As always, my thanks go to Marilyn, who makes all the difference.

Chapter Eleven

"Too right, Teddy. There was a lot going on that night and not just in the woods. Remember, our mates back at camp had other worries besides us being missing."

"Oh, that bluh—blasted sickness was much worse than your mumps were, little mate. Yes, you had quite a time of it, didn't you? Looked miserable you did, with your little cheeks all puffed up like you'd tried to swallow a can of peanuts all in one go. Yes, you were quite a sight. Gave us all a bit of a fright. No, Teddy, I wasn't trying on a rhyme just then."

"Benjamin? I can't hear you over the racket this ruddy flock of pigeons is making. Here now, Katie. Stop leading them on like you have some popcorn. I don't like the way they're eyeing us up. Nasty birds. Never have liked them since that time Igotstuckout on that ledge. Hang on while I take care of them. Just sit still while a master goes to work."

"There now. Much better. Nothing like the sound of a mad German Shepherd to scatter the little feather dusters to the winds. Nice to know I still got the giftfor mimicry. No, Teddy, I'm not going to teach you how. Yourpracticing will drive your mum round the ruddy twist and then she'll come looking for me."

"What was that you weretrying to askme before, Benjamin? Oh. No, can't say as we took a snap of you with your mumps. Sorry. Didn't think of it. Well, take it up with your mum and da, all right? Katie's got something she wants to ask."

"No, poppet, no one died from the sickness. But it was a close thing for many, and some took months to fully recover their strength. That sickness gave us all a rough time. A very rough time, indeed."

HH HH HH HH HH

"Come on, now. You need this."

Parker considered the cup of water, licked dry, cracking lips, then gazed up at O'Malley with pleading eyes. O'Malley started to encouragehim again, but was distracted when the barracks door opened. Schultz walked in, blue eyes peeking over another stack of blankets.

"Try, okay?" O'Malley wrapped Parker's hand around the cup, then quickly stood and waved to get Schultz's attention. He did not know where the guard was coming up with all the blankets, but he was grateful for them. "Over here, Schultz."

Schultz pinpointed his location and carefully moved in his direction. Upon reaching O'Malley, Schultz glanced down at Parker sipping the water and his forehead furrowed in confusion. "Why is Parker in Paxton's bed?" He turned slightly, swept the room with a glance. "And LeBeau in Olsen's? And . . ."

"We switched everybody around." O'Malley grabbed a blanket off the stack, walked across the room and spread it over Braveheart. The ill man curled up, blankets creeping higher over his shoulders until only his black hair showed. O'Malley took another blanket and passed it to Paxton, who gently unfolded it over Carter. The sergeant stirred, opening blue eyes that looked considerably clearer. O'Malley touched the back of his hand to Carter's forehead and his frown melted into a smile. The fever had finally broken. O'Malley smiled down at him, then turned back to Schultz, who had been quietly observing.

"The sick guys are in the bottom bunks so they can get to the bucket in a hurry."

"Oh," Schultz murmured, rocking back on his heels. He certainly would not want to be on an upper bunk when the nausea struck. Or be the person on the lower bunk when it happened, either.

O'Malley relieved Schultz of the rest of the blankets and carried them to the table. "Paxton is better now, so he's letting Parker use his bunk. LeBeau is in Olsen's bunk for the same reason."

Schultz briefly pondered the arrangements, then nodded his acceptance. It made sense.

O'Malley suddenly rounded on Schultz, voice strained with concern. "I hope you're not going to tell me the kommandant's decided to start the roll calls back up because the worst of the sickness is over?"

"Nein," Schultz quickly assured him. "The kommandant is ill now, too. His orders are to continue with the bed checks." He started slowly walking around the room, doing a head count. O'Malley watched the slow, careful movements with some concern. Schultz had been one of the first of the guards to become ill and had spent several days in the camp infirmary.

"You're still feeling okay aren't you, Schultz?"

Schultz paused beside Carter's bed. "Ja, danke." He leaned down and gently patted Carter on the shoulder. The sergeant peered up at him, a weak smile appearing. Schultz moved on, headed for Hogan's quarters. O'Malley jerked in alarm, took off after him.

"Don't go in there, Schultz." O'Malley grabbed Schultz by the arm and tugged him away from the door. "The colonel and Newkirk are sleeping."

Schultz frowned. "Why is Newkirk not in his own bunk? Is he sick now, too?"

"No, he's just exhausted, and it's quieter in the colonel's quarters. He's worn out from helping me. He needs to rest and if he's out here, he won't."

"He has been doing a lot," Schultz confirmed. "Carter and the little cockroach, too." He paused, worriedly gazed at Carter. "And now Carter and LeBeau are sick."

"Yeah," O'Malley sighed, rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand.

"Is Colonel Hogan ill?" Schultz asked, worry evident in his voice.

"Aye, I hope not," O'Malley muttered, closing his eyes.

Schultz frowned at him, appeared ready to say something else, then looked around the room, instead.

"Where is Olsen? And Kinchloe?"

"They're in with the colonel and Newkirk."

"Why --"

"To make certain they rest," O'Malley said hurriedly, growing weary of the questions and need for fast-thinking. He rubbed his temple, feeling a headache coming on.

Schultz's eyebrows shot up. "Both Kinchloe and Olsen?"

"Kinch is keeping Olsen company."

Schultz dropped the subject with a shrug. He turned and sat down at the table, brought one beefy hand up to lie flat upon its surface. O'Malley paused, struck by the sadness in Schultz's face.

"Schultz?" he called softly. "Something wrong?"

Schultz's eyes flicked in his direction, then returned to studying his hand. "The kommandant will not let any of us leave Stalag 13 yet. I miss Gerta and the Kinder."

O'Malley lowered his gaze, his own emotions fairly close to the surface. "You know it's for the best, Schultz," he murmured, looking up again.

