Switzerland 1945

Wilhelm Bower sighed as leaned against the bags of flour, while his father, Frederick Bower held the reins of the old horse culling their cart. Around Wilhelm other foodstuffs and household items were packed tightly so they wouldn't fall out, and young Wilhelm's job was to collect any that did. Frowning the young boy crossed his arms and lay his head back against the soft flour bad and stared up at the sky. It was a bright Spring day and the sky was bright and blue, with a few fluffs of clouds here and there, though lately the sky also had airplanes, loud noisy monsters which criss-crossed the sky despite the neutral status of his country. In the past four years he'd seen a lot of airplanes, most of them had been German, his father had taught him how to tell, but lately they were different.

"American." his father pointed out one time, "See the white stars?"
He'd squinted then, looking for the white stars on the wings, and noted how they were much easier to see than the black crosses on the German planes. He liked seeing the planes, German or American, even the British planes that sometimes made it over their mountains, though his father seemed to have a distaste for all of them. It never came to Wilhelm's eyes to ask why his father knew so much about military planes, since he liked them all.

Wilhelm turned his head to look at his father now. The older man was holding the reins of their single hose as it pulled the wagon up the mountain pass, which lead to the passage to the monastery on the top of the mountain. It was a trip the elder man insisted on taking twice a month, though Wilhelm had never seen evidence of any sort of Catholicism in their home.

Sighing again Wilhelm closed his eyes, enjoying the gentle rocking of the wagon, until a moment later he heard his father's voice calling him.

Cracking open his eyes Wilhelm frowned, not sure of where he was. Sitting up he looked around groggily.

"Where are we?" he asked, rubbing his eyes. Opening them again as his father laughed he noted the forest around them and the steep incline of the path they were on.

He frowned again, "I fell asleep?" he asked, carefully moving towards the front of the wagon. Climbing over a couple boxes he moved to sit next to his father who smiled down at him.

"You always do." He chuckled, "I thought you'd be used to the thin air by now, you've lived in these mountains all your life."
"We don't live in the mountains, we live in Lirdon." He said with a pout, "That's not as high as here."
Laughing at this Wilhelm's father wrapped his arm around his son, "I guess you are right Willy, it is alright, we are almost there." He pointed ahead, through the trees were the small white building could be seen – the monastery. Squinting Wilhelm leaned forward, wondering if his eyes were playing a trick on him.
"Father." he said, "Do you see that?" He pointed ahead, indicating the large dark shape near the small white monastery. It looked like a large automobile, though not like any Wilhelm had ever seen before. He turned his bright eyes to his father and noticed the deep look of concern on the older man's features. "Do you see it?" he asked again, suddenly feeling excited to have something interesting happen, even if was only a strange car near the small white building.

"I see it." Frederick Bower said, "Don't worry about it."
"Who do you think it is?" Wilhelm asked, ignoring his father's advice. He was suddenly wide awake, a rush of excitement in him.. This was something new, something interesting. A mystery. Strange visitors were at the house of the monks.
Yet his father's face remained hard and unhappy.

Wilhelm swallowed, looking back to the monastery as it slowly came closer, revealing itself once their cart left the forest and came to the clearing. He could see now that the strange vehicle wasn't a car, but a large truck. A strange hulking metal beast, like a giant beetle frowning at him from it's place near the monastery. Wilhelm stared at is as the car came to a halt and his father stood. "Time for work." he said, start emptying the cart. "I have to greet the monks."

