Chapter title is from the song "Lost Stars" by Jungkook.
Chapter Thirty-Seven: Lost Stars
Alice Maria Baker thought she knew suffering.
In her short career as a nurse, suffering grew familiar. As a child, she learned how to manage the heartbreak alongside the physical pain and overcome it if it became too much to handle. Whether she managed it well was up for debate, but she didn't let it bother her. Not anymore.
Having grown accustomed to an unconventional lifestyle, it took a lot to surprise her.
Her life started from her mother's poor decisions.
Her mother, a lady of the night, fell for one of her clients, an alcoholic soldier from the Great War. The romance developed into two daughters, though Alice doubted the identity of her real father. However, she couldn't confirm it, and so everything went downhill from there.
Raunchy activities appealed to Alice's mother more than being a mother, so she abandoned the family mere days before Alice's second birthday. Alice's father drank himself into a stupor every night, blaming Alice and her sister for their mother leaving. He used it as a poor excuse to slap them around or even lock them outside when the drinking got too heavy. Alice's mother probably never really loved him, so Alice didn't understand why he cared about the woman leaving.
Of course, Alice refused to succumb to the abuse. Whenever she and her sister got locked outside, she always found a way inside the house since her father always forgot about the spare key under the front porch mat.
Alcohol or not, he was rather stupid, and Alice prided herself on being clever. It still didn't save her from countless bruises or a trip to the hospital after one particularly bad night.
Alice's paternal grandparents despised the offspring of a tramp, so she and her sister went to live with Uncle Tommy Stone at an army base when her father finally kicked the bucket—or rather, kicked the bottle—a month after Alice's fifth birthday.
Uncle Tommy and Aunt Jenny were better parents than her actual parents, so Alice loved it there. The soldiers treated her like their little sister and looked out for her and her older sister, Mandy. They played in the camp, befriended the cooks, and played pranks on the soldiers. A sweet smile and a cute head tilt let them escape punishment from impressionable staff, so they never got in trouble.
By living on an army base for most of her life, she had seen all types of injuries. One time, aged nine, she attempted the obstacle course. It had rained earlier in the day, making the wooden structures slippery. She suffered a fractured tibia, a broken wrist, a dislocated hip, and a severe concussion that knocked her unconscious for an hour before someone finally discovered her lying in the mud. It left her in a hospital bed for months, and she had to relearn how to walk.
Her hip still hurt when the weather threatened a storm or after strenuous activity, but like the pain of her father's punches, she learned to ignore it. Life at the army base stayed mostly pain-free, and she could have forgotten about her awful parents.
Then, Mandy left and married the worst man Alice ever had the misfortune of meeting. He beat their father—quite literally, too—when it came to abusive tendencies. When Alice thought she would become an aunt, Mandy had a miscarriage after her first husband pushed her down the stairs. Due to the emotional pain of losing a child, Mandy turned to drugs and another barbaric husband who encouraged her wild behavior.
Mandy later died from a drug-induced incident, robbing Alice of her one and only friend. To overcome it, Alice tried dating.
It didn't work.
The one boyfriend she managed to keep for over a month ended up jumping off a bridge to escape the police. Unbeknownst to her, he had robbed a bank and threatened people at gunpoint, all of which she learned from an intense interrogation from the detective who found his body.
A natural fixer, Alice had thought she could change him. If she saw something—or someone—broken, she wanted to make it better. She had yet to succeed.
Uncle Tommy suggested she become a nurse to distract herself from Mandy's death. Instead of obsessing over her dead sister, she spent her time and energy aiding others. Wearing herself out each day made it easier to forget about the darkness sealed away in a corner of her mind. Being a nurse also meant she could help others instead of fixing herself.
She couldn't repair her family, Mandy, or her boyfriend. She did, however, make some headway with Suzie Barnes. When she first saw Suzie at Camp Barkeley, Alice immediately swooped in and began yet another attempt to fix yet another damaged person.
