13. The grief that doth not speak

Newkirk tried to downplay the dream he had experienced in the woods. He was getting angry at himself for being so weak. He kept a quiet conversation in his mind and he was almost convinced that everything was a product of his vivid imagination. However, by the time they crossed the gates of Stalag XIII, his heartbeat accelerated.

Deep inside, Newkirk could feel that something was not right. The woman's last words bothered him. What kind of decision should he make by midnight? Above everything, he feared for his friends and what that witch would do to them to stop that trip to Nuremberg.

"Newkirk," said Hogan, "Mr. Jones wants to talk to you."

The Englishman had barely taken a seat when the colonel approached him. Hogan's expression was tense and expectant. Certainly, he had been avoiding this interview to the last moment. Newkirk felt bad at being the cause of so much trouble. He would take care of Mr. Jones and everybody would breathe easily again.

"Sure, sir." He smiled at the man. "What can I do you for?"

"I just want to ask you some questions if you don't mind."

"Here? Right now?"

Hogan patted him on the back. "It's okay, Newkirk. Just routine questions. You can use my office." He turned to Carter, LeBeau and Olsen at the table. "Let's go, guys. That tunnel walls ain't gonna reinforce by themselves."

Newkirk saw them all go through the trap door with the strange feeling that when they came back, nothing would be the same anymore.

()o()o()

Newkirk went into Hogan's quarters willing to lie blatantly for the sake of the operations. He went to close the window so no one could see Mr. Jones. Schultz was outside and Newkirk felt the urge of talking to him.

"I'll be right back," he told Mr. Jones before rushing for the door.

Schultz had just sat down to enjoy his afternoon snack. Hiking on the woods had opened his appetite and nothing, including his vampire chase, would delay him. Newkirk came running to sit next to him.

"Hey, Schultzie, how're you doing?"

"We just saw each other a few minutes ago. Nothing has changed that much." He took a bite of his sandwich.

"I've got a question for you." Newkirk tried not to look that serious. "You're from around here, aren't you?"

Schultz stared at him as though trying to understand the words. "Are you all right?"

"I mean, you do know the locals, right? Most of them?" He smiled when the sergeant nodded. "What do you know about an old lady living in the forest?"

"An old lady living in this forest?"

"Yeah, I think her name is Baba Yaga-"

Schultz laughed. "Oh, Newkirk. You're a jolly joker indeed. Where did you get that name? Baba Yaga is a tale for children... How do you call it? A folk tale. And she's Russian, no stories about her living in a German forest."

"I see..." Newkirk sat back. This should have been a revelation for him. Surprisingly enough, it was not. "And what does it say? The story, I mean."

"I don't remember very well." Schultz scratched the back of his ear. "Let's see, she's a witch. The most powerful witch in the world. She lives in a hut with chicken legs." He chuckled. "That's the funniest part. Then, it gets ugly. She eats people and does favors for a price."

"What kind of price? Money?"

"She doesn't need money. She prefers things that mean something for you. Sacrifices."

"Sacrifices? Like what?"

"You ask for something you really need and in exchange, you give her something that is precious for you. She admires purity of heart and overall politeness." Schultz looked at him and laughed. "She also have three servants, the horsemen. White Dawn, Red Sun and Dark Midnight. They're her messengers."

"How about Koshchei's soul?"

Schultz's eyes widened. "Koshchei the deathless? In the name of Baba Yaga, what have you been reading?"

"Well? What is it?"

"It's another legend. Koshchei is a powerful sorcerer that can't be killed because his soul is hidden in an egg, inside a duck, inside a hare, inside a box under an oak tree in a remote island."

"Really? Are you sure?" Newkirk frowned. "It can't be right, can it?"

"Newkirk, those are stories for little children. They're not real."

"Like vampires," Newkirk sighed with a shrug. He was about to leave when a shadow rushed in front of his eyes. It crossed the yard and disappeared underground. "Blimey!" He sprung up and ran towards the point where it had happened. He reckoned that the tunnel was right under his feet. "No, no, no!"

