Howdy folks. Yeah, yeah, I know, I have another story I should be working on. But I decided it could wait for a day or two.
Warning! This story is a little out there. More so than Whispering Sour Somethings. It's bordering on a Twilight Zone sort of feeling. That said, don't fear- it's just a short little story, one chapter. It's not meant to be taken seriously and it's not going anywhere. And it will have nothing to do with any of my future stories should I decide to string them into one long continum... yes... well...
And so, without further ado...
DUN DA DUN!!!!
Wait, wait, wait! I forgot!
I don't own Hogan's Heroes... and all that jazz...
AND NOW! Without further ado...
DUN DA DUN!!!
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Cold. If there was one thing he hated, it was being cold. Oh sure, it was okay back home, he was used to it there. He could spend hour in the snow, always secure in the knowledge that he could simply go inside the house whenever he wanted, and wrap up in a nice, warm quilt by the fire, with a mug of hot chocolate. However. at Stalag 13, the 'toughest' POW camp in all of Germany, there was no such luxury. Instead, as soon as roll call was over, the only place to escape the cold was inside his freezing barracks, under a worn, ragged sheet that had the nerve to pose as a blanket.
There wasn't even any snow to make up for it all! Instead, the compound was a wasteland of ankle deep mud and freezing cold puddles.
Sergeant Andrew Carter scowled as he jumped in place to try and keep warm. The other men around him did the same, equally dreary expressions on their faces. Usually the normally cheerful sergeant would try to make the best of the situation, but he found himself strangely repulsed by the idea. He couldn't cheer up; he didn't want to cheer up; it was nicer to just be miserable.
"Achoo!"
Another reason to be miserable.
Colonel Hogan was sick. As much as they loved the colonel, Carter and the rest of the men had contemplated several times about putting him out of his- and their- misery. The colonel hated being sick and unknowingly took his frustration out on his men.
"Eh! What's taking so long Shultzy!" Corporal Newkirk hollered impatiently.
"I know nothing, nothing!" the shivering sergeant of the guard shouted. Carter grimaced and wrapped his arms around himself. Shucks, even Shultz, who was as blubbery as a whale, was shivering. The rest of them didn't stand a chance if they stood out there much longer.
Finally!
"Repooooooooort!"
Colonel Wilhelm Klink, Kommandant of this particular winter resort, marched out of his office and towards the men of barracks two. He was dressed in a thick overcoat, with a scarf wrapped snugly around his neck. He held a riding crop under his warmly gloved hands and Carter was sure he had thick wool socks on under his polished boots.
"Herr Kommandant, all present and accounted for!" Shultz reported.
"Very good. Now I suppose you're all wondering why you had to wait out here so long-"
"Not really. We all know what a cruel, cruel man you are Kommandant," Hogan said between pathetic sniffles.
Klink took it as a compliment and smiled. "Thank-you Hogan. I hope you keep that attitude for the next little while as General Burkhalter will be coming here to inspect Stalag 13."
Carter glanced at Hogan and noticed the curiosity playing on his face. He mentally prayed that for once, the colonel would let it alone so they could all go inside. He could barely feel his feet!
"Is that everything Kommandand?" Hogan sniffled, much to Carter's relief.
"I expect you all to be model prisoners for this inspection. It may turn into some sort of commendation, or even a promotion!" Klink said cheerfully.
"I'm very ha- ha- achoo! Sniff. I'm very happy for you Kommandant. Can we go now?"
Carter could see a touch of concern cross Klink's face but he doubted the German would act upon it. "Yes, yes. Diiiiiisss-missed!"
Carter slumped with relief and slowly turned towards the barracks. He straggled in behind the others and tried to push his way towards the stove. Abandoning the futile effort, Carter moved away from the crowd and threw himself onto his bed.
"I'm going to bed. Anyone wakes me up is going to be court-martialled," Hogan growled. The effect of the threat was completely destroyed when he violently sneezed and then sheepishly asked Kinch for a handkerchief. Taking the offered cloth, he disappeared into his office.
Carter shivered and huddled under his 'blanket', wrapping the thin fabric under his chin and tucking his feet in so they wouldn't stick out. "I hate this," he mumbled.
