Beach Invasion: Part Three

Ready for the final chapter? We hope so!

It was, without a doubt, the worst moment of my life.

To be sure, I’d been in much scarier positions than this before, in Czechoslovakia. But never before was I responsible for someone else’s life, never before had my choices put someone in danger. And now my arm was being held firmly by a Nazi spy while we waited for the one person in my life who would do anything to help me escape.

Poor Trevor. I must admit, I often think of him as a bit- well, naive and childish, and perhaps not that smart. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a genius when it comes to inventions, time travel, history and science. When it comes to people, though, Trevor just doesn’t seem to have that touch. He comes off extremely wild, somewhat obnoxious and impatient. To a certain extent that really is his character, but oftentimes I’d taken it as I needed to tell him what to do and make sure he stayed out of trouble. At eleven years old, I was telling a twenty-five-year-old man what to do!

Oh Trevor, why do you put up with me? I thought miserably. Dear God, please help us. Please!
We were in a dark alleyway in what I believed was New York. The taller, older agent had arranged to meet Trevor there by way of his partner. The younger agent looked terrified and nervous, and he kept shifting his position.

“This isn’t a good idea,” he said at long last.

“Have any better ones?”

“No, but you didn’t see this man. He’s crazy. Insane. His hair was going every direction and he talked like a mad man!”

I had to smile at this. I suppose that could be someone’s first impression of Trevor’s somewhat unkempt appearance.

Tall agent smirked. “Sounds like a duplicate of you.”

Young spy glared, but didn’t say anything.

A shadow appeared at the end of the alleyway. Trevor? I gulped.

No, that wasn’t Trevor.

“Who goes there?” The tall agent demanded, his hand gripping my arm harder as he put his hand in his pocket where his gun was.

The figure stopped, and I strained to see his face. The dim-lit area didn’t aluminate his face well enough to tell his features, but I could tell he was a man. Who is this guy?

“Who are you?” Tall agent asked again.

Obviously they weren’t expecting whoever this is.

“You agreed to meet me,” the man said slowly.

His accent was of one of the Slavic languages, but I couldn’t tell which one. He didn’t sound German, but I wasn’t sure. Perhaps he was a subversive the Nazis were supposed to meet?

“That’s not the guy who chased me,” the young agent muttered under his breath.

Now my captor was thoroughly rattled. He whipped his gun out fully and aimed it at the stranger, taking the safety off of it. “Who are you? FBI? OSS?”

It was as if he wasn’t even afraid of the gun. He started walking forwards again, his own hand going into his pocket. Perhaps a weapon? “You said you’d meet me. So here I am. I am the Contact.”

Click.

The senior spy meant business and he wasn’t afraid to show it. His gun was cocked and ready to fire. “The contact, eh? Then why haven’t you given us the password? Why didn’t you say who you were before?”

The man shrugged and didn’t reply.

“We don’t know you,” the tall agent growled, “Now do I have to blast you away to get you to leave?”

He hesitated for a second, then proceeded onwards. “You would do so anyways. So go ahead. It won’t make a difference.”

I wasn’t sure what happened first- the gunshot or the hand that jerked me back. All I know is that the next instant I was being dragged behind Trevor as he ran like the wind. “You could run, you know!” he yelped as he tried to keep up his pace.

“Trevor!” I cried, gaining my legs and beginning to run with him. “Trevor! How did- where did you come from- I thought-”

He held up his hand and replied, “Later. Let’s get out of here!”

I glanced back behind me, just in time to see the mystery man land a right clipper in the tall agent’s face. Somehow the agent had missed when he'd shot at him, or the man had been wearing a bullet proof vest. Not likely, seeing how those haven't been invented yet, The young spy was already on the ground, unconscious and a bit beat up. The man must've leapt on him first.

As we rounded a corner, the man looked up- and I got a quick glimpse of his face before he was out of sight. What I had seen of him was enough to make me question my sanity.

He looked just like a picture of my father when he was younger. But that was impossible, my Dad was forty when I’d been born, and the photo I was recalling was taken when he was twenty.

