A/N: As always, I'd like to thank Marilyn Penner for her invaluable help. All mistakes are mine, as I always play with the chapter right up to posting.
Thank you everyone who has reviewed and stuck with the story to this point!
WARNING: This chapter contains graphic violence.
Chapter 27
Klaus' eyes flicked to a screwdriver lying on one of the racks. Grabbing the tool, he dropped to his stomach and pressed his cheek to the cold concrete. Three inches separated the bottoms of the racks from the floor. He peered through the narrow space into the aisles beyond, looking for movement, anything that might pinpoint Rosstal's location. His gaze swept back and forth, grit from the floor grinding into his cheek.
Two aisles over, a pair of boots were stealthily approaching. He watched long enough to be certain that Rosstal was not changing direction and then rose to a crouch, absently brushing the clinging grit from his cheek.
Leaving the satchel and bombs where they were, he stayed low to the floor and went to the end of the aisle. He leaned out, peering past the rack. The next aisle remained clear. He quickly cat-footed around the rack and crossed over to the next, pressing his back against the rows of canisters. He waited, muscles coiled, his arm at his side, the screwdriver held tightly in his fist.
Rosstal cleared the end of the rack and froze, startled at coming face to face with his enemy.
Klaus lunged, grabbed him by the wrist of his gun hand and shoved it toward the ceiling. At the same moment, he drove the screwdriver deep into Rosstal's throat in a killing strike to the jugular. The agent gurgled and crumpled to the floor, twitched and went still.
Klaus whirled away from the body and ran back for the satchel. He didn't bother checking his watch, sensing he had no time to spare now.
HH HH HH HH HH HH HH HH HH HH
The alarm drew Tiger, Batiste and Satordi on, the discordant noise telling them something had gone wrong. Tiger pushed her burning legs to move faster, angrily berating herself. She never should have allowed Hogan to discourage her from accompanying him directly to the bunker. She should have been in the truck or at the very least been positioned closer, so that Olsen and Benson could have gone to help the very moment the alarm had sounded.
They stood in the open doorway now, obviously locked in disagreement about whether to stay or go. Olsen spotted them coming over Benson's shoulder and knowing she and her men would cover the entrance, turned and ran inside the bunker. Benson turned, saw Tiger, Batiste and Satordi only seconds away, and bolted inside as well.
Tiger and her men arrived at the entrance moments later. In a split second decision, she sent Batiste and Satordi into the bunker. Winded from the breakneck run, still angry with herself, she turned to check the hills on her left for Varden and Jeoffroi. She caught sight of them appear near the ridgeline, moving quickly downhill, both without their packs of explosives. She ran toward them, urgently signaling to push their speed even more.
The rapid popping of gunfire sounded from inside the bunker. Tiger sprinted back to the doorway, pausing on the threshold to check Varden and Jeoffroi's progress again. They were not nearly close enough for her to leave the entrance unguarded.
Swallowing bitter frustration, Tiger held her position, her gaze fixed upon the empty corridors, gun in hand, ready to provide cover fire.
HH HH HH HH HH HH HH HH HH HH
Newkirk felt warmth spreading against his side and spared a quick, sideways glance at Hermann. His heart sank at seeing his fears confirmed. Hermann's wound was bleeding heavily, the sheen on the Gestapo uniform thickened to a bright red.
Four guards swarmed out of a corridor ahead of them, heavily armed and looking for trouble. Newkirk felt Hermann stiffen and prayed the German would trust him to handle the situation. Newkirk shouted to the guards, brazenly urged them on with his free hand. They put on a burst of speed, their eyes quickly noting Hermann's wounded condition.
"Three intruders dressed as scientists!" Newkirk yelled, inserting outrage in his tone. The guards' attention snapped toward him. "We have them pinned down in the lab!"
That was enough information for the guards. They bolted past, eager to reach the ones who had penetrated their stronghold and spilled their comrade's blood.
Newkirk pulled a grenade from his belt and held it up for Hermann to see. Hermann's eyes went wide, then hardened and he nodded his readiness. Newkirk jerked the pin with his teeth, lobbed the explosive into the corridor behind them. Then he and Hermann went for freedom again in a shambling run.