It worked, for a while, and Alice even started to consider Suzie—and yes, even Richard—a friend. Usually, Alice avoided making friends because nobody could ever replace Mandy. But something about Suzie made Alice miss the simple joys of having someone to talk to and trust. Sure, Suzie had her issues—her stubbornness made her almost too naive—but so did Alice.
Besides, Suzie needed someone to look out for her. Additionally, Alice didn't mind her friend having an attractive brother. Sergeant Barnes had looks and charm and didn't treat her like trash. Alice could never seem to escape finding broken men, yet she could look past the haunted expression in his eyes. Charms and all, he had the skill to back it all up, all of which Alice's previous 'lovers' sorely lacked.
Where had he been all her life?
After Sgt. Barnes's death, any progress - and hope - Alice had vaporized. Suzie reverted to the silent, brooding, joyless figure she had been when they had first met. Alice offered to talk but Suzie shut herself into a tiny box and refused to open up, not even to Richard.
Alice couldn't blame her. She had first-hand experience of losing a beloved sibling. Poor Suzie had lost several members of her family in the span of a year, and nothing could ever undo it. It seemed Alice and Suzie shared the same coping mechanisms. Diving deeper into a job sounded easier than facing complex emotions.
Alice thought she had experienced enough pain to figure out how to navigate it. This, however, hurt worse than her dislocated hip, her father's punches, her mother's abandonment, her sister's drug-induced death, or watching a friend suffer alone.
A long time ago, Alice wished to trade her life with anyone. Now, Alice wouldn't trade it for anything because Flossenbürg woke her up to other people's realities.
Holy hell, she thought she had it bad. These people had it so much worse.
Just looking at them sent shivers of pain clawing into every nook and cranny of her body and tearing straight into her very soul. Nausea bubbled up whenever she saw the pale, emancipated skeletons lying on the rickety beds. Once, she prided herself on being able to handle some of the worst injuries other nurses shied away from. She thought herself desensitized to blood, pain, and death.
Now, her entire viewpoint of life vaulted itself off a bridge, just like her crazy ex-boyfriend. She almost would've preferred to handle a severed limb or the rather nasty abscess Suzie had at Camp Barkeley instead of treating the half-dead prisoners. Simple injuries from common occurrences or plane stupidity didn't require Alice to think. She wouldn't have to think about the conditions of the work camp or the way the Nazis treated the prisoners. She could flip autopilot on and finish her job, but the taut faces and sunken eyes refused to let her slip into numbness. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't look away, couldn't ignore it.
The large-scale suffering brought along the worst typhus outbreak she had ever witnessed, sending more and more prisoners into a shallow grave every day. She'd never seen so many sick people in her entire life, let alone in one place.
And she hated it.
She hated the Nazis for their wicked ways. She hated her younger self for wishing she could swap her life for someone else's. She hated how she couldn't fall into a blissful numbness while also hating herself for even desiring such a thing when these people required help.
Most of all, she hated how hate had been the cause of the war. It had started from a simple loathing of someone different and exploded into a firey rage of enslavement, abuse, and death at the hands of the most hateful people to ever walk the planet.
Staring down at the sleeping toddler face of Franciszek, Alice tried and failed to suppress the horror welling in her gut. A corner of Suzie's jacket slipped as the little boy shifted in his sleep, and Alice tucked it tighter around his frail body.
He had gained weight in the weeks Alice had been at the camp. The entire medical staff and other military personnel still waited for an order from the brass, so Alice stayed at the camp. Moving the prisoners right now risked more dying along the way, and few places in Allied-occupied Germany could house and handle a large-scale population.
For now, staying in the remnants of the Flossenbürg camp offered the best solution. Still, it would take time for everyone to recover from the atrocities committed. Most of the staff ran on fumes. Alice knew sleep evaded everyone except those who long ago fell into an ignorant numbness to avoid collapsing into a useless pile of tears.
During breaks, they ate out of sight of the sick patients. The thought of food often brought a sense of unfairness and nausea. How could they eat normally when the patients couldn't? Alice knew allowing the former prisoners unrestricted access to food could harm them. They required a strict diet to reintroduce them to normal food to avoid potential overeating and possible death. It didn't seem fair, but the staff needed the energy to help prevent patients from dying.
