The Moe Berg Episodes by Rick Wilber

Author:Rick Wilber [Rick Wilber]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction/Alternate History
ISBN: 9781640191884
Publisher: New Word City, Inc.
Published: 2018-09-14T00:00:00+00:00

March 5, 1940

In the Horseshoe Bar

It was dark, with little sweeps of light coming into the room. “Who’s down there?” someone yelled.

“A lot of us,” Moe tried to yell back, but it came out a croak, his throat filled with dust, his eyes blinded by the dust and the darkness. He couldn’t see a thing, or hear much, or say much. A little bit of water might fix him right up, but that didn’t seem likely at the moment.

He swallowed, dry and awful; then he tried it again. Better, maybe. He gave the yell another try, “Help,” he said, and it came out well enough. So, “Help. Over here,” he said a little louder, and tried to move his right arm to wave it, but it was trapped under something.

Someone heard him, and the light from the flashlight – they called it a torch here – came his way. He tried to wave the left arm and it was covered in something, a plank, and he was able to pull the arm free. He waved it. The light from the torch caught it and stayed, and that was how Moe got free from the rubble of the bombed-out pub.

He was okay. The garda – what the Irish called their cops – yelled something in Irish back toward some others and in a minute or two a young kid, skinny and all arms and legs, a boy who couldn’t have been more than ten, was scrambling over the debris to get to Moe with a canteen full of water. The kid had a miner’s cap on, with a candle in front of a small mirror on the front of it; dim but it got the job done.

The kid splashed a little water on Moe’s face and wiped off the wet dust with his hand and then helped Moe drink and rinse and then spit the water out. That first sip was the best drink of any kind that Moe had ever had.

Then the kid slipped the canteen’s strap over his shoulder and set to work to free Moe, which turned out to be easier than you’d think. His right arm was trapped by some debris, but it moved aside if you pushed from behind, so the kid did that. And then Moe’s legs were under some paneling that had come down from the bar above them. Funny how the paneling was here but not the floor. The explosion must have sent stuff flying everywhere.

The paneling moved easily, too, when you had the right grip on it. Moe was lucky. In a minute or two he was standing up. Nothing broken, and the kid said something to him. “Tá tú ceart go.”

Moe brushed his sleeves for a few seconds. He was fine. Then he answered the kid with, “Beidh tú ag iarraidh ar mo cabhair a fháil ar na daoine eile,” telling the kid that he wanted to stay and help find the others.

The kid smiled at that, and then, together, talking

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