Hammelburg, Germany
It was obvious to Moffitt that Carter was brimming with questions, and Moffitt was brimming with answers, but also with questions of his own. Colonel Hogan has got to be "Papa Bear," and therefore the bear in the prophecy. Is Carter Little Deer? Moffitt kept his questions to himself. Despite Hogan's acceptance of magic, Moffitt still felt it would be strange and a bit rude to just dump the knowledge on him that he was part of a prophecy that involved a man Hogan never met.
Moffitt was set up in a room with a cot to sleep in. After spending almost the entire night awake, he was asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.
His dreams were determined to make his sleep anything but restful. He could see an enraged Augenstein standing in front of Anah's tank, demanding to know if she played a part in Moffitt's escape. She insisted she knew nothing about it. Augenstein called her a liar, and placed his hand on the lid of the tank to deliver a hard burst of electricity to the cobra.
Moffitt couldn't tell if what he was seeing was just a dream, or if he was actually watching this happen, but he begged, "Don't hurt her. Please, don't hurt her!"
For the last several months, he didn't think it was possible for Anah to be hurt. What sort of dark magic did Augenstein have to be practicing in order for this to be possible?
Moffitt jolted awake, unable to take the dreams anymore. He quickly became aware of someone else in the room, and turned to see Carter staring at him, holding a bowl of oatmeal.
"Hey," Carter said. "S-Sorry to wake you—"
"No, no. It's alright. I… was having bad dreams."
"I could tell. I heard you muttering, 'Don't hurt her' over and over when I came in."
"Yes. The cobra. Anah. I'm… I was dreaming that the SS is hurting her."
"Didn't you say she's a familiar? I thought those were more like spirits."
"I'm not quite sure what she is sometimes. She's a familiar, but she was able to remove herself from the witch she used to serve. She shouldn't be able to be hurt, but somehow Augenstein has found the power to do so, unless this is all just a dream."
"In that case, I hope it's just a dream." Carter held out the bowl. "Here. Colonel Hogan asked me to ask if you were hungry."
The only thing Moffitt had to eat in the last twenty-four hours was the potato soup and bread in the cell back in Augsburg. Even though the oatmeal looked plain and bland, he wasn't feeling picky at the moment. "I'm starving, actually. Thank you."
"No problem. Is there anything else you need?"
"Not at the moment, although, you could tell me the time."
"It's a little after noon. You've been asleep all morning."
"I know I was told earlier that I shouldn't go into the barracks, but will I be cooped up here the entire time?"
"Depends. We've let guests come topside before. You just have to be careful and listen to what Hogan says."
"Fair enough. I don't want to endanger your operation."
"I know, but I don't blame you for feeling stuck down here." Carter motioned to the door. "If you want, I can ask the Colonel if you can meet the rest of the team."
"Go ahead." I have nothing better to do. The Sorcery Division is probably searching every inch of Augsburg looking for me, and I have no way of getting word to Troy. Moffitt paused. There is a radio here. Perhaps I can ask to send a message and have it relayed to Troy. He quickly shoveled the rest of the oatmeal in his mouth before leaving the room, and nearly ran over Carter as the young American was returning from the barracks.
"Sorry," Carter said. "What's the rush?"
"Radio. I need to use the radio," Moffitt replied.
"Can't. We need to make repairs once the storm passes."
Moffitt's hope deflated like a balloon. "Blast."
Carter gave him a sympathetic look. "Sorry. I hate being the bearer of bad news."
"It's alright. We can't control the weather."
"Yeah." Carter perked up a little. "Hogan said you can come upstairs if you'd like."
Moffitt followed Carter up a ladder and into a room full of bunk beds. The room was quite drafty, but a stove in the middle was glowing with a fire. A kettle for tea was being boiled, and a very short French corporal was stirring something in a pot on the stove. RAF and American airmen were either seated at a table or lounging in their bunks, reading, writing, or playing cards.
"Well, that's not a bird." An RAF corporal with a Cockney accent looked over at Moffitt. "That's a man who speaks the King's English."
"Then he's certainly not French," the French corporal grumped.
"Hey, we both lose, since he's not a woman."
Moffitt gave Carter a quizzical look, to which Carter said, "They're not trying to be rude. This is how they usually are."
"I see," Moffitt muttered.
The British corporal set down his deck of cards to shake Moffitt's hand. "Corporal Peter Newkirk. Nice to see a friendly face around here."
