Darkness II: Richter's Women
by 80sarcades
Welcome back!
First, I want to thank everyone who reviewed thus far as well as those who congratulated me on my birthday:-) I had to stop and put things aside and concentrate on work for a while. I've finally gotten things caught up only to be sidetracked by my wife's flu and then way more work. Joy.
If anyone is interested I'm going to post an unfortunate (and completely avoidable) way someone can talk their way out of a job in the 'random thoughts' section of the Hogan's Heroes forum. It's not me, thank goodness; however, it was something that I'm at a loss to understand.
Just then, a shot rang out..
A whining object nearly clipped Colonel Hogan's ear before disappearing into the darkness.
That was close!
Another shadow - this one a massive tree - loomed out of the moonlit night. Hogan ducked around the barrier and came to a rest on the far side of the wood tower. For a brief moment the POW tried to calm his shaky nerves and heart while simultaneously planning his next course of action. To that end he crouched down and quietly scratched around in the cool dirt. Fortunately, his probing fingers found a jagged rock.
It'll have to do.
He used his cuffed hands to throw it as hard as he could in the direction he had been traveling. Hogan could almost feel his pursuer approaching in response to the raspy noise. If he was close enough, he could jump the man and take his pistol.
And then, what happens, happens. The officer's jaw tightened noticably as a grim look passed over his handsome face.
The German almost floated across the forest floor before he stopped in place. Unfortunately, the shadowy figure was a dozen or so feet away.
Too far.
The Colonel tensed, preparing to jump when the German moved towards his position...
...and then narrowed his eyes in frustration as his nemesis turned and melted into the darkness. The wind, stronger now, covered the noise - if any - of his departure.
Despite himself, Hogan was awed. How the hell did he do that? If I didn't know better I'd swear he was a ghost...
The American waited until he was sure Richter was gone before he silently stole away in the other direction. Save for the moonlight filtering between the trees the forest was nearly pitch black. Unbidden, a primal fear of the darkness welled up in his soul before he ruthlessly squashed the errant emotion.
Slowly, Colonel Hogan threaded his way between the towering trunks. A few minutes later - though he would have sworn it was an hour - he saw a luminous haze emanating from the upcoming trees. At first he assumed it was a sign of civilization. However, the reality almost defied description.
A spectral pathway, lit up by a bluish glow, greeted his eyes. Every so often the light would pulse and flicker as if the path and trees were somehow alive. Granted, as a pilot he had seen some strange sights before. But this...
This must be some kind of St. Elmo's Fire, he surmised. Or something natural. He cut his eyes to the darkened woods surrounding the phenomenon while he considered his dwindling options.
I'm not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, the Colonel finally decided. I'm not sure where it leads but it's a lot better than stumbling around in the dark. With that, he started down the path into the unknown.
For his part, Richter was both patient and confident.
It had been quite some time since he had faced a real challenge from a worthy opponent. The American, he conceded, was both wily and dangerous...two qualities that made him an effective resistance leader.
Alas, poor Wolfgang, he thought sadly. You were outmatched from the start. But then again you always were. But not I.
I was always the better hunter.
It will be a shame to put a man like the Colonel down, but I must. His end, as I promised, will be swift. It is the least I can do for such an worthy adversary. A real man...
What's this?
At that moment Richter saw the blue glow of the pathway. A detached part of his cold mind was enthralled with the phenomena.
In all of my travels I have never observed anything like this! he marveled. If anything, it reminds me of the human body. A forest version of blood flowing back and forth on an ethereal pathway.
And, like the sirens of old, this is something that our dear Colonel would follow if he hopes to survive. Really and truly, what choice does he have? He shook his head in disappointment at the deserted area. I myself would have ambushed my opponent from such a place. Perhaps Hogan is not as smart as I thought...
Cautiously, Richter started to make his way down the path. As he did so he failed to notice the glowing red eyes that were locked onto his departing back.
The lighted walk was...eerie...to say the least.
Colonel Hogan followed the blue lightway until the trees gave way to an open clearing. What he saw surprised him.
The graveyard!
It had only been a year since he had traveled to the cemetery on that fateful night with Major Hochstetter. The look on the woman's face and the deep gouges she had left in her coffin lid still gave him nightmares from time to time.
A gust of cool wind blew into his face as he walked towards the front gates. He knew exactly where he was now. Stalag 13 lay only a short distance beyond the graveyard. Just a hop, skip, and a jump...
...after walking through the tombstones.
The thought was enough to give Hogan pause.
Even now, Newkirk refused to go near the graveyard. The Colonel had assumed that it was due to the horror he had found beneath the earth.