And so Alice ate, not for herself but for the people whose lives rested in her hands. Like Franciszek, whose skin had regained some color and lungs no longer sounded like he inhaled a bucket of gravel. Suzie would love to hear an update if Alice ever found the time and energy to write.
Franciszek also loved the little teddy bear. He didn't seem to understand or notice it, but it sat on the bedside table watching him day and night like a little fluffy guardian. One day he'd understand it as a gift of hope - hope that the dawn always comes after the darkest of storms.
He would live. As long as nobody attacked the camp or something drastic happened, he would live. At such a young age, he probably wouldn't even remember anything about Flossenbürg.
Trauma—for better or worse—had a funny way of blocking out memories. Hopefully, he would grow up unaware of what he had suffered. At least Alice wished it would happen because ignorance was bliss, and sometimes the truth hurt worse than well-meaning lies.
Taking another moment to stare at Franciszek's sleeping face, Alice brushed a strand of hair from his eyes. Heaving a deep sigh, she moved on to her next patient, hoping Suzie, Richard, and the rest of the 358th fared better.
They were lost.
April showers did not bring May flowers. Instead, it brought a nasty thunderstorm which sent the small scouting party scrambling for shelter from the onslaught of hail and stinging rain in the pitch-black night. When the storm finally cleared, nobody knew where they were.
Suzie couldn't navigate for shit, Richard prided himself more on being an academic instead of a rugged outdoorsman, and Charlie Graham lost their only map in their mad dash for shelter.
The brass sent the team to map out the current locations of nearby towns and note potential enemy whereabouts. It sounded easy enough, yet the group of five found themselves nowhere near civilization. Cold, hungry, tired, and soaking wet, nobody knew the way back to camp. It made everyone grouchy.
What a fine team. If they ever found their way back, the brass would chew them up and spit them out for failing their easy job.
The lack of signs in the region didn't help their situation, even if anyone could read Czech. Suzie usually navigated using landmarks, but since she had been on 'guard duty' while the others mapped out the land, she didn't pay close attention to anything other than potential enemy hiding places. Nothing looked familiar, and she'd much rather find someone to ask for directions than stand shivering in sodden clothes somewhere in Czechoslovakia.
Asking for directions was out of the question. They couldn't divulge the location of their camp, and anyone—citizen or not—wouldn't take kindly to a group of American soldiers. It risked drawing the attention of the Germans, so they had to find another way.
They were on their own. Richard and Suzie, who carried rifles, maintained watch while the other three soldiers argued.
Private Charlie Graham, a stocky twenty-one-year-old former football player, had more muscle than brains. Why they entrusted him to carry their map in the first place, Suzie had no idea. He did have a good heart and an upbeat attitude, but he might have suffered one too many concussions in his football career. He came in handy during fights but struggled when it came to higher thinking.
Private Luis Cortez, a thirty-year-old businessman from Los Vegas, valued appearances, fashion, money, and the finer things in life over hard work. He maintained the finances at a well-to-do casino, which explained why he lacked any navigational prowess or other outdoorsy-related abilities. He also liked to run his mouth and complain to anyone nearby. Right now, it meant subjecting everyone to his complaints about wet socks and blistering heels as well as the audible growling in his stomach.
The only one competent enough to lead the group had an ego big enough that if his head got any bigger he could use it to float away like a head-shaped hot air balloon. Private First Class Clyde Fisher had the age and experience of an old man and the attitude of a whiny schoolboy. Somewhere in his late forties, his ever-increasing bald spot in his thinning hair left him the butt of many old-person jokes. Unfortunately, his age didn't equal his abilities because he rarely ever confirmed his boastful declarations of skill. He also insisted on doing everything by the books, including having the privates salute him, even though he barely held any rank over the rest of them.
"I thought you volunteered for this job," Cortez said more as a statement than a question.
Pfc. Fisher, their unofficial leader, balked. "I did. And we're not lost, we're just...taking a detour."
Cortez scoffed. "We're doomed."
