Germany. Can’t they drop us off any closer? It doesn’t make any sense!”

Cooper stepped quickly over to their cot and slid the captain’s locker out from beneath it.

“That’s exactly why we’re doing it,” muttered the Agent, plucking a fancy-looking cheese and some smoked venison from the captain’s private stores. The Agent stood and glanced impatiently at the three of them still sitting huddled on the bed. His eyes fell on the photograph cradled in David’s palm. The Agent tilted his head for a better look.

“Ah!” said Mr. McDaniels, brightening once again. “Admiring my pretty lady, are you? That’s my wife, Cooper. Max’s mother.”

Cooper blinked. His cold blue eyes flicked from the photograph to Max.

“A strong likeness,” said the Agent with a curt nod.

Miss Boon and Mum came down a few minutes later, and the six of them set to gathering up their sweaters and books, cooking pans and food. While they packed, Max bit his tongue and tried to file away the questions that crowded his mind. More than once, he caught Cooper glancing at him, confirming what he already knew: this was not the first time Cooper had seen Bryn McDaniels.