Post by ryokowerx on Aug 26, 2011 16:42:33 GMT -5
Blackhawk finished draping the camouflage netting over his plane and consulted his map again. He reckoned his position against the sun and, making sure that his holster was unfastened, strode off in the direction of the famous aviator’s grave, the chunk of gravestone underneath his arm.
He crept from tree to tree, hoping that his dark uniform would blend in with the heavy shade from the tall firs. He just had to hope that the netting would hide his plane from the interceptors that were sure to be looking for him. If they found his Skyrocket, all he could look forward to was the friendly local jackboots and dogs.
If he hadn’t had the added urgency of discovery, the scenery would have been something to take in with a bottle of fine wine and a pretty girl. The temperature was pleasantly cool and the melodic chatter of birds warbled through the lush boughs of the patch of trees that bordered the fields he was skulking through. The distant yap of a farmwife’s small terrier added to the pastoral atmosphere. You wouldn't think there was a war going on.
He soon reached the solitary grave that had been put in the middle of a clearing. A lonely but fitting place to die Blackhawk sympathized. Most pilots final resting places were wherever they fell from grace. Some died with a curse and a spit at their killers while others screamed in horror and disbelief. He wondered how his end would play out. before the cool stone in his hand brought his attention back to the here and now. What was he supposed to do now?
The nearby snap of a twig exploded like a gunshot in the quiet of the grove and Blackhawk dropped down on his belly behind nearby brush and drew his pistol as his survival instinct took over. Could just be an animal. Could be a farmer he mentally reminded himself. Don’t get a twitchy finger. The last thing you need is to trade lead with someone and give yourself away.
A helmeted man and a woman came into view. The man looked like an American with his green uniform and machine gun. He seemed preoccupied with trying to be quiet. The woman was wearing a similar colored jacket and her eyes immediately locked with Blackhawk as if his cover wasn’t even there.
“Jeb,” she touched her companion’s shoulder, “Please say hello to Mister Hawk and the Count de Sevigne.”
Weird War Tales: Stare Not Into the Abyss
Part Four of Five
Written by James Stubbs
Cover by James Stubbs
Easy Company:
Rock and his weary men had made double time from the ambush. Their original mission might have been blown but now he had a new one. He was already working outside of “official” authority, no real reason to buck that now. He marched at the front of the line of his men, backs bowed under their heavy packs, bleary eyes staring ahead to the horizon, hoping that the end of their slog lay ahead. His eyes swept the surroundings that would have made any arborist proud but his mind was constantly bringing back Marie, shame and denial slugging it out in his head.
“Rock,” Bulldozer said as he trudged up next to him, “Easy’s dead on its feet. You’ve been ridin’ ‘em hard all day.”
The grizzled Master Sergeant seemed to see his command for the first time. “Take a break, Easy. Smoke ‘em if you got ‘em.”
A collective sigh of relief went up as men flopped down where they stood and went for canteens, cigarettes and chocolate bars. Frank Rock turned and peered through the trees at the country road they were going parallel to. Nobody wanted to take the road and become buzzard bait out in the open. A TNT egg on your egg was the way home that you didn't want.
Everything was quiet. The wind gently disturbed the leaves in the trees. There was a sigh and faint splashing as someone relieved themselves against a tree. Rock’s keen eyes burrowed into the dense brush on the other side of the road as he saw Bulldozer approaching again out the corner of his eye. He was about to give him an earful on that he didn’t give a damn what he thought but movement in the brush snapped his jaw shut.
“Get down!” Rock hissed, “You too unless you want it shot off!”
Tired as they were, Easy snapped into action quickly and quietly as rifles were snatched and men rolled over into prone shooting positions as hushed relays rushed through the group.
“Well, there’s your Germans,” Bulldozer murmured next to him. “What’re we going to do? Kill ‘em and take their uniforms?”
“Don’t be stupid,” Rock shot back in a low growl. “You’ve been reading too many bad magazine stories. That’d never work.”
The Creature Commandos:
Lieutenant Shrieve squirmed uncomfortably in the rough wool officer’s coat. It made him itch and the grumbling from Private Elliot wedged in the driver’s seat, grey helmet pulled low over his forehead, let him know that he wasn’t alone in wondering who had given life a pass to take a piss in his breakfast.
Warren, now back to his normal non-furry self, picked up one of the discarded motorcycles. “Why're we doing this? I thought our job was to kill that guy and you did a damned good job with that.”
“The papers,” Shrieve patted his chest pocket and idly checked again for any errant blood stains on his uniform front, “he had on him were far more important that we were led to believe. This Major Kluge obviously has someone on our side ratting for him. There is just way too much here for good intel or luck to count for. We’ve already taken care of one of his stooges, no reason why we can’t get him and make him spill the beans on who the Grade-A fink is.”
“Sounds like a setup to me, lieutenant” Sergeant Velcro observed. “Too pat for my taste.”
Shrieve nodded and refrained from making a comment on Velcro's bloody tastes. “Except these orders are dated in advance with notes to the commencement of Allied attacks. You wouldn’t bother cooking up fakes that were pre-dated and easily disproved if they were discovered.”
Warren kick-started his bike and yelled over the roar of the engine, “Maybe he’s just got a fortune teller working for him,” he quipped.
A reversed High Priestess came from the deck and Nimue let it flutter down onto the Empress. You can’t fight Fate. She hastily gathered the cards back up again, distraught that they never changed their outlook for her. Jeb and the man who insisted on being called Blackhawk occasionally glanced over from their conversation as her frustration vented itself into soft curses.
“You routinely bring crazy women with you?” Blackhawk asked.
“Captain, if you knew some of the things I did, you’d know I’m not qualified to judge if someone is off their rocker or not.”
