Chapter Fifteen: A Traitor's Message

Disclaimer: Hellboy characters do not belong to me. However, Erica, Heinrich, Sergeant Alexandre Barret, and Alfred Drummond are mine.

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews Blu Embyr, Scorponis, DarkCloudRider, and Psycho Llama! I'm happy to hear that you like the quotes! Ideas and suggestions are still welcome! A special thanks goes to DarkCloudRider for sending me a wonderful idea that I decided to use in this chapter. Apologies everyone for the long wait for the chapter, but believe me, it's worth it. In this chapter Erica sneaks into a military base belonging to the Allied Forces with the intent of somehow getting her letter to America. Also, some new characters are introduced. Just so everyone knows "Ja" is yes, "Nein" is no, "Guten tag" is hello, and "Auf wiedersehen" is goodbye. Everyone review, pretty please!

Blu Embyr: Hehe! Yes, that cliffhanger probably is going to kill you, cuz you won't find out how much Kroenen knows until chapter sixteen!

Scorponis: Thanks for the review! It gave me ideas for chapter sixteen. And thanks for putting up with the two weeks between the chapters, I just hope you weren't holding your breath that whole time: )

DarkCloudRider: I made you cry? (sniffle) I had no idea! Out of curiosity, was it the end of the chapter or something else that made you cry? I must admit that making you cry wasn't my intention, but I was trying to show how Erica and others are being affected, specifically emotionally. Also, I loved the idea you sent me and thought it was so good that I decided to use it! (sends Kroenen plushie) By the way, which story were you working on? I'd love to read it!

Psycho Llama: Thanks, I watched the beginning of the movie to make sure I portrayed Von Krupt correctly! Hehe, and as for that cliffhanger, it won't be resolved until next chapter!

"Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work: You don't give up."— Anne Lamott

The night of October 5, 1944

Erica's black horse plunged through the darkness, the thunder of his hooves as loud as Erica's rapidly beating heart. She knew she was racing against time—there were only three full days before October 9th, and her letter had to reach its destination before then or it would be too late. Because of this she rode as fast as she dared through the darkness, racing over hills and along dirt paths before splashing through a river to gallop through seemingly endless fields of crops. But at last she could see the edge of the fields, and beyond the field she could see where the forest began: in the darkness the tall trees made a darker blot against the solid black sky. Within moments her horse had left the fields behind and was dashing through the forest, careening around trees and leaping logs. It was a frightening but exhilarating experience for Erica. It was so dark that she could barely see the tree trunks ahead of her, and she realized that it was a miracle her horse hadn't tripped and broken a leg. We have to slow down! she thought as a thin, whippy branch hit her in the face. Erica pulled back on the reins, gradually slowing her horse down to a canter and then to a walk.

Now that they had slowed down, Erica looked around at her surroundings as her horse steadily walked forward. The trees made it much darker in the forest than it had been in the open fields, and the thick tree trunks were only identifiable because they were more solid than the shadows around her. The forest was silent except for the rustle of the dry leaves overhead and the crunch of twigs under her horse's hooves. The silence was slightly eerie, but Erica welcomed it, knowing that the silence meant that there was no one nearby to interfere with her. She had ridden two or three miles away from the mansion, knowing the miles in between would prevent Ilsa, Kroenen—and hopefully Grigory—from knowing that she was using a transportation spell.

Erica drew her cloak closer to her. The autumn nights in Germany were cold and despite the darkness she could see the faint white fog drifting from her mouth as she breathed. And as she breathed she could smell the faint, sweet smell of a blossoming rose. Erica glanced down at the breast pocket of her jacket where the black rose that Kroenen had given her was peeking over the edge of the pocket. It was probably the last one on the rosebush, she thought, smiling a little sadly, it's getting too cold for them now. Kroenen knew how much I love roses, otherwise he wouldn't have brought me the last one.

She glanced up and saw a brighter patch of forest ahead. It was a clearing in the trees, just what she'd been looking for. Immediately, Erica brought her horse to a stop and slid out of the saddle. To keep her horse from wandering away, she tied the reins to a low tree branch. The cold made the task difficult, her numb fingers fumbled as they tried to tie the knots.

"Where are my gloves when I need them?" she muttered as she finished tying the knots.

She dug through her pockets and found a pair of tight black leather gloves. Perfect, she thought as she put them on, Now my hands won't be so cold but I'll still be able to handle a weapon. That done, she walked towards the brighter patch of forest. The trees thinned out and then ended abruptly in a clearing that was floored with bare earth and dry leaves. Erica smiled, the clearing was just right. Swiftly, she knelt down on the ground and took the red book out of her satchel. She flipped to the page she needed and consulted the diagram before she took a piece of chalk and drew a large circle on the ground. She drew a smaller circle inside the large one, and then began filling the space between the two circles with magic symbols copied directly from the book. As she drew the symbols she could feel dark power starting to collect around her, surging through the dark night to surround her. Erica shuddered, the presence of black magic had always made her skin crawl. Before she had decided to betray the Occult she had always enjoyed the sensation, but now it only made her uncomfortable. I wish I didn't have to use black magic to do this, she thought, it makes me feel so unclean.

