Chapter 4

The next morning – almost an hour before roll call – the sleeping prisoners in Barracks two were awakened by a very animated Sergeant of the Guard. "Raus, raus!" Schultz yelled as he barged into the barracks, "Everyone, get up; get dressed right now! The Kommandant wants you all outside immediately!"

The men rolled out of their bunks, grumbling as they hurriedly got dressed. Hogan came out of his quarters, rubbing the back of his head and wincing slightly. "What's going on, Schultz?" he asked, "What does the Bald Eagle want to see us for this early?"

Schultz walked over and leaned in toward Hogan. "Major Hochstetter just arrived," he said, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "And he told Colonel Klink to order a roll call. He wants to see if every prisoner is here."

"Major Hochstetter's here? At this hour?" Hogan frowned. That can't be good. His head started throbbing again, and he reached up to massage his forehead.

Schultz shrugged. Then he went back to shouting, much to the consternation of the men in the barracks.

Once the prisoners had lined up outside, Schultz walked through and counted them; delighted to find every man there. As soon as he finished, Klink and Hochstetter exited the Kommandant's office, and strode quickly over to the line of prisoners. When they were within earshot, Schultz called out, "All prisoners present and accounted for, Herr Kommandant."

"Are you sure?" Hochstetter yelled as they approached.

"Jawohl, Herr Major," Schultz answered, "I counted them twice!"

Hochstetter kept walking, and didn't stop until he was standing directly in front of Hogan. "So, you are here. I expected you to be missing."

"Missing?" Hogan raised his eyebrows, "How could I be missing? Major, this is the toughest POW camp in Germany, after all. I'm sure Kommandant Klink can tell you that there's never been an escape…"

"Enough!" Hochstetter bellowed. He narrowed his eyes and said, "There's an old abandoned factory not far from here that was set on fire a few hours ago. I don't suppose you know anything about that, do you, Hogan?"

Hogan looked at him curiously. "Major, how could I possibly know about that? I've been in my quarters all night, sleeping."

"Then I suppose you don't know that when the fire was put out, they found scores of bodies in the basement – bodies of people who have gone missing over the past several weeks…?"

Hogan gasped, "That's terrible! Who could do such a thing?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out," Hochstetter replied, scrutinizing Hogan more closely. He leaned in a little closer and said, "There was a patrol out in the woods last night, and some of the soldiers saw two men, wearing American uniforms, near that factory shortly before it was set on fire."

"Really?" Hogan looked at him with surprise.

"Ja," Hochstetter replied, watching Hogan closely for any type of reaction. When none seemed to be forthcoming, he said, "And do you know what else they saw?"

"What?" Hogan asked.

"There was a man with them; a tall man in a long coat and hat, and he attacked the patrol."

"Do tell."

Anger flashed across Hochstetter's face. "You know who that man is, don't you, Hogan?" he growled, his voice rising, "I know you're behind this, and I'm going to prove it!"

"Major, how could I be?" Hogan replied innocently, "I've been cooped up in this camp for years!"

"Bah!" Hochstetter yelled; then he turned around and stomped off.

Klink waited a moment or two; then he, too, turned to head back to his office. As he walked away, he absently called out, "Dismissed!"

The men shuffled gratefully back into the barracks; most of them returning to their bunks, hoping to catch a little more sleep. Hogan glanced at his four main men and gestured for them to follow him into his quarters. When they'd found seats, Hogan leaned against his desk and crossed his arms; a frown forming on his face. "Now, who do you suppose set that fire?" he pondered aloud.

"My guess would be that tall man, Colonel," Kinch suggested from his seat on the lower bunk.

"Oui, mon Colonel. He probably wanted to destroy the evidence."

"That could be, LeBeau," Hogan said, contemplating, "Or it could be the Gestapo…maybe they are behind this, after all."

Carter shook his head. "No, sir, it was that thing; it knew we found its hiding place."

"Andrew, 'ow could you know that?" Newkirk asked, looking skeptically at him.

"I…don't know how I know, I just do, okay?" Carter replied defensively. How could he tell them? It was the way the thing had sniffed at him – the way it had breathed in his scent. Somehow, Carter instinctively knew it must have picked up on the odor of those corpses lingering on his clothes.

"Well, one thing's for sure," Hogan said, "We have to find out who that guy is." He thought for a moment; then his eyes lit up as he remembered the conversation he'd had with the Underground agents. "I know someone who might be able to help us."

