Despite her makeshift and ridiculous outfit, Reilly was surprisingly warm. Tomorrow when I see Lieb, I'll have to thank him again.
The journey to the edge of town was a short one. Reilly shimmied up a tree, one of the last not blown to bits, to survey the buildings and to decide her next move. Could use that luck, Perco, if it can help me find what I need in the first place I look.
There were several houses nearest to her, but she had a feeling that the rude woman on the radio was correct - any headquarters would be inside the center of town.
With a sigh, she made her way down the pine again, her next destinations the church and the post office nearest to her. If those didn't play out, she'd go to the Mayor's offices, which held a few floors of rooms before leading up to apartments.
The night was inky black. Reilly didn't worry about camouflage. Nature was doing that for her. She focused on keeping silent, knowing the enemy was on edge.
Reilly came to the outer line of town and hid behind a monument. Listening, distant voices in German peppered the town square. Her eyes focused to the moving shapes in front of her, watching the patrol march back and forth.
When they rounded the bend again, she ran to the side door of the church, which was thankfully open. Love that Christian hospitality. Sneaking into the vestibule, she froze, waiting to hear for more sounds. The church was silent, but it wasn't empty.
Sleeping kraut soldiers lied lazily about on the pews. Her eyes adjusted to the new light of the candles before studying everything she could through the small window. Nothing of interest. Before leaving, she looked inside the nearby sacristy, just to make sure it wasn't being utilized outside the local pastor. Still nothing. She left without sound.
The post office was thankfully dark. Reilly didn't know if this was a good sign or bad sign since maybe the Germans didn't work late into the night like the Allies. It turned out to be no dice for her after a quick wiggle through an unlocked window and an even quicker tour through the small building.
With a knowing sigh, she knew what she had to do. The town center was filled with white-clad Germans, and the Mayor's house stood directly in the middle. Running to hide in a darkened corner of a partially collapsed building, Reilly waited and watched.
She determined that there were three patrols going on with a smattering of officers coming and going from barracks nearby. Only the odd soldier weaved in and out of the main building, the time nearing two in the morning. They entered and exited only through the double wide glass front door.
She took a chance and scampered to another hiding hole on the other side of town to view the rear side of the structure. Here was much quieter. Only one of the patrols walked by every few minutes, and no one entered the building from the back door.
Reaching into a secret pocket on the inside of her boot, Reilly fished out her lock picking set of tools. Grasping them tightly in one hand, she took a breath when the patrolman rounded the corner before running up the back stairs and to the door. Sure enough, it was locked.
With the two picks squeezed into the lock of the door, Reilly chewed on her lip and tried to embrace her training from over a year ago. She had eventually mastered unlocking several types of barriers, but she wasn't the best at the task. With a pang, she remembered Hannah, the quiet girl who was turned out to be a force when met with a barricade. Reilly hoped she was still alive.
Suddenly, she heard a crunch of frozen earth under the weight of a boot. Unable to leave her place, her small frame tucked into the shadows of the door frame, lucky for a new moon. The soldier passed by without noticing her or the picks in the lock.
With a huge, silent sigh of relief, it took Reilly only a few more moments of work before the lock popped open with a ping! The sound felt like it echoed throughout the town. She slipped inside before the patrolman returned.
Hunched, she ran to a darkened closest, whose door was partially open, wide enough for her to sneak inside. Placing the tools back into her boot, her eyes watched down the hall and her ears opened to any sound beyond her own heartbeat.
A creaking sounded over her head. Light footsteps paced the room on the southside upstairs, and she heard a soft conversation in German. Straining her ears, she picked up on two voices. Then another creak of floorboards down the downstairs hallway. At least one person inside the study, but no voices. With a swallow, she knew she had to move before more joined them.
Reilly began with the dark room across from her. Nobody was inside, but neither was anything of value. It seemed to be a lounge, empty liquor bottles strewn around simple wooden chairs. With a shiver, she noticed a noose lying on the ground. I don't even want to know.
To the next room, also empty, but she found a few papers in German. She took them, not sure if they held anything worthwhile. Tucking them under the tight shirt around her middle, she continued down the hallway.
At the room with at least one man inside, she paused outside its door. Her ears picked up on another new sound, the squeak of springs in a couch and a sigh as the man laid down. Ducking into the second dark room again, Reilly waited.
She let a half an hour pass and his snores to grow before moving back to the door. Silently, she turned the knob and entered the room, careful to leave the door open partially for a quick getaway. She knew she wouldn't be inside long, or at least she hoped.