Corporal Louis LeBeau heard and frowned. Carter was always so happy. It was disturbing to see the young American so forlorn. "Don't worry André, it may be cold, but look on the bright side."
"What bright side?" Carter grumbled. "There is no silver lining. Winter has barely started and we're already freezing. Christmas is coming soon and we're all stuck in the middle of Germany. We're all cold, tired, dirty- stop me if you see a running theme here."
There were a few surprised looks exchanged. "You feeling alright Andrew?" Newkirk asked, concern filling his voice. Carter ignored him and rolled over to face the wall. Newkirk shot a worried glance at LeBeau. They both turned to Kinch, who simply shrugged, though he also looked worried. Newkirk knelt next to his friend- possibly his best friend in this hole they had to call home- and gently touched his shoulder. "If you need anything mate-"
"Just lemme alone," Carter muttered with a shiver.
"Right mate, if that's the way you want it." He got up and was suddenly overcome by how cold it was. "Blimey LeBeau! Stoke up that stove would ya!"
LeBeau glanced at the wood basket. There were only a few chunks of wood left. He looked up at Kinch who turned his gaze towards the colonel's office. Kinch let out a heavy sigh. "We're in for a cold stretch until the colonel can convince Klink to let us go out and chop more wood." After a moment of consideration, he threw a small piece into the stove. "Everyone better bundle up. There's not much else we can do until then."
There were a few grumbles, but everyone was too tired to make much of a fuss. Most followed Carter's lead and curled up in their beds. Others, like Newkirk and LeBeau, stayed close to the stove, soaking up what little warmth it offered.
The mood in the barracks was more subdued than usual, and it wasn't just the cold. Carter's unusually bad mood had done more to drag down the men's spirit than anything else. If not even Carter could be happy, the rest of them didn't stand much of a chance.
Carter didn't see much point in staying awake. Falling asleep wasn't going to be an easy task though when he was shaking so badly. Stubbornly wrapping his arms around himself, Carter waited for the veil of sleep to fall over him. "What we need," he muttered after a few minutes without success, "is a nice big explosion. That'd be warm."
"You and your ruddy explosions. Think they solve everything!" Newkirk smiled good-naturedly, trying to cheer the American up.
"Well, right now, I'd rather die in a nice hot explosion than die slowly by hypothermia."
"It is not that cold André."
"Oh yeah. I forgot that's why I can barely feel my fingers."
"You're in a right jolly mood, aren't ya!" Newkirk had never heard him be so sarcastic. He hadn't even thought Carter knew what sarcasm was. Newkirk didn't like this at all. He was the one that was supposed to be grumpy and Carter was the one who was supposed to cheer him up- not the other way around.
"Maybe it'll warm up later," LeBeau said hopefully. "Why don't you sleep for a while?"
"Gee, I wish I had thought of that." The two corporals exchanged glances. Newkirk's expression soured. He was too cold and tired for this.
"Let 'im alone. If he wants to be grumpy over something as trifle as a little cold, there's nothing we can do about it."
That's right! Carter thought. Ignoring any further conversation, Carter tried to clear his head and take LeBeau's advice.
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Warm. Gosh, it was nice to be warm.
Wait a minute. A moment ago, he was freezing his tail off!
Well, he wasn't one to complain. At least, not often. He definitely wasn't about to complain about being warm for once.
Carter opened his eyes and blinked in disbelief. Sitting up, he rubbed at his face and blinked again.
Corn. A whole field full.
He was obviously dreaming. But that was all right- he was sleeping after all.
A slow smile crossed his face. This wasn't just any field of corn. This was his field. He'd recognize that scarecrow anywhere. Letting out a giddy whoop, Carter jumped to his feet. He didn't care if this was only a dream. He intended to enjoy it until he was dragged back into cold reality. Sucking in a deep breath, Carter revelled in the sweet smell of corn in the thick summer air. The familiar sounds and smells invigorated him and Carter took off through the maze of corn stalks, shedding his heavy bomber jacket and boots as he went.
