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Not for the first time, and in fact the exact number had been lost, Tommy was awakened by air raid sirens. If he strained his ears, Tommy could almost hear the sound of German planes. Sleep wouldn't be coming back any time soon, so Tommy crawled out of the nest of blankets he and Simon slept in, tail curling some. As he padded out into the main church, he found Simon up in one of the high windows that had been broken a few years prior.
The larger gargoyle was staring up at the night sky, listening to the sirens and the drone of the planes. He looked over when Tommy joined him, settling next to him. There was no birdsong, not this late at night, and the church was only filled with the sound of church mice skittering about where they could. Besides them, the brothers, and the odd stray cat or squirrel that might come in, or brave teenagers come to check out the building, there hadn't been anybody in the church since the Great War. For more than two decades, the former holy building had stood abandoned.
Sitting there in the window, Simon thought of the ages gone when it had been filled with light, with the whispers and the songs of worship, of love and belief. He remembered the first time he'd woken up, so many decades ago, listening to such devotion. Something had told him, deep down, to hide and not be seen. He was very much a part of the church, but that didn't mean he knew he'd be accepted. For a couple years Simon was the only one, and then Tommy had woken up. Together they'd hidden, pilfering from the kitchens in the dead of night, even taking some of the clothes left hanging over night.
Such actions had gone well enough for several years before a young layman had caught them in the middle of the night. He could have yelled for everybody, he could have told the bishop, but instead he'd opted to keep them a secret. He'd found a place to hide them, had helped them clean up for the first time since waking, properly dressed them, had even named them and taught them to read from his Bible. But such things weren't meant to last, and both Simon and Tommy had long figured out age just wasn't a thing they did, and they'd watched their friend become a Deacon, then a Priest, and up until he was, himself, the Bishop. And then their friend, the one person they knew they could trust, had died of age, and the brothers only had each other. Neither one had felt brave enough to reveal themselves to anybody else in the church.
Watching the sky with Simon, Tommy finally said, “They're coming more often..” Beside him, Simon only hummed. The planes had, at first, come in the daytime. When the RAF had gotten better at shooting them down, the tactic had swapped to night flying. Not for the first time since it had all started, both brothers wondered when it would finally stop.
After a while, Tommy climbed down from the window and headed to the doorway for the stairs to the bell tower. The actual door had fallen off the year prior, the hinges finally giving up after so long neglected. The stairs themselves were at least stone, built into the old tower when the structure had first been built. It was a long climb, but it was worth it, his fingers brushing over the dirty old metal of the bell at the top. Above his head, settled and sleeping for the night, were the pigeons he'd known for so long. Most had been hatched and grown up here. They knew the gargoyles were safe, letting themselves be stroked and handled by clawed yet gentle hands, checked over for parasites and injuries. Some showed the signs of their long time under human care, their feathers patterned in white patches, others with rust-brown feathering, one bird being a particularly pale and soft ombre. He adored them.
Much like the door to the bell tower stairway, the slats for the tower had long fallen away, the wood having rotted without people coming up to care for it and check that it was still secure. It was how the pigeons got in and out, seeking shelter from the biting cold wind, the rain, the snow. Now, Tommy easily climbed through it, knocking away the light bit of snow that had accumulated during the daylight hours. Yes they were shorter and he and Simon could go out for longer once the sun went down, but it also meant there were no leaves on the trees and shrubs to hide them from view when the sun was out. Tommy himself hated winter for it, missing the warmth of the sun soaking into his skin and hair.
Sirens were still going, as was the buzz of the planes. Tommy settled on the roof, wrapping his tail around himself while he stared up at the dark expanse above. With the war-time attempts to keep the cities safe, there weren't many lights on in Manchester, making the city dark and harder to see on a map. The balance to that was being able to see the stars more clearly, far more visible than they had been since before the industrial revolution. It was a beautiful sight, the only thing Tommy found good about the whole affair. Eventually, Simon joined him on the roof, the larger gargoyle's tail wrapping around Tommy's side as he fully settled next to his brother.
Both gargoyles went rigid as the stars began to blot out from a plane. It was close... Very close... It was flying right over the church. Hands tightening into fists against his thighs, Tommy whispered, “Simon...”
“Tommy...” Simon started to get up. “Tommy, move!” Grabbing Tommy, he rushed for the bell tower. The air was filled with not only the thrum of the plane flying by overhead, but the whistle of the bomb it had dropped. As they rushed through the opening, Tommy first and then Simon, the air was filled with the new sound of the bomb crashing through the roof of the old building, right where they'd been sitting. The pigeons flew out of the tower, spooked from their roost, while the gargoyles hurried down the stairs.
Debris was starting to fall already, the tower was swaying and starting to detach from the church. It was worse as they hurried through the door and entire pieces of the roof began to fall and the building gave in to the neglect it had been experiencing. There was a deep and resounding crack as one of the roof beams finally gave, showering not only debris down on the brothers but the entire massive piece of wood. Tommy tripped as pieces of roofing hit him, causing him to hit the floor. He curled into a ball, expecting the beam to come down on him, but there was only a shower of dust and grit and more tiling. When Tommy looked up, Simon was using his larger size to hold the beam up.