Tiptoeing to the desk across the room and near the window, Reilly took turns glancing at the papers there and back to the sleeping man nearby. His deep breathing didn't change. He was out. Her eyes caught on a list of names, many of them French and English, as well as a crude drawing of a map. Bingo.
Gathering the papers as quietly as she could, she sucked in her stomach again before rolling up her sweater and top. Adding the new additions to the growing pile around her middle, she rolled the fabric back down again, steadying everything in place.
Reilly turned her back on the entrance, facing the man. Slowly moving backward, her eyes remained wide and alert, but she didn't feel the presence of the man behind her until she hit his body.
Gasping, she turned and looked at the young soldier, his eyes wide in shock. He grasped the front of her sweater in a tight fist, pulling her close, dragging her to him on the toes of her boots. "Wer zum Teufel bist du? (Who the fuck are you?)" he demanded in German. His loud voice woke the man on the couch, who jumped up.
The half-asleep soldier turned to his friend. "Was zur Hölle, Fischer? Was denkst du, bringt einen breiten hier hinein? (What the hell, Fischer? What are you thinking bringing a broad in here?)"
Before Fischer could respond, Reilly held up her hands innocently. "S'il vous plaît (Please)," she begged in French, her voice small and her eyes wide and innocent. "S'il vous plait, laissez-moi partir. (Please let me go.)"
Fischer's eyes narrowed before responding in rusty French. "What are you doing here, girl?"
Reilly gulped, allowing tears to shine in her eyes, her expression wild. Play them, girl. See if these krauts have any goddamn heart. "A man forced me and my family from our home in Noville. He took me from them and brought me here."
The other man grinned, also understanding her. "Was his name Koch?" Not waiting for her answer, he turned to Fischer. "He's been rounding up local girls for our entertainment. Asshole is probably out drunk again." He turned back to Reilly, cupping her bottom with his hand. "Belgian girls do have some ass, he was right."
Reilly's eyes widened at his words and hands. Definitely no heart for you then, jackass. Fischer let go of her shirt but pushed her on the ground when she tried to run to the door. Her eyes were pleading. "Please. Please, don't hurt me. Let me go and I'll never breathe a word of this to anyone."
The two men smirked dangerously. Fischer traced the top of his lip with his tongue. "I look forward to you telling all of my company what we did to you, bitch. I look forward to seeing the jealousy in their eyes." They both slowly stalked towards her.
Reilly took a deep breath, the act over. I gave you a chance. You've blown it. Quickly, she looked around the room while they prowled towards her, one on each of her sides. Crawling backwards on her feet and hands, she hit the desk again, and stood. Trying to be discrete, her fingers searched for anything that could pass for a weapon.
Finally, her left hand found the long, cold metal of a letter opener. She tried her best not to grin. The only thing she needed to do now was wait.
The man from the couch got to her first on the right side, unable to resist the first taste. Disgusted, she allowed him to lean in towards her, placing a hot hand on her hip. "Don't worry, mademoiselle. I'll try to be gentle."
Fischer snorted. "I won't."
The second man leaned in closer, and that's when Reilly struck. Grabbing the object with her left hand, she thrust it hard into the side of his neck with all her might, aiming for the artery. He cried out in pain, fingers pawing at the foreign metal. Before either of them could react from their surprise, she reached down into her boot again and jammed both lock picking tools into his eyes, effectively distracting him from his neck.
This allowed her to retrieve the letter opener and cause the blood to begin spurting from his wound, slowly killing him. He fell to his hands and knees, his cries sure to alert anyone else in the building.
Moving fast, Reilly used his back as leverage and kicked off, jumping towards Fischer, makeshift knife in hand. His eyes widened a moment before she dove, but his reflexes weren't bad. He shoved her from him, but Reilly rolled, tucking to go between the large space between his legs when she struck again. She hit the atery in his thigh before rolling away again.
Smirking, she watched him fall. Indulging herself, she thrust the weapon again into his groin. Don't worry, I won't be gentle either.
She watched him for a moment more before turning to go. Instead of the freedom of the doorway and her escape, she met the butt of a rifle at her temple instead. The force immediately knocked her onto her back hard, the wind being taken from her lungs. With a groan, she turned onto her side, unable to stand before everything went dark.
Reilly opened her eyes blearily and groaned. Sunlight was streaming in through the window, causing her head to pound.
She felt immediately that her wrists were bound on her lap. Testing them, she could move them about a foot in front of her chest before realizing they were tied to another rope around her waist. Brilliant. She recognized the cable of what used to be the noose in the lounge, the loop lying innocently on the ground by her feet.
"Glad you could join me," said a new voice in English.