Fisher scowled and pointed at Graham like a frustrated teacher calling out a misbehaving student. "If he didn't lose the map, we wouldn't have this problem."
"What did I do?" Graham practically pouted, his blue eyes wide like a guilty puppy.
"We wouldn't have this problem if you could actually navigate," Cortez shot back in defense of Graham. "You probably volunteered 'cause you wanna impress your old lady."
"I volunteered 'cause it's my job," Fisher snapped. "And for the record, her name is Ella and she's the prettiest dame to walk the face of the earth."
"Can she navigate?" Graham asked, unaware how his innocent question made Fisher angrier.
"She's probably got a job where it's required," Cortez added. Unlike Graham, he had a mischievous grin on his face. He clearly enjoyed antagonizing the old man.
"She's a schoolteacher," Fisher growled, falling right into Cortez's trap.
Cortez whistled low and feigned surprise. "At least someone in your relationship has brains."
The comment earned him a small laugh from Graham and a smoldering glare from Fisher. Even Suzie had to look away and stifle a giggle.
Fisher looked ready to smack Cortez over the head with his canteen, so Richard stepped in before the argument could dissolve into a full-on fight.
"Whelp," Richard said. "One thing's for sure. We are taking the scenic route."
That much was true.
The May weather had melted all the snow and the surrounding plants already had a bright green hue. Spruce dominated the few beech, sycamore, and ash trees fanning around the area near the small parish village of Kirchaitnach. The woods thinned in density the further they walked, leaving poor coverage from an attack. The wide-open land near Kirchaitnach had lone buildings spread between about twelve square miles. To cover the large area, the 90th had split into smaller groups. This resulted in the scouting party becoming lost amongst the hills, patches of woods, and fens.
Brilliant yellow and white wildflowers popped out of the ground in the fen the group currently stood in. The prettiest wetland Suzie had ever been in squelched with each step, and despite the warm sun shining high beyond the fluffy clouds, Suzie's toes started to grow cold from the water seeping into her boots.
The roof of a large, barn-like building—the first sign of civilization they had seen in hours—jutted out beyond a cluster of trees standing atop a hill. Deciding to move instead of staying in one place to argue, the group ducked amongst the trees to get a better view of the building.
It looked like any other barn built smack dab in the middle of nowhere. The red paint faded from exposure to the sun and weather. A few holes in the slanted roof needed fixing. The old structure seemed abandoned and beyond repair, yet none of the old-timey appearances warranted such a threatening aura.
The threatening aura arose from the three military vehicles parked outside in a blatant disregard of subtly. If not for nothing being around for miles in every direction, the military presence would have caused enough concern for the brass to note it on their map before they sent the scouting party out.
How had the small convoy escaped attention? They weren't exactly hiding very well.
The group dropped to their stomachs and crawled as far forward past the trees as they dared to get a better view. Suzie slung her rifle over her shoulder and peered through her binoculars.
"There's two guards outside the front door," Suzie noted.
"Two more up in the loft," Richard added.
"German?" Fisher asked.
"Russian," Suzie replied. The uniforms were more brown than US green or German blue. The trucks outside also matched the descriptions of standard Russian vehicles.
"What are the Russians doing out here?" Graham asked. He held his rifle, ready in case of an attack.
"Aren't they supposed to be fighting on the Eastern Front?" Richard asked no one in particular.
"That's the opposite of the Western Front," Cortez clarified for Fisher's benefit. When Fisher opened his mouth to retort, Cortez added, "I bet Ella knew that."
Before another argument could ensue and announce their presence to the Russians, Richard cut in, "They're allies. We shouldn't worry."
"Great, then let's ask them for directions," Cortez said. He moved to stand up, his rifle hanging carelessly from his shoulder instead of in his hands.
A warning bell rang in Suzie's head, so she grabbed his arm and yanked him to the ground. "We can't just go wandering over."
"Why not? They're on our side," Cortez shrugged nonchalantly, unfazed about the pit of worry tightening in Suzie's stomach.
