10 Unnatural deeds do breed unnatural troubles

LeBeau and corporal Ortega were dusting and organizing the rec hall when Schultz came in. They waited for him to order them to attention but the sergeant just ignored them as he walked straight to the book section.

"Don't mind us," LeBeau said, jokingly. "We're just cleaning up a little." They both smiled and went on with their work.

Schultz went through the titles of the little bunch of books they had there. The prisoners rarely went to that section. Most of the books were in German, and the few journals in English were dated editions of Popular Mechanics, censored to the extreme.

"What are you looking for, Schultz? The latest of The Reader's Digest?"

"Es muss hier sein, irgendwo..." It has to be here, somewhere... Schultz talked to himself.

"What is it? May I help?" LeBeau put his duster aside and began to read the titles of the books. "What's the name of the book, do you know?"

"Vampire Hunter's Manual, "Schultz said without stopping.

"Oulala, heavy stuff," LeBeau said. He kept reading until the title appeared behind a bunch of magazines. He handed it to the sergeant. "What's in that book? Are you chasing vampires now?"

"I hope not," he looked at the index, and then, leafed through the book. He found the page he needed and began to read. "Aha, ja, ja... Natürlich, ja, ja..."

LeBeau sat on the floor, staring curiously at Schultz. "Are you okay, Schultz? Maybe you need a vacation... Watching prisoners all day long is not quite fun, is it?"

"Ja, aha. Aha, ja..."

"We're leaving tonight for Monaco. Do you want to come? Casinos open past midnight."

"Aha, ja... What?" He turned to see LeBeau laughing at him. "You're going where?"

"I was kidding. What's so important in that book, anyway?"

"Here," he showed him the page he was reading. "It says how to recognize the victim of a vampire."

"Très bien, you never know when that will come in handy." LeBeau sounded terribly condescending.

"You don't understand, LeBeau..." Schultz looked around to make sure that Ortega was not listening. He lowered his voice just in case. "It's Newkirk..."

"Quoi?" LeBeau laughed. "Newkirk is a vampire?"

"Shhh! Not a vampire. But I think he's been bitten by one." He pointed at the book. "Look at the signs."

"Je ne lis pas l'allemand," LeBeau shrugged and pushed the book aside.

"Sleepwalking, bite marks, paleness, nightmares, exhaustion..." Schultz read and shook his head. "Sensitivity to light, have you seen his eyes? They were so red. Poor Newkirk could not stop rubbing them."

LeBeau tried not to laugh. He could not tell Schultz about the incident in the tunnels. He just nodded. "Well, I don't think he's in any danger, Schultz. Those are old wives' tales. I wouldn't pay too much attention to them."

"All right," the sergeant said, getting up. "You keep doing your job and I'll do mine."

"Don't get mad, Schultzie. We all like Newkirk. We don't want anything bad happening to him." LeBeau smiled. "But I don't think he's turning into a vampire-"

"Not yet, and I'll make sure that it doesn't happen. Don't worry about anything, LeBeau. I'll defend Newkirk. That vampire is not going to take him away." He closed the book noisily and went out.

LeBeau glanced at Ortega, who shook his head and smiled. "Ese alemán está loco."

"Évidemment," LeBeau laughed too and went on with the dusting.

()o()o()

Schultz walked and read at the same time. He was so absorbed by the book that he never noticed guards or prisoners stepping aside before he stumbled on them. He came close to Barrack 2 and saw Newkirk coming out.

"Oh, Newkirk," he greeted him with fatherly concern. "What are you doing here? Don't you want to go to sleep? You look really tired."

"I am tired," Newkirk said. After digging and hammering, his arms and legs felt like blocks of cement. "But not sleepy at all."

"Does it happen to you often? Sleeplessness?"

"Well... maybe." He frowned and narrowed his eyes. "Do you feel all right? I think the sun is beginning to affect your brain, Schultz."

"Do you think the sun is too strong?" Schultz kept the book open on the same page he had read to LeBeau. "I see..."

His scrutiny made Newkirk very uncomfortable. The Englishman had had enough. "You see what?"

"Nothing... Are you nervous or...," he read from the book, "irritable?"

"I wasn't until I ran into you!"

"Maybe you should eat something or sleep-"

"I'm not bloody hungry or bloody sleepy! It's only ten in the morning for freaking's sake!"

"Newkirk!" Hogan stood at the barrack door with a severe expression. "Get inside, now."

The corporal grimaced as he understood that he was in trouble. He rolled his eyes and obeyed. Hogan looked at Schultz and shrugged.

"He favors his mother, same temper," the colonel said with a grin.

Schultz was convinced now. The young man was in trouble, but he would defend his soul to the last consequences.