Reilly turned her eyes towards him, not sure how she missed his towering body before. With another groan, she murmured, "Je ne comprends pas, monsieur (I don't understand, sir)."
The officer smiled and sat down across from her. Her eyes widened when she saw the "SS" on the collar of his jacket. "I forgot, miss," he replied in French, "you only speak French, or that's at least what Fischer told me before he died." His eyes narrowed. "I must say, that's a very strange accent you have."
"Small village near Noville, sir. Farmers."
He smiled dangerously again. "Even if I believed that, it seems quite unlikely that an innocent girl could fight the way you have," the officer murmured. "And steal what you have." He held up the papers that he must have pulled from under her sweater.
Standing, he moved to walk behind her, immediately arresting her movements. Her eyes tried to follow him, but the ropes didn't allow her to twist in the chair. He bent down and whispered in her ear, "And even then, if I believed you to be an innocent country girl that happened to be at the wrong place, at the wrong time, somehow in possession of illegal papers, these would have told a different story."
With a rough hand, he reached down under the collar of her sweater and shirt. With a hiss, she tried to move away from him, but he wasn't interested in feeling her. His fingers grasped something else. With her eyes wide and a gasp, he pulled her dog tags from under the fabric, and laid them back down on top of her garments.
With a satisfied smile, he sat back down again. "So, Frances Reilly of Pittsburg, New Hampshire, USA, I'm going to ask you this once - what regiment are you from and what are you doing here without them?"
Reilly's heart, which was hammering before, slowed down. Well, at least I don't need to die someone I'm not. She glared at him. "Fuck off," she said in English.
The man laughed maniacally, slapping his hands together. "You know," he replied, also in English. "I figured a woman in the military needed to be crass, but you have surprised me once again, liebling."
Reilly only curled a lip at him but was silent.
The laughter left his face all at once. "Not up to playing? Fine." He stood once again, looming over her. "I don't care much who you're with. I know it must be Army, you damn leeches are everywhere, but I'm curious on why you're alone. Maybe you're an officer? Surveying my men before your attack?"
His fingers brushed through her hair and she tried not to gag when his warm, rotten breath hit her nose. "Or perhaps you're one of those lovely secret operatives I've read about." He peered at her, his head to the side. "You do seem to fit the description." He leaned in closer to her. "Although you're not the prettiest thing I've seen during this war. I've found many other, and not-so-willing women much more beautiful. Lucky for you."
Reilly lashed out, her hands going for his throat, but he was just out of reach. Laughing jovially, he clucked his tongue. "Now, now, pet, leave that dirty job to the men."
In a flash, his hands were on her throat, his long arms keeping her body a safe distance from him. His fingers squeezed her air passage tightly before letting go again, causing her eyes to bug wide. He did this several times, crushing her ability to breathe before allowing her to sputter again. Her vision began to twist. She started to panic.
"Tell me, liebling, and I'll end it quick."
With the last ounce of fight in her, Reilly threw the back of her chair against the floor in hopes of taking him off guard and cracking her skull against his. It didn't work.
Laughing again, he took the opportunity to straddle her chest, his fingers closing in again on her throat. "Your choice. Remember that as you die."
Good on his word, he slowly began to kill her. Reilly felt like she was drowning, her memories rushing back to the last time she felt this way, at the hands of another terrible man. This is so much worse.
A powerful darkness pressed against her ribs, choking any life left inside, but then he'd alleviate his hold on her. She couldn't gain a deep breath, just shallow gasps that turned out to work against her, only prolonging her suffering. She was so cold. The only warmth was in her lungs, burning with a fire that could only mean she must be in hell.
The fire quickly made its way to her throat, dissolving any last efforts to cry out for help. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks and landed like mines into her hair, but she couldn't feel them anymore.
Her fingers at first tried to claw at him, attempting to find anything that could hurt him, but as sheer panic began to roll in, she only tried to frantically claw his fingers from her throat in a last effort to live, but it was no good. He only laughed, even as his blood mixed with hers - he laughed. If the pain in her chest wasn't so great, she would have felt her fingernails tear.
And then, her fingers feebly moved, barely fighting. Her slowing heartbeat thudded dully in her ears, as well as a distant pop! pop! pop!
Finally, thankfully, her struggle was over. His fingers maintained their hold, and she heard him chuckle gleefully.
Slowly, she laid down her hands, bloodied from the fight. Her lungs tried to deflate, but only stilled after a long moment. Reilly looked at the ceiling, no longer caring, only wishing for death. She couldn't even feel his hands on her neck anymore. The pain was gone.
She gave in.