Frederick Bower pulled on the reigns and called for his horse to halt in front of the small monastery. When the wagon came to a stop he stood and hopped down before helping his young son down.
"Start emptying the wagon." he said as he turned away and slowly started for the dark grey truck parked against the side of the building. As he approached he felt the growing anxiety he'd felt when noticing it grow, even more when he noted the obviously filed off markings on the hood. This was a military vehicle he was sure of it, the make and style of it all was close enough to the old trucks from the Great War, plus there was a feeling about it. It was something in the air, that pricked his veteran instinct. He took a breath and gently ran his hand over the hood. The metal was thick, like an iron pot, rough, and with enough pock marks to look like "no man's land". Taking a deep breath he turned and started back to the wagon where his son was standing. The younger boy was looking up at him, worry on his face.
"What's wrong?" he asked softly, "You don't like it?"
Smiling down at the boy Frederick forced himself to laugh, so as not to worry his son.
"It is a very ugly truck." he said, "I like nicer ones." He ruffled his son's hair as he passed and grabbed the bag of flour from the wagon. "Now you have a job to do." He said starting towards the monastery.

"Hello in there!" Frederick called, "It's Frederick Bower, with the provisions." Waiting out front he heard voices, that of the resident monk and two which he did not recognize. When the door was opened he was greeted by the kindly face of Brother Matthew, dressed in his dark robes he old man smiled at Frederick and Wilhelm.
"You always seem to come in time my friend." He said with a laugh, "We have gotten extra mouths to feed, the stepped aside and gestured at the small room where three men sat at the small table in the main room of the small monastery.

Looking them over Frederick's brows furrowed. They made a curious sight, the three of them, almost like a comedy trio. One was rather round, not exactly fat, but his face looked like a moon cake. With his glasses and double chin he could easily be mistaken for a giant owl. His hair was a strange color, not exactly blonde nor white but something in between. He wore civilian clothes but he wore them awkwardly, as though he wasn't used to them yet. The fat man was the first to stand, the other two "Good morning friend." he said softly, a sickly smile spread across his face, wide like a stage mask.. He spoke German well, though his Fränkisch accent was thick to Frederick's ear, and instantly recognizable. The other two, a tall lanky man, thin as a reed, and with a long sharp face. He wore wore glasses but these seemed thicker than the fat man's and they reflected too well, covering the eyes behind them. His hair was long and unkempt. He too smiled and it was even nastier than the fat man's, something Frederick didn't think possible. As Frederick nodded to him he decided that the smile which slowly spread over his smile made him look less human. The third had to be a soldier, of that Frederick was sure. He only had to glance at the glowering man sitting in the chair to know this. In fact all of them were probably soldiers or some kind, or worse.

"I couldn't help but hear you speak when you called to us." the fat man continued, snapping Frederick's attention back to him and his nasty smile. "You speak such proper German, I was caught by surprise." A glint came to his eye, anger or maybe disgust, Frederick couldn't tell. "If I didn't know any better, I would have thought you came from the old Prussian lands, but then I decided that this was silly for a Swiss."

Frederick stiffened slightly, the words and tone of the fat man putting him on guard. Of course, the stranger had been correct, old Prussia had been his family home for generations, Frederick himself had been born in a small town not far from Konigsburg, but he'd abandoned his home years ago. He'd hoped that he could abandon the accent as well in that time, though evidently this was harder than moving.

He offered the fat man a tight smile, "You're right, it is silly." he said trying to keep his voice even, "I am very much a Swiss. Though you are Germans, yes?" He looked at the fat one, then to his skinny smiling friend, but it was the third man who surprised him by suddenly standing, his hand resting on the Luger strapped to his belt. Instantly Frederick turned, his hand reaching to the small blade which he kept strapped to his own belt. He set the silent soldier with a hard gaze, one showing that he wouldn't hesitate to defend himself if this stranger attempted anything. The two men stared at each other then something caught Frederick off guard – the stranger's eyes changed, becoming predatory. It was only an instant but it was enough to Frederick to catch as the dark brown eyes morphed into an amber golden hue,

Swallowing Frederick Bower took a step back and his discomfort turned to fear. Something was wrong with these men, something which made them less than human. In a span of a few moment's his options raced through his head as the world slowed. He knew there was very little he could do if this German decided to shoot him, even less if all three decided to attack. The air became thick with tension and just as he was sure someone would snap the tension was suddenly broken, by a child's voice.

