A/N You know you are an idiot when you are working on three stories at once, ensuring you never get to update any of them. I'm seriously having to pace myself and not burn out all my ideas at once. Here's to hoping this chapter is as well received as the last!
2.
"Don't you dare pass out, Newkirk! Come on, keep those eyes open."
He didn't know … what was wrong?
"Newkirk, I think you're going into shock. Open your eyes; talk to me. Explain toad-in-a-hole again. Something!"
Wait, was the voice talking to him?
"I'm ordering you to respond. Newkirk!" The voice sounded scared. Worried. Oh well, maybe if he took a nap …
Sudden pain spiked in the face of his otherwise numb body. His eyes opened involuntarily. A relieved sigh answered his grunt of confusion. "Thank God. Hey, up here." A gentle hand pried his eyelids open further.
As his eyes adjusted, he noticed a harrowed face looking into his eyes. "I ... what?" He gasped.
The man scrubbed his face. "You got stabbed, then fell headlong into a rock. How are you feeling? Besides the obvious, of course."
"I'm … doesn't hurt … just tired."
Another light slap startled him awake. When had his eyes closed? The man … brown jacket, eagles. Oh! The Colonel. Uh, Hogan. That's his name.
"Don't go to sleep."
" But 'm tired …"
Hogan looked nervously around and mumbled something about a cinch? A pinch? Something like that. And a carter. Why'd he need one of those? The ground was soft and squishy. Warm, too. It felt good to his exhausted mind. And though he heard the alarmed sounds coming from Hogan, he drifted off to inorexable shadow.
-xXxXxXxXxXx-
If Oberstleutnant* Pohl were any angrier, Koch thought that the man's eyes would pop out of his head. "Did you hear me? I want those plans; NOW!"
Pohl's dark eyes glinted. This man made Koch want to tremble, but he concluded it would probably be best to obey his superiors. "I'm sorry sir. I cannot give those the papers to you. I have orders that …"
Koch jumped in surprise as Pohl slammed his hand onto the desk. "I expect the plans here in two minutes, understand? If they are not, I hope you have very warm clothing!" The man roared. Pohl's thin aide looked terrified at the outburst and looked at Koch with huge eyes.
"Please, Unterfeldwebel*. He does not appreciate waiting. Could you get the plans for him?" The aide begged.
"I ... I, well, um ..."
In Koch's head, two debates were raging. He could obey the Lieutenant Colonel and get the plans for the new rocket plant, or he could obey his commander, Major Klein. Either choice would probably end badly for him, with an end result of the Russian Front. In the end, Pohl's superior rank was what convinced him. Koch reluctantly rose to retrieve the plans. The mahogany chair creaked when relieved of his weight.
But as he left the lobby, Koch heard something odd. The aide turned to Pohl and said something softly in … English? Surely not. But if he did, then …
The two men straightened up as Koch reentered the room. Pohl's eyes lit greedily as he saw the rolled paper in Koch's hand. "Finally! What is this world coming to, Huber?" Pohl said as he addressed his aide.
"I wouldn't know, sir."
Pohl snorted, then reached for the plans. Koch prayed his hunch was right as he kept them out of the Lieutenant Colonel's reach. Surprise flooded Pohl's eyes, quickly replaced with fury. "What is this?"
"I'm sorry, sir," Koch replied, tentatively. "I will have to accompany you to ensure these plans are not stolen." Both men stared open-mouthed at his stern face.
"Are you denying me something?" Pohl sounded shocked.
Koch shook his head. "No sir. You may have them, I only must come with you." Huber and Pohl exchanged looks, and Koch held his breath. He knew he was one step away from being transferred. But, then again, if his theory was correct, he would be rewarded.
Pohl looked up. "Fine. I am leaving now." And with an almost regal flourish, he stomped to the car.
As the aide, Huber, drove, a thick silence filled the car. Tree after tree was passed. After a good 15 miles of wooded lane, the car pulled off to a ditch by the road. Pohl ordered Koch out of the car. The men faced off, staring. And almost at once, they pulled their guns. Huber watched Pohl worriedly.
"Ok, what do you want? Money?"
Koch laughed derisively. "I want you dead. I knew you were Amerikaner when I heard you talking in the hotel. You will not have these plans."
Huber snorted exasperatedly. "Listen 'ere. I'm no Yank, and don't forget it." He didn't notice his slip into English.
Pohl groaned and turned slightly to peer at the Englisher. "Really?"
The turn was all it took for the world to dissolve into chaos. Anger and fear split the chilly night. After a few minutes of frenzied fighting that he couldn't remember, Koch ran off, no longer holding a gun, but somehow possessing a dripping knife. He didn't know who he had stabbed, but he hoped it was the arrogant American. He deserved it.
-xXxXxXxXxXx-
Newkirk was feeling very peaceful except for the fact that his torso was on fire, and someone was poking it. His agitated and painfilled moan stopped whoever was hurting him. He let a breath out slowly through his nose before he attempted to crack rock-solid eyelids. The first person his blurry vision saw was his CO's drawn eyes.
"Colonel?" He gasped. Cool hands smoothed his hair and wiped the (how embarrassing) tears of pain from his temples. He then melted into the blanket he knew could not be spared as Hogan tucked it gently around him.
"I'm here."
*Lieutenant Colonel; a rank below Klink, and a rank above Hochstetter.
*Seargant