When she was finished drawing the symbols, Erica took the five candles from her satchel and placed them at regular intervals around the outside of the large circle. She lit the candles using tinder and flint. But instead of burning brightly, the flames turned black, and instead of shedding light, they shed shadow and made the night even darker. Erica could feel the power steadily growing around her as she took a mirror from her satchel and placed it in the center of the circle. According to the red book the mirror would help to bring her back to Germany, literally reflecting her back the way she came. But how long will I have? She wondered as she consulted the red book. Because of the darkness she had to squint to read the words in the book. They said that she would have exactly forty-five minutes to carry out her mission. As long as she made it back to the spot she was originally transported to within the forty five minutes, she would be transported back to Germany. Of course, that also meant that she would have to explain the two enormous blasts of magic to Kroenen, who, despite the miles between himself and Erica, was bound to notice that she was using magic. I'll have to come up with a good excuse, she thought as she stepped over the chalk lines and into the center of the smallest circle. As she stepped, she had the sensation that a bucket of ice water had been dumped over her head. She shuddered and gasped, but forced herself to concentrate on her destination.

I want to go to a forest near the closest military base belonging to the Allied Forces.

As she thought the words, the bone freezing cold disappeared and Erica suddenly found herself standing beside a pine tree in a forest. She looked around to get her bearings, but there wasn't much to see. Despite the distance she had traveled it was just as dark here as it had been in Germany, and just as cold. A chill wind blew through the trees, bringing with it the smell of fallen leaves and the crisp scent of an autumn evening. Suddenly, through the trees Erica spotted the faint yellow glow of lights. They must be from the military base, she thought as she wove through the trees, heading for the lights. She walked cautiously through the darkness, being careful not to trip over rocks or protruding tree roots. She pushed a few thin branches out of her way and then winced as a thorn bush caught on her sleeve. She disentangled herself and then continued forward, the edge of her black cloak whispering against the dry leaves lying on the forest floor.

Soon the trees thinned out and she found herself standing among the thin saplings and tangled bushes on the fringe of the forest. She slipped behind a tree and peered out at the area ahead, assessing the situation.

Just beyond the point where the forest ended there was a field of tall grass. This field continued for as far as she could see in the darkness. However, the field was interrupted by a high chain link fence that surrounded what was clearly a military base. From her position it was clear that the military base itself was divided into two areas: one area that was an airfield with airplanes, and the other area full of tents and small, rough, cabin like buildings for the soldiers. Erica's grey eyes flicked back to concentrate on the fence. I'll have to overcome that obstacle before I can figure out how to deliver my letter, she thought.

The chain link fence that surrounded the military base was about ten feet high and had barbed wire strung across the top. In addition there were tall wooden watchtowers located in the corners and midpoints of the fence. Erica gazed at the watchtowers, noticing that each tower had a spotlight in it which the guards were turning so that the beam of light slowly swept over the ground just outside the chain link fence. She could just barely see the silhouettes of the guards in the towers, they were casually leaning against the railing at the top of the towers.

Good, she thought, smiling, that means they're bored and probably not paying much attention. And from what I know from dealing with Nazi soldiers, these soldiers are probably thinking about the hot dinner waiting for them when they get off duty and not about watching for intruders.

Then she saw movement along the inside of the fence: a uniformed soldier was patrolling the perimeter of the fence. Alright, she thought, I'll have to evade the watchtowers and the spotlights. And then I'll have to climb the fence while avoiding the soldiers patrolling the perimeter of the fence. But how do I avoid the spotlights? She watched the slowly sweeping spotlights for a few moments and eventually picked up on a weakness. The spotlights didn't light up the entire fence, the fence was so long that at the midpoints between towers there was a place that the spotlights couldn't reach, and because of this, it remained dark. So that's how I'll climb the fence, she thought, I'll climb it where that dark spot is. And with my training, it'll be easy enough to avoid the soldier patrolling the perimeter of the fence. Erica instantly felt a pang of regret as she remembered Kroenen teaching her how to disappear and hide in the shadows. Erica forced the memory from her mind, she couldn't think about that, she had to do this now. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves and fingered the silver cross hanging from her necklace.

Wish me luck, she thought, her fingers gently brushing the black rose in her breast pocket, if I screw this up I'll never get a chance to fix things—I'll probably be dead.

Content with her plan of action, Erica pulled up the hood on black cloak to hide her face and then left the cover of the forest. The wind was blowing across the open field and it was even colder than it had been in the forest. I'm glad I wore this cloak, she thought, shivering slightly. Erica snuck across the open field towards the lights of the military base, slinking through the tall, knee high grass. When she was as close to the fence as she could get without the spotlights hitting her, she ducked down in the tall grass and waited for the spotlights to swing away from her. She crouched down in the grass, feeling nervous and very alert to everything going on around her. Being nervous was very understandable, she was about to sneak into what was basically an enemy camp. And despite the fact that she was now on their side, the Allied soldiers didn't know it, and she knew if they saw her that they would kill her on sight.

