The image of the skeletal British sergeant with his rat companion was burned in Corporal Langenscheidt's memory, probably permanently. He had heard of people hallucinating while under a high fever, but he doubted any of those were as terrifying as what he had went through four days prior, when he was on duty and convinced that he had to inspect Barracks One—which didn't exist. He hallucinated the building, and the starved men inside. He fell into a hole in the ground in reality, a tunnel dug by the prisoners, and in his hallucination, he had been dropped into a tunnel by the sergeant, told to navigate it. Langenscheidt did, only to pass out and wake up in the infirmary some time later.

Though he was certain it was all just a result of his fever, what happened—the barracks, the sergeant, and the tunnel—felt all too real. On the morning of the fifth day of being in the infirmary, he was released, mostly clear of his flu, but not of his memories.

Langenscheidt returned to the guard barracks after being told he would be on light duty for the next couple of days. He was tired, but didn't feel like sleeping, and expected to just be left alone for the rest of the day. Not too long after sitting down on his bunk to read his mail, the door swung open, and in jogged Corporal Kielholz.

"They let you out, finally." Kielholz sat next to Langenscheidt. "How do you feel?"

"Very tired, but better than yesterday."

"Good. I missed you over the last few days. I kept looking over the side of my bunk at night, expecting to see you, and it felt strange with you not being here. I had no one to talk to."

"A camp full of people, and you could not find one person to keep you entertained?"

Kielholz shook his head.

"I guess I should say that I appreciate you making me feel special."

"And you are welcome."

Langenscheidt tried to smile back, but he found himself glancing toward the window directly across from his bunk, afraid he would see the thin figure of the sergeant with his rat again.

Kielholz's smile faded, and he gave Langenscheidt a concerned expression. "Are you alright? You look a little lost."

"I am still thinking about my hallucination, and… I am not sure it was a hallucination."

"What makes you say that?"

"I saw that British sergeant again when you left the infirmary, on the day I woke up. He was standing in the middle of camp."

Kielholz didn't say anything at first, and for a moment, Langenscheidt was worried. "You think I am crazy, right?"

"No, no, I do not think you are crazy," Kielholz replied. "I am just thinking. I would never think you are crazy—well, except for the fact that you spend a lot of time around me." He roughly tousled Langenscheidt's hair, then sighed. "I think… we are going to have to talk to Klink, and ask if he knows anything about whether or not Barracks One even existed."

"Really? You think we should go right to Klink?"

"Who else would know?"

"I was thinking we ask Schultz first. He might know."

Kielholz rubbed his chin. "Alright. We can ask Schultz first."

The two guards walked across the compound to see Schultz leaving Barracks Two, holding four wrapped chocolate bars. He quickly shoved the bars in one of his pockets before saying, "It is good to see you out of the infirmary, Langenscheidt."

"It is good to be out of the infirmary, Schultz," Langenscheidt replied. "I am still feeling a bit weak, but I will get better in time."

"Do you remember falling in that tunnel?"

"I do not remember falling in it in real life, but…" Langenscheidt glanced at Kielholz. "It is a long story."

A wide variety of expressions crossed Schultz's face as Langenscheidt explained what had happened during his fever. The final expression was one of sympathy, with a hint of confusion. "Being sick is not fun," Schultz said. "That sounded very scary for you, Langenscheidt."

"It felt real. Too real," Langenscheidt said. "That is why I want to ask if you know if there really was a Barracks One, or a prisoner who matched the description of the man in my hallucination."

Schultz thought for a moment, looking at the snowy ground before switching his gaze between Langenscheidt and Kielholz. "I was assigned here about a week after Commandant Klink was, in October of 1940. I was not told anything about who the previous commandant was, other than his name—Colonel Ritschmann. I did ask the commandant about why there was no first barracks on the roster, but all he said was that the barracks were torn down due to structural problems."

"If that was the case, why not rebuild it or redesignate the barracks?" Kielholz asked.

"Ask Commandant Klink. I know nothing, and this time, I mean it."

When Schultz walked away, Langenscheidt turned to Kielholz. "Well, that is a start."

"Colonel Ritschmann… I cannot say I have heard that name before," Kielholz said.

"I want to get to the bottom of this. Something… Something just was not right about what happened. It was not just a fever dream."

"If you believe so, I will help you every step of the way." Kielholz squeezed Langenscheidt's shoulder.

The two marched up to Klink's quarters, but before they could enter the building, Langenscheidt paused. "I suddenly do not think this is a good idea."

"Why?" Kielholz asked.

"Klink will think I am crazy."

"You do not have to tell him where this came from."

"He will ask why I want to know this, though."

"He deals with Hogan every single day. There is no way this is anymore crazy than his antics." Kielholz's eyes brightened, and he snapped his fingers. "Actually, that gives me an idea."

"What? Wait—Erich!" Langenscheidt watched Kielholz dash down the steps and over to the door of Barracks Two. "Are you mad?!"

Kielholz knocked on the door. As Langenscheidt ran over to him, Hogan had already answered, and they could hear Newkirk saying inside, "Look at that! A bloody kraut knows how to knock."

