The Brit watched as James' husk of a body was thrown in the back of the truck. As the truck started, Newkirk knew they could not make it back to Hammelburg. A day trip to the local inn was one thing. Helping an escaped prisoner cross the German border was another.
He adjusted himself into a better position now that the vehicle was in motion. He pulled at the handcuffs behind his back. They felt like the standard issue. His knife wouldn't fit in the lock though.
"James," Newkirk called, hoping the kid was still of this Earth. "James, get up."
The boy didn't move a muscle. In the low light Newkirk couldn't tell if his eyes were open or not.
Newkirk sighed and slowly got to his knees and shuffled over to the other. The rivets on the floor banged into his knees. Metallic clinks announced his arrival to James' side. "Listen, we have to work together if we're going to get out of this mess."
To the Brit's surprise, James replied, "What can we do? We're captured. The jig is up."
"No, it's not. We just have to stop them from taking us back to Hammelburg. A flat tire or two would do just the trick."
James slowly righted himself, so he was sitting. He looked at Newkirk and said, "These men aren't Klink. They won't fall for some stupid trick."
While it was great that James was up, Newkirk wished it was on better terms. "We have to try something," the man said. "If we don't, there is a 100% chance we won't be seein' the end of this war."
"Why do you even care what happens to me? You probably think I'm just some pansy." James retorted.
Newkirk was silent a moment before saying, "Th-that's not true mate."
"Really? Because earlier it seemed like it. Pushing me away, acting like I was scum. Calling me a ruddy queer!" James' words choked in his throat as if trying to constrict what he was saying.
The Brit didn't know what he could say. He moved back against his side of the truck. Now time to think of a new plan that would get them to stop. What would two German officers stop for? It was clear they didn't care for the Geneva Convention. Maybe they cared for sanitation? The idea was a stretch, but so were many of Colonel Hogan's.
Newkirk turned himself so he was facing the wall that the Major and Captain sat behind. He banged on it with the bottom of his foot, trying to get their attention. "Hey!" he called, continuing to bang on the wall. "Hey! I gotta take a leak! Please! It's been ruddy hours since I last went." The Brit banged on the wall and called out to the officers until the truck stopped. James lifted his head up when the driver's and passenger's door opened and closed. Newkirk righted himself when the large back doors opened.
Captain Marx was the one that climbed into the back of the truck and dragged the soldier out.
"You are a pain," the Major said, pulling the keys out of his pockets. He unlocked Newkirk's handcuffs for a brief second before pulling them around the front. He then turned the other, so he was looking in the truck. Newkirk thought he saw a glimpse of hope in the boy's eyes.
"Sorry, sir, but I really can't go with him looking at me. I don't want the bloke to get the wrong idea," Newkirk explained.
"Just go. You lasted this long with him," replied the Major.
Newkirk let out an exaggerated sigh before unzipping his pants and peeing. From the corner of his eye he checked out the officers behind him. From what he could see, they both had guns strapped to their hips. Major Klaus also had a set of keys attached to his belt on the other hip. Not in a very secure way either.
He zipped up his pants and turned around, expecting the officers to cuff them behind his back again.
"Get in the truck," Captain Marx ordered, turning Newkirk back around.
He stumbled into the back of the truck and watched as Marx closed the door. Mere seconds went by before the doors slammed shut and the engine roared to life. The truck swayed roughly down the road.
"They won't fall for it, eh?" the Brit asked, a small smirk forming on his face.
James breathed out a deep sigh before weakly stating, "What do we do?"
"Thought you'd never ask," Newkirk stated before getting into a better position to talk. "We have to do something that'll get both their attention focused on something other than me."
"What are you thinking of doing then? They won't stop for another bathroom break, and there's nothing else I could think of them even considering stopping for." The hopeless tone in James' voice was creeping back in.
A small pit grew in his stomach. The only idea he had put James on the receiving end of punishment.
"James," he started, unsure how to begin, "do you think you could handle one of their punishments?"
"What do you mean?" James asked, his voice wavering.
"I have this idea in mind, but for it to work, I would need you to be the main distraction."
James stayed silent for what felt like an eternity. It was not an easy thing to be asked, especially since Newkirk knew how the other was just by seeing Schultz. But if James didn't agree, then they would most likely be separated once they reached Hammelburg. The kid would be all alone with those two Krauts.