"Ja, ja," Schultz sighed. "I would not want them to suffer this sickness." He slowly brushed his fingers over the table's top, stopped to pick at an imaginary splinter.

O'Malley grasped for something to lighten the guard's mood. "Hey, just think of what a homecoming you'll have when you do get to go home." Schultz looked up at him, a smile taking shape. He nodded, eagerness and love warming his voice.

"Gerta will probably fix a large meal." Schultz smacked his lips, smile in full bloom now. "And we'll all sit down together."

"That's right." O'Malley went to him, plucked at his sleeve. "Come on, now. Go get some more fresh air and let me get back to work, okay?"

Schultz turned for Hogan's quarters again. "First, I must check that Colonel Hogan, Newkirk, Kinchloe and Olsen are accounted for."

"I'll do it for you." O'Malley hurried ahead of him to Hogan's quarters. After a glance back to confirm that Schultz had not ventured too close, he pushed the door open just far enough to stick his head inside the room. "Hi, guys. No, no. Everything's okay. Just checking for Schultz that you're here." He pulled his head out again, swiftly closed the door. "They're all in there, all right."

Schultz gave him a narrow stare, as if seeing through the deception. With a shake of his head and a knowing look at Hogan's closed door, he turned to leave. O'Malley walked with him, helpfully opened the door for him. "Thanks for bringing more blankets, Schultz. Please tell the kommandant we hope he feels better soon."

Schultz's face lit up with a beaming smile. "Such a nice fellow to wish the kommandant well. I will tell him." He took a step toward the doorway then turned back. "You are very welcome for the blankets." He went out, then stuck his head back inside the barracks. His voice was heavy with concern as he looked directly into O'Malley's startled eyes. "Do not forget that you, also, need to rest."

A flush of warmth spread through O'Malley. Schultz was a big softie. "Aye, Schultz. You're not such a bad fellow, yourself. Now don't you be worrying about me. I'll be fine." Seeing the bunk entrance opening out of the corner of his eye, O'Malley pushedhim all the way out and shoved the door closed.

"Kinch!" O'Malley met the sergeant in the middle of the room. "Have you heard something?"

"No." Kinch sat down beside Carter's bed, gave the young man a smile and tugged his blanket up. Carter grimaced and immediately lowered it again. "Not a word. Baker's still at the radio." His gaze lifted, floated around the room, checking.

"Schultz brought some more blankets by and did a head count." O'Malley leaned back against the bunks' support; crossed his feet at the ankles.

Kinch's eyes flew wide, his mouth falling open. "I forgot all about the head count!"

"Could that be because you've been ill?" O'Malley asked, a merry twinkle appearing in his eyes. "Don't worry. I convinced him you were in the colonel's quarters, along with him, Newkirk and Olsen." He threw a quick look at the barracks door. "And since the alarms haven't sounded, the guys in the other barracks must have found a way to cover the goon squad's absence, too."

Kinch arched an eyebrow in confusion. "Goon squad?"

O'Malley chuckled. "Baker's guys. Lyons, Benson, Olsen, Broughton, Jones, Maddux, and Tivoli."

Kinch's other eyebrow went up. "That's quite a –"

"Goon squad," O'Malley interrupted smoothly in a bland, conversational tone.

"I was going to say 'group'." A corner of Kinch's mouth quirked in a grin. "And Benson and Olsen might not appreciate that colorful description."

"So we won't tell them," O'Malley shrugged, grinning as well.

Kinch's chuckle died as his gaze fell upon LeBeau. Paxton was sponging the Frenchman's face, speaking softly to him. LeBeau muttered, kicked at the blanket over his feet. Sensing Kinch's gaze, Paxton glanced up at him and sadly shook his head.

"His fever's pretty high," O'Malley said softly, watching LeBeau shove Paxton's hand away from his face. "But no higher than when he came in. We're keeping a close eye on it." He looked back at Kinch and after a brief pause, said, "You should be resting, by the way, not running around in the tunnels using up what little strength you've managed to regain."

Impatience flickered over Kinch's face. He looked down at Carter, studied the younger man's pallid features. "I'm not going back to bed," he growled. "I couldn't rest even if I did, so just leave it alone." He glanced up, then suddenly peered hard at O'Malley. "You feeling okay?"

O'Malley uncrossed his feet and straightened away from the bunk. "Yeah." His attention briefly turned inward and he admitted what he had not to Schultz. "A little tired. A wee bit of a headache."

"Find an empty bunk and lie down. I'll help Paxton keep an eye on everyone."

O'Malley's jaw clenched, his arms moving to fold firmly across his chest. His brogue thickened as it always did when he was especially tired or upset.

"I'll be lying down when you do."

Kinch's glare was answer enough. Having reached an impasse, several minutes of silence stretched between them. Then O'Malley turned toward the tunnel entrance and his arms shifted position over his chest, as though he were hugging himself.

"Kinch –"

"They're alive," Kinch snapped, painfully aware of Carter's eyes flying open. "Until we have proof, I refuse to believe they aren't."

Carter pushed up onto his elbows, his gaze rapidly shifting back and forth between them. "Who . . . who are you talking about?" Too weak to maintain the position, he slumped back onto the mattress. His expression fell when neither man would look him in the eye. "Come on, fellas," he whispered. "Who is it?"

"Newkirk and the colonel are missing," Kinch admitted, knowing it would be unfair to keep the news from him. "We're looking, Andrew."

"Oh, geez," Carter breathed. He sank further into the mattress, blue eyes huge in his pale face. "They'll be okay. Right, Kinch?"

"Right," Kinch repeated, staring steadily at O'Malley. The medic looked away, his answer so soft Carter almost missed it.

"Right."

To be continued. Thank you for reading!