Emanations of Hate

Chapter 9

"Kinch…" Hogan began in a warning tone.

"Sir, I know how it sounds. Don't you think I know? But this is not a joke!"

There were few men who could have faced down a glowering Hogan, but James Kinchloe was one of them. In the space of half an hour - and Kinch was amazed to find that that was all the time that had passed - he had gone from sceptic to believer, accepting and adapting to the facts of the events around him, despite how strange they were. And Kinch had never been afraid to argue about what he believed in. They had a situation here and it had to be faced. Beside him stood Baker and Lebeau, stoutly corroborating every word. Baker's naturally open mind and Lebeau's less rigid, more Old World outlook on the supernatural had allowed them both to recover quickly from their experience and now made them unshakable allies in confronting their disbelieving CO.

"Kinch, I'm not going to put up with this! Not even from you. I told all of you that I didn't want to hear any more on this subject and DAMNIT, I MEANT IT!" Hogan shouted.

Kinch looked his superior officer straight in the eye. "With all due respect sir, I know you did. We all did. We all do. So do you really think that we'd make all of this up? Does that make any sense at all?"

Hogan had no answer for that. Arms crossed over his chest, he continued to glare at his adjutant with a dangerous expression.

"Think about it sir, can you believe for one minute that we'd make this up for fun? I know all the hassle you've been getting lately. Can you really believe that I'd be so stupid as to try and play a joke on you? And that Baker and Lebeau would help? This happened! This really happened, and we have to deal with it."

Grudgingly Hogan struggled to get past his anger. "Okay, so you're not making this up. I believe that you believe it happened. But Kinch, be reasonable. Things like what you're talking about, they just don't happen! There are no ghosts. They're not logical! They're just superstitions, and if we give in to them we'll get caught every time."

"What happened was not the three of us giving into superstitions!"

Hogan raised his hands and went on in a more placating tone, "Okay, okay. Then it was just your mind playing tricks on you. Now, I don't know what the three of you think you saw but I know the mind can do funny things, especially in the dim light of an underground tunnel. That's why people all see ghosts at night in the first place; a person is just naturally more apprehensive without the security and stimulus of light. Add that to the fact that we're all tired and over-worked, well, maybe it's natural that we're unravelling a bit."

"Sir!" Kinch was growing angry. "This was not a series of simultaneous hallucinations. In the first place how could all three of us suffer the same delusions? And in the second, what about the gashes on Baker and Lebeau's faces? You're going to have to accept that what we're telling you happened actually happened!"

"Watch your tone Sergeant! Now, I'll tell you all this one more time: This is getting out of hand and I want it to STOP!"

"Sir…" with supreme effort, Kinch forced himself to go on in a calmer tone, "Sir, again, with all due respect, this IS out of hand. Something is going on here that we can't explain and we have to deal with it."

"No, what we have to deal with is something real, and all of this irrational nonsense isn't going to help at all."

"It isn't irrational. What is irrational is your making a decision based on your own internal beliefs about what is real and what isn't, and completely ignoring the facts happening right in front of your face!"

All of the men stared at the two combatants in shocked silence. No one breathed.

"Well, Sergeant, none of these things have happened in front of my face. Maybe that's the problem. All I have is one ludicrous story." The two men stood nose to nose. No one had ever heard Hogan speak like that before, let alone to Kinch.

Kinch didn't back down. "It's not just one story. Strange things have been happening here for at least a week. We've all experienced them."

"What you've experienced are nightmares and practical jokes. Not the supernatural."

Kinch opened his mouth and then stopped. Other than what had happened to him and Baker and Lebeau in the tunnel, what was there that couldn't be explained? But he knew things were wrong; he was only surprised that it had taken him this long to react. What if the Colonel was having the same problem? How could he convince him?

"Mon Colonel, listen to Kinch. Things are not right here." Kinch blessed the brave Frenchman.

"It's true sir. Just because we can't explain it doesn't mean it isn't true," Baker joined in.

The look that Hogan gave the two men was not to be described. None of them could ever remember seeing him so infuriated, so close to truly losing his temper. It was a mark of his ability to command that mentally he was almost always in charge of his emotions, always able to stay focused and keep them three steps ahead of any German. Kinch wondered if maybe this was the problem. He suspected that while Hogan loved the mental challenge of taking advantage of an unexpected crisis and using it to outwit those around him, he also need a certain amount of control in any given situation. Or to at least feel confident that he would be able to take control.

And the paranormal just didn't come into it.

With visible effort, Hogan reined himself in. "Gentlemen, I have finished discussing this with you. I don't expect to hear about it again." Reluctantly, the three men nodded. Hogan glared around at the others, who had sat looking on in silence. Stunned, they nodded as well. Hogan then turned and started down the tunnel without so much as a glance backwards.

"Please, mon Colonel…"

"Let him go Lebeau," Kinch advised quietly. "We aren't going to convince him this way." No one said anything else.

After a moment Foster asked, "Kinch, did all that really happen to you? I mean, I believe you. You wouldn't have gone through all that with the Colonel if you didn't go through it, but…really? It really happened?" It was almost too much for the young Englishman to absorb, despite all the things that his father had told him.

"It really did Tom. Just like we said," Baker answered.

"Oh c'mon Dave! Invisible people laughing and throwing things! I think the Colonel's right. You guys need some serious R&R or something," Olsen scoffed.

"It did happen!" shouted a frustrated Lebeau.