"Sergeant Jack Moffitt. I don't think I've ever heard of a prisoner-of-war camp where they house people of different nationalities together."
"This is camp for problem prisoners. You know, ones who keep trying to escape." Newkirk sat back down at the table, putting a cigarette in his mouth. "Would you like a smoke?"
"No, thank you."
"Alright, more for me, then." Newkirk took out a lighter. "Would you like to be entered in our poker game later tonight? A newcomer would throw everyone off."
"I've never really played poker before. Even if I did, I wouldn't play to gamble."
Newkirk's expression changed. "Oh, so, you're the real prim and proper type. No smoking, no gambling. What's next? No drinking?"
"I like a little wine or champagne with dinner, but aside from that, nothing. My father is a professor at Cambridge and I would hate to do something foolish that tarnishes his reputation."
"Cambridge. Ah, so you're a right snob, then."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Come on, Newkirk, that's not fair," Carter said. "He enlisted to prove he's more than his degree."
"Of course you side with him, Carter," Newkirk muttered.
"He fought in North Africa. That's more than you can ever say you did."
Newkirk stood, and Moffitt stepped in between them. "Alright, that's quite enough." He turned first to Newkirk. "Carter is right. I enlisted despite having gone through eight years of schooling. I did what few people, including my own father, would have expected someone in my position to do. I didn't call you an uncivilized lowlife just because you smoke, gamble, drink, and like the company of pretty women, now did I?"
Newkirk paused to think. "You didn't."
"Exactly. There's more to you than that, right? After all, Hogan's operation here probably wouldn't have been as successful if you were incompetent."
"No, it wouldn't." Newkirk sighed. "Right. I hope you accept my apology, then."
"I do." Moffitt turned next to Carter. "I'm fully capable of defending myself, thank you. You don't have to fight other people's battles for them."
"Sorry. Just… what he said wasn't called for," Carter said, looking down at the floor.
"No, it wasn't. I've never seen you in action, but I doubt my work in North Africa was any more or less meaningful than what you do here in Stalag 13."
Once both men had backed down, Moffitt heard Kinch say from his bunk, "I know you're here temporarily, but could you find a way to stay till the end of the war? You handled them really well."
Moffitt turned to see Kinch was smiling. "Do they argue often?"
"I wouldn't say 'often,' but yeah, they have been arguing a bit more than before. Probably because it feels like we're so close to the end but we're not sure where the finish line is. It's winter. It's snowing. We don't get a real Christmas. Everyone's bored. Makes fights easier to start."
Moffitt didn't want to imagine how unbearable Troy would become if he was trapped in a POW camp. "People's uglier sides start coming out."
"Pretty much. Going out on assignments helps, but with the weather, we won't be able to do that for a few days."
"So, everyone needs something to keep their minds occupied."
"Yeah."
Colonel Hogan stepped out from a room at the other end of the barracks. "I heard yelling. What's going on out here?"
"Everything's under control, sir," Kinch said.
Hogan cast a look to everyone in the barracks. "You guys know the rules. You want Schultz showing up while our visitor—" he pointed to Moffitt, "isn't in the tunnels?"
"No, sir," both Carter and Newkirk said.
"Alright. I know the weather is bad. You can be patient for another day or two. Newkirk, come in my office so we can talk."
"Right, sir." Newkirk set his cards down and followed Hogan into the room.
Silence fell over the barracks. Moffitt glanced at Carter, who was now seated at the table and staring at an ashtray.
"That wasn't a good introduction," Carter said.
"I can guarantee that one of the men I serve with, Sergeant Troy, would be a hundred times worse if he was in the same situation. He seems to be incapable of sitting still."
The brought a slight smile to Carter's face. "There'd be an escape attempt every day?"
"Maybe. I think he would succeed the first time."
"Well, if you haven't heard, no one has ever escaped from Stalag 13."
"I thought that was your assignment here. Help other prisoners escape."
"Yeah, but Klink doesn't know about it. He loves to tell any visitor that no one's ever escaped from Stalag 13. On his records, it's true. It's how we keep him around."
"So someone smarter doesn't take his place." Moffitt frowned. "Just how… clueless is this Klink anyway? No one gets to the rank of colonel by being stupid."
Carter shrugged. "We're still trying to figure that out. He's a bit on the gullible side, too."
