Chapter 3

[madiholmes]

The Boy Who Survived, Chapter 3 
Author:  Madi Holmes
Characters: The Boy, his mother, his siblings, The Doctor, and various people from his various lives
Rating: PG-13 (WW2, some violence, descriptions of the Blitz, bombings, rationing)
Warnings: Alternate Universe
Time line: 1940 London
Disclaimer: BBC owns the Doctor, but this isn't a true fanfiction. It lies somewhere in that place between sleep and awake.
Summary: The eldest son of a family living in 1940 London is forced to gro up early. However, he is often able to escape his situation by retreating into his imagination filled with other worlds and other times.

Chapter Three

The German bomber crashed. Bits scattered and charred across the street and park.

He stared at it, couldn't leave. The wings had sheared off first, leaving the frame crumpled in the park. The engines cracked off and landed heavy beside the body, burning, turning green-brown paint to grey, the lacquer bubbling up in the heat. He watched as boys threw rocks and bricks at it, breaking the blistering glass, denting the frame. They quickly scattered as a police officer arrived, and cordoned off the area. He remained behind, watching it collapse amid dying flowers and yellowing trees.

He had been out for the raid, walking to his new school alone when the sirens went off. For hours, he was escorted from shelter to shelter, civil defense taking them to basements and churches. Tired of the stress, bored of the waiting, he finally broke from the group, and found a deserted police box. He took out first his key, then the screwdriver, and jimmied the lock open. He huddled inside safe for another hour in the dank, dark cement, the droning lessening to noise as he escaped to another planet.

After the all clear signal, he finally emerged again. Hours late for class, he decided to skip the rest of the day. Touring London, he came upon the fallen bomber, watching the engines burn lowly. They were terrifying, one propeller arcing in the heated air draft.

"Hey, Kid!" Someone yelled, shaking him back to himself as he was forced away to another block. "There are still bombs on that thing, and you just stand there with your mouth open! Do you want to die? The Germans are trying to exterminate us, and you just stand there helping them kill you!" A hatted man yelled at him, angry, scared. He looked at the grayish, frumpy man who looked just as scared as he suddenly became, felt his own resolve cracking. His chin trembled, but he held onto his emotions, his behavior. He couldn't cry, he had to be strong. Then the man hugged him tight, protecting him from the world, and the two of them stood there. "Here, I'll walk you home." The man said, leading him away from the park with the burned out bomber, and returned him to his still undamaged neighborhood.