“And, if the sane were running the world, we wouldn’t be here right now and I wouldn’t be carrying someone’s tombstone. Point taken, Lieutenant Stuart,” he said with a laugh.
“Can I speak to the Count?” Nimue broke in suddenly.
“Sure, sister,” Blackhawk handed over the fragment, “I’m beginning to think that I was just seeing things anyway. Don't know why I'm still toting this thing around.”
Her pale hands touched the granite and her body went rigid as her face twitched. “No, he is still with you, Captain. I can sense anxiety, determination and… fear.” Nimue lowered the fragment into her lap and, ignoring Blackhawk’s muttered “lucky bastard,” placed both hands on it and closed her eyes.
After a few moments, her eyes opened and she murmured, “Thank you, Count. Your duty is now done.” Nimue placed the tombstone fragment reverently beneath a shady tree. "Rest in peace," she said softly and focused her attention on the two men traveling with her. “Things are getting worse. The veil between worlds is thinning quickly. Whoever has the Eye is using it. A lot. It will only be a matter of time before the wall falls and the dead overrun this world.”
“Wait! What?” Blackhawk exclaimed.
Jeb tried to explain as much of it as he could remember from what Nimue had told him, which wasn’t much. Thinking about things like that just made his head hurt and he was happy to leave all the mumbo-jumbo to her.
The tall pilot fell silent.
“What?” Jeb insisted after what seemed forever.
“I think I’d rather be chasing Nazis in shark costumes.”
The Haunted Tank:
They abandoned the car after only a short chase when the trail became more pronounced. Young Viktor as their scout once again moved ahead as Krestler and his two infantrymen followed the easy trail of oil and tread marks cut into the ground. They soon came within sight of the hastily camouflaged tank and three of its crew. Krestler followed Viktor’s lead and they all crouched and advanced upon the men through the brush. Two of them seemed occupied with repairs while the third stood on guard.
“You! Drop your weapon! You are my prisoner!” Krestler barked as he and his men rose up from their hiding spots and leveled their guns at the tank crew. Rich whirled around with alarm and raised his Thompson.
“Anschlag!” Eichmann yelled but the man did not heed his command to stop.
Viktor’s rifle spoke and the American fell over with a cry.
Captain Krestler stepped forward, noting the trembling grip Viktor had on his gun. This was probably the first man he had ever shot and that accommodated for the fact that this American only suffered a shoulder wound. Had it been either of his other two veterans or even his driver, this man would surely be dead. He kicked the American’s gun away and noted that the other two prisoners were competently covered by Eichmann and Traugott.
“You” he motioned to Gus “Tend to this man’s wound.”
Eichmann kept the crew under guard while Traugott checked the tank and found no one inside. “Where are your commander and the woman? Do they have the Eye?” Krestler ordered.
The three men shared defiant looks and remained silent.
“Your cooperation is not needed. I can find them easily on my own,” Krestler frowned “Viktor! Search the area.”
It only took the young man a few moments to discover the two sets of footprints,
“You see?” Krestler smiled at the looks of dismay among his prisoners, “Traugott? Hipper. You will remain here to guard these men. If they try to escape, kill them.”
“Get lost, rat,” Gus growled under his breath.
“Hipper?” Krestler asked
“Ja Kapitän?” his guard replied.
“Shoot that one in the leg” he ordered as he turned and stalked off with Viktor and Eichmann as a rifle cracked behind them.
Easy Company:
Frank Rock and Bulldozer watched the indistinct forms of the Germans marching in the trees across the road from them.
“What’s the plan, Rock?”
“We catch ‘em from behind.” He began issuing silent hand signals as Easy quietly broke their rest and abandoned their packs. Speed and silence counted now rather than how much they could carry.
They watched as Little Sure Shot moved past them, quiet as a ghost, the only sign of his passage being the brief flash of white from the feather in his helmet. Worry Wart and Ice Cream Soldier followed their resident Apache before Rock began his own pursuit.
They were making good time before loud two gunshots and the piecing screams of a woman shattered the silence.
Bulldozer quickly looked over at his commanding officer and couldn’t miss the bone-white knuckles clamped on the gun and the fearful look that flashed though the man’s eyes.
“Marie!” Rock shouted and burst into a charge, any pretense at stealth discarded.
The man known as Bulldozer cursed and ran pell-mell after him. He didn’t even think about how Sarge knew her from only a scream until later and it was one topic he vowed to never bring up.
The Sommer Home:
Tala watched the skies darken to an unnatural bluish black hue from the upstairs bedroom window as the sun was slowly blotted from the sky. Thunder rumbled in the distance and a few sparks of impotent lightning sparked amongst the clouds. She could feel the rush of ambient mystical power flow around her. It was intoxicating. Her efforts through her toy human were bearing fruit. Soon the boundary between two worlds would be rent asunder, disgorging the hungry spirits of the deal upon this earth. Chaos would tear this world apart and strike another blow against the feeble forces of order in the universe.
She spared a glance over at Kluge. His mind was broken at this point but she accepted that as a result of so much exposure to the Eye. His body, as much as she had enjoyed what carnality she could of it, was of little interest now. He was a merely a shell awaiting a new occupant. Tala fingered an ancient sacrificial dagger from one of the former professor’s collection. Her consort would only be the first of millions for a new army. A new world order that would march to her master’s beat.
The damned Lords of Order would undoubtedly send some of their pawns to stop the events he had placed in motion. It was an acceptable loss. What mattered to her of men and machines and the ravages of war? Suffering was a universal constant.