"It sounds like this poor man failed his way upwards."
"I've thought that, but he does have his moments where he's smarter than we give him credit for. There's a lot we don't know about him, and there are times where I feel bad about how we treat him."
Moffitt's thoughts turned to Dietrich. It sounded like Klink was the opposite of Dietrich, but one thing that was the same was that Moffitt knew almost nothing about Dietrich. Nothing meaningful, that was.
Carter's voice pulled Moffitt from his mind. "Hey, you play chess?" The young American set a chessboard in front of him.
"I do, actually, and I'm quite good," Moffitt said.
"Well, don't go easy on me. Veidt's good, too, and he's won every game we've played against each other."
"Are you sure playing against someone who won five out of eight annual chess tournaments in university is a good idea?"
"Bigger challenge."
Moffitt smirked a little. "Alright, but don't forget you were the one who told me not to go easy on you."
Western Belgium
It didn't take long for the doctors and nurses to realize giving Troy permission to walk around was a big mistake, as was attempting to keep him in his room for more than an hour at a time. Troy refused to spend the next month doing nothing, not while Moffitt was likely being tortured by the SS.
A hospital formerly used by the Germans had been quickly converted to use by the Allies, and Troy had been sent there for his wound to be properly closed and bandaged, and his left arm put in a sling. He managed to rest for about a day, after a reasonable dose of painkillers, but as soon as he felt he could walk, out the door he went, determined to find someone who would let him go after Moffitt.
No luck.
"They're not going to let you go until you heal. Simple as that," Tully said. "We're stuck, and Moffitt… well, Moffitt's screwed if he doesn't manage to get himself out."
"He'll get himself out," Troy replied. "Doesn't mean I like the thought of him being alone with no help. The SS probably has him under tight security."
"What about Anah? He's got her."
"If she hasn't been incapacitated."
"She's a magic cobra. I don't think it'll be easy to take her out."
Hitch had been quiet up until that point. "What about Dietrich? Didn't that major we caught say we can contact him?"
"He did," Troy said. "That means we would be relying on Dietrich and Dietrich alone to rescue Moffitt, and I don't like that one bit. I'd rather be with him."
"Plus, how do we contact Dietrich?" Tully asked. "We'd have to physically go to him."
"Which brings us back to square one."
"I don't think Command's just going to leave Moffitt to rot in an SS cell, Sarge," Hitch said.
"I don't think so, either, but the weather's been bad, and I was shot. Right now, there's nothing we can do."
Troy couldn't even stay put while asleep, although what happened that night wasn't necessarily by choice. The hospital was dark when he opened his eyes. That was the worst part about having a windowless room. Cursing, Troy groped around for the lamp switch. He blinked as light suddenly filled the room, and saw he wasn't alone in bed. The jackal lifted its head from his legs, jaws parting in a yawn.
"What now?" Troy asked.
The jackal got off the bed, and faced Troy, who gave a heavy sigh before leaving the bed as well. He heard a faint whisper saying, "The snake has met the deer," over and over as he pulled his boots on, which was a bit of a challenge with his sling. Once his boots and robe were on, he approached the door. The jackal left first once Troy provided a wide enough space.
As soon as Troy stepped out into the hallway, he realized he wasn't in the same hospital. Every surface was sterile-white. There were devices being rolled around that he did not recognize. It was frightening in a way he couldn't describe, not with words, like he was seeing something that wasn't meant to be seen. The lights were bright, yet that offered no comfort. It was unnerving, and he wanted to wake up.
"What are you trying to show me?" Troy asked.
The jackal hung back to let Troy catch up, then stayed at his side as they walked. The doctors and nurses passing by paid them no attention, as if they weren't they at all. Eventually, the jackal stopped, and gestured with its head toward a room.
For some reason, Troy wasn't sure he wanted to open the door. He grasped the handle, looking down at the jackal. When it didn't react, Troy opened the door. He was greeted by a strange sight gathered around a bed. Moffitt was standing next to a deer, with Anah wrapped around his shoulders. A bear sat somewhat apart from them.
The jackal took its place between the deer and bear. Troy walked up to the bed, casting a nervous glance at the bear on his right. He forgot all about the little zoo gathered around when he saw what they were staring at—the bed was completely soaked in blood.
"Moffitt, what's this all about?" Troy asked, looking across the bloody bed at his friend.