At least that's a slightly better fate than being sacrificed by the Occult and then having my soul destroyed, she thought.

The grass swayed in the wind, tickling her face as it brushed her skin. But Erica didn't move; she waited tensely as the spotlights began to drift away from her hiding spot. She would have run to the fence if it wasn't for the soldier patrolling the perimeter, but he was still a little too close for comfort. Come on, move it, she silently urged him, come on, just a little farther. The second she judged the soldier was far enough away she stood up and silently ran over to the chain link fence, where she immediately started climbing. For the second time that evening she was glad that she was wearing gloves, they protected her hands from the cold metal wires as she scaled the fence with all the ease of a spider.

When she reached the top of the chain link fence she was confronted with the barbed wire. She thought for a moment, and then, hanging onto the fence with her left hand, she put her hand into her satchel and rummaged through it until she found a pair of wire cutters. She smiled as she used them to snip through the barbed wire.

I'm lucky that this satchel has a simple tool kit in it, she thought as she put the wire cutters back in her satchel, I'd hate having to climb over barbed wire.

Before she started down the other side of the fence, Erica looked around. Fortunately the spotlights were still aimed in the opposite direction, and the soldier patrolling the fence was out of sight, having disappeared among the tents that filled the soldiers' side of the military base. All clear, she thought as she swung herself over the top of the fence and onto the other side.

She had climbed halfway down the fence when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw another solider patrolling the fence—and he was coming straight toward her! Erica knew that he was far enough away that he couldn't see her yet, but she also knew that she would have to hurry to prevent being caught. Quickly, she let go of the fence and dropped the last five feet to the ground, landing cat-like on all fours. She looked at the soldier—he was getting steadily closer. Erica reached up and made sure that the hood of her cloak was drawn down over her face and then, keeping to the shadows, she moved away from the fence and darted around the side of the closest building. She pressed her back against the wooden side of the building and listened as the soldier's footsteps came closer. She held her breath as the footsteps approached her hiding place, and it seemed like an eternity before the footsteps passed her and faded into the distance.

Erica sighed in relief and then examined her surroundings. She was in the soldiers' section of the camp, which was just as well. She would have to find out how to get her letter onto one of the airplanes that carried the mail, and to find that out, she would have to be around people. She knew this was dangerous, as being around people meant that she had a higher risk of being seen or caught. But it was the only way to find out how to send her letter, so she would have to take the risk. With that end in mind, she walked towards the rest of the buildings and tents, sticking to the shadows and keeping an eye out for soldiers. She walked as quietly as she could, the heels of her boots making a soft tapping sound against the bare ground. Through the darkness she saw two soldiers approaching and quickly dashed into the deeper shadows. Silently she waited for the soldiers to pass her.

If I had any clue it would be this easy to break into a military base, Kroenen and I would have wreaked havoc on the Nazis' enemies, she thought. But then again, perhaps Kroenen had known about how easy it would be, but had simply seen it to be beneath them. After all, there had been more important matters to attend to, such as the portal generator.

Oblivious of her presence, the two talking soldiers passed by her and disappeared into the night. Once she was sure they were gone, Erica slunk through the darkness, no more than a shadow among the other shadows. Somewhere ahead of her she heard voices. Judging by the voices, there were at least three soldiers, maybe more. I can handle that many if something goes wrong, she thought, I'll eavesdrop on them, maybe I can learn something to my advantage. She headed towards the building that the voices were coming from. When she was sure that the voices were just around the corner of the building, she knelt on the ground and then cautiously peered around the edge.

Around the corner of the building several soldiers were standing around a porch light and talking to each other. All of them were wearing the military uniforms that were typical of the Allied forces. Some of them were throwing darts at a wanted posters tacked to the side of the building. All of the wanted posters were for various members of the Thule Occult Society, including a very poor illustration of Erica herself.

"Blasted darkness," one man remarked, gazing up at the dark sky.

"Cold too," replied another, tossing another dart at the cluster of posters. Erica winced slightly as the dart hit the illustration of herself in the middle of the forehead. "I don't envy the people that have guard duty tonight. They must be freezing up in those towers."

"Well I won't be in a tower, but I'll be patrolling the fence." said a man who was absentmindedly fingering a rosary.

Erica saw something move in the darkness beyond the soldiers and turned her attention towards it. As she watched, the moving form came closer and she realized that it was a young, Aryan man wearing a military uniform and carrying a mailbag. The other soldiers saw the young man approaching and called out to him.

"Heinrich, where have you been? You've been gone all day!"

"I've been collecting mail from various military bases and intelligence organizations. And what a day! I just got here, and boy am I hungry!" Heinrich said, his English sounding a little odd because of his strong German accent.

That's odd, Erica thought, A soldier in the Allied Forces that is obviously from Germany. But that wasn't all that was strange. There was something vaguely familiar about Heinrich's voice, and even his facial features were familiar. It was as if Erica had seen him before. But that's impossible, she thought, staring at him, I've never forgotten a face. It's probably just a coincidence.