"Father?" Wilhelm's said causing Frederick's head to snap to the door as he looked at his son, his hand still holding the knife.

Wilhelm looked at his father, unsure of why the older man was gripping the guard of his hunting knife. He glanced at the other men, a fat man in shiny glasses smiled at him and Wilhelm swallowed.

"Now now." the fat man said, his voice sounded pleasant, yet oily. "There is no need for any distrust among us." He said "Isn't that right?" He shot a glare at the younger man, who's face was covered by a thick grey scarf, but the soldier didn't move.
"Right?" the fat man asked again, more forcefully this time.

The soldier glanced at him then grunted and sat.

"You are correct of course." the fat one continued, turning his attention to Frederick. "We are Germans, we have escaped. . . " He licked his lips and swallowed, a flash of anger seemed to run across his features. "The Russians.." he finally said, his voice strained, as if he had been choking upon the word, "They have overrun our nation, maybe even our capital." He clenched his hand into a fist and chuckled. "I am a scientist, I was so close to my newest discovery before the Eastern horde overran our base" He chuckled and wetted his lips again before he fell into his chair. "You Swiss are lucky, you don't ever have to fear being overran by such . . . beings as the Russians." He chuckled again smiling his ugly smile.

Frederick's eyes narrowed slightly, his suspicions confirmed, these men were worse than soldiers, they were Nazi criminals escaping the hell they had created for his homeland.
Shaking his head Frederick pulled Wilhelm to his side, "You were fools to underestimate them." He said simply. "Had your lot known what we dealt with during the last war you would have known better."

He turned his attention away from the three Germans to look at the Monk who had been standing in the corner, silent during everything. "I will get my provisions." He said, "Wilhelm come." Giving the three one last look Frederick turned and left the monastery. Once outside he stopped and took a deep breath, shaking himself off from emotional grime the three monsters had left. He thought of, then quickly rejected, confronting the Monks of this monastery about his willingness to harbor such men. He sighed a sharp sigh and shook his head. This would be the last trip he'd take up the mountain he decided. The Church, it seemed, had better friends now. After all, Frederick decided, a Lutheran like himself had done more than he needed for the Catholics..

Watching his father breath Wilhelm decided that something was wrong. His father was upset, that much was obvious, though why he didn't yet understand. Maybe it was the three strangers. Wilhelm really didn't like them, especially the tall skinny one, who's smile he found frightening.

"Father, who were those men?" he asked finally, snapping Frederick from his anger. Looking down at him Wilhelm's father shook his head and started for the cart.
"I don't know and would rather not know." He said harshly "Let us leave our things and go." He started for his cart.
Wilhelm turned to look at the white monastery before running to catch up with his father. "I didn't like the skinny one." he muttered, "He looks like the monster from mama's stories."
His father frowned at this and looked down at him

"She is still telling them to you?" he asked with a sigh. "Which one was it this time?"
"The Nachzehrer" Wilhelm said with a shrug, "The tall man looks like one." he added quietly.

Chewing on his lip his father let out a long breath and looked at the monastery, his thumb and fore finger gently running over his thick mustache. "I think you're right about that" he said with a small nod. "Come, let's get this over with, you unload the bags and I will take them in."

Nodding Wilhelm climbed in the wagon and began to work, carefully moving the bags and boxes off of the wooden cart while his father made the trips to and from the monastery. As he went Wilhelm paused every time Frederick approached the building, and every time the older man entered Wilhelm felt a tightness in his chest. For the first time since this father brought him along on these mountain trips, Wilhelm felt uneasy being in the clearing on this mountain. The warm feeling which he had before was gone, replaced with something else- a dread of some kind.

He didn't know, maybe his father was right about Mama's stories, they made his imagination run wild. Yet each time he watched his father go inside the white building Wilhelm worried.

It was on the fifth trip that Wilhelm's fears were made true.

