London Burning - Chapter 3
They said as soon as you hear the distinct whine of the descending bombs you knew if your number was on it. It the most unusual sound, a high pitched whine that’s pitch gradually deepened as it neared its target. Helen instinctually ducked as the first bombs raced towards London, their target, the people of the city below them. Their goal - to inflict terror.
“ My God” The elder Magnus swore, earning a reproachful look from his daughter for his use of language. Now was not the time to quibble about use of the Queen’s English.
The bomb struck a warehouse up the street from them, demolishing the building in one foul swoop, adding to the carnage the fire was already causing. Screams echoed through the streets, cries for help, please for mercy.
“ I must help them...” Helen whispered and rose to head downstairs to the street to render aid.
“ Helen you mustn’t. You’re needed here. If the abnormal’s escape....” His voice trailed off, his focus now drawn to another series of whines.
“ But those poor people” Helen whispered, her eyes back on the street below and people fled from the already fallen bombs. More fire raged through the city, more bombs tumbled from the sky.
The Sanctuary was spared the first few waves of bombers, explosions ringing out in the night sky close, but never within the walls of the Sanctuary itself. Helen began to breathe a little easier. Perhaps this time they had been spared, perhaps there wasn’t a bomb up there with her name on it. OR perhaps there was and her time was coming.
For a few minutes the air-raid sirens ceased, replaced only by the wails of the injured and dying in the streets. The poor people were terrified, which was exactly what Hitler wanted, Helen mused to herself. She kept her thoughts to herself though - not wanting to add unwanted tension to their already perilous situation. All they could do was wait, wait and see if their home would end up in the same smashed remnants of the warehouse just down the street.
Gregory had retreated back to the main habitats, several weapons and tools by his side ready to be used if the situation was unfortunate enough. He wouldn’t risk any of the abnormal escaping, nor would he leave them to suffer if critically injured. This was war, as the Germans had decreed, and he was ready for the worst.
If Helen Magnus were to recall the memory of what were to happen next, she would have sworn the next whine to echo through the sky had a distinctly different sound to it. She had just abandoned the corridor with the windows when she heard it, the whine growing louder and deeper as it headed towards its target. Her. She grabbed an oil lamp from a table nearby and ran.
The next few moments blurred into obscurity as she bolted towards where her father had taken up a post, surrounded by whatever tools and weapons he would need to secure the abnormals, and if necessary, to dig himself out of a collapsed building should the worse come. She had to be near him, had to be with him if this were to be their end. Her flight seemed to take forever, seconds feeling like hours as the walls blurred passed, some still having retained their ornate wood panelling and velvet and gold leaf wallpaper, others charred and blackened from the previous attacks. The was going to be a serious amount of repairwork to be done when this was over. If they survived that was. Pushing that thought out of her mind for an instant she concentrated on pushing her body past its limit, to move faster, her heart pounding and lungs burning with each stride. Her legs ached as the lactic acid accumulated in the long strong muscles, protesting at the abuse but not able to resist her iron willpower. She was nearly there.
She could just make him out down one final corridor, the flickering candle the only light in the dim tunnel. The lighting had gone hours ago, and apart from the windows which cast a bright light of the city burning through the stone walled Sanctuary, the only lighting they had otherwise were candles and oil lamps.
“ Father!” She yelled, her legs pumping as she ran towards him. 30 feet and she’d be there.
The explosion knocked her off her feet and send her flying, the breath knocked out of her lungs as the bomb smashed through the ceiling, exploding on impact as it hit the solid concrete floor. She had no recollection of hitting anything solid, nor the loud rumble of brickwork and timber as the wall collapsed on top of her. There was nothing except blackness.
“ My God” The elder Magnus swore, earning a reproachful look from his daughter for his use of language. Now was not the time to quibble about use of the Queen’s English.
The bomb struck a warehouse up the street from them, demolishing the building in one foul swoop, adding to the carnage the fire was already causing. Screams echoed through the streets, cries for help, please for mercy.
“ I must help them...” Helen whispered and rose to head downstairs to the street to render aid.
“ Helen you mustn’t. You’re needed here. If the abnormal’s escape....” His voice trailed off, his focus now drawn to another series of whines.
“ But those poor people” Helen whispered, her eyes back on the street below and people fled from the already fallen bombs. More fire raged through the city, more bombs tumbled from the sky.
The Sanctuary was spared the first few waves of bombers, explosions ringing out in the night sky close, but never within the walls of the Sanctuary itself. Helen began to breathe a little easier. Perhaps this time they had been spared, perhaps there wasn’t a bomb up there with her name on it. OR perhaps there was and her time was coming.
For a few minutes the air-raid sirens ceased, replaced only by the wails of the injured and dying in the streets. The poor people were terrified, which was exactly what Hitler wanted, Helen mused to herself. She kept her thoughts to herself though - not wanting to add unwanted tension to their already perilous situation. All they could do was wait, wait and see if their home would end up in the same smashed remnants of the warehouse just down the street.
Gregory had retreated back to the main habitats, several weapons and tools by his side ready to be used if the situation was unfortunate enough. He wouldn’t risk any of the abnormal escaping, nor would he leave them to suffer if critically injured. This was war, as the Germans had decreed, and he was ready for the worst.
If Helen Magnus were to recall the memory of what were to happen next, she would have sworn the next whine to echo through the sky had a distinctly different sound to it. She had just abandoned the corridor with the windows when she heard it, the whine growing louder and deeper as it headed towards its target. Her. She grabbed an oil lamp from a table nearby and ran.
The next few moments blurred into obscurity as she bolted towards where her father had taken up a post, surrounded by whatever tools and weapons he would need to secure the abnormals, and if necessary, to dig himself out of a collapsed building should the worse come. She had to be near him, had to be with him if this were to be their end. Her flight seemed to take forever, seconds feeling like hours as the walls blurred passed, some still having retained their ornate wood panelling and velvet and gold leaf wallpaper, others charred and blackened from the previous attacks. The was going to be a serious amount of repairwork to be done when this was over. If they survived that was. Pushing that thought out of her mind for an instant she concentrated on pushing her body past its limit, to move faster, her heart pounding and lungs burning with each stride. Her legs ached as the lactic acid accumulated in the long strong muscles, protesting at the abuse but not able to resist her iron willpower. She was nearly there.
She could just make him out down one final corridor, the flickering candle the only light in the dim tunnel. The lighting had gone hours ago, and apart from the windows which cast a bright light of the city burning through the stone walled Sanctuary, the only lighting they had otherwise were candles and oil lamps.
“ Father!” She yelled, her legs pumping as she ran towards him. 30 feet and she’d be there.
The explosion knocked her off her feet and send her flying, the breath knocked out of her lungs as the bomb smashed through the ceiling, exploding on impact as it hit the solid concrete floor. She had no recollection of hitting anything solid, nor the loud rumble of brickwork and timber as the wall collapsed on top of her. There was nothing except blackness.