REBOOT: Birds of Connaught Park: Ch 1

Chapter 1 – The Incident

Castle Rock Internment Camp, November 11, 1918
Alberta Canada

Captain Leicester looked over his shoulder at the soldiers’ barrack, and then the larger one that held the prisoners. The blizzard had concealed the first part of his operation, but it had now lifted, and the moon showed like a trollop. Satisfied nobody was lurking in the windows, he pushed open the clinic door.

He heard the doctor moan in his sleep and nearly laughed. The dirty dog! It’s no wonder he dreamed about it, he’d never once took up with the ladies for hire in the village. I bet even in his dreams, it’s just him and his bloody wife.

That was Dr. Jack Ryerson all over though, following the rules to a tee. He’d always suspected the doctor had written the anonymous letters that had made such trouble for him. Even the British Government inquired about the excessive brutality in the internment camps. Major Van Bowman at headquarters made his way to visit with them, but he was not hostile.

“I told the blasted Brits to mind their own business.” He leaned in secretively. “Half our country is overseas, and they have the nerve to demand an explanation about an internal business! No harm done, but be sharp.”

Captain Leicester hated stoolpigeons, and he suspected the doctor’s night would end very badly, just like his fun little dream. He was about to see a big, bearded face.

“Wake up! Doctor, wake up!”

The doctor blinked at the Captain for a moment. “Captain Leicester? Sir, what are you…”

“Shush, be quiet about it! It’s three in the morning.”

“Three in the morning?”

The doctor reached for his glasses and tried to turn on a lamp.

“No lights, please. Let the men sleep. I need a medic, we’ve had an incident. And hold your questions until we’re outside the gates.”

While the doctor dressed, the Captain looked out at the barracks again. He’d worked the prisoners hard that day, carting snow and firewood till their fingers froze. For good measure, he’d opened up the cellars afterwards. Beer and warm cider all round, and you’d better believe they were sleeping tight! And why not? The war was over and the camp would be closed within two weeks.

Of course, being seen posed no problem as long as the doctor cooperated. If he just signed the death certificate, they would be back in time for breakfast. But if he didn’t return, then not being seen presented more options.

They soon walked through the camp gates. The doctor stifled a yawn and looked at the unguarded fence as if it puzzled him. A lorry waited up the road, and the Captain bounced onto the driver’s seat, his chunky legs reaching for the pedals. Though tempted to make the doctor drive, he couldn’t risk it. Everything had to play out within the next half hour. As he pampered the engine and pulled away, he noticed the doctor shiver as he watched the camp recede in the mirror. Captain Leicester decided some light banter might distract him.

“Are you cold, doc?”

“Yes. I am not fully awake yet…circulation is still slow.”

“It’s a cold morning. Damp. My feet won’t warm up at all.”

“Yes…Captain, can you tell me about the incident, please. What’s happened?”

“Ah well, it’s a bad business. The bloody guards had an extra skinful after our little celebration last night and dozed right off. Left the damned gates wide open. They'll face charges if I report it. Shouldn't have to really, not over an escaped prisoner that was fool enough to get tanked-up and make a run for it. I caught him up the road here, and when I pointed my shotgun at him, he lunged at me. Took it between the eyes for his trouble.”

“A shotgun! He’s not likely to pull through then is he?”

“No doctor. He’s dead. I just want to do the paperwork, quiet-like. I don’t want to make trouble for the guards a week before school lets out, so to speak.”

The doctor frowned at the mention of ‘paperwork’. He’d have made a bad soldier, thought the captain, makes too big deal out of killing someone.

“Who was it?”

“He got hit in the face. I couldn’t tell who it was. We’ll know at roll call.”

The doctor crossed his arms as if to dampen his shivering body, saying nothing. As the minutes ticked off, Captain Leicester felt his medic was getting more and more suspicious. He pulled the truck over at a clearing, bordered by the road behind them and by a cliff a twenty yards on. Near the far edge lay the body, bent at the knees, a spray of cranial matter in the bluish snow behind him.

“Come,” called the Captain when the doctor didn’t stir.

He looked at his medical bag, but came along empty-handed. Dr. Ryerson knelt beside the dead man, who had on a work shirt and no coat. The facial profile was concave and ragged. His nose and teeth had been blown through the back of his head.

“Poor man.” The doctor hung his head for a long minute, as if in prayer. His shivering began to subside.

Good, maybe he will calm down and we can get through this, thought Captain Leicester. He looked behind him, up and down the barren road. No cars.

Here goes.

“Doctor, there’s nothing to be done for him. It’s a damned shame about this, and it’s mostly my fault. I want to protect the men...they drank, the prisoners did too…we broke some rules. I want this to be quiet. I filled out the death certificate before even waking you. Please sign it, and we can go back to bed. I’ll have him collected in the morning.”

The doctor took the papers but stiffened as he read through them.

“You really didn’t see who this man was, Captain?”

It was probably 3:30 now. People would start to wake up within a half hour. “Sargent -- I don’t want this to take all night. I didn’t see his face.”

The reference to the doctor’s subordinate military rank, meant to reel him in, instead seemed to provoke him.

“Captain . . . I can’t very well sign a death certificate like a blank check, can I? I could lose my medical license.”

Regarding him like a dumb cow that had walked onto a bustling road, Captain Leicester took a more menacing tone. “Sargent, as your superior officer I must insist. This incident cannot be your biggest concern. The war is over, and you have a comfortable situation waiting for you on the outside.”

“I will sign it in the morning, if I can just read it, add my own notes, and the name of the man...”

Time was running out.

“Doctor, I’m sorry, but you are verging on insubordination here. I won’t let the strain of this one incident ruin your good record. Why don’t you sign the document, and I’ll authorize a stress leave until the army discharges the rest of us. There is a train at 9 AM; you can be home with your wife for dinner. Come doctor, the moon is certainly bright enough for you to read it and make your notes.”

“It is indeed. And yet somehow, you didn’t recognize this man before shooting him.”

DAMN THE MAN! The Captain’s neck stiffened as if he had been struck, and his jaw tightened. He spoke slowly, as if to a very dull-witted child. “I’ll never understand how an educated man can be so incredibly stupid. The next time a superior officer gives you a direct order, the correct answer is 'Yes, Sir'! But then again, there won’t be a next time. I’ll have the doctor from the hotel sign both your death certificates and the world can go on without you…”

He reached for his pistol.

The doctor took a stumbling step backwards. “Captain! You can’t be serious? You can’t just shoot two men and expect to get off. There will be inquiries.” The doctor took another step towards the cliff as the Captain took aim.

“There won’t be any inquiries. The prisoner surprised us, took my pistol and shot you through the head before I could reach my shotgun. When he attacked me, I killed him in self…what…where?”

He was talking to nobody. It took a second to understand the doctor had jumped from the cliff. Angry that his plans had gone awry, his face flushed. But he realized the doctor must be badly injured -- probably dead. Maybe this would work out just as well: he would report the doctor as AWOL. He waited for the light of early dawn and crawled to the edge, afraid to slide off like grease on a skillet. He saw the doctor’s body already half-buried under a snow drift, his legs bent unnaturally. Birds of prey came overhead, anxious for fresh carrion.

Perfect.