"Do you want dinner, Heinrich?" asked the man holding the rosary, "If you're lucky there'll still be something in the cafeteria for you to eat."

"No, Alfred, maybe later. I have to get this mail to the airfield—it's urgent," the young soldier replied proudly, "It has to be sent tonight so that it reaches the President of the United States by the morning of October seventh."

"Well, you better hurry, the plane is going to take off in ten to fifteen minutes. Anyway, we'll tell the cafeteria staff to keep some food warm for you."

"Thanks, talk to you later!" he called over his shoulder as he left the group of soldiers behind and walked towards the end of the building where Erica was hiding.

Erica quickly pulled her head back around the corner and ducked into the shadows. Heinrich turned the corner and passed right by her, whistling cheerfully as he started towards the unlit area of storage buildings that led to the airfield. Talk about luck, she thought, smiling at the young man's back as he walked away, Here's the perfect opportunity for me to send my letter! As soon as Heinrich was a few meters away, Erica followed him, being as silent as possible.

Unaware that he was being followed, the young man continued walking, the sounds of the camp slowly fading as he walked through the darkness, heading towards the airfield. He was proud to be trusted with carrying the urgent mail—it was a very important and sometimes dangerous job. But tonight he was tired and hungry. I can't wait for dinner, he thought, his stomach rumbling, usually the cooks save something good for me. He stumbled on a small rock and turned his attention back to his surroundings, making sure he was going the right way. He knew that this was the part of the camp where supplies were stored, but he didn't like this section of the camp. It was always dark and deserted, and he thought it was creepy. And the fact that the moon and stars were hidden by the clouds tonight made it even creepier. Hearing the wind moaning eerily between the buildings, his whistling trailed off and he walked in silence.

I hate coming this way, he thought, listening to the wailing wind, I wish this wasn't the fastest route to the airfield.

As Heinrich continued walking, he got a weird feeling, the sort of feeling you get when someone walks into a room behind you and you know they're there, even though you haven't heard anything. It was also like the feeling you get when you're in a dark room and even though you can't see, you know that you're not alone, that something else is in the room with you and is standing there watching you. It was the sort of feeling that made Heinrich's heart start pounding in his chest and made him feel uneasy, as if he wasn't alone. It feels like—like somebody's watching me, he thought, shivering. Then he realized what he was doing. Oh come on, I'm a soldier, an adult, and I'm acting like a kid that's afraid of the dark! I'm perfectly safe here!

No sooner had he finished thinking that, then from somewhere behind him he heard the distinctive sound of a boot scuffing the ground. He whirled around, looking back at the way he had come. The path was empty, and the only things there were the buildings and the shadows clinging to them. There was nobody behind him. It was just the wind, he told himself. He was just starting to turn around, when he thought he saw a shadow among the shadows move.

He froze and stared at where he thought he had seen something move. It's just a trick of my eyes, he thought. He continued staring at the spot, but soon it became painfully obvious that there was nothing there but shadows and the wooden side of one of the cabin like buildings. Oh come on, I'm being stupid, he thought as he forced himself to start walking again. But as he started walking, he heard footsteps behind him. He stopped walking, and the footsteps stopped, he started walking again, and the footsteps started again. By now Heinrich was really starting to feel frightened, and he whirled around to face the person following him.

The only thing that greeted him was the empty path. No one there. It must have been my imagination, he told himself firmly, or maybe it was the sound my footsteps echoing off the sides of the buildings. He stared walking again, but his heart continued to pound wildly in his chest, convinced that something was wrong. He forced himself to look forward, but looked out of the corners of his eyes to keep an eye on his surroundings. He had almost convinced himself that he had fallen prey to his overactive imagination—when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the shadows move again. And this time it was clear that it was following him. Heinrich felt his stomach clench in fear, but he continued to walk forward as he slowly reached inside his jacket for the handgun that he always carried. Once he had a firm grip on it he turned his head ever so slightly to see if the shadow was still following him. It was, and this time it was even closer, barely five feet away from him. He tried to swallow, but his mouth had suddenly gone dry. He summoned up his courage and whirled around to face the shadow, pulling out his handgun in the same movement.

"W-who's there?" he asked, his voice trembling ever so slightly.

No one answered. And once again, the path in front of him was empty, there was no sign or sound of the moving shadow. Instead, from somewhere close behind him he heard a soft sound, like the rustle of cloth. Heinrich felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up as his blood turned to ice in his veins. Hardly daring to breathe, he started to turn to face the thing behind him—

WHACK! THUD!

The young man fell unconscious at Erica's feet, his handgun landing on the ground beside him with a soft thud. Erica stood over him, holding a baton sword. She had struck him on the back of his head with the baton sword's hilt, the same thing Kroenen had done to her a few days ago. Of course, Kroenen hadn't been trying to hurt her, and Erica had intended to knock the young man unconscious. She had also allowed Heinrich to hear her walking and to catch glimpses of her—it had made it easier for her to sneak up on him because he had been looking away from her.