The field stretched forever but not far enough for Carter. But he was just as happy when he reached the end of it. A big red barn sat cheerfully ahead. Carter ran past it, patting the rough wood as he went, and headed towards the stream that bubbled in the near distance. As soon as he reached it, he plopped himself at its bank and ran his hand through the cool water.
He was happily looking for frogs when a tall shadow fell over him. Looking behind him, he smiled and got up, brushing the dirt off his knees. He looked up at the tall, man before him and grinned. "Angry Rabbit!" he greeted his cousin brightly. He was met with a worried frown.
"What are you doing here Little Deer?" the older man asked.
"Dreaming! And boy, is this one a looloo! Everything is so real! I'll hate it when I have to wake up!"
"Why is that?"
Carter shrugged, not wanting to think about what his dreams had taken him away from. His cousin nodded with some understanding.
"I have not seen you in a long time, Little Deer."
"Well, you have been dead for three years," Carter said as respectfully as he could. His cousin, who had left the States to join the Canadian army, had been shot down in the first few months of the war. He hadn't been lucky enough to become a POW as Carter had.
"Yes, I suppose that is true," his cousin laughed. A hint of sadness filled his eyes, but Carter could see Angry Rabbit try to hide it. It struck Carter as odd. Everything, including his cousin, seemed so real. But then again, he wasn't about to complain as long as it kept his mind off his predicament at Stalag 13. "And what have you done in those three years?"
Carter shrugged again and turned back to the stream. "Oh you know, this and that." He caught the look on Angry Rabbit's face from the corner of his eye. "I was going to go to school, but I got drafted instead." He laughed quietly to himself before continuing. "Your Little Deer Who Runs Swift and Sure Through Forest joined the air force."
Angry Rabbit laughed and clapped his hand on his cousin's shoulder. "That's all right. You never did run very Swift and Sure anyway," he teased.
"You sound like Newkirk."
"Who's that?"
"A friend. We're in the same prison camp. He's almost as mean to me as you and Jack were," he grinned.
"We weren't mean!" Angry Rabbit protested. He paused and laughed. "Okay, so we were. But you got to join us when you were old enough. You thought up some of our most evil plans- putting that stuff in the preacher's liquor, what was it?"
Carter shared the evil grin. "Tetramethylthionine chloride."
Angry Rabbit laughed. "Whatever it was. The poor man thought he was being punished for drinking."
"Well it made him quit, didn't it! Sunday sermons were a lot more lucid after that!"
"You said you were in a prison camp," Angry Rabbit said after a good laugh, quickly changing the tone of the conversation.
Carter tensed. "Yeah. Kinda like summer camp, but with barbed wire," he said lightly. "Hey, do you remember that one summer when we-"
"You don't like talking about it I see," Angry Rabbit interrupted.
"Well, I sorta went to sleep to get away from it.
"I mean, it's not like it's horrible," Carter continued when his cousin said nothing. "I've got some good friends there- Newkirk, Louie, Kinch. And the Colonel, he's great too. And heck, take away the wire and the guards and the dogs, it'd be really nice- in the summer anyway. But right now, it's winter and it's cold and we're all tired and hungry.
"You know what the Krauts have been feeding us?! Potato soup they call it. It's more like potato sludge!" He shivered at the thought of his last meal.
"I'm sure you made the best of it though, you always did."
Carter shrugged. "I guess. I usually do. But today… I dunno, I guess I'm just sick of it, that's all." He thought back on that morning somewhat sheepishly. "I guess my bad mood didn't help anyone out though. I practically bit Louie's head off, and he was only trying to help. He didn't deserve it, that's for sure."
Feeling a little dreary, Carter sat down and started playing in the water again. Angry Rabbit joined him. "I know what you mean. Sometimes I could get a little angry with the men in my unit." He caught Carter's raised eyebrow and laughed. "Okay, I'd get angry with them a lot! I wasn't named Angry Rabbit for nothing! But you know, it never really solved anything." He grinned, his thoughts swirling back in time. "There was this one kid, a daffy Canuck named Reagan. Whenever I'd really get going, he'd say something dumb on purpose afterwards to break the tension."
"That's like me," Carter reflected.
