Life and Death {Enoch O'Connor}

15

"Good morning, thank you for tuning into the morning news presented by George Adams. Today's date is the 22nd of October, 1942. Now for an update from the western front."

Enoch awoke to the muffled sound of a posh English voice that certainly didn't come from any of the peculiar children. The radio presenter's voice crackled with static but still managed to travel through the wall and into Enoch's room. He groaned, rolling over and folding his pillow over his ears in an attempt to block out the noise. But the sounds of the radio still seeped through, the wooden wall between his room and Abe's next door not thick enough to block out the sound. 

Enoch gave up, reaching to his bedside table to check the time on his watch. 6:34 am. Enoch slammed the watch back on the table, rubbing his bleary eyes. It was way too early for him to be awake. He lied in bed for a moment, contemplating his options. Finally, he settled on getting up and marching to Abe's room to order him to shut his radio off.

Pulling off his covers, he pushed himself out of bed and made his way to the room next door. He had planned on giving Abe's door a hard knock to give Abe a warning that he meant business, but was surprised -- and slightly disappointed -- to find it open. 

Enoch hesitated before stepping inside. There he found Abe, fully dressed, sitting up against the opposite wall, his body curled up so his chin rested on his knees. Beside him on the floorboards was a small radio that crackled and buzzed as the broadcast came through. Abe looked so focused on the radio that he didn't even notice Enoch's entrance.

"Abe?" Enoch spoke, causing Abe to jump as he realized someone was watching him.

"Enoch? Sorry, I didn't realize you were there. What are you doing awake?" Abe asked.

Enoch stepped further into the room in a slow approach, "I could ask you the same question." He said. "Your radio woke me up."

Abe's eyes widened apologetically, "Oh my, I'm so sorry, I didn't realize..." He quickly reached from the dial, turning down the volume so it was just loud enough for him to still hear it.

Enoch had been so angry just moments before but seeing Abe listening so intently to the broadcast filled him with a mix of concern and curiosity, "Why are you listening to the news anyways? There's never anything good. It all about the war, people dying, and towns being blown to bits. That doesn't seem like a pleasant way to start your day."

Abe looked to the radio then back to Enoch, as if debating whether to answer him or not, "I have to listen," Abe told him, "I want to know if there is any news from my home." 

It took Enoch a moment to understand what Abe meant by home. Wasn't this his home? But Enoch quickly realized Abe didn't mean the children's home, Wales, or even Britain at all. He was talking about his real home, Poland, where he'd fled only a few years ago. 

Abe had come to miss Peregrine soon after the war had started in 1939 when he was only 14, shortly before Enoch arrived. Now, soon to be 18, Abe had assimilated to the Welsh island so well, Enoch often forgot he hadn't always lived here. Enoch didn't know too many details of Abe's past, only that he left mainland Europe to escape the war.

"I keep listening in case something happens," Abe continued, "I keep hoping for some good news but I always expect the worst. Things were only just starting when I left, I can only imagine what it is like there now." Abe's voice fell softer as he stared deeply at the floorboards.

Enoch tried to imagine what it must be like living in a wartorn town or country. He was lucky, they seemed to be safe and sound on their little island off of Wales, and his village in the Scottish Highlands was far too rural to be of any importance to the Germans. But, while he was safe here, there were many other children just like him who could see the destruction from their bedroom windows. There were people forced to evacuate their homes, families torn apart, and young men - not much older than himself - killed in battle. Abe had been forced to flee his country in search of safety. There was no telling what he'd been through.