Erica sheathed her baton sword and quickly knelt on the ground beside the young man's body and checked that he was alive, her fingers instantly finding the pulse on his throat. To her relief he had a pulse and was breathing, but from the strength of his pulse she knew that he would only be unconscious for a few minutes. She grabbed his arms and dragged his limp body into the deeper shadows by one of the buildings. Then she crouched beside Heinrich's body and slipped the strap of the mailbag off his shoulder. She opened the bag and took out the large envelope inside. The envelope was marked 'urgent' in capital, bold letters. Erica smiled and pulled one of the long, thin throwing daggers from of her sleeve and used it to cleanly slit open the top of the envelope. She looked inside. The envelope was filled with letters addressed to the President of the United States. She reached into her pants pocket and pulled out her letter and slipped it inside the envelope. Then she carefully resealed the large envelope so it looked like it had never been opened, placed it back in the mailbag, and put the strap back over the young man's shoulder. As she did so, she glanced at the nametag neatly pinned to the young soldier's shirt. She stared at it and blinked. No way, she thought, still staring, It's impossible!

The nametag read Heinrich Schwarz, the name of her grandfather! It had been six years since the last time she had seen him, but Erica instantly recalled a vivid memory of his kind eyes and his hearty laugh. She also remembered her parents telling her stories about how her grandfather had decided to flee Germany so he could join the Allied Forces in their fight against the Nazis.

But is he really my grandfather? she thought, looking down at him. It was a well known fact that Schwarz was a common German surname, but how many men had the first name Heinrich and decided to fight the Nazis, despite their heritage? Not many, she decided, looking down at the man that she now recognized as a younger version of her grandfather. No wonder I thought he looked and sounded familiar! I guess there really is the danger of killing your ancestors if you go back in time, she thought wryly. She shuddered at the thought, she couldn't imagine killing a member of her own family. This is too creepy. What are the chances that I'd run into my own grandfather? And on top of being creepy this is really making me feel guilty in so many ways. I knocked out my own grandfather! And on top of that, until a few days ago I was helping the Nazis when my own grandfather risked his life to fight against them—he must have been turning in his grave—only, he's not dead yet so he couldn't be— Erica gave up. Time travel was just too confusing.

Suddenly, Erica saw Heinrich's eyelids flicker, he was starting to wake up! Erica moved away from him, and hid in the shadows nearby where she could keep an eye on him.

Heinrich's eyes opened and he sat up slowly, looking around and rubbing the back of his head where he had been hit.

"What happened?" he muttered, standing up slowly and readjusting the strap on his shoulder, which had started to slip off.

Erica watched as Heinrich's eyes fell on his dropped handgun. The sight of it seemed to bring back his memory, because he picked it up and looked around fearfully. Erica heard voices and turned her eyes towards the airfield. A pilot was standing next to a small plane and gearing up while he talked to a man dressed in a military officer's uniform. Time is running out, the pilot is about to leave Erica thought anxiously, I can't let that happen, or my letter will never arrive in time! Her grey eyes darted toward Heinrich, still holding his handgun and staring mistrustfully at the shadows around him. Then she looked back at the plane. She decided to take a risk. I'll 'encourage' him to get moving! she thought, smiling mischievously. Silently she left the shadows and walked up behind Heinrich. Then she leaned forward, and breathed on his neck.

The results were instantaneous. Heinrich froze in place, a soft whimper of fear escaping from his mouth. Erica continued breathing on his neck, waiting for the moment when his fear would turn into panic and force him to start running. She kept an eye on his right hand, the one that was holding the handgun. She saw his fingers twitch ever so slightly and knew he was debating whether or not to risk whirling around and shooting at her. I can't have that, she thought, And that plane is going to be taking off soon. I think I'll encourage him a little more. Erica considered for a moment, and then bent forward and whispered in Heinrich's ear.

"Guten tag" she whispered in his ear.

Heinrich gasped when he heard her speak, and started to raise the arm holding the gun. Erica reached forward and grabbed his wrist, squeezing it tightly despite feeling guilty about hurting her grandfather. Even if he was her grandfather, she couldn't let him shoot her.

"Don't even think about it." she hissed, tightening her grip.

Heinrich flinched as she tightened her grip to the point where his bones were almost threatening to snap. With a pained gasp, he dropped his handgun. Erica saw it fall.

"Much better." she hissed softly.

"W-what are y-you?" Heinrich said, his voice trembling.

"Your worst nightmare," Erica hissed in his ear. She half smiled, it was probably the truth, considering he was with the Allied Forces. But little did he know that his worst nightmare was in reality his own granddaughter. "So, tell me," she whispered, "I'm curious, are you afraid of the dark?"

"N—n—no." he stuttered, unconvincingly.

"You should be," she hissed, "Perhaps you'll be more careful in the future, ja?"

"Are y-you g-going to k-kill me?"

