9. Ere the bat hath flown His cloistered flight

Carter stared at the string in his hand. He frowned and scratched his head. "How did you do that? How did you manage to untie it from your ankle, tie it to my foot and get out without waking us all?"

"Once a magician," said LeBeau with a shrug. "The important thing is that no one else noticed you outside." He patted Newkirk on the shoulder to cheer him up.

Newkirk did not even move. His eyes were fixed on the sentry tower right beyond the fence. He shook his head. "Lucky me the sentries don't look under the tower. Blimey, mates. I think I've got a problem."

"It's okay, Peter, we're with you all the way," Carter punched him gently on the arm. He could feel his friend's fear and tried to hide his own. "Just try not to worry too much." He finished one string figure and smiled. "Look, the witch's hat."

Newkirk rolled his eyes and went back inside the barrack. Carter and LeBeau stayed on the bench, each one trying to figure out a better way to help their friend.

"Poor Newkirk, these things keep happening to him." LeBeau grimaced.

"I know. I hate seeing him like this. It's making him sick." Carter thought about it for a moment. "We're looking at the problem from the wrong angle. Newkirk needs to put his mind on something else but this streak of bad luck. I think he needs more work to do. Something to keep him busy." Carter made another figure with the string and laughed. "A vampire!"

"That's not a vampire," said LeBeau. "It's une chauve-souris, a bat. But yours looks more like a butterfly." He laughed. "Maybe working with us in the tunnels will put him in a better mood."

"Oh, yeah. We still have to repair section T." Carter sighed, rolling the string into a small ball to put it away in his pocket. "Oh, well. Since there's not much more to do outside." They got up and went inside.

()o()o()

"Captain Grunwald, I must speak to you immediately," Sergeant Jürgens said and saluted. "Permission to speak freely, sir."

"Granted."

"Sir, the men are uneasy. Only today three asked to be transferred to the Russian front. They'd rather take their chances in battle than stay here watching that monster."

"That monster is going to give us Russia in less than a year. She'll remain in custody and your men will watch her as long as I say so." He pretended to be busy writing down on a paper.

"But sir, there have been incidents. She has killed four men already. No one else will volunteer to feed her. I'm facing insubordination in our lines."

Grunwald stood up and leaned on his desk. "Sergeant Jürgens, it's your direct responsibility to keep the prisoner alive. Don't blame your incompetence for leadership on her. If there are no volunteers to feed her, it's your problem. Find another way!"

Sergeant Jürgens glared but did not say anything else. He turned on his heels and went outside. He'd been ordered him to find a way, and he would find a way.

()o()o()

Carter crawled out of the mouth of the new section of the tunnel with a bucket full of dirt. He found LeBeau, Steward and Newkirk sitting on the ground taking a break.

"He's been asking stupid questions about how many smokes I do per day, or if I drink too much. I told him it's not his bleeding business." Newkirk chuckled. "Well, not with those words, actually. I don't want the gov'nor to get in trouble because of me mouth, you know?"

"We've been in this hole for three years, why do they send inspectors right now?" Steward said.

"Oui, I know. It's been hard for me too. The salop keeps nosing around while I cook and then, he writes everything I say in that silly notebook."

"Oh, yeah. And what's with the ruddy notes?" Newkirk shook his head. "Carter, did you arrive to Switzerland yet?"

"I think I hear someone talking at the other side, but I don't understand Chinese." Carter laughed and took a sip of water. "Boy, it's stuffy in there."

"I think five minutes is a lot of time," Steward said. "To be digging in that heat, I mean."

"You've got that right, Stu," Carter said, wiping the sweat off his forehead with sleeve. "Who's next, Kinch?"

"Newkirk," Kinch said. "It's two minutes for you."

"Gets shot once and now he's le chouchou du professeur.*" LeBeau said with a smile.

"It's not it," Newkirk said with a clever smirk. "We bet for it in poker."

Kinch saw Carter and LeBeau shake their heads and he shrugged. "Yeah, I should've known better, I know."

Carter kept quiet until Newkirk had entered the tunnel. "Poker, Kinch?"

"I didn't want him to think we don't trust him. He's still healing, two minutes is more than enough." He glanced at his watch and got ready for his turn when a big noise startled him.

"It came from the tunnel!" Steward said.

Carter ran to the entrance. "Newkirk!"

The echo brought a suffocated coughing that came nearer each time. First thing to come out, was Newkirk's hand. Carter and Kinch pulled him towards them.

The Englishman's face was all covered in dirt. He kept his eyes closed while gasping for air. Kinch made him sit down on the ground while LeBeau brought some water. Newkirk tried to rub his eyes but Kinch stopped him.

"Hold his hands down," he said to Carter. "Newkirk don't try to open your eyes yet." He poured fresh water on his face and wiped it off with a cloth. "Take it easy, I'm almost done."

