Robert A. Webster - Blue Flame

“What?”

“Sorry, I meant cheese and onion,” said Ryan, grinning.

* * *

Church and Pinky stepped into the warm summer night and checked into a local bed and breakfast.

The next morning, Church, Pinky, and Ryan reconvened in the hospital room.

Church sensed Ryan’s anxiety.

After a long discussion, Ryan fell silent. He’d had the answers to most of his concerns, except for one, so he asked,

“What can I do with this power, and how do I use it to make a living? Do I work as some sort of fortune-teller at the local fair? What use is it? My boxing career is finished. I would never pass another medical.”

There was silence as Church considered Ryan’s quandary. He was older than others who had received the gift, so Church wondered if he could accept this new power.

Pinky broke the awkward silence,

“Why doesn’t he come and work with us Church?” she asked.

Church thought for a moment and decided that they could certainly use some muscle, as some of his initial contacts had not gone as expected.

Church nodded, smiled, and said, “What do you think Ryan? Do you want to come and work with us at PATH, now that you know what we do?”

Ryan rubbed his chin.

“What’s the pay like?” he asked.

Pinky chuckled and said, “What pay?”

Church smiled and shrugged, “I have never considered pay.” He said, “We live well, and if either of us wanted anything, we went out and bought it.”

“Live well, does that mean plenty of food?” he asked.

“Oh yes,” said Pink, adding, “Church is a great cook.”

Ryan smiled and Church sensed another emotion coming from him, as he chuckled and said, “It sounded more like a family.”

Pinky and Church nodded as they smiled at him.

Ryan was 29 years old. A boxer from an early age, he spent most of his time with trainers and other boxers. He had been lodging with Gus above the boxing gym for four years and had no contact with his family for some time

“Hmm, I get discharged today. Can I think about your offer and let you know later?” Ryan asked.

“Of course Ryan, take your time… it’s a big decision,” said Church, but he already knew the answer.

* * *

Ryan put away his clothes that he had earlier collected from the gym. When they first arrived at the quaint old cottage, Ryan expected Lurch Adams to answer the door and fight off cobwebs, but felt pleasantly surprised by its plush, modern interior. Ryan liked his room, with a large T.V. and music system, an en-suite bathroom and Jacuzzi, he felt at home. He looked out of the window at the large tree and bushes surrounding the cottage. ‘This place was well hidden, I wonder where little red riding hood hangs out?’ he chuckled.

Church told Ryan to settle in, while he cooked them all something to eat. Ryan unpacked his belongings and caught a whiff of pleasing aromas.

‘Yummy.’ he thought, ‘Church must be cooking a roast dinner.’

He sniffed the air, trying to distinguish the smells. ‘Hmm… Brussels sprouts and onions, I hope there’s a roast chicken to go with that.’ he thought.

There came a knock on his door. Pinky popped her head in and said, “One of the family’s here to meet you, and she’s brought a friend of yours along to say hello.”

Ryan looked puzzled and said, “I didn’t hear anyone knocking at the front door.”

Pinky chuckled as she and Ryan headed for the portal room. The PATH team was now complete.

PATH RC389: Gift for the dead: 2011: Case Closed.

What remained of the German population felt terrified. The war had been over for several months, and the conquering Allies were dividing the country. The Soviet Bloc carved a sizable chunk for itself, with America and its European counterparts splitting up the rest. Berlin was a city in ruins. Brick and stone carcasses were all that remained of the once-splendid metropolis. The vile stench of decaying corpses and stagnant sewerage hung over the city like noxious smog. The people and their lands were now in a tug-of-war between the victorious powers. Many stories of atrocities filtered through about maltreatment of the German citizens. The Allies pillaged what they could get their hands on and the Russians mercilessly raped and murdered German women in revenge for the mistreatment of Russian women and the atrocities caused by the German army upon their people.

The shabby overcrowded hospital ward bustled with activity. American soldiers and medics brought in wounded from the sporadic skirmishes around the city, with German patients shoved out to make room for them.

The Berlin hospital had been more fortunate than most, as it was only partially destroyed in the blitz bombings, leaving certain sections functional. It bustled with activity 24 hours a day.

Martina suckled her infant and, along with her husband Stefan, observed all the activity. They wondered how long it would be before they would also be thrown out, having already been there for almost a month. Doctor Rudolf Flanman had been protecting them since he discovered their infant son had a mild case of asthma, although the infant always seemed healthy to his parents. The doctor fended off any attempts to remove them as he and the medical staff referred to their child as the ‘miracle’ baby. This situation was ideal for Martina and Stefan, with their home destroyed in the blitz. Stefan had slept on a thin mattress under Martina’s bed, sharing her meagre rations. Dr Rudolf Flanman was a rotund, bespectacled man, with patches of grey hair on either side of his otherwise bald head. He had a large grey beard and protruding uneven teeth, which made him look a cross between the Nutty Professor and Santa Claus. Flanman looked to be in his mid-sixties, and his jovial demeanour made it easy for him to gain his patients’ confidence. Martina and Stefan liked and trusted this dependable medical man and his judgment.

The couple had a black-and-white photograph taped to Martina’s headboard that showed Martina smiling as she held their baby son, who now looked content as he suckled on his mother’s breast.

Two-armed American G.I.’s and a civilian came into the ward and went to Martina’s bed. The officer, dressed in a beige and brown dress uniform, and the civilian in a grey suit, went over to Martina’s bedside, while the N.C.O. in combat fatigues, closed the privacy curtain around the bed and stayed outside to stand guard.

“What do you want?” stammered Stefan, putting his hand on his wife’s leg.

The officer took a folder from a leather briefcase while the man in the suit told the couple, “This is Lieutenant Sykes, and my name is Max. I am an interpreter.” He said and looked at Stefan and asked, “Are you, Professor Stefan Adolf Schuler?”

“Yes, I am,” replied Stefan.

“Do you speak English professor?” lieutenant Sykes asked.

Stefan looked at the large American officer and replied, “Yes, a little.”

“Good, that’ll make it easier,” said the lieutenant and smiled at the brilliant young engineering professor.

Martina, feeling embarrassed, covered herself, removed the infant from her breast and wrapped the baby in a blanket.

Lieutenant Sykes opened the folder marked ‘Operation Paperclip,’ he took out a document, showed it to Stefan, and asked, “Is this the project that you were involved with?”

Stefan studied the document.

“Yes, I worked on that project,” he said, and with a quake in his voice, asked, “Why?”

Sykes ignored the question and ordered, “You and your family have to come with us now, professor.”

A commotion outside the curtain interrupted them.

“What’s happening Sergeant?” yelled Sykes.