Ready for the last part? Here it is!
To say that we were nervous for the next two days would be an understatement. Once I explained to Marin what was at stake- she was terrified. I on the other hand handled it like a pro. But that’s because I’ve had experience in bad situations like this before.
“I don’t like it, I just don’t like it,” Marin had shaken her head. “Trevor, we could start a war!”
“The end of the world,” I’d corrected.
“Oh, whatever, it’s still bad!”
She had that part right. We were stuck with a bunch of Russians in the ocean headed towards Cuba- and I was very well aware what awaited us. The blockade.
The Americans had ships of every type circling the ocean. According to the history books I’d read, B-59 was going to lose radio contact with Moscow and be discovered by an American battleship that would began firing charges to make it surface. This was so they could have them turn back and force them to head to Russia.
But now we had changed the story a bit. Now the Russians had two Americans on board. Would that make them more trigger happy? Where they going to be more inclined to fire their missile for some odd reason?
I didn’t know. Marin didn’t know. Who knew what was going to happen. We just had to keep our heads low and try not to make the submariners mad at us, lest they drop us off in the ocean.
“You know, you really should change 4T’s settings so that we can go back whenever we want,” Marin remarked one morning from the bunk bed.
Second officer Nikita had been kind to let us use his quarters for our own personal use. “I figure you don’t want to bunk with the men,” he’d said, glancing at Marin.
“Thank you Nikita, we appreciate it,” I’d told him.
Now it was the third day of our trip with the Russians. So far they seemed friendly enough, though Nikita was the only one who spoke fluent English as far as we could tell. When we were alone Marin would translate to me what had been said and explain what they were talking about, but I suspected she may have been dropping some of the comments they’d made about us.
I yawned and stretched, glancing at my watch. “We go back home this evening. If we can make it through this day, we’re fine,” I said.
“I hope so.” Marin bit her lower lip. “What day is it anyways?”
I glanced at a calendar taped to the wall- and winced. “Oh… great, this aughta be fun.”
“What’s wrong?”
With a sheepish grin I waved at the calendar. “Today we will make contact with the American ships.”
Marin groaned and fell back on the bed. “Bad, bad, bad! How trigger happy do you think they’re going to get?”
“No telling. Guess we should head to the Command Center and see what’s going on.”
There was a distinct difference in the temperature of the submarine that morning as we walked to the Control room. You could see it on everyone’s faces- perspiring sweat. The sub had entered the tropical waters that surrounded Florida, the Caribbean and Cuba. B-59 had been made for Russian waters- cold and frozen. The sub must’ve been eighty degrees on the inside. Marin and I were used to hot temperatures like this- but not the Russian submariners. It was quite apparent when we walked in and saluted the Captain that they were all miserable.
“Ah, Mr. Trekker,” Nikita greeted, coming over to see us. He gave a faint smile, but I could tell he was worried. “I see you’re handling this heat just fine.”
“We’re used to it,” I replied. I glanced around the room as several of the officers hovered over a radar image, as well as continually walking out towards the operatives room. “Sooo… are you having a problem or something? I noticed everyone seems a bit on edge.”
“Figures,” Marin murmured under her breath.
Nikita froze for a second, then pasted on another smile. “Nyet, nyet, everything’s fine. We’re just having some radio difficulties right now.”
“Are we almost to Cuba? I must admit, I’m getting a bit, well, ansy being cooped up here.”
Nikita frowned. “Why all the questions, Mr. Trekker?”
I opened my mouth to say something- and Marin shot me a look that said it all. Be honest.
“To tell the truth,” I admitted, “We’re both nervous about your comment that we may be taken prisoner.”
Nikita nodded. “Understandable. I’m sorry you have to be involved in this mess. But we obey orders and that’s what we’d be told to do.”
“Would be told to do?” Marin echoed. “Don’t you mean will be told to do?”
At this Nikita shot Marin a hard look. “What are you two not telling me? I don’t like your attitude right now, and I know the Captain wouldn’t approve either if he understood what you were saying.”
How to go about telling him that we knew the radio was broken, and that an American warship was just about to discover them?
Simple- you don’t. You just let it happen.
“Оповещение , предупреждение ! Корабль уже заметил нас ! Мы должны погрузиться глубже !” A young private raced into the room, swinging his hand in a wild gesture towards the south.
Nikita’s expression hardened. He gave us both suspicious glances, then turned back towards his post. “I will finish talking to you two later,” he muttered under his breath. “For now, stay in your quarters until further notice. That’s an order.”