"Stings!" Newkirk managed to say. He struggled to raise his hands but Carter held him still.

"It's okay, Newkirk, just a little dirt in the eyes." Carter smiled to see the blue of Newkirk's eyes sparkling throughout the darkened skin. "Can you see me?"

Newkirk blinked and got his hands back to rub off the remain of the dirt. "I'm all right. Ruddy tunnels. Gophers never go through this, I bet." He stared at his friends and cleaned up his face with more water.

"Take this," Kinch gave him a canteen and sat next to him. "Steward, it's your turn now."

"The soil is very loose in some places," Carter stared at the black hole. "We must be very careful from now on."

Newkirk stood up and shook the rest of the earth from his hair. "I'm off, mates. Before my bad luck gets to you too."

They saw them go. For a moment, no one said a word. Carter went first. He was rather sad. "He's getting worse," he said.

"Maybe he needs more help." LeBeau frowned. "You know, professional help."

"A doctor?" Carter did not want to say psychiatrist.

Kinch nodded. "Let's give him a little more time. If he doesn't improve, or gets worse, I'll talk with the colonel personally."

()o()o()

Newkirk came out of the barrack still rubbing his eyes. He was weary inside and outside. Maybe he should go to see Wilson. The medic's pep talk always made him feel better. He needed to know that everything was going to get better soon. That there was no such thing as bad luck.

He walked through the yard and found Schultz sitting on a bench near Barrack 4. He had the newspaper in his hand, but his eyes were lost in thought. Newkirk remembered last night's encounter and decided to check on the news.

"Hey, Schultz, mind if I sit?"

"No, please, go ahead."

Newkirk breathed deeply and stared at the men playing volleyball several feet away. He squinted and rubbed his eyes again.

"Something wrong with your eyes?" Schultz emerged from his contemplative mood to pay attention to the Englishman. "They are really red. What happened?"

"Nothing, The day is too bright. I'm fine."

Schultz nodded and went back to his newspaper. "Terrible day in Hammelburg," he mumbled.

"It's that from today? May I?" Newkirk took the paper and read the headlines.

"Horrible, isn't it? And the police doesn't have a clue." Schultz shook his head. "They call him the vampire of Hammelburg. That's really scary."

"But you don't believe in those stories, do you?"

"I don't know. Who knows what these woods hide?" Schultz frowned. "Don't you have stories of vampires in London?"

"Oh, sure." Newkirk cleared his throat and got serious. "One lived next door when I was a wee lad..."

"Really?"

"Yeah, he moved from Romania..." Newkirk put a straight face. "A count was he ... Got his name in the tip of me tongue... Dracula? Yes, I think that is the name." He grinned. "Count Dracula. Went to Hollywood to make movies, said he."

"Jolly joker." Schultz narrowed his eyes. "Read the news and see if you can joke about that." He was about to leave when he noticed the puncture marks on Newkirk's neck. "What happened to you? Are those bite marks?"

"Those ruddy mosquitoes, Schultz. You should do something about the plague. They're eating us alive." He pulled his collar up again. He laughed at the sergeant's reaction.

Schultz did not say another word. He gave Newkirk one last glance and went away. The Englishman noticed some concern in his eyes but he did not attach any importance to it. The headlines about another body found near Hammelburg were enough to turn his thoughts to the stranger he and Carter had met the night before.

So many things were going weird in his life lately. He was afraid of the dark, afraid of being alone... afraid of going to sleep and waking up somewhere else... And the woman of his dreams? Who was she? Why did he always meet her in the same place?

The dogs' barking dragged his attention to the kennel. Three German shepherds were right in front of the fence and looking up at nothing in particular. They stopped suddenly and sat down as though someone had instructed them to do so. Then, they lied down and rolled over. They sat up again and wagged their tails. As a last number, they all went into their houses as if responding to a command. Newkirk got curious and walked towards them. The dogs did not react to his presence. He looked down and what he saw chilled him to the bones. On the ground, near the gate, there were marks of bare feet.

"Spooky." Carter's voice made Newkirk jump before he could turn to acknowledge his presence. "Gee, I'm sorry. Did I scare you?"

"What? No. What's spooky?" Newkirk gasped with one hand over his heart. He felt the beat coming slowly to a normal rate.

"That guy Jones. He's not in the storeroom or anywhere in the tunnel. It's like he vanished into the air."

"Wishful thinking. He's probably at Klink's office taking notes on his ruddy notebook." Newkirk walked back to the bench. His legs were shaking. "Carter, have you noticed anything funny about those dogs?"

"Like what? They seem pretty friendly, as always." He sat with him. "You're too jumpy this morning, aren't you?"

"To say the least." Newkirk took a deep breath. "If I'd tell you half of it. But you'd probably think I'm going mad."