Easy Company:
Mademoiselle Marie staggered back from the advancing company of the dead as her instincts screamed at her to run but her body refused to move with its usual litheness. The fetid stench of dead flesh and human excrement assailed her nostrils. Their eyes blazed with an unearthly blue light and several moved their jaws as in an effort to speak but only dry rasps issued out.
“Marie!”
She grabbed onto that single shout like a drowning woman. It was the one speck of sanity in a world turned mad. American G.I.s began to spill from the woods and she looked around for Frank. She almost smiled as she recognized him leading the charge. She would be safe.
Easy drew up short. To their credit not a single gun wavered but nobody fired either as the ghastly dead men looked at them, swaying unsteadily on unfamiliar legs.
“Oh God, it’s Parker,” came a hoarse croak from behind him.
Similar cries of muted fear followed as people began to recognize dead friends or the faces of those they had killed once already. Stiff limbs began to raise weapons.
Frank Rock swallowed hard. This wasn’t natural and he sure as hell had to be counting sheep and had just fallen into a nightmare. But he was the Rock. He would not break. His men depended on him no matter what the insanity of war threw at him. He would fight. He would live.
Marie knew what was coming and instinctively threw herself to the ground.
“What’re you lollygaggin’ for?” he yelled. “Kill ‘em again!”
They needed no urging. A fusillade of lead tore into the ranks of the living dead.
Pale bodies crumpled under the withering fire but just as quickly began to get back up again, their ravaged bodies no impediment to whatever blasphemy animated them. Scattered return fire began to answer their assault.
“Keep moving!” Rock bellowed out over the din as he made his way to Marie.
She latched onto him, drawing strength from his closeness.
“That has got to be your worst disguise yet,” he took a moment to make a wry comment.
“Just shut up and give me a gun,” she said back, eyes flashing.
Jeb groaned in frustration and disheartenment from their hiding place in the tree line after their long walk. A full troop’s strength in Tigers surrounded the Professor’s home along with enough trucks and armored cars to support them. It was obvious that they had chosen this spot for a staging and refueling area. Yet somehow they were supposed to get inside and search the home that he was sure would also be housing off-duty crew and guards. “It’s never easy is it?” he said.
“No,” Nimue said with quiet conviction that cut right through Jeb's defenses, “It’s not.”
“How’re we going to get in there?” Blackhawk asked off to his side.
To his credit Jeb didn’t flinch this time but met her eyes. A man could get lost in there he thought. Perhaps it was this mesmerization that loosened his tongue, “Nimue, there’s a war going on… I have my duty… I can’t…”
“I know, Jeb,” she said quietly and closed her hand around his “This war can’t last forever.”
“No,” he replied after a moment, “No it can’t.”
“If you two lovebirds can spare a moment?” Blackhawk wryly commented as he looked over from the compact spyglass he has produced from his jacket. “Something is going on.”
The rumble of diesels turning over brought their attentions unwillingly back to the former home as men began to spill out amongst a chorus of shouts and laughter in German. They were in high spirits and Jeb suddenly worried for the other tankers out there. It certainly seemed to him that the hunters had become the hunted because this was not the morale of men under pressure.
Jeb studied the grounds after the tanks left for some time. “I think I’d have a better chance after dark,” he mused.
“I think we would too,” Nimue retorted “You’re not leaving me behind and you need me to find the Eye.”
“Well that is useful information to know,” a voice said behind them as they turned to face Krestler’s pistol “Why don’t we pay a visit there now instead of waiting?”
The Creature Commandos:
Private Elliot Taylor winced as he hit a bump in the road that was followed by a thump and a distinctly un-ladylike curse from the trunk of the car. Shrieve had argued that a woman in the car would raise too many questions and, as much as he hated the man, Elliot had to grudgingly admit that he was probably right.
It was still an insult.
There were times when he had regrets. Times when he wished he had had the guts to finish the job. But he was a coward. He could still remember the twinge of fear that made the muzzle tucked under his chin move. Even in the deepest part of his soul that wanted to just end it all, he couldn’t do it. Instead of blowing his own brains out, he took his own voice. “Lucky” Taylor, goddamn yellow-backed ‘fraidy cat.
It wouldn’t have mattered. Even if he could have spoken, he couldn’t have told her how he felt. And who would want him? A discarded piece of meat nearly blown to pieces by a landmine and stitched back together like someone’s cruel mockery of a ragdoll. Instead, he adored her from afar and hoped that one of these days the Germans would do what he couldn’t – kill him.
The muffled sounds of distant gunfire made him apply the brakes and Shrieve frowned from the back seat.
“Now wouldn’t be a good time to find out if that’s some of our boys,” the lieutenant-turned-captain announced. “No need for us to get killed ‘cause we’re in the wrong uniforms.” He consulted his map and leaned over the seat and showed Elliot a secondary road. “It’ll take us longer but we’ll detour whatever is ahead.”
The car left the road, unknowingly leaving Easy Company to its own fate.
Easy Company:
The initial volley of fire had now gone down to a running gunfight through the dense woods. Easy had the advantage of being more mobile but the dead just didn’t seem to want to die again no matter how much of a lead diet you put them on. Even though they were lousy shots, it was only a matter of time before one or more of 'em got lucky and added another member to their ranks like some of Easy had already done.
Rock went down under the weight of one of them as he was surprised from behind a tree. Dead teeth sought out his throat as its weight trapped his gun against his body. A hand caught the top of its head and a flash of metal flashed in front of his eyes as the head lolled free on a partially severed neck. Marie, knife in hand, kicked it and watched without compassion as the head ripped away from the body.
The lights went out in the eyes.
“Go for the heads!” he yelled out loudly. “Pass it on!”
He could hear the word being repeated down the line.
The fight slowly turned to Easy’s favor as more and more of the enemy fell to well-placed shots. They regrouped once the dead were finally put to rest again.