All of my senses were overloaded and I struggled to rearrange my thoughts. Who was that man? Perhaps Trevor had the answer. I was beginning to find he knew quite a bit more than I did!

~oOo~

“I’m glad to be back,” I sighed, staring up at the blue sky from my hammock.

“Aye.”

“And I’m glad we’re okay.”

“Aye.”

I eyed Trevor, who was wearing sunglasses and was laid out in the sand- with his labcoat on.

“Trevor, why aren’t you roasting?”

“Aye.”

Now I cocked an eyebrow. “Are you ignoring me?”

“Aye.”

I began to giggle as I realized what had happened. Poor Trevor was so exhausted from our crazy trip that he’d fallen asleep on the beach. Now he was asleep and was sleep talking, something he did a lot.

We’d returned to the Island shortly after Trevor rescued me. When I’d asked how he’d known that the trade-off was actually a knock-off (that is, they weren’t planning on letting Trevor walk away alive) he’d been a bit offended.

“I know how those guys work,” he’d said. “I knew that if they offered a trade they’d try to kill me. So I got some help.”

“That man?” I’d inquired.

“Yeah. He’d seen me chase down that young American spy down the road, and asked what was going on. When I explained it to him-”

“You told him I’d been kidnapped by Nazi spies? Trevor! How could you? You know we aren’t supposed to change history!”

Trevor had grinned at this and ruffled my hair. “You already changed history, Marin. They weren’t supposed to meet you on the beach.”

“True,” I’d mused. “But weren’t you afraid that the rest of history might be altered or something?”

“Not really. I knew the guy wouldn’t report the spies after he beat them up.”

At this I’d glanced at him quizzically. “How?”

Trevor shrugged. “He was a Commie. When we’d made plans on how to rescue you, I noted that in his apartment he had a Soviet book. Communists aren’t really interested in attracting the attention of the FBI, if you know what I mean.”

That’s just too strange. Not only had the man had an accent, reminded me of my father, but he was even a Communist. Could it be…? No, it was impossible. Besides, only Trevor had invented a time machine as far as we knew.

“So we organized it that he’d distract them and I’d grab you from behind.”

“How did he know the agents had a contact? Did you tell him that?”

Trevor had frowned at this, and scratched his chin. “No. I didn’t know the spies had a contact here. Hmmm… perhaps he’d just made a good guess. Strange thing was, when I went to meet him later to pay him for his help, he didn’t show up. Just left a note saying that he’d see me around.”

“I hope you didn’t tell him you’re a time traveler and wouldn’t be back.”

“Nah.” Trevor had waved it off. “Andi’s the only one we’ve told that to. I just left it at that.”

Now we were back home on the island, safe and sound. I’d told Trevor I was sorry for not trusting him back on the beach in Maine. If it hadn’t been for my fear, I wouldn’t have had to face such a horrible situation.

Trevor of course had forgiven me, brushing it off as no big deal. “Just glad you’re fine,” he’d told me, giving me a squeeze.

I guess I really did learn a lesson, I decided. I didn’t want to learn it that way, but its still invaluable. I’d learn to trust and respect someone even if you feel sometimes they aren’t capable of being a good leader. Oftentimes you underestimate someone and they really do know what they’re doing. Trevor was evidence of that. He may seem quirky and a bit- well, not-so-smart, but he really knows his stuff.

But it’s still fun to mess around with him.

I got off the hammock and crept forwards. Trevor was literally on his back, his mouth open. He’d begun to snore.

“Hey Trevor, you’re so nice,” I said sweetly.

“Aye,” he murmured in reply.

“In fact, you’re the nicest person I know. I’m so glad you’re my adopted Dad.”

“Aye.”

I giggled, then leaned down and whispered, “So, can I have that last bit of ice cream you’d claimed as yours? After all, you want to give it to me, right?”

“Aye.”

I grinned. “So I can have it?”

“Aye.”

Let’s just say Trevor was ready to throw me in the ocean later when he woke up. As I said, it was too good to resist.

The End