Olsen snorted. "Yeah, yeah. Tell it to Ripley's Believe It or Not."

"It did!" Lebeau shouted again.

"Guys, calm down!" Kinch ordered. "This is getting us nowhere. Whatever it is, something very wrong is happening here and we've got to check it out."

"Well count me out. Underground or not, it's still too hot to go running around the tunnels on some half-baked goose chase," Olsen said.

"Haven't you any scientific curiosity at all Matt?" Foster asked.

"Scientific? Are you kidding me? How is believing in some loony tunes idea that we've got ghosts in the camp scientific? Being scientific means believing in facts, not figments of your imagination."

"No it doesn't. Science is about being an objective observer and researcher, and not burying your head in a swamp of pre-ordained ideas. It's just as Kinch said; it's illogical to ignore the facts around you. I don't know what's going on, but something is, and we should investigate," Foster argued.

Olsen shook his head sadly. "Tom, you're turning into a real fruitcake."

Foster was about to yell something back, but Kinch waved him off. "Look Matt, do what you want, but I think we need to investigate and we could really use your help."

Olsen thought about it and then shrugged. "Alright, alright. Obviously, somebody needs to keep an eye on all you maniacs. I still believe you're just hallucinating though."

"Yeah, and some people still believe the Earth is flat too," Baker said.

"Knock it off, all of you!" Kinch demanded. "At this rate he war will be over by the time we get going."

"So where do we start?" Baker asked.

An unreadable look passed from Kinch to Lebeau. "I think we need to talk to Carter and Newkirk first," was all he said.


Eventually Kinch rousted every man in Barracks 2 to join in the search for the demolitions man and safecracker. Or nearly every man, he thought with a touch of bitterness. For the first time since he had come to Stalag 13, he found himself questioning Hogan's reasoning. Usually Hogan didn't hesitate to jump up and tackle a problem; Kinch had thought the man absolutely fearless in that respect. Why was he hiding now?

Kinch tried to push the thought away. The Colonel was dealing with not only the operation and a demanding HQ, but with the idea of possible saboteurs amongst his own men. Could Kinch really blame the man for wanting to concentrate on the matters at hand? For not wanting yet another distraction? The man was stressed already and desperately trying to stay focused. And after all, Kinch considered, what had Hogan seen? But he discovered that he was still inexplicably angry with his CO, and couldn't seem to shake the disappointment he was feeling.

Despite this army of twelve inquisitive men, the missing pair had still not been found by evening roll call. Not seeing them there got Kinch really worried. Had they left camp? Even those who had only joined in the search out of idle curiosity began to sense something more was going on. They stood in bunches, nervously discussing the possibilities, until Schultz had them line up. The men of Barracks 2 glanced around as they took their time getting into formation. The two missing men failed to show. The men instinctively spread out to fill the gaps in hopes of no one noticing, but they figured they were in deep trouble.

Yet Schultz reported all present without so much as a questioning glance. Surprised, Kinch saw that the big man was looking tired and vacant. What did Carter do to him? Kinch wondered, not even aware that he had unconsciously blamed his friend without any proof. Hogan, still simmering and refusing to look his men in the face, apparently didn't notice the miscount either. But from the "What the hell?" beside him where Carter usually stood, Olsen sure did, and as soon as the men were dismissed, he and the others looked to Kinch for an explanation.

Suddenly Kinch knew where they were. It wasn't reasoning; it didn't even feel like intuition. The knowledge was just there, like a gift from fate. He saw Lebeau opening his mouth, about to ask a question, and waved it down.

"No time!" he said, and dashed for the tunnels, the entire search party following on his heels.


They were in the uniform room. Dressed as members of the Waffen SS, they hardly bothered to glance up as the running horde came to an unexpected halt and crashed into one another in the doorway.

The men of Barracks 2 stared at their two comrades. Newkirk was standing nearly at attention and not in his usual slouch, a strange lack of expression on his face. Carter however, raised an inquiring eyebrow as he placidly pulled on a pair of gloves. This done, he turned to face down a gaping Kinch. With no hint that he would break his gaze, he waited for the other man to begin speaking.

Kinch continued to stare at "Carter". For an instant, Carter had looked absolutely awful - he would have sworn that Carter was deathly ill. Hollow-eyed, and paler than Kinch would have believed anyone could be, Carter's appearance stopped him cold. Then he felt a buzzing in his head and just as quickly Carter looked like his old self.

Physically anyway.

Now, as the two locked eyes, the shorter man was powerful and imposing, confident that he was in complete control. Suddenly the very idea that Carter would be the one to back down seemed ludicrous. He was so unlike their Carter that Kinch's next question was perfectly reasonable.

"Who are you?" The men behind him stared at Kinch, confused.

"Sergeant Andrew Carter," the man before him replied.

But the tone was wrong. It was too simple and matter-of-fact. Everyone saw it now. He had stood his ground, as if didn't care in the slightest what they believed; he even seemed amused.

"What? No surprise? No "What? You know who I am Kinch!" "

"Hmm, yes. I suppose that would have been the much more logical response." Without warning, he whipped his hand out and Kinch and the others were flung back to both sides of the tunnel. They couldn't move, they couldn't scream, their muscles were frozen. Carter and Newkirk strolled through the path cleared between them, neither giving a backwards glance as Carter ordered no one that they could see, "Take care of them."

The men regained just enough movement in their necks to look up as a cascade of dirt began to fall from the ceiling of the tunnel.