“Any casualties?” Bulldozer asked.
“Rogers, sir.” A thin voice spoke up out of darkness.
“Did you…” Rock began.
“In the head, sir.” the voice faltered.
Sergeant Rock sighed. Another death.
“Listen, men,” he cleared his throat, “I don’t know what we just saw but it was probably some Nazi trick or secret weapon.” Rock held up a packet of mail from his jacket. “And I think I know where we can find out where it’s coming from. We’re the only ones who can stop it. I’ve asked you guys to go to hell with me and back and now I’m going to ask you again…”
He raised his tommy gun over his head and yelled, “Are you with me?!”
A chorus of cheers broke the quiet of the forest.
The Sommer Home:
The late Professor Sommer had one heck of a sense for décor Jeb thought as they were herded inside. African masks with grotesque faces leered down at the Anglo defilers of their abode and old looking items cluttered shelves. The place had the feeling of a museum away from a museum only with a bit more dust. He would have remembered more if not for more of his attention being focused on the cold hard tip of a Mauser jammed into his back.
Major Hans Kluge looked up with annoyance as the three prisoners where led into his office. The two troopers behind him leveled their submachine guns and looked on coldly. Bart Hawk shot back daggers at them, his anger at being ambushed far greater than concern for the danger he was in.
“What is the meaning of this, Herr Kapitän? Where you not instructed to hold the town?” he frowned and made a strange noise into his fist.
Jonas Krestler stared strangely the officer. Was the man ill? A slick sheen of sweat dampened the man’s forehead and Krestler could have sworn that Major Kluge had made something between a snigger and a laugh into his hand. The man twitched in his chair.
“I was, Major” Krestler answered with a hesitant salute, “This American and his tank were driven off but I caught them spying on you. I have also been instructed by my superior to search for an item called the Eye. The woman claims it is here. And… are you ill, sir?”
“Never better and, Oh, it is here, Kapitän Krestler” Major Kluge answered with a dangerous smile and a giggle as he withdrew a fist-sized rock of obsidian on a chain from a desk drawer. He swung it around his finger like a toy. “But you can’t have it! It’s mine! Mine! Mine!”
“Major, I’ve been instructed by…” Krestler began.
“Kill them!” he screamed at his two guards like a petulant child.
“Verräter!” Eichmann screamed as the two guards suddenly opened fire.
Eichmann got off a single shot fired from his hip as he was cut down but his own bullet exploded the head of his murderer. Poor Viktor, on the other hand, never saw his own death coming. The remaining guard pointed the still smoking barrel of his gun on Krestler and waited for the command to fire.
The Captain could feel the small gem around his neck grow hot almost if it too was seething in rage at the betrayal. “Drop your gun. No more playtime unless mother says so!” the Major commanded with a cock of his head and unfocused eyes that seemed to roll about. He brandished his own pistol.
Nimue stole a glance at Jeb as Krestler’s pistol hit the floor with a thump and a snarl.
“Have you gone mad?” Krestler barked “This is mutiny!”
A loud clap of thunder shook the house.
“I’m not deranged” Kluge said in a sudden moment of lucidity, although the gleam in his eyes spoke otherwise, “The war is lost. I have seen Hitler kill himself, our surrender, Berlin divided up like a turkey between the Reds and the Americans and the world after. I can change it! I know what will happen and I can stop it.” He flourished the air with quick jerky hand waving but his aim never wavered off of Krestler as he cackled again.
Krestler’s anger rose as he spat “You would give up because you had a bad dream? You are a coward, Major. A coward and a fool.”
“He speaks the truth,” Nimue spoke up with alarm, “He has seen the future, Captain, but the Eye has driven him insane. That is why it was hidden away. Its power to corrupt…”
Kluge’s bullet struck her in the chest and she toppled over backwards with a scream as he shrieked in laughter. “You sing too much!” he crowed “Everyone dies by my whim! I will own the apricot!”
“The hell!” exploded out of Blackhawk’s mouth.
Jeb made to lunge at Major Kluge but Krestler had already beaten him to it. “Murderer!” the captain screamed as the two men wrestled over the pistol. Jeb hit the shocked guard with a flying tackle to the midsection. The man went down with a satisfying whoosh as the wind was knocked out of him. Three strong right socks to the jaw ended the fight. Jeb added in another punch to the face to be sure and scrambled for the man’s weapon.
Blackhawk hit the floor and grabbed Krestler’s pistol.
With a crash, the Major and Captain collided into a display case that collapsed under their fury. The Eye slipped from Kluge’s grasp as the Major screamed in dismay and anger. The two men rolled over and over in shattered glass trading what awkward blows they could. Jeb pointed his gun at them but couldn’t pull the trigger. He might hit the captain. He had no love for Krestler but the man had tried to avenge Nimue. It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t know. Nimue grunted from the floor and began to lurch up onto her hands and knees unsteadily. “Twice… in one day…” she complained through the pain.
Major Kluge’s flailing hands found the Eye in the remains of the case and he struck the captain upside the head with it. It was a glancing blow but it was enough to throw Krestler off him. Kluge rolled over and hammered the captain with blows backed up by the heavy rock balled up in his fist as Krestler tried to protect his head. One of those blows deflected off a raised forearm and connected with the gem around his neck.
Berlin:
A young orderly burst into his commanding officer’s office as a horrific shriek of terror rang out. The man was found slumped in his seat drooling and babbling incoherently. He was replaced due to “health concerns.” No mention was made in the official report about the candles and large gemstone. The orderly was sent to the Russian Front never to be heard from again.
