15. The obscure bird

The night could not be more welcome for Newkirk. With everybody in bed, he could at last get some rest. Watching everybody all the time was terribly exhausting. He was not sure for how long he would be able to keep up the lie. He was not even sure if he should.

Decisions, decisions... His head hurt. He closed his eyes. Two seconds later, a loud bang woke him up. Someone just slammed a bloody door, he thought. He sat up and blinked. A tall figure had entered the barrack. Although it was dark, Newkirk could make out some of its traits. It was a man, with long hair and extremely thin. His eyes were red, like small flames staring at him. The rest of his face was concealed by some kerchief. His clothes were old and ragged and his bare feet sometimes looked like claws.

Like the witch, he did not touch the floor. He moved slowly towards him and lifted his head to meet him eye to eye. Newkirk looked around but no one else was awake. He saw the bony fingers coming from the darkness of the creature's clothes to grab him by his nightshirt. He felt how it pushed him down on his back and held him down. The creature lifted his other hand and scratched Newkirk's chest.

"If you go to Nuremberg, someone will die..."

()o()o()

Hogan formed with his men as any other morning. He turned to do his own mental roll call on them. Carter stretched and LeBeau yawned. It was a cold morning although the sun was already coming out. Kinch was right behind him and made him notice the motorcycle coming through the gates. Hogan shrugged and nodded.

"Just in time," Kinch said.

"Just in time." Hogan nodded. "Carter, you and Newkirk will volunteer to clean the office. We need an extra letter for our kommandant."

"Sure, no problem."

They were accounted for and went back to the barracks. As any other morning, they had their chores to do, for the Stalag and for the Allies.

Carter shook Newkirk's shoulder. After risking his life to save the kommandant, the Englishman had been rewarded with one week of privileges and no roll calls. One extra hour of sleep in the mornings was every prisoner's dream.

"Hey, Newkirk. The extra hour is gone," LeBeau said.

Newkirk did not want to open his eyes. His mind was still recreating the horrors of the night before. It took him a couple of minutes to realize that it had had to be a dream, although vivid and painful: he remembered his screams, the door banging and the creature's growls. Sounds that he could not hear in real time.

"Maybe he needs more time," Carter said. "He was restless last night."

"I heard him," LeBeau shook his head. "But Wilson said that we should treat him normally."

Newkirk opened his eyes. He stared at the ceiling and turned his head to see Carter talking to LeBeau. He still was too sleepy to concentrate on reading lips. He just pretended to yawn and not to pay much attention to anything yet. He checked his nightshirt and it was intact. At least, that part of his nightmare was over.

He jumped down from his bunk and a sharp pain stabbed him in the ribs. He leaned forward and Carter came to help him. Newkirk could not hear him but the conventional question would be if he was okay. Surely, he was not, but there was no point in telling the truth.

"I'm fine."

No one said anything else. After almost a week of seeing Newkirk acting so strangely, there was not much to be surprised about.

Newkirk did his best to get dressed and come out of the barrack before anyone else noticed how hurt he was. He strolled for a while, giving the pain on his chest and back time to subside. He was also trying to process that the events of the night before had not been just a bad dream.

He sat down on his usual bench and leaned his back against the wall. He closed his eyes for a moment but the images of his attacker were still fresh on his mind. When he opened his eyes again, Schultz was right in front of him. His lips were moving.

"Oh, hello, Schultz," Newkirk said and yawned. "Didn't sleep too well last night."

The sergeant frowned and sat down with him. "Newkirk, what's wrong?" he spoke softly. "I called you several times and you didn't respond. Are you sick or something?"

"I ain't turning into a vampire if that's what you mean." Newkirk tried to smile. He stretched and his ribs hurt. Schultz was too close to miss that.

"No, this is what I mean. Do you need a doctor? That electric shock might have affected you more than you think."

Newkirk shook his head and rubbed his temple. "Schultz, please. I'm fine, really." His energy was ebbing away fast and all he wanted was to be left alone.

"Come on, Newkirk. Tell old Schultz what's going on," he smiled.

"Nothing... I can't..." Newkirk sighed and closed his eyes. "I just can't..." He felt Schultz grabbing his arm and saying something, but it was late to make sense of the words he caught. He saw the sergeant frown with concern.

"Gott, Englander, you can't hear me, can you?" He was alarmed. Newkirk tried to get up and walk away but he stopped him. "I could drag you to the kommandant's office right away, get you some medical attention."

"Schultz, please-" Newkirk begged. "Doctors can't help."

"How long have you-? How do you manage to-?"

"I can read your lips..." he shrugged in resignation. "It happened yesterday... Can't tell you how, it's so incredible that I don't even believe it meself."

Schultz kept quiet for a moment, while thinking about the situation. Suddenly, his eyes widened and he stared at Newkirk. "The witch! Y-You asked me about Baba Yaga... Oh, mein Gott! Is she here? Did you meet her?"

"Shhh! Are you screaming? Keep it down!" Newkirk whispered. "Witches don't exist."

"You can say that but you keep stumbling on things more often than Carter." Schultz kept staring at him. "It began the other day in Hammelburg, right? That woman really hexed you."

"Yes, she did."

"And the vampire... Have you seen the vampire?"

"Here and there." Newkirk turned to make sure no one else was listening. Then, he turned to Schultz. "All right, you've got me talking. Now, you're going to learn the whole story."

()o()o()

"As I was going up the stairs... I met a man who wasn't there... He wasn't there again today... Oh! How I wish he'd go away!"

"Dru?"

"As I was going up the stairs..."

"Dru!"

"Who's there?"

"Me, Spike."

"Oh..." She sounded disappointed.

"Don't be so excited." Spike rolled his eyes. Sometimes, he had his doubts about Drusilla's love. "Are you all right?"