"I was there the other night, remember," Carter said it in whispers. "I don't say anything because the others would make fun of me. You know how they are. But I told you that spirits are everywhere. I'm not superstitious, but I believe."

Newkirk stared at him. Honesty was Carter's second nature. He knew that in the event that something else arrived, he might have a friend to trust. Newkirk smiled and nodded. "Thank you, Andrew."

They were quiet for a while. Newkirk sank into his troubled mind looking for answers. He did not feel Carter leave. It was Colonel Hogan's voice that brought him back to the Stalag. "Newkirk, the underground is coming with some information. They'll meet us at the railway station tonight. You and me, okay?"

"Tonight?" repeated Newkirk with a nod.

"Kinch told me about the incident down there. Are you okay?" Hogan looked into the reddish eyes for an honest answer.

"Never better," Newkirk smiled. "I feel like an idiot... Never been so clumsy in me life."

"It's not you, Newkirk." Hogan sat down next to him. "There's nothing wrong with you. Believe me. It's just a series of coincidences, all right?" Hogan knew that he was talking to the wall. "We'll get through this and you'll be okay."

Newkirk was going to agree but something got his attention at that very moment. "Sir?" He pointed to the center of the yard. His sight was still a little weak and he had to blink. "Who's talking to Schultz?"

"Dammed!" Hogan sprung up. "Mr. Jones!"

"Oh, ja. Colonel Hogan cooperates with us all the time. He's a good friend to Kommandant Klink... almost as close as I am." Schultz smiled down at this little man asking so many questions and writing something in his little notebook.

"Entschuldigung, my memory is not like it used to be. What barrack did you say you were from, Corporal-?"

"Olsen!" Hogan came just in time. "Where have you been?" He turned around and Kinch was already there, breathless and kind of embarrassed.

"We were supposed to do that work at the other side of the-" He was still looking for a word to say when Hogan interrupted him.

"Yeah, the other side of the-" he turned Jones' back on Schultz and pushed him to the barrack. "These kids, if you don't push them, they just skip work all day long."

Schultz laughed and nodded. "Ja, they remind me of my own sons. Good boys all of them, but you must be behind them all the way."

"Sure, all the way," Hogan smiled. He was about to leave when the German sergeant took him by one arm. "Colonel," he whispered, "what are we going to do with Newkirk? He's not doing any better. I think he's having a relapse from that illness one month ago... Remember? The gypsy curse."

Hogan seemed unable to forget that. Every time he was ready to move on, something or someone would bring the theme back on the headlines.

"I know, Schultz. Newkirk has been working very hard these few days. You know how it is, too much, too soon. He'll pull through in no time." He nodded. "Thanks for your concern. We're watching over him."

"Aren't we all? He keeps walking in his sleep. If one of my men sees him first..."

"Yes, I know, I know. And I'm honestly grateful for your interest." He took a deep breath and went back to the barrack.

()o()o()

"Mr. Jones, I thought I had been perfectly clear when I say no wandering around unsupervised." Hogan walked from the door of his office to the window and back. "Luckily for you, Kommandant Klink went out this morning and Sergeant Schultz-"

"Sergeant Schultz was more than useful." Mr. Jones let his notebook aside. "Do you think that keeping me underground everything will be daffodils and daisies? I came here to inquire about specific complaints, not to live the life of a hermit in a cave."

"I told London that it was a mistake. This is a prison camp, not a country day resort. We can't have guests."

"I'm not a guest. I'm an investigator. The charges are serious. I need to address them directly with those involved. But I have the impression that you're trying to prevent it."

Just the impression? Hogan thought. If he could, he would send this man walking back to England. "My men have gone through a lot these last few weeks. They did their job the best they could under adverse circumstances. I can't let you come to give them grief for what did not happen."

"Your men mistreated the prisoner in custody. Sergeant Carter agreed to gamble with his life in a ridiculous gunfight. There were threats of relinquishing him to a bunch of rebels and Corporal Newkirk aimed his pistol against him at least twice. Not to mention that he was utterly violent and abusive all the way."

"I'm not going to defend my men's actions anymore. They did what they had to do and that's enough for me."

"Unfortunately, Colonel, it's not enough for London." Mr. Jones stood up. "I need to talk with them separately. There's nothing to fear, if you trust your men, you must let them talk to me." He took his notebook and smiled. "And if there are no further matters to discuss, I shall continue with my observations. Don't worry, I'll stay indoors this time."

Hogan sat at his desk with anger still burning in his chest. If he could have, he would have broken something. But showing off his temper would not help Carter's and Newkirk's case. They should defend themselves from now on. With his outspoken manners, Carter could talk his way out of the problem. But Hogan feared for Newkirk. In his present state, he might not have a chance with that man.

Hogan's only hope was to send Carter first and trust that the sergeant's testimony would be enough to clarify everything. He would keep Newkirk aside till the last moment.

tbc

* The teacher's pet

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