"James?" Newkirk said, hoping the kid wasn't having another episode.
"You want me to be bait," he finally said, letting out a gentle sigh.
The Brit only nodded. It wasn't the best job, but it had to be done. "Just follow my lead, okay?" Newkirk figured it was best not to tell the other what exactly he had in mind.
James mumbled something which sounded like an okay. That gave Newkirk all he needed. Within a second he did his best to lunge on James and hold him by the collar. In the dim light he could tell the boy's face was one of bewilderment. He muttered something about just go with it before he yelled, "Get off me, ya ruddy queer!" He then banged one hand next to James' head to act like he was hurting James.
He went on like that, shouting almost every name in the book before they stopped. By then Newkirk could tell James was almost in tears. His own heart began to ache as his accent got thicker and he started using more of the common slang from his neck of the woods. Words he hadn't used or heard since he stopped going to the seedy pub down the road. Words of a criminal. In any event, it did the trick, because the truck stopped, and the back doors opened to reveal two German officers red in the face with anger.
"You little mongrel," seethed the Major. He climbed into the back of the truck and pushed Newkirk off James. He then dragged the boy out of the truck and forced him to the ground. He shouted slurs at the kid while kicking him and beating him. The Captain had an almost sadistic grin on his face as he watched his superior officer. The display made something inside Newkirk snap. After the beating this morning and his own cruelty, Newkirk couldn't stand to see James being abused so horribly. Yet the punishment would be worse if he didn't continue with the plan.
He soon got his rear in gear and shuffled out of the truck. With the officers' back turned to him, Newkirk lifted the Major's key ring. Two of them looked almost identical while the other looked like the key to the truck.
The identical keys were small with a single bump out. These were the keys which Newkirk used to free himself. He then raced over to the passenger side door. In the glove box he hoped to find a gun; which he did. He checked to make sure it was loaded before he attempted his most ballsy move; taking one of the officers hostage.
Newkirk sneaked along the side of the truck before coming up behind Major Klaus, who had downgraded to only yelling slurs. The Brit took advantage of this and grabbed the officer round the neck.
The man cried out in confusion, yet quickly shut up once Newkirk pressed his knife to the man's throat. The gun he pointed at Captain Marx. The chaos rested for a moment as the three soldiers settled into their new reality. James made the only sound; coughing.
"Drop the knife, Englander," Captain Marx ordered, pointing his gun at the Brit.
"In your bloody dreams," Newkirk responded.
Marx cocked it, prompting Klaus to say, "Don't shoot, dummkopf!" The captain to looked to his Major with eyes full of concern.
Before Marx could question any further, Newkirk explained, "Shoot me, I slice his throat. Now how would that look on an official report?"
Marx looked to Klaus for a sign and let his gun drop to his side. Internally Newkirk cheered. Externally the Brit cocked his gun and told Marx to drop his. The Captain reluctantly dropped his firearm. Now time for business.
"Help James up," he ordered Marx. The man kept his eyes on the Brit as he went over to the boy and yanked him to his feet. James stumbled over and all but leaned on the officer.
"Take him to the passenger seat," Newkirk continued. He followed behind the Captain, keeping a firm grip on the Major. Once James was safely inside the Brit did something he never thought he would do; Newkirk shot the captain in the foot.
The man went down wailing and grabbing his foot. The Major jerked forward, yet Newkirk kept the knife pressed to his throat. A small dribble of blood began to leak down his throat.
"Let me go, bastard!" the Major cried, trying to wiggle his way out. "Why are you even wasting your time on a faggot like him?"
The Brit slammed the officer against the side of the truck, causing the it to rock a little. "Maybe if you spent a little less time judging him and little more time getting to know him then you'd see he's a great little lad. And I wouldn't wish the kind of torture you pull on even my worst enemy, bloody Kraut." The Corporal then banged the man's head against the truck a second time and his body went limp.
Newkirk dropped the officer and raced to the driver's side door before starting the truck. It rumbled to life and the Brit shifted into the fastest gear.
A/N:
Next week's update will be on Sunday because I have my Chemistry final on Saturday. The story is wrapping up soon! Thank you for reading!