Newkirk ran to the barrack and down the ladder. Olsen was emptying a bucket of earth and smiled at him.

"Where's the colonel?" Newkirk gasped.

"Inside that section over there," Olsen pointed at the black opening a few meters in front of them. "Carter, LeBeau and Kinch are in there too. You'd better wait till they come out, there isn't enough room for all of us."

"Blimey!" Newkirk stared at the darkness. Something moved in there. "No, it can't happen!" He turned and went outside.

Hogan tested the steadiness of every pole and beam on the wall. "It looks solid enough," he said to Kinch. "We can start levelling the floor in a couple of days."

"Agree, we'll take the rest of debris out tonight and it'll be ready." Kinch signed for Carter and LeBeau to go out.

As he followed them, something cracked inside the crown beam. Dust began to fall as announcing that something big was about to happen. Hogan noticed it first and pushed Kinch out of the way. He stayed behind.

A single explosion shook the ground of half the Stalag. Some buildings trembled but, as they had been instructed many times before, the prisoners pretended not to have noticed anything unusual. Newkirk was thrown to the ground but got up as fast as he could. Still stunned, he ran to Barrack 2 one more time. The ladder was wrapped in a thick cloud of dust. He heard the men coughing as they came up from the tunnel.

Olsen came out, blinking and gasping. Newkirk waited, but the rest of the group was not on sight.

"What happened?"

"Half of that damn wall collapsed... The boys are still there."

"All of them? Colonel Hogan too?" Newkirk could feel his own heart pounding against his chest.

"And Carter, Kinch and LeBeau... They're all together..."

"Blimey!" Newkirk ran to the trapdoor. "We've got to do something."

"I'll bring people from the other barracks," Olsen said. "We have to start digging."

Newkirk shook his head. First, that weird dream, then this... He took off his jacket and went down the tunnel.

()o()o()

"See anything?" Olsen asked Newkirk.

The Englishman held the lantern high but the rocks and debris were too thick to allow any light to go farther. He shook his head and sat back for a moment. They had been there for almost five hours and there were still no signs of life inside that part of the tunnel. Newkirk closed his eyes for a second and had to lean against the wall.

"Why don't you take a break, Peter?" Olsen touched his arm. "We'll probably be here all night, anyway."

"What time is it?" His voice was tired.

"Almost midnight."

Newkirk stood up. He remembered what the witch had said about coming to visit him at midnight. What important decision did he had to make? It might concern his friends' lives...

"I'll be right back," he walked outside through the emergency exit. He made sure no guards were around and sat down on a fallen trunk.

The woman in black walked out of the woods and came to sit in front of him. There was no trunk and she did not touch the ground. Any other time, Newkirk would have been really amazed.

"Ready to talk, Comrade Newkirk?"

"Is it Dark Midnight or Baba Yaga speaking?"

"Dark Midnight for Baba Yaga," the woman smiled. "She likes to make deals, and she likes you... Your friends don't have much time left. Are you prepared to pay the price?"

"I don't know what I could give instead of them but me own life."

Dark Midnight laughed. "You caught Baba Yaga on a good day, Comrade. She doesn't want your life. Name another price."

Newkirk shook his head. "What else is there to offer?"

"Something that you appreciate, something that you will miss, something important to you."

"I don't know... I'm alive... I like being alive." Newkirk shrugged. "I walk, I can see, I can hear..."

"Give me your hearing. You can't open safe boxes without your hearing."

"Going deaf you mean?"

"You can go blind, or mute if you like."

"Deaf it is." Newkirk closed his eyes as he realized what he had just said.

"That's a good price, Baba Yaga is pleased."

Newkirk stared at her in disbelief. "Is that it? One sense for me friends?"

"It is so," she bowed.

Newkirk took a deep breath. "What guarantees-?"

"Your friends will be free the moment you and I stop talking."

"So, I'll go deaf?"

"Are you afraid of losing your hearing?"

