All right, I hope this one gets to you. This site has been wacky all week long. I can't even see my avatar in my reviews! Oh, well, I hope someone could actually read this chapter and tell me what they think. ;)

12 Come like shadows, so depart!

The next day did not come as fast as Newkirk would have wanted. He spent hours staring at the ceiling and listening to the scratching sound that crawled up and down. This time, he was careful not to wake up anyone. After his encounter with Spike, he did not want to take chances with the vampire coming after his friends. There was much at stake and few options to choose from.

"Today," said Klink to the prisoners assembled for roll call, "activities must be divided in groups. The works on the road must continue. But yesterday's storm left the camp without electricity and the coal reserves are not enough to provide heat for the stove at the mess hall. We need volunteers to go for logs to the forest. Two prisoners will be enough. Sergeant Schultz will supervise. I don't need to say that this work is for all of us in the Stalag and won't hurt the Geneva Convention. Dismissed!"

Hogan shrugged as they went back to the barrack. "Okay, boys, the shovel or the axe, which one do you prefer?"

"I'll go to the forest," LeBeau said. "It's a nice day for a walk."

"I'll go too." Newkirk stepped forward. "I won't stay alone in this place."

Carter patted him on the shoulder. "Fresh air will do you good."

Hogan agreed and talked in secret to LeBeau. "Don't leave him alone."

()o()o()

Hogan examined the papers. There was nothing new about the egg. The thing was in some safe box in a museum.

"It shouldn't be a problem to get it for the Allies." Kinch sat at the table with a cup of coffee. Working on the wee hours at the radio station required a good amount of caffeine.

"Under normal circumstances, yes." Hogan sat down. "I would even send Newkirk alone or with someone else. But-"

"I know what you mean. He hasn't just been acting weird, it's like bad luck is after him deliberately."

"Oh, come on, Kinch. You too? It's just been one coincidence after another. It wouldn't be a big thing if you guys weren't on Newkirk's back, waiting for him to screw up again." Hogan leaned his elbows on the table. "Especially you, Kinch. I thought you were on my side in this one."

"And I am but," Kinch sighed, "I told you what Newkirk said right before yesterday's incident. It got me thinking."

Hogan shook his head. "I don't know. I try to be really open minded but these things are beyond my comprehension. Give me things I can touch, things I can see." He stood up. "Anyway, I have to come up with a plan for me and Newkirk to go to Nuremberg for a couple of days without being noticed. I'll be in my office if hell breaks loose."

()o()o()

Schultz began the hike with enthusiasm and energy. A walk on the mountain seemed to be what everybody needed. The day was clear, the sun was bright, the birds were chirping. Nothing could go wrong on such a beautiful day.

"...and on Sundays, I prepared a big basket and headed for the mountains with une nana..."

"The same nana every time?" Newkirk grinned maliciously.

"My lips are sealed. Je suis un chavalier."

They kept talking and walking until they noticed that Schultz was not with them.

"Come on, Schultz, how do you expect us to get there if you keep falling behind?" Newkirk asked him.

"Get where, anyway?" LeBeau frowned.

"I think... we just... got there... Here is... as good a there... as any other there..." Schultz gasped for air. "Look, we have enough trees around." He sat on a fallen trunk and put his rifle aside. "Go on start chopping," he said while looking for his canteen. "And Newkirk, don't exhaust yourself. If the Big Shot knows you came along, he will put me on the night shift for a month."

"Easy, mate. Manual labor is not me cuppa tea, anyway."

Newkirk took one axe and LeBeau took the other. Each one chose a tree to begin with the chopping. They would work slowly so the day would last longer.

A few minutes after the first branches, Newkirk felt someone staring at him. He turned to LeBeau but the Frenchman was busy with his own tree. He looked around and saw a dog, a black German shepherd with yellow eyes glowing in the frame of a very dark corner of trees.

"One of our dogs got loose?" He asked.

"What did you say?"

Newkirk turned to LeBeau. "That dog, is it one of ours?"

"What dog?"

