Darkness II: Richter's Women
by 80sarcades

Hogan continues his escape...though with a bit of help from the other side...and I don't mean the Germans, either.

A cold, almost calculating smile passed across Richter's features as he considered his wily opponent.

With men like this, Germany would win the war. A pity.

For the first time he briefly considered that he might...lose...this particular engagement. In a pitched battle of equal minds...

The end is unpredictable.

He looked at the pistol in his hand. Humanity may have advanced, but we may as well be fighting with rocks and clubs.

Still, it is a challenge that I gratefully accept. We are at war, after all. One side must win. Even if it means destroying a kindred spirit.

And what then? Richter breathed a silent sigh as he considered the future.

It might be worthwhile consider a different strategy when it comes to...them, he reflected. After all, we have proved that they are the weaker sex even when under stress. Perhaps, if pain is applied, the mind will change. An interesting concept, even when working when an inferior base...

However I will have to take care of my dear Colonel Hogan first. Save for his men, I doubt he would be able to rouse anyone against me even if he did make it back to Stalag 13. Even then it would be easy enough to arrange an accident.

That, however, may raise a set of new questions...particularly if his men decide to take revenge on his behalf.

No. It has to be done here and now.

He moved around a set of stones and patiently observed the windblown area. A dark shadow between two of the large headstones immediately caught his attention. Richter raised his gun, then paused as his analytical mind evaluated the 'target.'

No, he quickly concluded. It's just a shadow from a nearby headstone. An odd trick of the light...

At that moment a shroud of black covered the cemetery. Richter froze, his body like stone-

-and then the cloud passed before bathing the graveyard in eerie light once more. Only the leaves, whipped by the wind, moved in endless circles across the grass. Richter silently cursed to himself before he moved onward.

Colonel Hogan, like all men, wondered what would happen when death finally touched him, Would he meet it headlong? Or cower to the unknown?

Despite his fear, the officer resolutely kept his eyes open even as the muzzle of the gun swung his way. Idly, a small part of his mind noted that the German couldn't miss. Not at close range.

To Hogan's surprise Richter's body suddenly turned away before fading into the murky darkness.

What the hell?

Belatedly, the American realized that his knees were shaking. He drew in a ragged breath and composed himself.

He could have killed me. But he didn't.

Why?

Hogan shook the troubling thoughts away and concentrated his thoughts on staying alive. At that moment he willed his trembling legs to move forward towards the next set of headstones. A chilling wave of cold sliced at his bones as he passed between the two stone markers. The sensation was enough to give the Colonel pause before he was able to shrug the odd feeling away.

Instinctively, he cast a glance over his left shoulder. To the American's disbelieving eyes a man-sized shadow between the two tall headstones seemed to be slipping down into the dark ground.

It's just my imagination, he tried to tell himself as a chill washed down his spine. There's nothing there. There's nothing there-

A flash of light, accompanied by a peal of thunder, flowed through the cemetery like an advancing army. The Colonel, alert now, ducked around and behind the formed stones as he worked his way toward the far end of the graveyard. Just then a bolt of lighting sizzled down from the heavens and struck a tree some fifty feet away. Light pulsed through the nearly deserted resting place as Hogan's eyes flicked off to the right.

And froze.

Time slowed to a imperceptible crawl as Hogan stared at one of the nearby headstones.

Or, more accurately, the woman leaning against it.

A faint smile graced her delicate features as her dark eyes stared into those of the American officer. Oddly, a detached part of the Colonel's mind noted that her hair and dress were unaffected by the rising wind. He started to speak just as the cemetery was plunged into blackness.

Another bolt of lighting crackled through the area. In the light that followed, Hogan looked at the stone cross once more.

The woman was gone.

But I saw her, his disbelieving mind repeated. I saw her.

The woman from my dreams...

Just then, another blaze of fire - followed quickly by another torrent of light - struck a set of nearby headstones. Colonel Hogan gave up the game of cat and mouse and began to run outright. There was no way he would be able to make it to Stalag 13 now. It was only a matter of time before one of the deadly strikes hit him.

However, there was one place - conveniently lit up by the white bolts - that he could run to.

Richter gasped involuntarily as a column of light slammed into the ground not more than 10 feet away from him. The impact was enough to knock him backwards even as a jolt of electricity coursed through his strong body. He blinked and tried to clear the spots from his vision even as he grabbed onto an ornately decorated headstone to pull himself up. Another jagged streak - this one further away - announced its presence with a brilliant flash.

That was close!

Just then, another burst revealed a shadow running across the grounds. Richter resisted the urge to raise his pistol.

I do believe I know where he is going, he decided. Just as well. Not to mention appropriate.

It is time to bring this to an end.

With that, he swung his eyes toward the chapel located at one corner of the graveyard. As they did so he casually noticed the windswept tombstone he had grabbed onto earlier.

I would have sworn...

He dismissed the errant thought.

Obviously, there were three angels, not two, he reassured himself. I was mistaken.

At that moment a heavy rain began to fall from the heavens. Cursing, the German turned away from the frozen tableau and quickly started to make his way toward the chapel. Had he been more astute - or, more accurately, not distracted by the falling flood - he would have observed the trio of angel heads that glared at his retreating back, their suddenly long fangs dripping wetly in anticipation...