"Nein. I'm going to let you go. But even think about doing anything but running and I will kill you. Auf wiedersehen."

The moment she released him he ran as fast as he could towards the well lit airfield, leaving his gun lying on the ground. Erica laughed silently and watched the panic stricken young man hastily deliver the mailbag to the pilot before running back to the soldiers' area of the camp. The pilot stared after Heinrich, shook his head and then climbed into the plane. Shortly thereafter the thunderous roar of the airplane's engine filled the air as the pilot started the engine. Then the airplane taxied down the runway and took off into the night sky. Happiness welled up inside Erica, soaring as high as the airplane carrying her letter. It's done, she thought, I did it! Then reality began to sink in. I hope the Allied Forces come, she thought, If not— But she didn't want to think about that alternative, not yet, not here. I should start heading back, she thought, I have to get back within the forty-five minutes, and I'm sure my time is almost spent. Erica turned and began retracing her steps, weaving through the buildings as she headed back to the place where she had climbed the fence.

Meanwhile, Heinrich had run all the way back to the soldiers talking and standing around the door. The soldiers saw him and called to him.

"Heinrich! You want dinner? The cook just said it's the last call…" the man trailed off, taking in Heinrich's appearance. The young man's blue eyes were wide open, his hair was a mess, and his face was very pale.

"What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost!" exclaimed Alfred Drummond, the man with the rosary.

"A ghost!" Heinrich choked out, "I did see a ghost! Or a phantom—or-or something!"

"Calm down! Tell us what happened."

Heinrich quickly recounted his story. When he was finished, he looked around at the soldiers expectantly.

"A ghost that speaks German?" asked one of the soldiers in disbelief.

"Yes. And that's not all," said Heinrich, "Look what it did to my wrist!"

He held out his heavily bruised wrist for the other soldiers to see. The other soldiers all nodded solemnly at his evidence. Then they looked at each other and burst out laughing. Heinrich looked at them in disbelief.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"You're a good story teller, I'll give you that!" one man said, smiling, "For a moment you almost had me believing you!"

"You mean—you mean you don't believe me?" Heinrich asked, looking around at the laughing and smiling soldiers.

"Shadows that speak German and steal guns, that's a good one!" one soldier chuckled.

"But—but I'm telling the truth!" Heinrich insisted, "I did meet a shadow that spoke German!

"Sure, sure you did!" the other soldiers said, barely concealing their laughter.

"But—but I did!" Heinrich protested, his voice trailing off as he felt his face grow red with embarrassment.

"Great story! I'll admit, it was funny, but I have leave— I've been assigned to patrol the fence for a few hours," announced Alfred Drummond, "I'll see you guys later. Oh, and Heinrich? Great ghost story!"

"But it's not a story!" Heinrich shouted, "You shouldn't go out there alone, Alfred! What if it's still there?"

"Oh stop this nonsense!" Alfred said gruffly, "And trust me, if I do run into anything, particularly shadows that creep around spouting German, then I'll silence it permanently!"

Alfred took out his handgun and gestured with it meaningfully before turning and walking away. Heinrich stood silently, feeling helpless and very embarrassed as Alfred disappeared into the darkness.

But despite Alfred's gruff façade, Heinrich's story had scared him more than he let on. He was a superstitious and deeply religious man, and he believed in ghosts. This belief was intensified by the dark night as he strolled along the fence, occasionally throwing nervous glances towards particularly dark patches of shadow. And it didn't help that he had nothing to take his mind off of Heinrich's story, which kept repeating itself over and over again inside his head.

Get control of yourself, man! He scolded himself, The boy probably tried to scare me on purpose, knowing I'd have patrol duty tonight! There is nothing in this military base but us, nothing could get past the watchtowers and the fence!

Having regained his confidence, Alfred continued along the fence, occasionally rubbing his hands together to keep them warm. He glanced at the spotlights as they swept over the ground near him and then reversed direction and started sweeping away, leaving the area in almost complete darkness. In fact, it was so dark that the only things he could see were the dark shapes of the cabin-like buildings on his right, and the fence on his left. The wind wailed as it rushed through the fence, and Alfred heard the distinctive sound of metal rubbing against wire somewhere above his head. He looked at the top of the fence, searching for the source of the sound. Then he spotted it: the strand of barbed wire running along the top of the fence had broken and the two strands were rubbing against each other as the wind blew.

That's unusual, he thought staring at the broken wire and walking closer to the fence, in fact, that barbed wire doesn't look like it broke, it looks like—it looks like it's been cut!

As he walked forward towards the fence looking up at the barbed wire, something made him glace at the fence directly in front of him. And as he did, he saw a darker shadow among the shadows move. Instantly his thoughts flew back to what Heinrich had said: 'I saw one of the shadows move…'

Erica pressed her back against the chain link fence, staring at Alfred, who was standing in front of her, peering into the darkness that Erica was hiding in. Mentally she cursed at herself for allowing him to catch a glimpse of her. It wouldn't have happened if she had looked around before she run over to the fence. As it was, she hadn't seen Alfred until she had made it into the shadows around the fence. But by then he had seen her, even if it had only been a glimpse.