Langenscheidt squeezed Kielholz's arm tightly, aware that his friend and Newkirk had never gotten along. It went beyond the usual national rivalry and wartime hostility—on Kielholz's second day assigned to Stalag 13, Newkirk tried taking Kielholz's wallet, which contained family photographs, something Kielholz treasured greatly. It led to a fistfight between the two that got Newkirk put in the cooler and Kielholz sentenced to cleaning duty. Since then, there had always been a tense air when the two were around each other.

"Do you need something, Kielholz? Schultz was just here for inspection," Hogan said after giving Newkirk a "knock it off" expression.

"We need a favor," Kielholz replied.

"What kind of favor?"

"Information from Klink," Langenscheidt said.

"We would like to know about Barracks One," Kielholz added.

Hogan gave them both a confused expression. "Why can't you ask Klink yourselves about this?"

Langenscheidt bit his lip, face flushing with embarrassment. "I saw it in my hallucination, and I want to know the truth about… what it was and why it does not exist anymore. Schultz was able to tell us who the previous commandant was, and that Barracks One was demolished for structural problems."

"Something about that does not make any sense, though," Kielholz said.

"I am afraid of Klink thinking that I am insane."

Hogan nodded a little, crossing his arms and rubbing his chin as he thought. "Alright, I will go ask Klink, but… you two have to do something for us."

"Sure, anything." Kielholz grinned.

"Can you fix the roof? I've asked Klink several times and he never gets around to assigning someone to do it."

"We will do our best. I cannot promise perfection, though. I am better with cars, honestly."

"That does not mean we will not try," Langenscheidt said.

"As long as you try, that's all that matters. LeBeau nearly went on a rampage after snow fell in his soufflé."

"Oh, so that is what all the French yelling was about a couple days ago," Kielholz muttered. "Do not worry, Colonel, we will fix the roof."

When Hogan went off to Klink's office, Kielholz and Langenscheidt began heading to the toolshed, and Kielholz announced, "I can fix a car blindfolded, but a roof? We better start praying."

Normally, Langenscheidt wouldn't have had a problem with the constant bending and leaning over of working on a roof. He knew he had been ordered to rest, but figured doing this for the residents of Barracks Two was more important, especially if he wanted answers about Barracks One. Though his fever was gone, he was still burdened with fatigue and occasional nausea.

Kielholz slid his hammer in his belt before crawling over to where Langenscheidt was sitting. "Hey. Are you alright, Karl?"

"We should have waited to do this," Langenscheidt said softly.

"I can keep working if you want to rest."

"No, no, you should not do this by yourself. I can do this." Langenscheidt tried to shake the fog and exhaustion from his head.

"You just said we should have waited. If you do not feel well, go rest."

"Erich—"

"Go rest or I will put you over my shoulder and carry you back to bed."

Knowing Kielholz would make good on his word, Langenscheidt stood to head over to the ladder. He looked over his shoulder at Kielholz, who had pulled his hammer back out to continue nailing down new panels to the roof. A hazy shape appeared behind Kielholz, strolling up to him. Langenscheidt blinked, and the shape became clearer. The British sergeant from his hallucination. Without thinking, Langenscheidt called, "Erich, behind you!"

Kielholz turned around, eyes widening when he saw the skinny figure. "Oh, shit!" he hissed. He frantically tried to back away, and found himself sliding off the roof, cursing as he fell and landed in a pile of snow below.

Ignoring his pain and discomfort, Langenscheidt climbed down the ladder and sprinted over to Kielholz. "Erich! Erich, are you alright?"

Kielholz sat up in the snow. "Yes, I am alright. I might have a bruise on my backside tomorrow, but I will be alright." He looked up at the roof. "I definitely do not think you are crazy, Karl. I saw that man clear as day. That… was most definitely a ghost. It had to be."

"So… I did see him when you left the infirmary yesterday."

"You probably did," Kielholz said as he stood, "and I am not sure I am comfortable with a ghost hanging around here."

"I am not sure I am either." Langenscheidt stared up at the roof.

"You still need to go rest. I will be alright."

"But—"

"Remember what I said a minute ago? Rest."

Sighing, Langenscheidt headed to the guard barracks. Before he could enter, he felt someone tap his shoulder, and whirled around to see Hogan. "Please, do not do that, Colonel."

Hogan smirked. "I'll try. Klink wants to see you in his office."

"Am I in trouble?"

"Not unless you don't head on over."

Langenscheidt nodded before walking over to the commandant's quarters. Once inside, he gave a polite wave to Helga, and opened the door to Klink's office. He put on a neutral face before saying, "You wanted to see me, Colonel?"

"Yes, Corporal Langenscheidt, I did. Please, close the door." Klink folded his hands on his desk, then gestured for Langenscheidt to sit. "Why are you asking around about Barracks One?"

Langenscheidt briefly glanced at his lap as he swallowed hard. "Well, sir, it… showed up while I was ill."

"You were hallucinating, Corporal, it was not real."

"Schultz said it was. It was destroyed before you were assigned here."