No response.
"Damn it, Moffitt, what's going on?"
It seemed like everyone in the room was deaf apart from the jackal. Troy looked away when he couldn't stand looking at the blood anymore. When he looked back, he saw a familiar cap on the bedside table. "Dietrich." Troy looked at the jackal. "Is this… Dietrich's blood?"
His frustration grew to unmanageable levels the longer he stood there without answers, until he sat upright in his own bed, breathing hard. The jackal was nowhere to be found, and Troy could hear voices out in the hallway. He quickly put his boots on, but didn't bother tying them as he left the bed and opened the door.
Troy breathed a sigh of relief when he saw he was back in the Belgian hospital, and that Tully and Hitch were sitting on benches under the windows.
"Good morning, Sarge," Tully said. "Trying to escape again?"
"No. Not this time." Troy beckoned for the two privates to come into the room, where he described his dream from the previous night. "I was in a completely different hospital, one with strange devices that look more like something out of a horror movie. The jackal led me down the hall to a room where there was bed covered in blood. Moffitt was there, with Anah, and there was a bear and a deer that looked like it shouldn't have been able to get in the room with how wide its antlers were."
"I'm pulling this out of thin air, Sarge, but do you remember when Anah confirmed the location of the bear and deer?" Tully asked. "A POW camp with 13 in its designation?"
"Yeah, I remember. What about it?"
"Well, you said that you heard someone whispering, 'The snake has met the deer.' Wouldn't that imply that Moffitt is currently in this camp?"
"Could it be a trick?"
"I don't think so."
"Well, it's not exactly something I want to bring up with any of our commanding officers, because they'll think it's crazy."
"You thought this whole thing was crazy for a while, Sarge," Hitch said.
"I know."
"So, wouldn't you know better than anyone how to convince them it's not crazy?"
"That's a fair point. I'll think of something. First, I've got a job for both you—try to get that German major we captured here. I want to talk to him."
It took about a day, but eventually the doctors allowed Troy to leave the premises in order to visit Major Tausemann in a processing camp a few miles away from the hospital. The guards brought Tausemann into a room in one of the barracks. One of his pockets had been torn open, and a guard handed Troy a folded piece of paper. "Here's the major, and what he was carrying," the guard said.
"Thanks. You can leave. We'll be alright."
"Sergeant, prisoners are not permitted to be alone with guests—"
"This man saved my life and fired on SS troops. I think he's alright to be alone with me."
The guard nodded. "We'll be outside."
Troy waited until they left, then turned his attention to Tausemann. "Are they treating you alright?"
"Yes. The only thing I am not happy about is being separated from the enlisted men."
"Not sure there's anything I can do about that."
"I understand. What is it that you wanted to see me about?"
"What is Dietrich's current command?"
"He was assigned to escort a convoy from Würzburg to the front here in Belgium. The convoy was delayed due to the weather, so he is currently still in Würzburg. Open the paper. There is a map."
Troy unfolded the paper, and lay it flat on the table between him and Tausemann, who pointed at a spot in northern Bavaria.
"Here is Würzburg. It is just south of the towns of Hammelburg and Fuchsstadt," Tausemann explained.
"Do you know of any prisoner-of-war camps in that area?" Troy asked.
Tausemann gave him a confused look. "That is a Luftwaffe district, as far as prisoner-of-war camps go. There are several large camps, plus one specialized camp for frequent escapees."
"What about resistance activity?"
Tausemann's expression sobered. "There is a loosely organized group that operates between Düsseldorf and Hammelburg known as the Underground. I am… somewhat familiar with them. My brother was killed when a train was blown up near Hammelburg."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"It is alright. Anyway, one of my men, Sergeant Kohring, was kidnapped and held hostage by members of the Underground. He was eventually released, thank goodness, but it has made me nervous about letting anyone go on leave in that area."
Troy leaned in to lower his voice so the guards outside wouldn't hear. "They're being helped by POWs. Do you know anything about that?"
"I have heard rumors. Kohring overheard one of the Underground members say that a man known as 'Papa Bear' has contact with London." Tausemann leaned in as well, whispering, "Is this the bear in Dietrich's prophecy?"
Troy didn't bother asking how Tausemann knew about the prophecy. It wouldn't be a surprise if Dietrich had told him. "I've got reason to believe so, and I have reason to believe that Moffitt is with him."