Another burst of light flared through the cemetery before the grounds plunged into darkness. When the flickering whiteness appeared once more the headstone was empty.

The short walk proved to be an adventure. Pelting rain, carried by high winds, assaulted Richter's face despite his hat and upraised coat collar. Occasionally, he would breathe the burnt ozone of a nearby strike into his calm lungs. Oddly, none of the bolts impacted his path but instead struck the ground on his left and right. It was as if someone were herding him toward his destination...

Nonsense, he decided. Only coincidence.

Still, it was enough to add an extra layer of caution to his movements. He reached the chapel and prepared himself to throw open the doors to find-

Nothing.

Save for several flickering lightbulbs the church was seemingly empty. Or, at the least, appeared to be. A trail of drying puddles announced the presence of his adversary. These ended halfway up the aisle but it was enough.

At long last...

Richter raised the pistol and crept forward. As he expected, Hogan wasn't behind the large doors.

And he wouldn't be, would he? He's more creative than that.

The interior of the church was rather simple. Stone floors, rough wooden pews, wooden roof beams...

And the requisite cross on the altar. Reflexively, he raised his hand to cross himself and almost chuckled out loud.

The Lord's will not be done tonight!

Instead, he walked down the stone walkway and cut his eyes left and right. The pews were empty, raising his curiosity. He flicked his eyes upward; there were no surprises on the beams either.

Where, oh where, are you my dear Colonel? Jut then, his alert eyes spotted the edge of a black piece of cloth sticking out from behind the pulpit. He smiled wickedly.

Come out, come out wherever you are...

He slipped quietly past the first pew and fixed his eyes on the target. At that moment, he aimed and fired.

At close range the 9mm slugs exited the muzzle and punched through the flat wood of the stand. He kept firing before the gun clicked into impotent silence. One hole, he noted absently, was in the exact center of the wooden cross hanging on the front.

No matter. Just then, he heard the thunk of something heavy hitting the floor.

He thumbed the release catch on the Luger and caught the empty magazine in his left hand before he replaced it with a fresh one. Absently, he slammed a new round into the chamber before he slowly approached the altar.

Here lies Colonel Robert E. Hogan, he thought. A worthy adversary, regretfully put down in the prime of his life...

...or not.

He stared at the back of the altar and the box that lay on the floor behind the pulpit. One of the rounds had severed the support of a shelf and caused the container to fall. The remains of a black cloth - Hogan's shirt, he realized - lay on the floor. Obviously, it was used to trick him...

Just then, a sharp sound to his right caught his attention. Richter whirled in that direction-

-and realized, too late, that he had forgotten all about the sacristy on the left side of the altar. He had barely turned halfway around to face the changing room when Hogan, with all the finesse of a quarterback, slammed into his opponent's torso and propelled him into the side wall. The pistol dropped from the German's hand and skidded noisily towards the altar even as the POW raised his chained fists.

Colonel Hogan wasted no time in slamming his curled knuckles into the face of the stunned German. He managed to get in at least three good blows in before Richter's powerful arm caught his chest and sent him flying like a rag doll through the altar railing. He lay there for a moment, stunned.

I should have remembered, he belatedly thought. He's strong. Damned strong. He digs graves...

An image of the frightened girl pushed into his mind. With newfound strength, he pushed himself up and wobbled slightly before he launched himself at Richter. The German had just managed to get his hand on his weapon before the Colonel's impact. Hogan's bound hands wilted underneath the powerful arms of the other man as the two adversaries rolled around on the floor, struggling to gain the advantage-

-and Hogan was losing. He saw the black muzzle of death curve ever so slowly towards his face. Desperately, he slammed the back of his opponent's hand into a nearby railing. Richter cried in pain and dropped the pistol; the Colonel made a frantic grab for the Luger and finally felt the comforting grip of smooth gunmetal in his hand. Without hesitating, he rolled over and swung the end of the weapon towards the enemy.

He had nearly made it before an approaching blur filled his vision. With a burst of pain he sank into numbing darkness.

Slowly...ever so slowly...Colonel Hogan struggled to return to consciousness. For a moment, he dreamed that he was back in his bunk at Stalag 13, about to wake up to another lousy roll call...

...and then the vision shattered into reality as recent memories returned.

Richter!

He pushed himself up...and froze.

The German, his face expressionless, stood at the altar railing. His eyes, indifferent to the American's plight, locked onto Hogan's own.

"And so it ends, Colonel," he said as he lifted his pistol. "I must admit, you gave me quite the run...but in the end, German superiority must prevail." An evil smirk curled his lips as he aimed the Luger at Hogan's chest. "I think we can dispense with the final words this time, don't you?"

Hogan said nothing but let his angry glare speak for him. At the last moment an image of his men flashed through his mind before he closed his eyes.

God bless you all.

Behind Richter, unseen by either man, the cross on the altar began to radiate a soft bluish glow. The Colonel involuntarily tensed for the moment of impact as he heard the snick of the pistol being cocked.

"You're dead," the German solemnly intoned.

And then, he pulled the trigger.

A/N: Cliffhangers are fun, aren't they?

Once upon a time I was an altar boy for the Episcopal Church. The sacristy was a small room to one side of the altar. From here, I would don a white robe before heading out to light the altar candles.