The grenade detonated seconds later, caving in the corridor's ceiling and walls, sealing the guards behind a wall of rubble.
HH HH HH HH HH HH HH HH HH HH
Every heartbeat thundering in Klaus' ears screamed at him to move faster.
Ignoring the stinging sweat in his eyes, he went through the steps of setting the first bomb, took a precious second to check his work, then flipped the timer's switch. The clock started its inexorable countdown to zero.
Grabbing the satchel and the last of Carter's babies, he raced to his second target.
HH HH HH HH HH HH HH HH HH HH
Hogan and LeBeau looked ahead. They were coming up on the last intersecting corridor. Beyond it, the main corridor continued another fifty feet and then hooked left. From there, it took them straight to the entrance.
Arriving at the intersection, Hogan signaled LeBeau to check the left half, while he took the right. They edged forward, going just far enough past the corner to see.
Both halves of the adjoining corridor were empty. At Hogan's nod, LeBeau crossed through the intersection and continued toward the end of the main corridor, keeping his eyes and gun trained ahead. Hogan beckoned to Kinch and Carter that they had a clear path, then moved ahead through the intersection.
Kinch started forward first, Freda clamped in his arms, Niklas staying directly behind him as Hogan had directed. They were halfway through the intersection when Kinch saw a guard appear on his left, at the end of the adjoining corridor. The guard fired a shot into the air, at the same time shouting a warning to stop. Kinch put on a burst of speed and sprinted forward, jerking Niklas along behind. The young man somehow stayed on his feet and maintained his grapple-hold on Kinch's jacket.
The guard bolted toward the intersection, firing on the run. Carter threw himself backward, away from the intersection and the line of fire, desperate to shield Leon from harm. Hogan ran back and dove into the intersection, twisting and firing mid-air. The guard spun and fell to the floor. Carter turned and ran back the way they came, taking cover around a corner.
LeBeau sped back to the intersection at a dead run, swerving around Kinch, Freda and Niklas without breaking stride.
Kinch slowed and looked over his shoulder, then ahead again at the end of the main corridor, reluctant to leave his CO and friends behind.
"Get out!" Hogan yelled, glimpsing his hesitation.
Kinch started forward again, then stopped short, suddenly realizing he no longer felt Niklas hanging on. He turned to find the blind man cowering against the wall, shaking and pasty white with panic.
HH HH HH HH HH HH HH HH HH HH
"O'Malley?"
The question held a plaintive note. O'Malley sympathized with Kurt. His own nerves were on edge as each minute ticked by with no sight of the truck returning with their friends. He turned from his surveillance of the road. Kurt hovered a few feet away, arms locked tight across his chest, features haggard with concern.
"There's still time, Doc," O'Malley said, not surprised when Kurt's posture showed no signs of relaxing.
"Not much time," Kurt shot back, glancing down at his watch. O'Malley sighed and turned back to the road.
"Aye, t'is right you are there," he murmured under his breath, staring in the direction of the bunker. "Not much time indeed."
HH HH HH HH HH HH HH HH HH HH
A bullet tore through Hogan's left bicep, others gouged holes in the floor near his stomach and legs, spraying him with concrete chips. More guards had appeared in the left half of the adjoining corridor, a hail of bullets preceding them. Cursing, he rolled out of the intersection and scrambled to his feet against the wall, grabbing for a fresh clip. The wound burned, his arm weakened, but still functional. At the edge of his vision, he saw LeBeau arrive on the other side of the intersection and stare past him, searching the length of corridor for Carter and Leon.
Bullets whizzed through the intersection like a swarm of angry bees. Hogan slid down the wall to a crouch and peeked around the corner, LeBeau mirroring him on the other side of the intersection. Bullets smacked into the walls near their heads. They jerked back, their eyes locking, a grim look flashing between them.
Perhaps a dozen Gestapo were coming at them like a black wave of death.
Hogan thought of another grenade, but immediately rejected the idea. He had lost sight of Carter and Leon when the shooting had begun, but knew they had to be somewhere behind him. A grenade would seal them in as well as the Gestapo.