She saw him coming closer to her and froze, holding still so she blended in with the darkness. She knew Alfred couldn't see her. But it seemed that he wasn't going to give up that easily. Alfred came a few steps closer, peering into the darkness as he pulled a flashlight from his pocket. Oh no, she thought, He'll see me! Instantly her hands went to the baton swords strapped to her legs. If I have to fight him to get out of here I will, she thought, preparing to attack. Just then Alfred flicked the flashlight on.

To Erica's extreme relief, the battery in the flashlight was nearly dead, and the bulb barely shed any light. Nevertheless, Alfred aimed the flashlight at the darkness as if hoping the light would ward off some evil creature of the night.

Alfred pointed the flashlight where he thought he had seen something move.

"Damn it!" he cursed, noticing that the flashlight's battery was almost dead.

The wind stopped wailing for a moment, and in the silence he clearly heard the sound of someone breathing heavily, as if they had been running. Alfred felt his heart begin to pound against his ribs and sweat break out on his face as he pulled out a loaded handgun.

Erica realized a moment too late that Alfred could hear her breathing. She held her breath. I wish I hadn't run to the fence, she thought. She anxiously held her breath as he came closer, aiming his handgun in her general direction.

"Who's there? Show yourself!" Alfred ordered. When there was no response, he cocked the gun.

"Come out! This is your last chance! I'll shoot!"

Erica, for the first time, felt a twinge of fear. She couldn't risk being shot. Not only did she risk being killed, but there was the added risk of capture—and possibly execution—at the hands of the Allied Forces. Erica sighed and decided to show herself. After all, I am more than capable of dealing with a solitary soldier who is close to panicking. She grinned wickedly, checked that the hood of her cloak was still over her face, and then she stepped out of the shadows.

Alfred was just about to shoot when, to his surprise and fear, a cloaked specter-like form detached itself from the shadows.

"Good Lord!" he exclaimed, aiming his gun at the figure, "Who the hell are you?"

Erica considered her answer. I can't give him my real name, or he will definitely shoot at me. It's every Allied soldier's dream to receive a medal of bravery for my murder. Not that he has a good chance of hitting me, she thought, looking him over. He was shaking so badly that he couldn't hold the gun straight. I just don't want the attention that a gunshot is bound to attract.

"Answer me! I'll shoot!" Alfred threatened, his voice quavering. By now his heart wasn't simply pounding, it was beating thunderous against his ribs.

"Most know me as the Angel of Death." the figure replied.

"The Angel of Death!" Alfred repeated, his mind instantly flying back to last Sunday's sermon in church. It had been about the Angel of Death taking a person's soul when they were about to die. "But I'm healthy!" he shouted, "I can't die, not now! I don't want to!"

Erica was briefly confused by Alfred's behavior until she realized that he had taken her words literally and not as the nickname that the Allied soldiers used in reference to herself, Erica Schwarz.

"Oh, believe me, you can die." she said, walking closer to him with all the grace and menace of a predator.

"Hey! Don't move!" he shouted.

Erica ignored him. Beneath her cloak, she tightly gripped the handle of her baton sword as she came within a few paces of him—

BAM!

The gunshot shattered the silence of the night. But Erica was no longer in front of Alfred. She lunged to the side and unsheathed her baton sword before dashing behind him. For a moment, the baton sword's blade glittered faintly as it arced through the air—and then she brought the hilt down on his skull.

WHAM!

Alfred Drummond crumpled to the ground and lay at her feet, unconscious.

"Forgive me," she murmured.

Behind her she heard shouts of alarm coming from the rest of the camp—Alfred's gunshot had attracted unwanted attention. I won't have time to climb the fence, she thought, glancing over her shoulder at the camp. She could already see the silhouettes of soldiers running out of the buildings, looking for the source of the commotion and shouting to one another. Disregarding the shouts, she abandoned any attempts at stealth and ran back to the chain link fence. She braced herself and then struck out at the wires with her baton sword. As the sharp blade easily cut through the wires, the metal gave a piercing, ear-splitting shriek.

The shriek drew the attention of the soldiers, and they started running in Erica's direction even as the spotlights started swinging towards her. She ignored them, and with a few more violent slashes she had sliced a gaping hole in the chain link fence. She hastily tried to duck through the hole—

Pain seared across her face as some of the cold, sharp ends of the cut wires slashed deep into the right side of her face and neck. She jerked her face away from the wires in time to see that the bright beams of the spotlights were no more than ten feet away from her. Behind her the soldiers' shouts grew louder and a screeching alarm went off. Erica's heart raced in her chest and in desperation she ducked through the fence again, stifling a cry as the wires cut her face again.