"Who, Colonel?" Kinch asked.

"One of the men at that meeting I went to; his name's Dieter. He was blaming the disappearances on some 'thing', not some person. Maybe I should have a little talk with him."

"Blimey, sir, don't tell me you're startin' to believe Carter, 'ere?"

"Hey, that's not fair, Newkirk," Carter complained, "You didn't see it; if you had, you'd know it's not human." He looked at Hogan. "Right, sir?"

"I still think he's human, Carter," Hogan said, "But Dieter might know something that could help us." He glanced at the questioning expressions on each of his men's faces. "It's a place to start."

The men nodded in agreement.

Hogan uncrossed his arms and straightened up; already feeling better now that he had a plan. "Kinch, contact the Underground; find out where Dieter lives. I'm gonna pay him a visit tonight."

"Yes, sir," Kinch replied.

Carter shifted uncomfortably. "Sir, do you really think it's a good idea to go out there tonight? I mean, that thing is still roaming around…."

Hogan smiled. "I think I can handle it."

Newkirk looked uncomfortable as well. "Sir, you really shouldn't be goin' alone…"

Hogan cut him off. "All right, Newkirk, you can join me," he said.

Newkirk exhaled loudly. "When will I learn to keep me big mouth shut?" he mumbled under his breath.

Carter still looked concerned. "Sir, I don't think…"

"Don't worry," Hogan interrupted, "We'll be careful."

"Yes, sir," Carter replied; although it was obvious he wasn't very happy about Hogan's decision.

That night, after evening roll call, Hogan double-checked with Kinch on the location of Dieter's house. "Were you able to get a truck from the motor pool?" he asked, knowing the house was quite a distance away.

"Yes, sir," Kinch answered. He hesitated for a moment, and then spoke up. "Colonel, I think it would be a good idea if you brought one more person with you, perhaps someone to keep watch outside; you know, in case that man – or the Gestapo – shows up."

Hogan looked at Kinch, inwardly smiling. "Are you volunteering?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

Kinch flashed Hogan a lopsided grin. "You know me too well, sir."

Hogan grinned back. "All right, I suppose one more person couldn't hurt."

They made it to Dieter's house without incident. Hogan and Newkirk went up and knocked on the door, while Kinch stayed by the truck; keeping a look-out for anything suspicious. The door opened a crack and someone peeked through; examining the men standing on the other side. It didn't take long for that person to recognize one of them, and he opened the door wide. "Papa Bear, it's good to see you," Dieter said as he welcomed him and Newkirk into his home. He gestured toward the living room, indicating the couch and overstuffed chairs on the far side of the room.

"You know why we're here," Hogan said as they all took a seat, "We'd like to know what you know about a strange man that's been roaming the woods lately."

Dieter's eyes grew wide. "That's no man," he said, reaching up and running his hand nervously through his thick, blond hair, "He's some kind of demon, I think. And he's only interested in finding people that have something he wants."

"What do you mean?" Hogan asked, leaning forward slightly.

"Well," Dieter replied, "When I turned two, it was springtime, and some of the people in town suddenly started disappearing, just like they have been over the past two weeks."

"You remember that?" Newkirk cut in, "Seems a bit unlikely for a two-year-old."

"No, I don't remember that," Dieter retorted, "But my grandmother did, and she told me about it when I got older. She had to; she ended up raising me after my parents both disappeared that spring…" Dieter paused for a moment to let that sink in.

"Your folks disappeared?" Hogan looked at him with real sympathy, "I'm sorry that happened."

Dieter nodded. "Thank you, I am, too. But I wasn't the only one to lose someone that spring; it took many people. And now it's come back to do it again."

"How do you know it's the same person that's doing this?" Hogan asked curiously.

"Because my grandmother told me," Dieter replied. "I know this will be hard for you to believe, but my grandmother could 'see' things…"

"Like a fortune teller?" Newkirk interrupted.

Dieter smiled. "Something like that. She knew about the creature, and how it worked. She told me that every twenty-three years it awakens in the spring, and for twenty-three days, it gets to eat…"

"Eat what?" Hogan asked, already dreading the answer.

Dieter looked at Hogan, his face darkening. "Do I really have to tell you?" He sighed and said, "It eats things – things from people – things that it likes." He noticed the confused expressions on the two men staring at him and tried again. "It uses its sense of smell. If it smells something on a person that it likes, say, their heart or liver, it eats it, and that thing becomes a part of it."