But there was more to it, wasn't there? a part of his mind surmised. Who called Hochstetter that night? He knew who it was; I could tell that much. However, if I didn't know any better I would almost say the man was scared.
Colonel Hogan lifted the rusted iron stay out of its holder and pushed the main gate open. A loud groan from the creaky hinges caused him to cringe involuntarily even as his head whirled around for any surprises. Thankfully, no one was nearby.
At least no one he could see. The officer shivered.
Peter never talked about that night, either. All he said was that he was passing through the graveyard when he heard noises coming from underneath the ground. Pure luck. I might be inclined to believe him too if it wasn't for that nightmare. The POW shivered at the remembered words:
No…stay away from me…
…you're all dead.
What did Newkirk see? he wondered. It wasn't the first time the corporal had had a dream about the graveyard. What was unusual, however, was that none of them concerned the coffin and the living woman.
Only dead people.
There was something else, too. Hogan suddenly recalled. Something worse. An English accent, drenched in terror, then whispered in his mind:
The angels are moving…
Colonel Hogan carefully ventured into the moonlit graveyard and shivered as his eyes caught sight of a stone figurine, its wings extended, perched on top of a nearby headstone. The wind, stronger now, was flecked with bits of moisture that pelted against his bare skin. Ordinarily he loved rainstorms.
But not tonight.
He crouched down by one of the tall gravestones and looked toward the closed entrance. His pursuer was no longer in sight. His eyes then glanced toward the rear of the graveyard. Stalag 13 wasn't too far away...
I can't run, another part of his mind decided.
I have to kill him.
A righteous wave of fury surged through his body for a brief moment before a cold calm settled into his soul. In his mind's eye he could see the tormented eyes of the girl pleading with him to save her...
Even if he didn't know who I was - and he does - I can't stand aside and let him murder someone else. And what proof do I have besides a missing girl? None. I don't even know where my 'grave' is. Even if I did, an empty box in the ground proves nothing.
I doubt Hochstetter would let it go, though. Say what you will about the man but he does have a strong sense of justice. He doesn't play favorites and I doubt he will make an exception for his friend. And yet...
...it's not right.
At best, Richter will get the death sentence. At worst he'll live out his days in a cell. Either way, the man will go out with more dignity than his victims.
Plus, he knows who I am. By extension he knows about Stalag 13. That's enough.
Isn't it?
We've managed to get rid of others that were threats to the operation. Military and civilian. For the most part we've been lucky enough to get most of them out of the country. Some were killed by bombs or other accidents.
Even at that...
Hogan ducked around a convenient tombstone and looked around. Except for the wind, nothing else stirred. For a moment he tried to calm his pounding heart...
...and saw, out of the corner of his eye, an orange flash of light moments before a bullet struck the marker next to his crouched body. Shards of granite cut into his left cheek as he hunched down and scurried for new cover. Richter's voice, carried on the high wind, floated across the dead graveyard.
"My promise stands, Colonel," he called. "Come out and die like a man. I assure you it will be quick." A brief pause followed; Hogan could almost feel the man's victorious smirk. "I doubt Wolfgang will be as lenient."
The American stayed where he was as a peal of thunder rolled though the graveyard. "I wouldn't bet the farm on giving up," he yelled before he changed positions. As expected, he saw the hunter's shadow pass against one of the nearby gray markers. Unfortunately, just as before, the other man was too far away to effectively attack.
"Ah, another American witticism," Richter said. This time his sinister whisper drifted like poisonous vapor into the POW's ears.
Hogan moved once more. A powerful gust buffeted his face as he raced across the dark grounds to a set of tall markers. The moon, higher now, was threatened by the storm clouds that raced in from the southwest. The Colonel's wary eyes scanned the next - and now recognizable - trio of tall headstones. He knew where he was, more or less; if he could leapfrog his way to the tool shack he might be able to find something to use as a weapon. Perhaps if he was lucky he could lay some sort of trap.
Maybe.
Colonel Hogan scanned the seemingly desolate grounds again. He slipped between the high stones, ready to run-
- and came face to face with Hans Richter, his gun upraised. At that moment a cloud covered the moon and plunged the graveyard into inky darkness.
A/N: Alas, poor Hogan! Not to worry, I'm sure your GI insurance is up to date:-) Maybe.
In that vein (and on a tangent) I remember reading an interesting story about said insurance. The payout was supposed to go to your next of kin or other beneficary. In practice it went to girlfriends, family members and pretty much anyone else who was an American citizen. A soldier in the South Pacific received a 'Dear John' letter from his girlfriend who left him for another man. Some two weeks later he was killed in combat. His buddies took some solace in the fact that he had changed beneficiaries a few days before he was killed. I wonder if she ever tried to collect?
Thanks for reading!