Then she was standing in the grassy field on the other side of the fence. Erica didn't think, she ran. She felt the beam of the spotlights hit her back and for a moment she saw her own shadow stretched out in front of her. Adrenaline pounded through her veins as she kept running through the tall grass, trying to shut out the shouts from the military base as they suddenly grew louder: the soldiers had caught a glimpse of her in the light of the spotlights. She kept running, and soon she was too far away for the spotlights to reach her. She left the grassy field and dashed into the forest, weaving between the trees, the cold night air rasping coldly and painfully in her throat.

Erica didn't stop running until she was near the pine tree that she had arrived next to a little over a half hour ago. A few steps away from the pine tree, she paused to catch her breath. She leaned against a nearby tree trunk and closed her eyes as she tried to calm her racing heart. She also slowed her breathing, the cold night air had made her throat sore.

That was close, she thought, sheathing her baton sword. But I did it, I sent the letter!

Until October 9th she would have to continue her dangerous charade and prepare to destroy the portal generator—with or without help. There was always the possibility that the Allied Forces wouldn't come, or that they would arrive too late. And if that happened, she knew she would be on her own.

XXXXX

At the military base, a large crowd of soldiers had gathered around the fence. Some were staring out at the darkness, trying to catch another glimpse of the running shadow. Others were pointing at the gaping hole in the fence while a few others were gathered around Alfred, who had just woken up.

Two soldiers grasped Alfred's hands and helped him get to his feet.

"Thank you," Alfred muttered, gingerly rubbing the back of his head where he had been struck.

He wandered over to the group of soldiers gazing at the hole in the fence.

"Who do you think it was?" one soldier asked.

"You mean what! It looked like a ghost!" exclaimed a soldier that had caught a fleeting glimpse of the black clad figure fleeing into the darkness.

"You're both wrong," Alfred said, looking very pale and fingering his rosary, "It said it was the Angel of Death."

The soldiers around Alfred looked at him with blank expressions that quickly transformed into knowing smiles as they looked at each other.

"I think you got hit on the head too hard, Alfred." a soldier said, "You better head on over to the hospital building."

The crowd of soldiers laughed good naturedly at the joke.

"No, no. That's who it said it was!" Alfred insisted.

A commotion arose at the back of the large crowd as the soldiers hastily moved aside to let a figure pass through. His uniform identified him as the commanding officer in command of the military base, and the nametag pinned to his uniform proclaimed him to be Sergeant Alexandre Barret.

"What's going on here?" he demanded, "Who's shooting?"

"I was, sir." answered Alfred.

"And what were you shooting at, pray tell?" Sergeant Barret asked, clearly irritated.

"A trespasser—or a ghost, I'm not sure."

"A trespasser or a ghost! Can't you tell the difference, man?" Barret asked, berating Alfred.

Then Sergeant Barret caught sight of the mutilated chain link fence, still brightly illuminated by the spotlights. He turned away from Alfred and slowly approached the mutilated fence, examining the damage with a shocked and serious expression. His bright, hard eyes missed no detail as he studied the gaping hole that had been viciously slashed into the chain link fence. His eyes darted to the twisted wires and then to the cut barbed wire at the top of the fence. Then his eyes flicked to a shining liquid dripping from some of the wires located at about head height. He leaned closer and realized that the crimson liquid was blood.

"What is it?" asked a soldier that was standing nearby.

"Blood," Sergeant Barret answered grimly. He turned to Alfred, "Well, you weren't shooting at a ghost, but you also didn't hit the intruder."

"But there's blood—" said a voice in the crowd.

"It's not enough to be from a bullet wound. See? Judging from where the blood is on the wires, the wires probably scratched the intruder's face."

As Sergeant Barret gestured at the blood coated wires and the blood spattered ground, his eyes fell on an object lying near the bottom edge of the fence. Swiftly, he bent down and picked it up, holding it up in the light.

It was a black rose with a crimson ribbon tied in a bow around its stem.

Sergeant Barret turned this strange scrap of evidence over in his hands, his brow furrowed. Just then Heinrich came running over. He took in the scene at a glance.

"I told you that ghost was still out here!" he shouted at Alfred.

Sergeant Barret and the soldiers turned their attention to Heinrich.

"What ghost?" asked Barret.

"The one that grabbed me," Heinrich replied, "I told Alfred all about it."

Sergeant Barret turned his piercing eyes on Alfred.

"The thing I shot at wasn't a ghost, and it wasn't speaking German," said Alfred shakily, "It said it was the Angel of Death."

"So you expect me to tell my superiors that we were invaded by some kind of German-speaking 'ghost' or 'angel' that apparently didn't do anything but wreck our fence?" Sergeant Barret raged.

When no one answered him or offered anymore information Sergeant Barret sighed in utter frustration. It appeared that was exactly what he was going to have to do.

Author's Notes: Whew! What a long chapter for me! Originally this was twice as long, but I spilt it in half so the second half will be chapter sixteen. That means this story will end up having a total of eighteen chapters instead of the seventeen I expected. I hope you liked the perspective switches between the characters in this chapter, as well as the interesting situation with the wanted posters. Hehe! And chapter sixteen will mostly be dealing with Erica's increasingly difficult and dangerous interactions with Kroenen, Ilsa, and Grigory.