Meanwhile back at the battle:
Jeb now had his chance as the Major was straddling the beleaguered Krestler and he leveled the gun at Kluge’s back. “No!” Nimue tried to yell from the floor.
It was too late.
To be continued!
He crept from tree to tree, hoping that his dark uniform would blend in with the heavy shade from the tall firs. He just had to hope that the netting would hide his plane from the interceptors that were sure to be looking for him. If they found his Skyrocket, all he could look forward to was the friendly local jackboots and dogs.
If he hadn’t had the added urgency of discovery, the scenery would have been something to take in with a bottle of fine wine and a pretty girl. The temperature was pleasantly cool and the melodic chatter of birds warbled through the lush boughs of the patch of trees that bordered the fields he was skulking through. The distant yap of a farmwife’s small terrier added to the pastoral atmosphere. You wouldn't think there was a war going on.
He soon reached the solitary grave that had been put in the middle of a clearing. A lonely but fitting place to die Blackhawk sympathized. Most pilots final resting places were wherever they fell from grace. Some died with a curse and a spit at their killers while others screamed in horror and disbelief. He wondered how his end would play out. before the cool stone in his hand brought his attention back to the here and now. What was he supposed to do now?
The nearby snap of a twig exploded like a gunshot in the quiet of the grove and Blackhawk dropped down on his belly behind nearby brush and drew his pistol as his survival instinct took over. Could just be an animal. Could be a farmer he mentally reminded himself. Don’t get a twitchy finger. The last thing you need is to trade lead with someone and give yourself away.
A helmeted man and a woman came into view. The man looked like an American with his green uniform and machine gun. He seemed preoccupied with trying to be quiet. The woman was wearing a similar colored jacket and her eyes immediately locked with Blackhawk as if his cover wasn’t even there.
“Jeb,” she touched her companion’s shoulder, “Please say hello to Mister Hawk and the Count de Sevigne.”
Weird War Tales: Stare Not Into the Abyss
Part Four of Five
Written by James Stubbs
Cover by James Stubbs
Easy Company:
Rock and his weary men had made double time from the ambush. Their original mission might have been blown but now he had a new one. He was already working outside of “official” authority, no real reason to buck that now. He marched at the front of the line of his men, backs bowed under their heavy packs, bleary eyes staring ahead to the horizon, hoping that the end of their slog lay ahead. His eyes swept the surroundings that would have made any arborist proud but his mind was constantly bringing back Marie, shame and denial slugging it out in his head.
“Rock,” Bulldozer said as he trudged up next to him, “Easy’s dead on its feet. You’ve been ridin’ ‘em hard all day.”
The grizzled Master Sergeant seemed to see his command for the first time. “Take a break, Easy. Smoke ‘em if you got ‘em.”
A collective sigh of relief went up as men flopped down where they stood and went for canteens, cigarettes and chocolate bars. Frank Rock turned and peered through the trees at the country road they were going parallel to. Nobody wanted to take the road and become buzzard bait out in the open. A TNT egg on your egg was the way home that you didn't want.
Everything was quiet. The wind gently disturbed the leaves in the trees. There was a sigh and faint splashing as someone relieved themselves against a tree. Rock’s keen eyes burrowed into the dense brush on the other side of the road as he saw Bulldozer approaching again out the corner of his eye. He was about to give him an earful on that he didn’t give a damn what he thought but movement in the brush snapped his jaw shut.
“Get down!” Rock hissed, “You too unless you want it shot off!”
Tired as they were, Easy snapped into action quickly and quietly as rifles were snatched and men rolled over into prone shooting positions as hushed relays rushed through the group.
“Well, there’s your Germans,” Bulldozer murmured next to him. “What’re we going to do? Kill ‘em and take their uniforms?”
“Don’t be stupid,” Rock shot back in a low growl. “You’ve been reading too many bad magazine stories. That’d never work.”
***
The Creature Commandos:
Lieutenant Shrieve squirmed uncomfortably in the rough wool officer’s coat. It made him itch and the grumbling from Private Elliot wedged in the driver’s seat, grey helmet pulled low over his forehead, let him know that he wasn’t alone in wondering who had given life a pass to take a piss in his breakfast.
Warren, now back to his normal non-furry self, picked up one of the discarded motorcycles. “Why're we doing this? I thought our job was to kill that guy and you did a damned good job with that.”
“The papers,” Shrieve patted his chest pocket and idly checked again for any errant blood stains on his uniform front, “he had on him were far more important that we were led to believe. This Major Kluge obviously has someone on our side ratting for him. There is just way too much here for good intel or luck to count for. We’ve already taken care of one of his stooges, no reason why we can’t get him and make him spill the beans on who the Grade-A fink is.”
“Sounds like a setup to me, lieutenant” Sergeant Velcro observed. “Too pat for my taste.”
Shrieve nodded and refrained from making a comment on Velcro's bloody tastes. “Except these orders are dated in advance with notes to the commencement of Allied attacks. You wouldn’t bother cooking up fakes that were pre-dated and easily disproved if they were discovered.”
Warren kick-started his bike and yelled over the roar of the engine, “Maybe he’s just got a fortune teller working for him,” he quipped.
***
A reversed High Priestess came from the deck and Nimue let it flutter down onto the Empress. You can’t fight Fate. She hastily gathered the cards back up again, distraught that they never changed their outlook for her. Jeb and the man who insisted on being called Blackhawk occasionally glanced over from their conversation as her frustration vented itself into soft curses.
“You routinely bring crazy women with you?” Blackhawk asked.
“Captain, if you knew some of the things I did, you’d know I’m not qualified to judge if someone is off their rocker or not.”
“And, if the sane were running the world, we wouldn’t be here right now and I wouldn’t be carrying someone’s tombstone. Point taken, Lieutenant Stuart,” he said with a laugh.