"Not as much as losing me friends."

"Just remember this, if you go to Nuremberg, you might lose something more valuable than your ears... or your life."

"What do you mean by that?" Exasperation began to show in Newkirk's voice.

"Think about it. What is it you fear the most, Comrade Newkirk?" The woman stood up.

"So," Newkirk said with a sigh, "How do we do this?"

"It's done..."

He could not hear the last word. He felt dizzy and had to knelt down for a moment. By the time he looked up, Dark Midnight was gone. He went back to the tunnel not knowing what to expect. Everything was too quiet and dark. He walked towards the lights at the site of the accident. Smiling faces came to greet him. Olsen hugged him and said something. The silence was unbearable. Newkirk was still adjusting to his situation when Carter and LeBeau got up from the floor and ran towards him. They talked at the same time and only Newkirk's common sense kept him from panicking.

Kinch and Hogan were also there, all dusty but evidently happy about being alive. Hogan shook Newkirk's hand and smiled at him.

"Good work, Corporal. That was quite an adventure."

Newkirk smiled. He could not hear Hogan's voice but his lips were easy to read. One of those abilities he had learned from his days at the circus. He had almost forgotten about it. He concentrated, his voice was still there... If he could pretend to hear, no one would know about his little problem. He would keep it in secret along with the witch, the vampire and that sinister creature they called Koshchei.

"Good to see you too, Gov'nor." He turned to Kinch. "All well, Sergeant?"

"All well, Corporal." Kinch nodded and tapped Newkirk on the shoulder.

()o()o()

The celebrations lasted until daybreak. Then, everybody went back to their barracks to wait for roll call. Hogan and his men came out to find Mr. Jones sitting at the table waiting for them. Only then, Newkirk remembered the poor man.

"Colonel Hogan, I need to talk to you right away."

Newkirk did not need the sound to see that he was in trouble with Mr. Jones. Hogan got the same feeling for he turned to him and frowned.

"Didn't you talk with him already?"

"With all the commotion, sir, I forgot he was in your office."

"Mr. Jones. There was an emergency. Not something that happens every day but-"

"Colonel Hogan, accidents happen. I'm not going to hold that against you." Mr. Jones did not smile. "I need to talk with Corporal Newkirk and now is the time."

Hogan turned to Newkirk and shrugged. "Do the best you can. I have to think of an excuse for the last explosion. We don't want Colonel Klink nosing around just now."

()o()o()

Newkirk took a seat at the desk, staring attentively at Mr. Jones. Soon, he found out that looking at the man's lips was a harder task than he had imagined. The man kept his face down as he wrote on his notebook. The questions came out incomplete and Newkirk had to figure out most of the beginnings and the endings.

"... regarding the Dalibor affair?"

"Oh, well... I was literally dying back then, I don't remember much of it," said Newkirk in a casual tone.

Mr. Jones stared at him suspiciously. "Did you aim at..." He lowered his face again to read from his notebook.

"Aim? Well, yeah, I had to, but only to stop him from running away." After that, he stuck to neutral answers like "Maybe... hard to tell... I don't think so..."

Mr. Jones's enigmatic smile did not tell him much. Newkirk was not sure if the answers were actually matching the questions. But in a fight of poker faces, the Englishman won them all.

"... would you..."

Newkirk struggled with the last question. Mr. Jones' lips were out of sight for most of it. So, he had to make a wild guess. "I... don't think so..."

Mr. Jones nodded and put his notebook away. "Very well, corporal. I think that will be all," he said. "I'll be in my quarters now. Have a good day."

Newkirk could breathe at last. He sat down for a moment, staring through the window at the new day coming in. The quietness was uncanny. No more than a few hours had passed since he lost his hearing and he already missed every single noise. He wondered for how much longer he would be able to keep his condition from his friends and how much longer he could go on without losing his mind. Then, there was Dark Midnight's last question... what did he fear the most? Newkirk did not want to answer to that, not yet...

tbc

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