Howdy y'all! This chappy is a little short I know but rest assured chapter V will be up real soon!
Mark's senses returned with a flash of light almost as blinding as the pain from Meekin's gunshot. Frank Meekin had shot him. The sudden realization started the pain anew and in his delirium Hitch let out a hoarse yelp.
"Meekin.. Meekin..shot.." Hitch murmured, struggling to open his eyes. But his heavy eyelids barely allowed a flutter. Even in his current state Mark T. Hitchcock was stubborn and unwilling to go down without a fight. Be it with some other outside force or himself. So despite them weighing close to a ton, Hitch managed to force his eyes open.
And despite the piercing agony Mark kept his eyes open to get his bearings. He saw a large blurr that looked like a jeep or truck on his right side. "Troy.. Troy.." He babbled when a man shaped figure climbed out of the vehicle. "Meekin shot me..He shot..-" Hitch gasped, before another rod of pain pierced his head and he interrupted himself with a groan.
His scarce energy now spent, Hitch was unable to do anything else but wait until the unknown man he begged was Troy or some other familiar face approached his field of vision. But the boy didn't need to see the man's face to know he wasn't Troy. Whoever was walking up to Hitch was talking in German. It wasn't Troy, or even that chicken Meekin, It was the gaggle of Germans Mark's convoy had been fighting earlier.
And Hitch was too weak to keep his eyes open for long, much less high tail it out of there. The best he could do was attempt to scrunch his nose at the kraut when he stopped to get a closer look at him. Mark heard one of them say "Amerikanner." But he was unsure if his new friends were talking to him or about him. Until one of them none too gently nudged Mark on the shoulder with the tip of his boot.
"H-Hitchcock.. Ma..rk..T" Hitch murmured, his vision slowly but surely graying at the edges. "P..Private First..Class" Another bolt was hammered into Mark's temple and he couldn't hold back the misreable whimper that escaped him. Yet he fought on and struggled to continue. "S-serial number.. three..three..six.." the black void Hitch was floating toward finally claimed him and he eventually lost consciouness.
Mark came back to his senses when the ground underneath him literally jolted. Another jolt drew a small cry from the poor boy. After struggling to sit up he realized he was in the back of a truck. He also noticed a bandage had been wrapped around his head. And it was probably more out convience and not of mercy or human decency. They needed their prisoner alive anyway.
Hitch could see sunlight through the opening of the canvas covering the back of the truck. It must've been around evening because what light he could see was a fading orange. They'd probably be stopping for the night soon. Or at least Mark hoped they would. The truck hit a bump, causing Hitch to yelp when a rod of pain went through the middle of his head. The gray tinge from earlier appeared at the edge of his vision. Too weak to fight it off, Mark blacked out once again.
Someone shaking his shoulder startled Hitch awake. He hoped Meekin and the Germans were all some bad dream and it was Tully waking him up for patrol. That was until whoever was shaking his shoulder said: "Amerikanner. Wasser." and pressed a canteen to his lips. Mark couldn't help the pitiful sound at the back of his throat and swallowed hungerly, whimpering in protest when it was taken away.
After having given Mark water, the Germans mostly left Mark alone. Not that he could escape or get a full sentence out anyway. They obviously could tell he wasn't even strong enough to lift his head and they most definitely didn't know english. But it made him miss Troy and the Patrol that much more. At least when he or one of the other Rats was sick or injured there was always one of the others to keep him company while the others were out on patrol.
Hitch's German companions returned. One man, the outfit's Oberst or Hauptmann by the looks of him, had climbed into the back again. He paid Hitch no mind while the boy watched him with glazed blue eyes. It seemed as if the German had jumped into the back to get tents and other supplies.
The lead man's second in command had hopped in after his chum. Except instead of helping his buddy he was content to torment Hitch. "Amerikanner." He said, staring down at the youth. When Mark didn't reply and only glared at him weakly, he grew irritated. "Amerikanner." He tried again, nudging Hitch's boot with his own.
The German looked his young captive in the eye. He was honestly slightly irritated; he didn't get a reaction. Hitch was scarcely aware of his surroundings or the Kraut scuffing up his boot for that matter.
The familiar feeling of leaving his conscious body came over Hitch again. But before his eyes rolled into the back of his head, Hitch scrunched his nose at the German. And with the last of his strength he mumbled "dummkopf" through numb lips at the blurry figure before him.