"What is your reasoning?"
"Last night, I dreamt someone was whispering, 'The snake has met the deer,' to me. Moffitt's cobra told us shortly before we left North Africa that the bear and deer are in the same place together, in a prisoner-of-war camp with 13 in its designation."
Tausemann thought for a moment. "If this is true, it is quite a coincidence that Dietrich and Moffitt are within a few kilometers of each other."
"I don't think this is a coincidence."
"Neither do I." Tausemann pointed to Hammelburg on the map. "The camp you are looking for is Stalag 13. That is the camp for frequent escapees I was telling you about."
"Sounds like it'll be a challenge to break in."
"I doubt they will let you go on such a mission with your wound, Sergeant, and if any of this is true, it means Moffitt is safe."
"What if it's not true?"
"Then we had better start praying."
Hammelburg, Germany
Carter couldn't get it out of his head that he could be the deer in the prophecy Moffitt told him and the others about. It would explain why he had been seeing snakes and deer together in his dreams recently, and it kept him awake the night after Moffitt's arrival.
Aside from his brief conflict with Newkirk, Moffitt was welcomed with open arms in Barracks Two. Hogan had given Newkirk a stern talking-to, and since then, Newkirk did his best to be polite. It was also difficult not to overhear Kinch's conversation with Moffitt about their arguments. Kinch wasn't wrong; Carter and Newkirk had been arguing more, mainly in regards to Carter's rigid stance against blowing up trains or convoys carrying troops.
One would think that a team together for years would have an unbreakable bond. There were a lot of cracks beginning to show. When they weren't running missions for London or the Underground, things were good. Everyone was a brother to each other. With the front moving closer and closer to Stalag 13 each day, there were fewer chances to rest, fewer chances to be friends and brothers rather than comrades-in-arms, fewer chances to be individuals rather than components of one group. As Moffitt said, everyone's uglier sides were showing, but Carter couldn't fault them. Everyone wanted to go home, and they were willing to do whatever it took to get there. Carter wasn't willing to do anything. There was already a lot of death on his hands and he didn't want to add more.
He felt being part of this prophecy would only serve to further drive a wedge between him and the others. It was bad enough that he had a strange ability to sense magic and had a connection to deer, things no one else in camp had. A prophecy wouldn't help, but it wasn't like he chose his abilities. They had been there since birth.
Carter gave a quiet sigh as he left his bunk and went down into the tunnels below. He didn't want to wake Moffitt, but instead, he found Moffitt was sitting up in his cot, leaning against the dirt wall and breathing heavily, as if he had just come out of a bad dream.
"Are you okay?" Carter asked.
Moffitt didn't respond right away. He drew in a deep breath, then looked at Carter. "I am alright. Strange dreams. That's all."
"This is going to come across as weird, but I came to ask you something."
"What is it?"
"The prophecy you were telling Hogan about… I think I might be the deer. I've been having dreams about deer and snakes together and I can't think of any other explanation."
Moffitt was quiet for another moment, then he nodded a little. "Your friend, Veidt, mentioned that there was someone at Stalag 13 with Sioux heritage whose name in their language is Little Deer That Runs Swift And Sure Through Forest."
"That would be me. I've always had a… a connection of sorts to deer. Somehow, my mother knew it even before I was born, and that was why that name was given to me. I also have an ability to sense magic, in a way. Not to pinpoint it exactly, but just… knowing that it's there. I mean, when you arrived, I felt there was something different about you, but it felt like something was missing, like it had been taken away from you."
"The cobra pendant, most likely. I've had that for almost two years and it is still strange to think that I became good friends with a snake."
"Were you afraid of them?"
"No. I had to be used to their presence when I traveled in North Africa with my father."
"I never saw anything bigger than a garter snake back home. They never scared me. I can't stand spiders, though." Carter sat across from Moffitt. "So… am I the deer?"
"Only Anah knows, and I don't have her at the moment. I'd say there's a good chance that you are the deer."
"And… what exactly am I supposed to do now? You and I have to show someone an abyss?"
"Dietrich, yes."
"Seems odd that I would be involved despite not knowing Dietrich."
"It is a bit odd, but we can't change it."
"What is the abyss?"
"I don't know yet. That may be something you and I can ponder together. We have a bit of a bigger challenge on our hands, though."
"What?"
"Telling Colonel Hogan that he is the bear."