"Darker forces are blocking us. They're trying to stop our thief from doing his job... He is in real danger... He hesitates..."

"I know, I've seen the horsemen around the camp."

"Oh, poor thing, they're going to kill him..."

"Not yet, only if he insists on doing the job... They're trying to scare him..."

"By torture? And torment? Is he bleeding yet?"

Spike tossed away the butt of his cigarette and lit another one. "Yeah, pretty much," he chuckled. "I hope that doesn't scare him away, though. Time is not on our side."

"It's up to you, William. You must give them a push..."

"A push? How?" Spike frowned. After a few minutes of silence, he saw one card of the tarot coming through the window. "What's this?"

"A card of presentation... give it to the kommandant of the Stalag exactly at seven thirty tonight..."

"And that will be it?... Dru?... Luv..."

"The time has come, the Walrus said, to talk of many things; of shoes, and ships, and sealing wax; of cabbages and kings, and why the sea is boiling hot, and whether pigs have wings..."*

()o()o()

Newkirk felt lighter after talking to Schultz. He told him the essential, without being too specific about what all these creatures wanted from him. The German sergeant did not need to know that Newkirk was in the middle of some kind of supernatural conspiracy to tip the balance in favor of the highest bidder. Even so, sharing his secret with someone who was not interested in getting a piece of the action was liberating.

Now, he could concentrate on performing his services in the regular team. The task of the day was getting into Klink's office and leaving the invitation to Nuremberg. Carter pretended to dust Klink's books and Newkirk swept the floor while moving into the office. Once inside, Carter took the fake invitation and put it on top of the incoming mail. He turned and saw Newkirk contemplating the safe box.

"What is it?" Carter asked.

Newkirk was mesmerized. This was his first time in that office since the night of the party. In daylight, the place did not seem so scary and threatening. He walked to the box and stared at it.

"Newkirk, come on, let's go," Carter pulled at his sleeve.

"Give me a second." Newkirk stretched out his hand, moving slowly towards the box. He put his fingertips on it and waited.

"See? It's all right now," Carter smiled. Suddenly, Newkirk jerked his hand away with a moan. Carter grabbed his hand. "You burned your fingers."

"It's still happening." Newkirk shook his head. "I don't think I should go with the colonel... I'm completely useless."

"Newkirk, you'll do fine," Carter grabbed Newkirk's arm. "Come on, let's talk outside."

They came out and made a small sign to Hogan, who responded with a nod.

"Now, tell me, what's going on?" Carter asked Newkirk.

"Nothing. Really, everything's going all right." He kept his eyes on Carter, trying not to miss any word.

"I don't believe you. There's something very wrong with you." He stopped and turned to Newkirk. "I think that after all we went through in our last mission, I deserve a little more trust, don't you think?"

"Carter, there's nothing that you or anyone else can do to help me. It sounds weird, I know, but this, I must do it alone."

His speech would have been more effective if Schultz had not showed up at that moment. "Newkirk, look," he said touching him on the shoulder to show him something. "It's a crucifix. My mother gave it to me when I was enlisted. It was my grandmother's." He smiled and put it in the Englishman's hand. "I don't know if you are a believer, but this will protect you."

"Oh, Schultz, I can't-"

"Not a word. You'll give it back to me when this is all over, all right?"

Carter stared at them and narrowed his eyes. "You told Schultz," he said once the German sergeant was gone. "You trust him but not me? I thought we were friends!" He turned his back on Newkirk and went away.

Newkirk stayed in the middle of the yard all confused and discouraged. He hoped for everything to come to an end as soon as possible. He wished to go back to normal and put this ordeal behind him.

()o()o()

"The delivery was made, and now all we have to do is to wait for results." Hogan sat at the table with a cup of coffee.

"How long? When are we leaving, anyway?" Newkirk was in his bunk, feeling miserable. Reading lips was not as much fun as he remembered from his younger years. He asked questions but missed most of the answers.

"That depends on how long it takes Klink to make arrangements for Grubber to take charge, packing and other small details." Hogan sighed. "Maybe a couple of days."

"With all the stuff that Klink carries in his bags, he'll probably take a whole week." LeBeau chuckled.

Newkirk nodded to the laughs. He could not wait to get done with that mission. His only fear was how to keep Hogan away from the witch and the vampire. He sighed. As though the Nazis weren't dangerous enough...

()o()o()

The night had barely fallen when a motorcycle crossed the gates towards the main building. Shortly after that, Schultz came to the barrack to tell Hogan that the kommandant wanted to see him and Newkirk immediately.

"Me too?" Newkirk asked. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I asked him the same question." Schultz shrugged. "Some hot shot from Berlin came in and... I don't know."

"It's okay. Everybody, stand by." Hogan turned to Schultz and grinned. "We're playing poker."

Newkirk put on his coat and followed Hogan and Schultz. They crossed the yard faster than usual and entered the office. Klink was there, smiling and laughing, in casual conversation with his visitor. He looked happier than usual; maybe even a little drunk, Hogan thought, surprised.

"Ah, Colonel Hogan, allow me to introduce you to one of my disciples at the Academy. Hauptmann Guillaume Nagel, Luftwaffe."

The young officer turned around and smiled widely at Hogan. "We finally meet, Colonel Hogan," he said.

Newkirk's curiosity turned into horror when the lieutenant looked at him. He could not help himself. He stepped back and said the name. "Spike!"

tbc

*The walrus and the carpenter, by Lewis Carroll

The show never said anything about the religious beliefs of the characters. I just needed someone carrying a crucifix. You know, what's a vampire story without a crucifix? :)

Thank you for the reviews, keep on reading, this is far from be over ;)