"That one over the-" He turned again and the dog was gone. "I should've known," he chuckled. He shook his head, ready to put the event behind. He reached for his axe and the dog was next to it. Newkirk was startled. But somehow, he managed to keep calm. He called for LeBeau but no one answered. He realized that he was alone. "Blimey, where's everybody gone now?" He sighed. If this was another of his dreams, he would feel terribly ridiculous in the morning. He heard the dog whining behind him. "Don't tell me. You want me to follow you," he said. "Well, Lassie, show me the way, then."

The dog went into the forest, through the trees. Its pace was neither fast nor slow; just fair enough for Newkirk to follow it. Suddenly, the forest thickened and the sun did not shine anymore. The day had turned into night and the wind began to blow among the leaves. Newkirk could hear it moaning in the branches along with the owls and other creatures of the night. Wolves howled near and far.

Newkirk came to a path. He walked for what seemed like hours until the dog stopped. At the end of the path, Newkirk saw a hut. The most unusual hut he had ever seen. This small hut had tall chicken legs. It spun around, sometimes rocking back and forth, sometimes jumping up and down... It did not have doors or windows but the moment the dog came forward and sat down, the hut stopped moving. The chicken legs knelt on the ground and a door formed on the logs. It was darker inside than outside. The dog walked in and disappeared.

Newkirk stood there, reluctant to follow the dog. "This is the balmiest dream ever. What am I supposed to do now?" He frowned. "Maybe it's about time for me to wake up."

The wind began to blow harder. It swirled around Newkirk until his ears could not hear anything else but its laments and cries. The darkness inside the hut was so intense that it seemed that there was nothing else behind. Just when Newkirk was ready to turn and run, he heard a voice. It was a female voice, raspy and old, coming in waves from what sounded like an old phonograph.

"Blood of England, son of Britons," she called. "You finally have come."

Newkirk stared at the darkness. "Who am I talking to? Was I expected?"

"My invitation is embedded in the palm of your hand." The voice sounded like an echo, as if coming from a deep cavern.

"Oh, this?" Newkirk looked at his palm. "It was a chicken leg after all, then." He smiled. "You spend years buried in that ruddy camp and someday, you're the most popular bloke in the neighborhood. Are you working for Spike?"

Thunder boomed and lightning flashed in the forest. A fence with twelve poles emerged from the ground. On each pole but one, there was a human skull with flaming sockets that illuminated the path. Moaning and crying rose in a chorus at the entrance of the witch.

From the darkened threshold, a small figure came out. By her clothes, Newkirk could tell that it was an old woman. She wore a dark cape and a long skirt. Her head was concealed under a hood but he could see her long gray hair properly braided to one side. As she came out of the hut, Newkirk noticed that her bare feet did not touch the ground. Although he could not see her face, Newkirk felt her watching him intently. He had to remind himself that he was only dreaming, otherwise, he might have run away in a second.

"Vampires are not welcome in my domain." The voice did not come from her but from her left, deep into the forest.

"All right, then. What did you bring me here?" Newkirk pretended to be calm in front of so much insanity.

"You must cease and desist of looking for Koshchei's soul."

"The what of who?"

"I never repeat myself!" This time, the voice resounded inside his ears.

The pain was bad enough to send Newkirk down to his knees. "Blimey, lady! What's going on here?"

The dark got darker while the wind in the trees broke into excruciating laments. Shadows began to float around the hut. The woman stretched her right arm. It was long, ending in a bony hand. She pointed at one pole on the fence.

"If you do not do what I say, I will fill the last pole with your skull."

"Oi, that's not nice, not even for a bad dream. You don't own me."

"Quite courageous words coming from someone who only has one life to live." This time the voice shifted to the right side of the woods. "You almost died once but I spared your life... The cards are on your favor, Briton, but they may change at any minute. You just have to say the right word."

"The right word? What ruddy right word?"