He was standing on the wagon, watching his father returning when a horrific shriek filled the air, then the monk's blood curdling scream. Wilhelm's blood ran cold and his legs went numb instantaneously, freezing him in place. He watched, wide eyed, as his father turned and bolted back to the monastery.
"Father wait!" he shouted but the older man didn't listen, kicking open the door he ran inside. There were shouts then, a gun shot rang out breaking Wilhelm's frozen state as he jolted and he tumbled from the wagon. He felt his heart beating faster than it ever had as he stood on quivering legs. He stepped backwards just as the door was thrown open and his father came limping out, moving as fast as he could with the bloody wound in his leg.

Frederick waved his arm at the young boy, his face contorted in fear the likes Wilhelm had never seen before. "Run! Willy run!" he screamed, his voice shrill with terror.
"Father!" Wilhelm shouted running toward his father, but Frederick waved again, "No! Run!" Before Wilhelm could decide what to do he saw it. The creature in the door way, a thin dark haired, pale monster dressed in a grey uniform stood glaring at him. It looked like a woman but he knew it couldn't be human. Wilhelm froze, his heart skipping a beat, his eyes locked upon the creature. It leaned against the doorway, it's bloody mouth open, razor like fangs dripping with spit. From the open doorway he could hear the men shouting inside the lone monastery.

Wilhelm felt his throat instantly dry out, and though he tried to speak he could not. His eyes were locked upon the red eyed monster, and his father turned.
"God in Heaven!"He exclaimed tripping over his own legs before tumbling onto his back, dropping his knife.

The creature moved then, it charged at Frederick before leaping into the air so quick that Wilhelm couldn't even shout a warning. It landed on Frederick, knocking the man down onto the ground, it's pale hands pressing onto the older man's shoulders, it's claws digging into Frederick's flesh. Wilhelm screamed as he stepped forward but he froze when the creature snapped it's blood red eyes at him. He stumbled back and fell. Kicking his legs he pushed himself away, his wide blue eyes locked upon the horrific scene before him, watching his father trying to push off the creature that was holding fast upon him. Rolling over Wilhelm began to crawl towards the path, but soon he forced himself to stand and started running before he heard his father curse loudly behind him.

Wilhelm stopped as his father let out a high pitched scream Turning the young boy felt his body numb once again, watching as the woman raised a bloody hand from his father's slashed face. As Frederick grappled with the monstrous woman, she opened her mouth and dug her fangs into Frederick's throat. There was another scream before it gurgled away. Wilhelm's breath had caught in his throat, his heart had skipped another beat and though he wanted to look away he could not. He watched the creature lift her bloody face and the red eyes locked with his own. Then it smiled at him and started to slowly rise to it's feet.

Wilhelm didn't wait for her attack since by now Wilhelm was running down the path, then through the trees of the tick forest. He didn't look where he was going, nor did he care, and so he simply ran anywhere he could to get away from the horror on the mountain top.

He didn't know how long he'd been running, but it was night before he was discovered, huddled behind a tree by a hunter from his village. His mother was frantic when he was brought home and it was only then that Wilhelm realized that he'd been missing for two days.
"Nachzehrer." he said when he was asked about his father by his mother "Nachzehrer." he said again when asked about what happened to him "Nachzehrer." was his answer when asked about why he was lost in the mountains alone.

The local doctor, who spoke more Italian than German was lost to explain this shocked state. He was especially lost when he asked the young boy's mother what the word meant.

"It is a German story monster." she explained, "Like a vampire…."

A drop of blood fell upon the snow staining the pure crystals. A moment later another drop hit the ground, then another and another. Integra winced as she trudged through the ankle deep snow, pressing a hand against the wound in her chest. Swallowing she stopped to take a quivering breath and looked looked at the trees all around. Except for the wide path cut through the rough terrain there was only forests, dense and frozen. A person could easily get lost in such a forests, though she herself couldn't get lost alone. Her wound had opened and she again kicked herself for changing the bandages to removed the tight wrappings the trains medic had given her. It was just too tempting to do so when she found the new medical kit in the monastery last night it seemed like the smartest thing to do, the blood mess she'd removed from the first wrapping simply confirmed that. Unfortunately it seemed her own skills weren't as good as the trains medic and now her bleeding was seeping through the loosely placed bandages.