“Can I speak to the Count?” Nimue broke in suddenly.
“Sure, sister,” Blackhawk handed over the fragment, “I’m beginning to think that I was just seeing things anyway. Don't know why I'm still toting this thing around.”
Her pale hands touched the granite and her body went rigid as her face twitched. “No, he is still with you, Captain. I can sense anxiety, determination and… fear.” Nimue lowered the fragment into her lap and, ignoring Blackhawk’s muttered “lucky bastard,” placed both hands on it and closed her eyes.
After a few moments, her eyes opened and she murmured, “Thank you, Count. Your duty is now done.” Nimue placed the tombstone fragment reverently beneath a shady tree. "Rest in peace," she said softly and focused her attention on the two men traveling with her. “Things are getting worse. The veil between worlds is thinning quickly. Whoever has the Eye is using it. A lot. It will only be a matter of time before the wall falls and the dead overrun this world.”
“Wait! What?” Blackhawk exclaimed.
Jeb tried to explain as much of it as he could remember from what Nimue had told him, which wasn’t much. Thinking about things like that just made his head hurt and he was happy to leave all the mumbo-jumbo to her.
The tall pilot fell silent.
“What?” Jeb insisted after what seemed forever.
“I think I’d rather be chasing Nazis in shark costumes.”
***
The Haunted Tank:
They abandoned the car after only a short chase when the trail became more pronounced. Young Viktor as their scout once again moved ahead as Krestler and his two infantrymen followed the easy trail of oil and tread marks cut into the ground. They soon came within sight of the hastily camouflaged tank and three of its crew. Krestler followed Viktor’s lead and they all crouched and advanced upon the men through the brush. Two of them seemed occupied with repairs while the third stood on guard.
“You! Drop your weapon! You are my prisoner!” Krestler barked as he and his men rose up from their hiding spots and leveled their guns at the tank crew. Rich whirled around with alarm and raised his Thompson.
“Anschlag!” Eichmann yelled but the man did not heed his command to stop.
Viktor’s rifle spoke and the American fell over with a cry.
Captain Krestler stepped forward, noting the trembling grip Viktor had on his gun. This was probably the first man he had ever shot and that accommodated for the fact that this American only suffered a shoulder wound. Had it been either of his other two veterans or even his driver, this man would surely be dead. He kicked the American’s gun away and noted that the other two prisoners were competently covered by Eichmann and Traugott.
“You” he motioned to Gus “Tend to this man’s wound.”
Eichmann kept the crew under guard while Traugott checked the tank and found no one inside. “Where are your commander and the woman? Do they have the Eye?” Krestler ordered.
The three men shared defiant looks and remained silent.
“Your cooperation is not needed. I can find them easily on my own,” Krestler frowned “Viktor! Search the area.”
It only took the young man a few moments to discover the two sets of footprints,
“You see?” Krestler smiled at the looks of dismay among his prisoners, “Traugott? Hipper. You will remain here to guard these men. If they try to escape, kill them.”
“Get lost, rat,” Gus growled under his breath.
“Hipper?” Krestler asked
“Ja Kapitän?” his guard replied.
“Shoot that one in the leg” he ordered as he turned and stalked off with Viktor and Eichmann as a rifle cracked behind them.
***
Easy Company:
Frank Rock and Bulldozer watched the indistinct forms of the Germans marching in the trees across the road from them.
“What’s the plan, Rock?”
“We catch ‘em from behind.” He began issuing silent hand signals as Easy quietly broke their rest and abandoned their packs. Speed and silence counted now rather than how much they could carry.
They watched as Little Sure Shot moved past them, quiet as a ghost, the only sign of his passage being the brief flash of white from the feather in his helmet. Worry Wart and Ice Cream Soldier followed their resident Apache before Rock began his own pursuit.
They were making good time before loud two gunshots and the piecing screams of a woman shattered the silence.
Bulldozer quickly looked over at his commanding officer and couldn’t miss the bone-white knuckles clamped on the gun and the fearful look that flashed though the man’s eyes.
“Marie!” Rock shouted and burst into a charge, any pretense at stealth discarded.
The man known as Bulldozer cursed and ran pell-mell after him. He didn’t even think about how Sarge knew her from only a scream until later and it was one topic he vowed to never bring up.
***
The Sommer Home:
Tala watched the skies darken to an unnatural bluish black hue from the upstairs bedroom window as the sun was slowly blotted from the sky. Thunder rumbled in the distance and a few sparks of impotent lightning sparked amongst the clouds. She could feel the rush of ambient mystical power flow around her. It was intoxicating. Her efforts through her toy human were bearing fruit. Soon the boundary between two worlds would be rent asunder, disgorging the hungry spirits of the deal upon this earth. Chaos would tear this world apart and strike another blow against the feeble forces of order in the universe.
She spared a glance over at Kluge. His mind was broken at this point but she accepted that as a result of so much exposure to the Eye. His body, as much as she had enjoyed what carnality she could of it, was of little interest now. He was a merely a shell awaiting a new occupant. Tala fingered an ancient sacrificial dagger from one of the former professor’s collection. Her consort would only be the first of millions for a new army. A new world order that would march to her master’s beat.
The damned Lords of Order would undoubtedly send some of their pawns to stop the events he had placed in motion. It was an acceptable loss. What mattered to her of men and machines and the ravages of war? Suffering was a universal constant.
***
Easy Company:
Mademoiselle Marie staggered back from the advancing company of the dead as her instincts screamed at her to run but her body refused to move with its usual litheness. The fetid stench of dead flesh and human excrement assailed her nostrils. Their eyes blazed with an unearthly blue light and several moved their jaws as in an effort to speak but only dry rasps issued out.