()o()o()

"Antagonizing the guards? Not a smart move, Corporal," Hogan said, sitting at his desk. "Is there anything I should know?"

Newkirk stood by the door, trying to make sense of the things that kept happening to him. "I don't know what's going on, sir. This is complete madness."

"Newkirk, you've been through a lot-"

"You keep saying that but I don't see it." He shook his head. "I don't feel there is anything wrong with me... and then, something weird happens, out of the blue."

"Like what?"

"Oh, no. You ain't going to get me talking about that." Newkirk leaned against the wall. "You would think I'm totally balmy."

"All right, listen. I have faith in you. I trust you're going to overcome whatever is bothering you. But you too have to trust me, and your friends. We'll help you through this, okay?"

Newkirk nodded. "I trust you, Gov'nor. Thank you."

"Good, now go and sleep a little." He smiled. "With all of us around, there is no chance of you sleepwalking."

Newkirk sighed. "I'll take your word for it."

()o()o()

The wind woke him up. The rapping sound woke him up. He still had his eyes closed while many feet tramped around him. Next, it was the moaning; sad and painful like people bearing a heavy burden. The noise grew and grew until he opened his eyes. Then, it stopped abruptly.

Newkirk gasped. It was already dark and suddenly cold. His body was still numb when he saw the barrack door opening with a slam. Newkirk turned around. Everything was dark and he was alone. He began to sit up but his body did not obey. He turned his head to the window. The shutters were open and the moonlight framed a silhouette watching him.

It was dark and still, like a statue. It began to move forward so quietly that Newkirk thought he had gone deaf. It did not walk but float, very slowly, toward his bed. Although he was in the upper bunk, the entity came right to his side. He wanted to scream, he wanted to move, but at this point, his arms and legs would not respond at all. Two yellow eyes glowed and one bony hand came out of the darkness. Newkirk felt cold air rushing all over him when the hand lied upon his forehead. The entity disappeared.

...you're going to die today...

Newkirk did not hear the words. They formed inside his mind while a breath of chilly air passed through him. He knew he was asleep and struggled to wake up. Before he could do anything else, an invisible hand squeezed his left hand. It hurt but he could not scream. The wind rushed against the wooden wall and the trees moaned...

()o()o()

Hogan shook Newkirk one last time and breathed easily when he saw him open his eyes. "It's okay, he just woke up," he said to his men. The Englishman stared at him with curiosity. "You were having a nightmare."

Newkirk stretched and sat up slowly. Everybody was looking at him. "At least, I didn't go outside in this storm."

"What storm, it's sunny outside." LeBeau frowned.

"Sunny? Did I sleep all night through?" He turned to look through the door.

"Of course not, you just slept for twenty minutes," Kinch shrugged. "We began to worry when you started talking in your dreams."

"Me? Talking in me dreams? May I know what I said?"

"No!..." Carter smiled at his friend's startled glare. "I mean, you said No, no! Over and over again."

"It took us a while to wake you up. I was about to call Wilson," Hogan said. "Do you feel better now?"

"I suppose so. Glad that it was only a dream, I guess." Newkirk brushed his hair with his hand and felt a sting in his palm. He looked at it. Carved into his flesh, there was a strange scar.

"What is it, Newkirk?" Carter came closer. "What's in your hand?" He took Newkirk's hand to see.

"Looks like a tree," said LeBeau.

"Or a fork of lightning," Kinch said.

Carter stared at it for a while. "I'd say it's a chicken's foot."

Newkirk claimed back his hand and jumped down off his bed. "Happy to see that you're having fun with this. It hurts."

Hogan examined the wound. "It's a little deep. How did that happen?"

"I dreamed how it happened, but you wouldn't think it's possible..." He had to struggle a little to prevent a panic attack. "It's just one more piece of the puzzle. I've never been good with puzzles." Newkirk staggered. "I'm getting scared here."

Hogan dismissed the problem with a tap on Newkirk's shoulder. "It's okay, see to it before it gets worse. And the rest of you," he said, "stop the games and focus on more important things. Where's Jones?"

"Downstairs, with Olsen." Kinch went for some coffee. "Do you want me to go and keep an eye on him?"

"Not necessary. It's Carter's turn with Mr. Sympathy."

"Oh, well. See you later, guys." Carter walked to the ladder.

"Remember, Carter. Think before you talk." Kinch saluted him.

"Newkirk, you stay away from the tunnel until I say so." Hogan softened his tone. "Listen, we're juggling a hundred things right now. But we're paying attention. You're not alone in this. You know that, right?"

Newkirk closed his eyes and nodded. "I'll try not to panic."

"I need to get some details for tonight's excursion. We'll talk later." Hogan nodded to Kinch and went to his office.