“Tommy, MOVE! ”
He didn't need to be told twice – With a scraping of claws, Tommy was up and running, jumping out a now-shattered window. He heard the thud of the beam as Simon threw it aside, and then the larger gargoyle was out of the church and pulling Tommy along. Smoke was in the air, not only from the church but across the city of Manchester. Where the bombs fell and exploded, fires sprang up, eating away quickly at everything they could touch. The smoke choked at everything, making it hard for people to breathe as the fires and debris sent them fleeing businesses, industries, and homes, and everything was glowing bright as the snow closest to the fires melted.
Making it to the edge of the church's property, Simon and Tommy turned to watch their home as it burned and slowly collapsed. Something inside them both shifted, like a connection had broken, severed as the walls of a place once so holy gave way and fell into themselves, and all they could do was watch and mourn. They were battered, bruised, covered in wounds both small and larger, and colder than if they'd huddled in the back room they'd been calling home since it had become obvious nobody was returning.
They stared for a while at the burning ruins, before Simon gently took Tommy's arm and guided him away. “Come on, let's go find somewhere new to stay...” Tommy only hummed, staring for a moment more before he turned and followed his brother.
Tails down, they carefully worked their way through Manchester, looking for something, anything, to hunker down in. Eventually, though, finally, they found the remains of a house that had been abandoned during one of the earlier raids on Manchester, when the planes flew boldly in the daylight. Part of one wall was collapsed, allowing access in, but the rest seemed to be sound enough to hold their weight. It was here, in one of the bedrooms, that they huddled together. Dawn was creeping ever so slowly over the world, showing the full scale of the damage from the night's raid through the cloying smoke and weak cloud cover that had moved in.
Using the remains of a blanket to try and keep warm, Tommy leaned into Simon, tail once again curled around his legs. “Where will we go, Simon? We've nothing left...”
Arm and his own tail around his brother, Simon said, “We got each other, Tommy. And we can go...” He had to pause and think, weighing their options. The enemies couldn't possibly be bombing all of England, could they? “Maybe we can go to London, lots of places to hide there, right? And maybe less bombed.”
London... Tommy remembered their long-gone friend talking about London, about how nice it was and the nice houses that the gentry lived in and the sight they were to see. How had it changed since it had been described to them, so long ago? But there was a problem. “How will we get there, though?”
Easily enough, Simon had a solution. “We can hide on a train. Or we can walk there, hide during the day.”
London was so far away... Tommy barely remembered the last map they'd been shown, when the fastest way to travel was by horse. He was quiet for a moment, before he said, “I think the train is better, hide in the cargo and get there faster.” Then he looked up at Simon, tilting his head just a bit. “Will we find a new church there?” Would a new church... Accept them? How did it work? They'd only tried to leave the property once before, a few years before. Their skin had started to burn, like the world beyond the edge of the church yard was on fire. Until the bomb had fallen, they hadn't tried again.
It was Simon's turn to fall quiet, shifting and pulling the blanket closer. Then he asked, “Who says we gotta live in a church?”
“But we're gargoyles...” Tommy gave Simon a confused look. “Gargoyles are on churches.”
Reaching up, Simon brushed his thumb over Tommy's cheek where it had been cut by the debris. There was a scab there now, blood dried to cover the minor injury. “We're also alive and we bleed. Think some unwritten rules went out the window.” Then he shifted and made sure the blanket was properly wrapped around them both, more so Tommy. “Get some rest, we leave to the train yards when it's dark.” He got grumbling in response, but Tommy settled against him and was soon asleep. Before he, too, went to sleep, Simon looked out the thin curtains of the window, watching as snow began to lazily fall. Then he nestled down and hid his face against his brother's hair, going to sleep as well.
The darkness of night plus the muffling snow were a large advantage to Simon and Tommy sneaking their way to the rail yards. It was easy enough to avoid the few lights, as well as any torches pointing around as people worked loading things and attaching cars. Taking advantage of a break in security, Simon motioned for Tommy to go up on top of a line of cars before following. The different lines were hard to pinpoint which way they were heading without the engine, so they simply started quietly running along the tops of the cars to check which load was heading for London.
Finally, after checking the cargo labeling in multiple trains, Simon popped his head over the top of the car, “This one. Goin' right to London.” He held his hand out, helping Tommy down before they found a spot to hide until pre-departure inspections were done. Only once the doors to the car were closed and the train was in motion to travel through the night did the brothers relax.
As they huddled together, wrapped up in the old blanket they'd brought from the abandoned house, Tommy asked, “Do you think we'll find others like us?”
Looking at Tommy in the dark of the train car, Simon asked back, “Gargoyles?”
“Yeah...” Tommy's tail wiggled, before wrapping around Simon's. “Or anything that's... Y'know... Not human.”
Simon was quiet at that, weighing Tommy's words. Finally he answered, “Maybe. We'll see. Let's focus on finding a new home when we get there, okay?”
Turning and burying his face against Simon's chest, Tommy quietly said, “Yeah, okay..” Outside, though they couldn't see it, the English countryside flew by. In a few short hours, they'd be in London and could sneak away to hide within the city as old as the Roman conquest of the region.