“Marie!”
She grabbed onto that single shout like a drowning woman. It was the one speck of sanity in a world turned mad. American G.I.s began to spill from the woods and she looked around for Frank. She almost smiled as she recognized him leading the charge. She would be safe.
Easy drew up short. To their credit not a single gun wavered but nobody fired either as the ghastly dead men looked at them, swaying unsteadily on unfamiliar legs.
“Oh God, it’s Parker,” came a hoarse croak from behind him.
Similar cries of muted fear followed as people began to recognize dead friends or the faces of those they had killed once already. Stiff limbs began to raise weapons.
Frank Rock swallowed hard. This wasn’t natural and he sure as hell had to be counting sheep and had just fallen into a nightmare. But he was the Rock. He would not break. His men depended on him no matter what the insanity of war threw at him. He would fight. He would live.
Marie knew what was coming and instinctively threw herself to the ground.
“What’re you lollygaggin’ for?” he yelled. “Kill ‘em again!”
They needed no urging. A fusillade of lead tore into the ranks of the living dead.
Pale bodies crumpled under the withering fire but just as quickly began to get back up again, their ravaged bodies no impediment to whatever blasphemy animated them. Scattered return fire began to answer their assault.
“Keep moving!” Rock bellowed out over the din as he made his way to Marie.
She latched onto him, drawing strength from his closeness.
“That has got to be your worst disguise yet,” he took a moment to make a wry comment.
“Just shut up and give me a gun,” she said back, eyes flashing.
***
Jeb groaned in frustration and disheartenment from their hiding place in the tree line after their long walk. A full troop’s strength in Tigers surrounded the Professor’s home along with enough trucks and armored cars to support them. It was obvious that they had chosen this spot for a staging and refueling area. Yet somehow they were supposed to get inside and search the home that he was sure would also be housing off-duty crew and guards. “It’s never easy is it?” he said.
“No,” Nimue said with quiet conviction that cut right through Jeb's defenses, “It’s not.”
“How’re we going to get in there?” Blackhawk asked off to his side.
To his credit Jeb didn’t flinch this time but met her eyes. A man could get lost in there he thought. Perhaps it was this mesmerization that loosened his tongue, “Nimue, there’s a war going on… I have my duty… I can’t…”
“I know, Jeb,” she said quietly and closed her hand around his “This war can’t last forever.”
“No,” he replied after a moment, “No it can’t.”
“If you two lovebirds can spare a moment?” Blackhawk wryly commented as he looked over from the compact spyglass he has produced from his jacket. “Something is going on.”
The rumble of diesels turning over brought their attentions unwillingly back to the former home as men began to spill out amongst a chorus of shouts and laughter in German. They were in high spirits and Jeb suddenly worried for the other tankers out there. It certainly seemed to him that the hunters had become the hunted because this was not the morale of men under pressure.
Jeb studied the grounds after the tanks left for some time. “I think I’d have a better chance after dark,” he mused.
“I think we would too,” Nimue retorted “You’re not leaving me behind and you need me to find the Eye.”
“Well that is useful information to know,” a voice said behind them as they turned to face Krestler’s pistol “Why don’t we pay a visit there now instead of waiting?”
***
The Creature Commandos:
Private Elliot Taylor winced as he hit a bump in the road that was followed by a thump and a distinctly un-ladylike curse from the trunk of the car. Shrieve had argued that a woman in the car would raise too many questions and, as much as he hated the man, Elliot had to grudgingly admit that he was probably right.
It was still an insult.
There were times when he had regrets. Times when he wished he had had the guts to finish the job. But he was a coward. He could still remember the twinge of fear that made the muzzle tucked under his chin move. Even in the deepest part of his soul that wanted to just end it all, he couldn’t do it. Instead of blowing his own brains out, he took his own voice. “Lucky” Taylor, goddamn yellow-backed ‘fraidy cat.
It wouldn’t have mattered. Even if he could have spoken, he couldn’t have told her how he felt. And who would want him? A discarded piece of meat nearly blown to pieces by a landmine and stitched back together like someone’s cruel mockery of a ragdoll. Instead, he adored her from afar and hoped that one of these days the Germans would do what he couldn’t – kill him.
The muffled sounds of distant gunfire made him apply the brakes and Shrieve frowned from the back seat.
“Now wouldn’t be a good time to find out if that’s some of our boys,” the lieutenant-turned-captain announced. “No need for us to get killed ‘cause we’re in the wrong uniforms.” He consulted his map and leaned over the seat and showed Elliot a secondary road. “It’ll take us longer but we’ll detour whatever is ahead.”
The car left the road, unknowingly leaving Easy Company to its own fate.
***
Easy Company:
The initial volley of fire had now gone down to a running gunfight through the dense woods. Easy had the advantage of being more mobile but the dead just didn’t seem to want to die again no matter how much of a lead diet you put them on. Even though they were lousy shots, it was only a matter of time before one or more of 'em got lucky and added another member to their ranks like some of Easy had already done.
Rock went down under the weight of one of them as he was surprised from behind a tree. Dead teeth sought out his throat as its weight trapped his gun against his body. A hand caught the top of its head and a flash of metal flashed in front of his eyes as the head lolled free on a partially severed neck. Marie, knife in hand, kicked it and watched without compassion as the head ripped away from the body.
The lights went out in the eyes.
“Go for the heads!” he yelled out loudly. “Pass it on!”
He could hear the word being repeated down the line.
The fight slowly turned to Easy’s favor as more and more of the enemy fell to well-placed shots. They regrouped once the dead were finally put to rest again.
“Any casualties?” Bulldozer asked.
“Rogers, sir.” A thin voice spoke up out of darkness.