Hogan made eye contact with LeBeau, tapped his chest, then flattened his hand, palm down. He would stay low. LeBeau licked his lips, nodded and stood. He would go high.
One, Hogan mouthed to LeBeau, inserting the fresh clip into his gun. His mind raced at lightning speed. They were outnumbered, critically short of time and needed an advantage, however slight.
Two, LeBeau silently counted, rising onto the balls of his feet. He was pale but resolute, his hand steady, his finger curled on the trigger of his gun.
An answer flashed into Hogan's mind. He tossed a warning look across the intersection at LeBeau, shouting at the top of his lungs in German, "Halt, in the name of the Führer!"
The firing stopped, the guards thrown off-stride by the command. Hogan and LeBeau pivoted into the intersection, firing fast, cutting them down one by one. The remaining guards scattered for cover, firing back with increased fervor.
Hogan swiveled out of the intersection and back against the wall in the main corridor, reaching for another clip. LeBeau kept shooting, standing firm, holding the surviving guards at bay. Hogan slammed the clip into his gun, spun back around the corner and fired, killing one of the two Gestapo still standing. At the very edge of his vision, he saw LeBeau jerk and go to a knee still firing, his expression locked in a visceral mask of determination. The last guard tumbled to the floor in a tangle of limbs.
LeBeau sagged, then slowly started toppling backward, his gun clattering to the floor. Hogan jumped to his feet and flew to him.
Gunfire spat from the end of the main corridor, carving the air. Hogan whipped his head that way and saw Kinch stagger. Cursing himself for missing the threat, he shoved LeBeau flat to the floor, side-stepped to his right to avoid hitting Kinch, Freda and Niklas, and squeezed off a round, killing the guard who had shot Kinch.
Drenched with sweat and leaking blood from his wound, Hogan returned to LeBeau, locked a fist in the back of his collar and dragged him upright. LeBeau hissed in pain, the bones in his right forearm shattered by a bullet. His eyes rolled up to meet Hogan's.
"I can make it, Colonel!"
Hogan glanced up, checking on Kinch's condition. His second was still on his feet, but slumped against the wall, a stain spreading along his side just above the belt. Freda's face was pressed to his shoulder, her arms wrapped around his neck. Niklas was huddled at his feet, wild-eyed and white as paper. Shoving worry away, knowing he couldn't let it cloud his mind, Hogan yelled over the blaring alarm.
"Kinch!"
Kinch lifted his head, looked in his direction and nodded. Niklas started shaking his head back and forth, white-walled eyes staring blindly ahead, hands balled against his chest. Hogan had no difficulty reading his lips.
"No, no, no, no."
Hogan thought fast. Kinch would be slowed by his wound. Niklas, out of his head with fear, would only slow him more. And then there was LeBeau, growing paler with each passing second, blood dripping from his shattered arm.
Hogan swallowed and made eye contact with Kinch, praying the other man's strength would hold out.
"Go, Kinch! Leave Niklas and LeBeau to me!"
Kinch's face twisted with regret, but he took off again with Freda, moving noticeably slower than before.
Hogan's head whipped in the opposite direction and he shouted for Carter.
Carter edged around the corner at the other end of the main corridor, carrying Leon. A multitude of emotions flitted over his face as he approached Hogan and LeBeau. His gaze shifted from Hogan's bloody shoulder to LeBeau's forearm and he blanched. Leon, wailing in fear, pushed his face against Carter's neck, little hands clutching at him as if never to let go. The image imprinted on Hogan's mind like a snapshot.
"Get him out of here, Carter! Keep going, no matter what!"
Carter's jaw tightened and his head jerked in a single nod. In a moment, he was through the intersection and gone, Leon wrapped securely in his arms.
HH HH HH HH HH HH HH HH HH HH
Benson and Olsen rushed up opposite corridors, yelling at any scientists they encountered to get to their labs or quarters.