"It was a real blow when he didn't come back," Angry Rabbit said quietly. "Our group practically fell apart without him. I guess his silliness kept us all from going insane."
Carter was quiet for a moment. Moving away from the stream, he rolled onto his back and looked up at the fluffy white clouds in the sky.
It was a well known fact at Stalag 13 that Carter was a little daft. Part of that was true, but part of it was an act. Carter knew he was a little blond, sometimes he'd say stupid things without knowing it, and he did have a tendency to babble. But more often than not, he acted the part. He purposefully let Newkirk rag on him to blow off a little steam. Deep down, he feared that if the Englishman didn't get to blow up every once and a while, he'd go crazy. He butchered the French language to give Louis the same release. He was like everyone's annoying kid brother.
He didn't mind. In fact, he was happy to do that for everyone. But he'd never really thought it was important. After what Angry Rabbit had said however, he felt the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. He decided right then and there to shake himself out of his miserable funk. It was his job to make everyone else happy, or at least help to ease their troubles, and he couldn't do that if he was wallowing in self-pity.
"Aw heck," he said finally, "what's a little cold anyway? No reason to be a stick in the mud. Heck, everyone's just as tired and cold as I am. If I don't cheer them up, they'll probably stay grumpy until spring!" Jumping to his feet, Carter turned to his cousin and helped him up.
"I should probably wake up now. I need to apologize to a few people. And then I'm going to let Newkirk 'dazzle' me with his card tricks and then make fun of me when I can't figure it out!" He shook his cousin's hand. "See ya around."
"You can't Little Deer," Angry Rabbit said quietly.
"I can't what?"
Angry Rabbit looked back at him sadly. "I'm sorry..."
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"Roll call! Everyone raus, raus!"
Sergeant Shultz threw open the door, letting in a blast of cold air- colder air, the barracks was already freezing. He yelled at the prisoners to get out of bed and ducked back outside to wait for them.
Newkirk yawned and hopped off his top bunk. He stretched as the other men filed past him. After working all the kinks out, he huddle in on himself and shivered. "Blimey it's cold!" he complained. Turning around, he tapped Carter on the shoulder. "Come on Andrew, rise and shine. You've 'ad your nap, now it's time to get up." Carter didn't answer. "Listen mate, I know you're cold, but you can't sleep the 'ole say away!" He poked him again. "Carter?"
"Come on Newkirk, Carter," LeBeau said, coming up beside them. "CARTER! WAKE UP!" LeBeau shouted, cupping his mouth with his hands.
"Knock it off mate. Maybe 'e's sick," Newkirk scolded. He shook his friend. Frustrated with getting no answer, he pushed on his friend's shoulder to roll him over.
His stomach clenched and the blood drained from his face.
Carter looked peacefully asleep, but was too still. His chest wasn't rising and falling with each breath as it should. Newkirk placed his hand in front of his friend's mouth but felt nothing. He looked at LeBeau who had also paled. He touched Carter's face. It felt as cold as ice.
"Come on Andrew! This isn't funny! Wake up!" Newkirk ordered.
The plea was in vain. Carter didn't wake up.
And he never would.
The End
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Poor Carter's dead, a candle lights his head!
This is my first 'Canadian' winter- you know, where the temperature goes down to -40! (I always thought it was just something prairie folks told us so they could get our sympathy. No! It's all true!). And after being outside in said temperature to shovel my walk (another first), I was pretty grumpy. REALLY grumpy. I once said Carter reminded me of myself, so I figured I'd use him to say how much I hate being cold! I didn't mean to kill him when I started, cross my heart. But seriously, -40! Who wouldn't want to curl up in their bed and go to sleep forever. (Dumb stupid weather, grumble, grumble...)
Anywho, Tetramethylthionine chloride is a chemical compound (known as Methylene blue) that turns your urine blue... eh-huh!
"I can't cheer up. I don't want to cheer up. It's nicer to be miserable"... I think Anne of Green Gables said that... but don't quote me. I haven't read that book since I was like, 12 or something ridiculous like that.
This story was brought to you by the Tuque Man of Toronto!
Ooooookay... I'll just go off and finish my other story now... slinks off
Tuttle