"Schultz does not know what he is talking about. I am ordering you not to pursue this any further. You were sick and you had a bad fever dream. That is all. Dismissed." Klink stood to face the window, folding his arms over his chest and staring in the direction where Langenscheidt faintly recalled "seeing" Barracks One.

Langenscheidt resisted the urge to sigh as he left his chair. As he put his hand around the doorknob to leave the office, he noticed Klink move in the corner of his eye. The commandant turned, suddenly looking somber. His tone, too, became more serious. "Schultz is right. Barracks One was destroyed before I was assigned here, and I was told by General Burkhalter that it was due to the structure being too weak. That did not make any sense, since none of the other barracks were redesignated afterward. However, I was told not to ask anymore questions on the matter."

"Did you know Colonel Ritschmann?"

Klink nodded a little. "I met him briefly, on the day I first came here. He is a nice man, but he seemed… greatly disturbed about something while he was helping me get set up. I asked what happened to Barracks One, and he said the same thing General Burkhalter told me. Structural issues, and not to ask any questions."

"Honestly, this all sounds like something else definitely happened."

"I am ordering you to keep this between us, Langenscheidt, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"I do also suspect something else happened here. This camp has always been strange, even before Colonel Hogan arrived. I probably will never find out what actually happened." Klink shook his head. "Whatever did happen, it was covered up for a reason, and it seems like it is not my place to know."

It was nice to be back in the barracks with the other guards that night. The infirmary was far too quiet at night. Despite that, it was hard to sleep. Langenscheidt stared up at the bottom of Kielholz's bunk, listening to his friend's snoring. Occasionally, Kielholz would grunt and shift, and the boards holding his mattress would creak. It was funny just how much Langenscheidt had missed it, and it should have made sleeping easier. Just being back in the guards barracks should have made sleeping easier.

He moved onto his side, curling up under his blanket and closing his eyes. He opened them again when he heard a soft scratching sound, and his gaze settled on a small, furry animal underneath the bunk next to the window a little less than a meter away from his and Kielholz's. The animal crawled out from under the bunk, and Langenscheidt's heart nearly came to a stop when he recognized the red eyes of the black rat.

The rat stood on its back legs, sniffing, then began scampering over to Langenscheidt's bunk. He covered his head with his blanket, and felt a slight tugging as the rat climbed up onto his bed. Its little claws would occasionally catch in the blanket's fibers. Just do not make any sudden moves. It will go away. He squeezed his eyes shut, holding his breath and trying to pretend the rat wasn't there.

The silence of the barracks was broken by a single thump, the sound of a boot on the wooden floor. The thump turned into two, and fear gripped Langenscheidt in constricting talons when he recognized the smell of coffee. The smell grew stronger as the bootsteps grew louder and closer to him.

Suddenly, the feeling of the rat climbing on him disappeared, and he peered through a small opening in the blanket, seeing the RAF uniform of the ghostly sergeant. The rat was in the sergeant's hand now, enjoying a bit of affection in the form of gentle scratches on its back. Langenscheidt drew his knees up to his chest, trying to make himself as small as possible when the sergeant's head turned in his direction. Thin, bony fingers took the edge of the blanket, and slowly pulled it away.

A smile spread across the sergeant's hollow face. "Found you."

Paralyzed with fright, Langenscheidt couldn't look away from the man's haunting silver eyes. His breath caught in his throat when the sergeant made a motion with his hand. The bunk collapsed under Langenscheidt, and he found himself falling back into a tunnel, futilely trying to grab onto something to stop his fall.

He sat up in bed screaming. Several pairs of eyes opened and turned to look at him. "What the hell is going on?" someone asked.

"Some of us are trying to sleep!" another guard snapped.

"Karl!" Kielholz dropped down from his bunk. "What happened?" He climbed into the bunk, grabbing Langenscheidt's shoulders. "Talk to me! What happened?"

Langenscheidt breathed hard for a few seconds before looking Kielholz in the eye. "He was here… That sergeant, and his… h-his rat." His eyes and face burned, and his throat began to close. "H-H-He put me back in the tunnel!"

Kielholz pulled Langenscheidt into a hug, muffling his sobs. "He had a bad dream," Kielholz said to the rest of the guards. "Go back to sleep."

There was a lot of griping about being roused in such a fashion, but eventually, each of the rest of the guards went back to sleep. Feeling drained, Langenscheidt gently pulled away from Kielholz, his face and eyes red and wet with tears. He dried his face with his shirt, trying to breathe more evenly. "I should not have woken everyone up," he whispered.

"Oh, there is no need to feel bad. You had a nightmare."

"At this point, I do not know if it was a nightmare, or… or if it was real. I-I am not even sure if I can go back to sleep now."

Kielholz gave him a sympathetic look. "You do need to sleep if you are going to get well. I can stay up and try to help you relax if you want."

Langenscheidt managed a weak smile. "Thank you."

"I promise, we will get to the bottom of this," Kielholz said, adjusting himself to get comfortable and let Langenscheidt lie back down. "Frankly, what I would like to know is if Barracks One has been gone for a little over two years, and if this sergeant is connected to it, why is he showing up now? More importantly, why is he targeting you?"

"To be honest with you, Erich, I am afraid to know the answer to that."