Kinch sat at the table. "Come, Newkirk, let's do something about that hand."

()o()o()

"So, did you or didn't you open fire against civilians?"

Carter kept a nice smile and a quiet attitude. "One civilian and he asked for it...I mean, really, he asked me to open fire on him." He shrugged, trying to peep at what Jones was writing.

"You admit that you gambled with the prisoner's life, then?"

"I wouldn't call it gambling, Mr. Jones. Technically, I thought I was going to lose." His laugh did not impress the inquirer.

"Did you see Corporal Newkirk threatening the prisoner's life in any way?"

Carter smiled nervously. The tunnel felt much warmer all of a sudden. "He, well... He might have been a little... upset with t-the prisoner." He did not like the man's expression when he wrote down more notes.

"Does he gets upset too often?"

"Who, Newkirk?" he laughed. "He's an entertainer, he tells a lot of jokes... The guards call him jolly joker... and... he's an overall nice guy. We like him very much..."

"So, when he aimed at the prisoner, you thought he would not shoot?"

Carter was quiet for a moment. He went back in time, Newkirk with his gun, ready to finish off that horrible creature. How Carter felt about it and what he thought Newkirk would have done were two separate things. He pondered his answer. The simple truth could sink Newkirk into more trouble than he was now. Carter took a deep breath and nodded. "Sir, I know that Newkirk would never shoot a defenseless man."

Mr. Jones looked deeply into his eyes. Carter seemed a nice man, had an honest face... Whether he was lying or twisting the truth, that would be hard to prove. "Very well then,"said he as he closed his notebook. "Now, I'm almost done."

"You're leaving?" Carter tried to hide his evident bliss.

"As soon as I talk to Corporal Newkirk." He put his reading glasses away and smiled widely. "Do you have any idea where I could find him?"

()o()o()

"The Tolaeth," Newkirk said absently.

Kinch came to sit with him at the table. "The what?" he said, as he set the first aid-kit down on the table between them.

"Oh, it's a-" Newkirk cleared his throat and lowered his voice. "An omen of death."

Kinch chuckled. "Peter Newkirk, are you becoming superstitious now?" He took Newkirk's hand in his and began to clean it up with alcohol.

Newkirk winced. "No... well, it's a Welsh legend. You know, me mom was Welsh..." He bit his lower lip and took a deep breath. "The night she d-died... They took me and me sister to the apartment downstairs. I was young, but I knew that something really bad was happening at home... I couldn't sleep and there were noises..."

"Noises? What kind of noises?" Kinch frowned.

"Steps... screams... " Newkirk shuddered. "Anyway, the lady of the apartment, our neighbor... she came to sit with me... She said that the Tolaeth appeared when someone was about to die. When you hear it, you can't see it... and if you see it, you can't hear it... and when it touches you, you can't see it or hear it."

"Nice legends you people have." Kinch poured sulfa on Newkirk's palm. "But you're not starting to believe in that stuff now."

"Come on, Kinch, tell me this is just a figment of my imagination." Newkirk sizzled with pain. "First, it was the ruddy noise... then, there she was... when she took me hand I couldn't see her or hear her anymore..." he made a pause. "You don't think I did this to meself, do you?"

"Carter is right, it looks like a chicken's foot." Kinch smiled but Newkirk did not respond. Kinch finished with the first aids and looked at him. "Newkirk, I don't know what to say. This is completely new for me. I'm a practical man, you know? What I see is that you're very stressed out, and that has to surface in some ways."

"I don't know, Kinch. Sometimes, I think I'm going mad. This is not like me at all, I'm really scared!"

"Don't be, man. We're right here with you. Everything is all right."

Newkirk shook his head. "Kinch, before that thing went away, I heard a voice that told me that I'm gonna die today."

Dry thunder rumbled outside. The wind brought dark clouds and the approaching storm charged the air with electricity. Some wires got loosed in the yard and began to shoot a lot of sparks. Kinch and Newkirk ran outside. The staff car had entered the gates towards Klink's office. A wire fell down just at the same time the car was passing by. It landed over its roof and began to twist furiously.

The driver hit the brakes. Kinch ran towards him to prevent him from touching the doors.

"What's going on here?" Klink yelled above the thunder.

Newkirk saw Kinch run for a wooden pole. He turned to the car. "Remain in your seats!" he urged the kommandant and his driver.

Kinch raised the wire as high as he could as the same time that Newkirk opened the door and helped Klink out. He did the same with the driver but before he could let go the door, the wire slipped from the pole and grazed the body of the car.

"Watch out!" Kinch yelled at Newkirk.

Newkirk just felt the blow when he was thrown backwards. Everything went black from there.

tbc

The Tolaeth: Welsh Folklore.

Are you scared yet? LOL Let me know ;)