The light from the flaming skulls waxed brighter, projecting the old lady's shadow against the hut. She remained still while her shadow lifted her arms and opened her hands. Shapes that in other times must have been human crawled out of the forest. Their cries carried unbearable sorrow. Three gigantic horsemen rode slowly towards the witch and the horses bowed their heads to salute her.

The riders looked human, dressed like cossacks, each one in a different color. The first one was dressed in white and riding a white horse. The second one was in red, on a brown horse and holding a handsome sword. The last one was a woman in black on a black horse.

Now, the voice of the witch spoke through the horsemen. They opened their mouths but it would be the same crooked voice coming out of each of them.

"Behold my servants," it said through the white one, "White Dawn."

"Red Sun," it said through the red one.

"...and I think you've already met Dark Midnight." The dark one allowed Newkirk to see her eyes.

Suddenly, the pieces of the puzzle began to fall in place. "She was the one who hexed me!" Newkirk turned to the witch. "You sent her, didn't you? But why?"

"Asking questions takes years off your life. You look like a brilliant young man. You just have to do what I say. I would lift up the curse, you would be free." White Dawn bowed his head.

"Free? It's not my imagination then, that bloody safe box did burn me hand, didn't it?"

Red Sun laughed with a metallic voice. "I bring you back to normality, and you stop your friends from going to Nuremberg."

"One thing for the other, Comrade Newkirk," Dark Midnight stared at him. "If you do not comply, the curse will only worsen."

"I burn me hands every time I touch a safe box. What else can you do to me?" Newkirk understood too late how stupid that question was.

"Stop your friends from going to Nuremberg..." The voice moved again to Newkirk's ears.

"They won't listen to me, I'm just a corporal, you know?" Newkirk shrugged but he could not hide his doubts. Somehow, he knew that this woman did not care about ranks.

White Dawn turned to him. "I do not dislike you, Comrade... But I have to prevent you from stealing Koshchei's soul."

"What are you going to do to me now?"

"Leave now, the road back is longer." Red Sun lowered his head.

"But, what are you going to do?"

"Tonight, at midnight, we will talk again..." Dark Midnight said. "Be prepared to bargain..."

Newkirk could hear the voice fading away, farther and farther each time. The wind stopped and everything went darker. The horsemen melted into the mist, the tormented souls disappeared and the fence began to disintegrate. The witch floated backwards towards the door and the hut stood up on its chicken legs.

"Wait! Can I at least know your name?" he yelled to nowhere in particular.

"Of all the names I have been called, Baba Yaga is the one you must remember."

The voice echoed once again and the hooded woman vanished inside the darkened door. Newkirk blinked and the hut was gone. He began to walk, trusting that his sense of orientation would take him back to the Stalag.

The night turned into day again, and he wondered how many guards would be looking for him. Newkirk had hoped for the dogs to bark and show him the way. The road was quiet, only birds chirped as though nothing had happened. After several hours of walking on a straight line, he arrived to the end of the forest. Immediately, Newkirk recognized the place where they had been chopping wood the day before.

"Newkirk!" LeBeau called him. "Where have you been?"

"LeBeau? Did they let you come to look for me too?" Newkirk hugged him. "So good to see you, did you miss me?"

"What? I just need you to take half of the load." LeBeau stared at him. "Why should I miss you? You've been gone for only five minutes."

The news struck Newkirk more unexpectedly than the live wire the day before. "Five minutes! Blimey! It can't be."

"Well, maybe ten, I don't have a watch." LeBeau shrugged. "Where were you?"

"Dreaming I guess," said he rubbing the back of his neck. "The strangest dream ever. So real..."

Schultz was waking up and stared at them as he stretched. "Well, boys. You know the drill, pick up your things and go back. Schnell!"

Newkirk shook his head. It had been a dream. It had to be a dream. However, all the way back, he could not help thinking about the trip and if it would be wise to step out. One thing was for sure, he would keep himself away from electrical wires and safe boxes...

tbc

Baba Yaga, her horsemen: White Dawn, Red Sun and Dark Midnight and Koshchei are part of Russian and Central Europe folklore. I took very few liberties with the original characters. ;)