There was nothing Marin and I could do but obey. We headed back down the quarters we’d been assigned, plastering ourselves to the wall every now and then when a group of submariners would rush by.
“I- don’t- like- this.” Marin shuddered. “It’s very bad.”
“Don’t worry, Marin,” I assured her. “Nothing is ever gained by worrying.”
At that second another submariner brushed by me- and we did a double take. “That was- weird,” I muttered. “He looks just like the guy who helped me save you!”
“Doubt it. That guy’s stuck back in 1944, doing who knows what.”
She was right, but I couldn’t help but think it was strange how similar he looked. Oh well, I had more important things to worry about. Like the end of the world.
~oOo~
Don’t you hate it when someone leads up to a climax and then drops it really suddenly? Isn’t that so annoying? Spoiler alert: I’m about to do that with you.
Two reasons: We got locked into our living quarters and 4T returned us home before we got to find out how the story ended.
Marin and I have discussed over and over again who might have locked the door. We don’t know. I didn’t even know about it until I went over to see what was happening back on the Command Center and discovered it had been bolted shut. How they managed that, I’m not sure, because the lock is on the inside. Someone must’ve used a wire to tie it shut.
“That’s...bad.” Marin did a facepalm and started to pace around the room. “Why did they lock us up, except if they were convinced they’re about to go to war?”
We’d been hearing explosions from depth charges, little bomb thingys that ships drop that make horrible loud noises. The Americans were trying to frighten the submarine out of the water. What they didn’t realize was at that second there was an argument going on at the main Panel. The only reason I knew was because I’d read about it. But here was the question of the century- had we interfered enough that the fragile decision that lay in Nikita’s hands to launch the nuclear missile might have changed? Before we’d shown up, it was clear in the history books that Nikita had refused. That was then. Now what was going to happen?
Again, the most annoying thing happened. The room began to swirl around and change in size and color. I realized 4T was beginning to transport me back. “Marin, grabbed my hand!” I yelled, reaching over and taking a hold of her before I’d been completely teleported back to the island.
It happened so fast. One second we were on board of a Russian nuclear submarine- then suddenly we were surrounded by our horses and chickens, back on the island where I’d originally conjured up the idea to visit the Cold War era.
“Wha-what happened?” Marin stammered, blinking. Monster Horsie walked up and begin to nudge her, looking for treats.
“Oh, great!” I groaned, slapping my forehead. “I forgot how long that standoff was going to last. We were in the final hour, but our time was up and 4T transferred us back!”
“How are we going to know if we messed things up?” Marin bit her lower lip. “We live in 12 A.D. That was 1962. That’s almost two thousand years later.”
“Let me pull up my laptop and check 1960s history,” I muttered. My heart pounded against my chest as we made our way to the cave, where all my history books and electronics were stored.
“Oh dear God, please let us not have messed everything up,” Marin prayed.
“Amen to that!” I agreed. I made a beeline for my laptop and threw the screen open, drumming my fingers as I waited for it to load. “Come on, come on!”
It powered up and I typed in B-59 submarine: Cuban Missile Crisis. It popped up and I scanned the titles- then sighed with relief. “The world exploded!"
"What!"
I laughed and slapped my knee. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. What it really says is the exact same thing as before, all the titles are the same! They didn't fire!”
Marin gave a squeal of joy and leapt over to hug me. “Oh, thank the Lord! Goodness, that was close!” She gave me a pretend punch on the shoulder. "Don't scare me like that. That was mean."
"Sorry, I couldn't resist." I read over the article. “According to this, a couple of things have changed. Apparently we’re mentioned in here, but the crew seems to think we were some kind of guardian angels, because we disappeared right after they made the decision to surface. Obviously they didn't find us in our quarters like we were supposed to be. Nikita himself said that we were part of the reason he made his decision. “I realized that these Americans were just like us,” he’s quoted saying. “They were fearful and nervous and didn’t like us much, but they didn’t want to start a war. How could I start a war? I couldn’t say yes. I don’t know who those two were, but I’m willing to bet they were angels, sent to keep us from ending the world.” Isn’t that nice? He thought we were angels!”
“Yeah, except one of the angels lied about how he got there,” Marin giggled.
I gave her a shove and shook my head. “Okay, so I need to work on that. And I will. But for now I say we celebrate! We're going to go get some Italian ice cream!”
She agreed with me on that point. This was an adventure worth celebrating.
The End