“Did you…” Rock began.
“In the head, sir.” the voice faltered.
Sergeant Rock sighed. Another death.
“Listen, men,” he cleared his throat, “I don’t know what we just saw but it was probably some Nazi trick or secret weapon.” Rock held up a packet of mail from his jacket. “And I think I know where we can find out where it’s coming from. We’re the only ones who can stop it. I’ve asked you guys to go to hell with me and back and now I’m going to ask you again…”
He raised his tommy gun over his head and yelled, “Are you with me?!”
A chorus of cheers broke the quiet of the forest.
***
The Sommer Home:
The late Professor Sommer had one heck of a sense for décor Jeb thought as they were herded inside. African masks with grotesque faces leered down at the Anglo defilers of their abode and old looking items cluttered shelves. The place had the feeling of a museum away from a museum only with a bit more dust. He would have remembered more if not for more of his attention being focused on the cold hard tip of a Mauser jammed into his back.
Major Hans Kluge looked up with annoyance as the three prisoners where led into his office. The two troopers behind him leveled their submachine guns and looked on coldly. Bart Hawk shot back daggers at them, his anger at being ambushed far greater than concern for the danger he was in.
“What is the meaning of this, Herr Kapitän? Where you not instructed to hold the town?” he frowned and made a strange noise into his fist.
Jonas Krestler stared strangely the officer. Was the man ill? A slick sheen of sweat dampened the man’s forehead and Krestler could have sworn that Major Kluge had made something between a snigger and a laugh into his hand. The man twitched in his chair.
“I was, Major” Krestler answered with a hesitant salute, “This American and his tank were driven off but I caught them spying on you. I have also been instructed by my superior to search for an item called the Eye. The woman claims it is here. And… are you ill, sir?”
“Never better and, Oh, it is here, Kapitän Krestler” Major Kluge answered with a dangerous smile and a giggle as he withdrew a fist-sized rock of obsidian on a chain from a desk drawer. He swung it around his finger like a toy. “But you can’t have it! It’s mine! Mine! Mine!”
“Major, I’ve been instructed by…” Krestler began.
“Kill them!” he screamed at his two guards like a petulant child.
“Verräter!” Eichmann screamed as the two guards suddenly opened fire.
Eichmann got off a single shot fired from his hip as he was cut down but his own bullet exploded the head of his murderer. Poor Viktor, on the other hand, never saw his own death coming. The remaining guard pointed the still smoking barrel of his gun on Krestler and waited for the command to fire.
The Captain could feel the small gem around his neck grow hot almost if it too was seething in rage at the betrayal. “Drop your gun. No more playtime unless mother says so!” the Major commanded with a cock of his head and unfocused eyes that seemed to roll about. He brandished his own pistol.
Nimue stole a glance at Jeb as Krestler’s pistol hit the floor with a thump and a snarl.
“Have you gone mad?” Krestler barked “This is mutiny!”
A loud clap of thunder shook the house.
“I’m not deranged” Kluge said in a sudden moment of lucidity, although the gleam in his eyes spoke otherwise, “The war is lost. I have seen Hitler kill himself, our surrender, Berlin divided up like a turkey between the Reds and the Americans and the world after. I can change it! I know what will happen and I can stop it.” He flourished the air with quick jerky hand waving but his aim never wavered off of Krestler as he cackled again.
Krestler’s anger rose as he spat “You would give up because you had a bad dream? You are a coward, Major. A coward and a fool.”
“He speaks the truth,” Nimue spoke up with alarm, “He has seen the future, Captain, but the Eye has driven him insane. That is why it was hidden away. Its power to corrupt…”
Kluge’s bullet struck her in the chest and she toppled over backwards with a scream as he shrieked in laughter. “You sing too much!” he crowed “Everyone dies by my whim! I will own the apricot!”
“The hell!” exploded out of Blackhawk’s mouth.
Jeb made to lunge at Major Kluge but Krestler had already beaten him to it. “Murderer!” the captain screamed as the two men wrestled over the pistol. Jeb hit the shocked guard with a flying tackle to the midsection. The man went down with a satisfying whoosh as the wind was knocked out of him. Three strong right socks to the jaw ended the fight. Jeb added in another punch to the face to be sure and scrambled for the man’s weapon.
Blackhawk hit the floor and grabbed Krestler’s pistol.
With a crash, the Major and Captain collided into a display case that collapsed under their fury. The Eye slipped from Kluge’s grasp as the Major screamed in dismay and anger. The two men rolled over and over in shattered glass trading what awkward blows they could. Jeb pointed his gun at them but couldn’t pull the trigger. He might hit the captain. He had no love for Krestler but the man had tried to avenge Nimue. It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t know. Nimue grunted from the floor and began to lurch up onto her hands and knees unsteadily. “Twice… in one day…” she complained through the pain.
Major Kluge’s flailing hands found the Eye in the remains of the case and he struck the captain upside the head with it. It was a glancing blow but it was enough to throw Krestler off him. Kluge rolled over and hammered the captain with blows backed up by the heavy rock balled up in his fist as Krestler tried to protect his head. One of those blows deflected off a raised forearm and connected with the gem around his neck.
Berlin:
A young orderly burst into his commanding officer’s office as a horrific shriek of terror rang out. The man was found slumped in his seat drooling and babbling incoherently. He was replaced due to “health concerns.” No mention was made in the official report about the candles and large gemstone. The orderly was sent to the Russian Front never to be heard from again.
Meanwhile back at the battle:
Jeb now had his chance as the Major was straddling the beleaguered Krestler and he leveled the gun at Kluge’s back. “No!” Nimue tried to yell from the floor.
It was too late.
To be continued!