Olsen had not gone far when a door banged open directly in his path. He threw himself backward, boots skidding on the concrete, avoiding a collision at the very last second. A skeletal figure clothed in white stepped out from behind the door and into the corridor. A pair of sunken eyes burning with fury turned upon Olsen and a grating, gravelly voice spewed from the man's thin, twisted mouth.
"The experiment is completely ruined! Every one of you idiots will--"
Olsen's eyes narrowed to slits as he recognized the man responsible for masterminding the death-dealing gas. Hatred like he had never known rose within him and his finger tightened on the trigger. Arkel's furious expression swung from surprise to shock. He peered down at the bloody holes in his chest, then back up at Olsen, mouth working.
"You --"
The life winked out of Arkel's eyes, his body dropping to the floor like a broken skeleton. Olsen raced deeper into the bunker, giving the scientist not another moment's thought.
HH HH HH HH HH HH HH HH HH HH
Benson slowed up when he saw a black-garbed figure running toward him, bent oddly at the waist in an awkward position. Unable to see the man's features, Benson held his fire rather than risk shooting one of their own men. Looking harder, he recognized Carter cradling a small boy against his chest. Blowing out a deep breath, he eased off the trigger.
"Carter!"
Carter's head jerked up, relief flashing over his face.
"Kinch is behind me! Hurry, he needs help! He's been shot!"
Benson put on a burst of speed and passed him. Carter continued his race to the exit, Leon holding on tight, his tears soaking Carter's uniform.
HH HH HH HH HH HH HH HH HH HH
Tiger stood in the doorway, heart hammering in her chest so hard she felt short of breath. She could not even find the words to pray now. Varden stood at her side, silent and tense, primed for action.
Jeoffroi had started the transport and stood at its rear doors, ready to help their men and the prisoners inside. Only no one had come out of the bunker yet.
No one.
HH HH HH HH HH HH HH HH HH HH
Olsen pounded around a corner and came upon one of the Gestapo only three feet away.
The German blinked, clearly trying to decide if he faced friend or foe. At this point, Olsen felt it was definitely kill or be killed and each enemy left standing was one more who might shoot his CO and his friends. He whipped the butt of his rifle up, catching the German in the jaw. Staggered and dazed, the guard slumped against the wall, weakly trying to bring his gun up. Olsen gritted his teeth, stepped back and shouldering his rifle, quickly ended the struggle. The German slid to the floor, his gun slipping from dead fingers.
The sound of running feet came from around the next corner. Olsen snapped his aim that way, ready to shoot the next German that showed his face.
Newkirk and Hermann stumbled into view, the big German looking barely able to move. Olsen's shoulders sagged in relief. Slinging his gun's strap over his shoulder, he ran to help.
HH HH HH HH HH HH HH HH HH HH
Benson's heart stuttered as he came upon Kinch. His friend was down on his knees, struggling to stand. A thin, dirty woman lay on the floor before him, tears streaking her face, one hand cupped to Kinch's neck as if in comfort. Benson saw the blood staining Kinch's coat and felt another jolt of worry. A minor wound would not account for such a large stain.
Even as he reached Kinch and the woman, Benson was frantically searching for the solution on how to get them both out. The woman was clearly unable to stand. Kinch looked little better. Benson mentally shook his head, almost paralyzed with indecision.
The back of his neck prickled in warning. Benson jerked his weapon toward the corridor behind him, only just staying his hand in time. Batiste and Satordi ran up, instantly catching on to the situation.
"The colonel and LeBeau!" Kinch yelled from his knees, gray-faced and panting. "They're taking fire!"
Benson clamped a hand upon Batiste's shoulder, holding him in place. "Where?" Benson demanded of Kinch.
"Back--" Kinch sagged over the woman, out of breath, but still managed to point out the direction. Benson turned to the Frenchmen.
"Batiste, you're with us! Satordi, go!"
"No!" Kinch somehow found the strength to regain his feet and threw a helpless glance after Satordi. "Send both!"
Benson gathered the woman off the floor. Batiste put a shoulder under Kinch's arm and bore him up. Straightening, Benson peered into Kinch's stricken face, sorrowfully shook his head.
"We gotta move! This place is going to blow soon!"
TBC . . . Thank you for reading.