She took another painful breath and forced herself to move forward. If she wasn't in so pain she'd laugh at her situation. She couldn't fall behind since she didn't think she'd survive too long with her wounds here in the mountains, but keeping up with the group only caused the bleeding to get worse. A terrible Catch-22. She took another raggid breath. It was getting harder for her to breath, the air had thinned somewhat and she was getting light headed. The only saving grace, if it could be called that, was that the blizzard which had railed in the mountains the night before had died down, leaving a fresh snow; light and fluffy and easy to kick up. She cursed under her breath. Despite wearing knee high boots, they were not designed for such a trek, the frigid wetness of the snow had seeped into them, numbing her stocking covered feet. She felt another jolt of pain in her chest and looked down at the wound which. She could feel her heart beating hard, trying in vain to pump more blood through the torn vessels.

Swallowing a third time, Integra felt a tightness in her throat along with a dull ache with each breath. Shivering slightly she moved her hand and saw that her palm was coated with her own blood, some had been running over her fingers. She frowned and pressed her hand to the wound again, hoping she wouldn't pass out and die during this march.

Integra inhaled another shallow breath and winced as a sharp pain shot from her lungs, the thickness in the back of her throat increasing. Stopping Integra clutch her chest and lifted her gaze to Enrico walking not far ahead of her. Further on their captures marched on, ignoring them both.

She watched them, the dark haired woman and that cat-creature. As strange and threatening they had been in the abandoned church, now they seemed to have not a care in the world, just bickering in German as they went. She furrowed her brow and looked at the forest. There was still a chance to run, Enrico and herself. It would only take a moment, a quick sudden turn before she'd be lost in the wood, then down the mountain to the rail track. She nodded to herself.

It was possible, but she needed Maxwell. She could barely walk, let alone run, and by now they'd moved further up the mountain. The air was thinner and walking was harder. She winced again then gritting her teeth and picked up her pace.

"Enrico." she said hoarsely,, her breath shallow, voice weak even to her.

Glancing at her Enrico's violet eyes widened when he saw the blood seeping over her hand., "Integra-" he exclaimed but the English woman quickly covered his mouth with her unbloodied hand. Using her eyes she indicated their captors.

Glancing at them Enrico nodded and she carefully removed her hand.

"You're losing blood." he said in a harsh whisper. "You need a doctor-"

He shook his head and kicked himself. Of course she needs a doctor, if there was one for her to see. He gently took hold of her wrist and carefully peeled the bloody hand from her chest, revealing the wet, blood soaked fabric. "This is going to get worse." He said, then looked over his shoulder, at the woman and the cat walking on. "I might be able to fix this when we reach-"

"We need to run Enrico. Now."

Enrico snapped his gaze back to her. "Run? You can't run."

"We can make break for it. In the woods."

"No." Enrico shook his head hard, "You'd never make it. I can't risk it."

Integra huffed and pulled away from him, "We must try, or we'll both fail to 'make it'." She glared at him, as he looked her over. There seemed to be worry in his eyes, for her, or simply their situation. She didn't know, nor did she really care.

"You're hurt," He said. "trying to run will simply make things worse." He moved to her, pulling her free free arm over his shoulders, his other arm wrapped around her waist. Holding her he began to walk in the direction the strangers were going. "Those two must live somewhere. If we're lucky again I may be able to stitch you up again."
Integra pushed him, tearing herself from his hold. "We either run together or I run alone." she declared, her blue eyes burning at him. "Choose."

Enrico felt his temper boil over before he caught himself. Forcing himself to clam he tossed another look over his shoulder before he shook his head, glanced at the sky, then grabbed her hand. "Fine." He snapped and started for the woods, pulling Integra along after him