Silence fell in the room for a few moments as Hogan and Newkirk tried to digest what they'd just heard. "So you're telling us," Hogan said, breaking the silence at last, "That it goes after people it likes, and eats things out of them."

Dieter nodded.

"Blimey…" Newkirk breathed.

"And just how long has this been going on?" Hogan asked, a note of disbelief tingeing his voice.

"No one knows," Dieter said, "But it appeared when my grandmother was younger – twenty-three years before my parents were taken, to be exact. And she told me her mother remembered the same thing happening twenty-three years before that."

Hogan leaned back and crossed his arms. "I'm sorry, Dieter, but this is all too unbelievable. No one could live that long…"

"I told you, it's not human!" Dieter exclaimed angrily. Then he shook his head and sighed. "I should have known you wouldn't believe me; even the townspeople don't believe me. I've tried to tell them – tried to warn them – but they think it's just some fairy tale."

"But, that doesn't make much sense, does it?" Newkirk spoke up, sounding confused, "If the same thing 'appened twenty-three years ago, some of the older folks 'ere would remember, wouldn't they?"

"A lot of them moved away after it happened," Dieter explained, "And the ones that stayed; well, they completely deny it. I think they're too afraid to admit to themselves, much less to anyone else, that it's real."

"Well, I'm afraid I have to agree with them," Hogan admitted, "I don't believe in spooks or spirits. Whoever's doing this is a person – a very sick, twisted, evil person – and he has to be stopped." He rose from his chair, throwing Newkirk a glance that meant, time to go.

Dieter led them to the door. As he was opening it, he said, "You're wrong, Papa Bear, it's not a man, or a spirit. It's a demon from hell, and there's no way to stop it. It will keep killing until its time is up; which, by my calculations, will be exactly one week from tonight."

Hogan was about to disagree once again, when he saw by the look on Dieter's face that it would be pointless. He clapped him on the shoulder and said simply, "We'll see." Then he motioned for Newkirk to go out, and followed after him into the darkness.

"Well, that didn't help much, did it?" Hogan said to Newkirk as they approached the location where they'd left Kinch and the truck.

"If by that you mean you don't believe what Dieter told us, I 'ave to agree with you, sir," Newkirk replied. "I 'ate to say it, but I think the poor bloke's gone 'round the bend."

"I think you're right, Newkirk. That's probably why Fritz told him to be quiet at the meeting… Hey," Hogan suddenly changed topics as they reached the road, "Where's Kinch and the truck?"

They both looked up and down the road, squinting in the dark, but there was no sign of either.

"It's not like 'im to just take off, Colonel," Newkirk uttered, his voice relaying his worry.

"No, it's not," Hogan agreed, "Unless something happened…"

Just then they heard a noise directly across the road from where they were standing. They had barely shifted their gaze in that direction, when a tall, dark figure swept toward them; moving impossibly fast. It stopped in front of Newkirk, and grabbed him by the throat; its other arm circling tightly around the Englishman. Newkirk's eyes popped wide with fear as he stared at the face in front of him; it was exactly how Carter had described it. An involuntary shout tried to escape his throat, but the hand tightened slightly, cutting it off.

For the second time in as many nights, Hogan lunged at the figure. It let go of Newkirk's throat, placed its hand against Hogan's chest, and, with a powerful thrust of its arm, pushed the colonel backwards, sending him flying several yards. Hogan landed hard on his rump, and, after shaking his head to clear it, looked up at the figure with disbelief.

Newkirk stared in horror as the figure pushed Hogan away, then watched as it grabbed his hand and brought it up to its nose. He got a good look at the thing's own hand; it was gnarled and disfigured, the long fingers crooked and boney. It sniffed Newkirk's hand for a moment, breathing in deep; then it looked into Newkirk's terrified eyes and smiled – its razor-sharp teeth shining in the moonlight.

Hogan saw what the figure was doing, and scrambled to his feet. He'd taken only one step, when he froze. Two large black shapes rose directly behind the figure, and Hogan's jaw dropped when he realized what they were…wings!

Newkirk saw them, too, and a scream started to form in his throat. The figure let go of his hand and grabbed him tightly, and as its wings began to move up and down, Newkirk opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He felt the air moving past him faster and faster, when suddenly he noticed his feet starting to leave the ground…

TBC