"If they were on our side, wouldn't the brass be aware of their presence? We would've known if the Russians had troops out this far."
"Maybe they're being covert. You wouldn't exactly announce your location if you didn't want anyone to find you." Annoyingly, Cortez had a point.
Something still seemed off. The remoteness of the barn, trucks, soldiers—they were protecting something. Something too secretive to share with allies, more secretive than Operation Overland, the plans of which the Allies had shared. As far as she knew, the top brass from each Allied nation kept each other informed.
Either the brass knew nothing about the Russians here or they didn't share the information with the scouting group.
The bad feeling crept into Suzie's gut. A voice in her head yelled at her to 'Get out!' and 'Run!' At the same time, the voice also urged her to check out the barn because she had to see what the Russians guarded. Something in there needed her to find—to save—it, and she couldn't leave until she saw it for herself.
Although she knew the Russians were allies, she didn't trust them. Their mere existence sent a shiver down her spine, the same warning of bad people she had felt at the church in Brooklyn.
Suzie's throat suddenly became dry, and she had to work enough saliva through it to snap at the other men. "No offense, but how are we supposed to know if there are Russian troops in this area if we don't even know where we are?"
That shut them up for a bit. At least until Fisher puffed his chest, patted his sidearm, and stood up.
"As the highest ranking member of this team, I say we talk to them. They're our allies, so we can trust them."
"We can't just go wander over there!" Suzie protested, knowing she sounded a little whiny. She didn't trust the Russians, and the entire, heavily guarded barn seemed rather ominous like the tide suddenly receding on a beach before a tsunami hits. As much as she wanted to find out what the Russians protected, they needed a plan, preferably one where nobody gets shot.
"I'm with Barnes on this one," Richard agreed. He was the only one who seemed to sense her hesitation for something other than cowardice. Thank goodness for Richard. "We need to think this through."
"And what do you say we should do, Misters Pansies One and Two," Cortez teased. He even gave the two a mock salute.
"We list the facts." Suzie counted the items off on her fingers. "We're lost in the middle of nowhere. There's a team of at least four visible Russians guarding something in that barn, and there's probably more inside. They've got trucks, the high ground, and cover. If we suddenly walk out of the trees, they'll probably shoot first and ask questions later."
The team absorbed the information for a moment. Then Fisher gave Graham a hearty slap on the back. "We'll send a messenger. I nominate Graham here to go first."
"Me?!" Graham exclaimed. His face paled at the prospect. Usually, he didn't care about fighting, but he always had others around him. Going off alone as a messenger went way out of his comfort zone.
"Don't make me turn it into an order, boy," Fisher threatened. "You can wave a white flag or something to show you're no threat."
"Yeah, we can use your undies as the flag, Fisher," Cortez chortled. He stifled his laughter when Fisher smacked him on the back of his head.
"I don't like this," Suzie said. Worry gnawed at her, and she gave the barn a nervous glance.
"If we didn't need sharpshooters on lookout, I'd send you as the messenger," Fisher said to Suzie. He clapped his hands together to grab everyone's attention. "It's decided. We'll send Graham to talk to them and hopefully find out where we are. The rest of us will wait until it's sorted out."
He turned to Suzie and Richard. "You two, keep a lookout in case things go south. Graham, leave your rifle behind. Your sidearm, too."
"But, what if..."
Fisher held up a hand to cut Graham off. "No buts. Carrying a weapon won't make you look friendly." He rounded on Cortez, leaving Graham to unclip his sidearm and set it beside his rifle. "Cortez, you and I will guard our six. If things go bad, we all get the hell out of here.
"Let's get to it, men! We don't have all day. The brass is already gonna chew us out when we get back, so let's not be out here any longer than we have to."
Graham finished disarming himself and now stood trembling in his boots. His face had not regained color, and a glistening of sweat beaded on his forehead. Suzie reluctantly split from Richard to find a good firing position. As she settled onto her stomach below a bushy tree, she tried not to think of all the ways this could go wrong.
What if the Russians didn't speak English? What if they were Nazis in disguise? What if they had a tank inside the barn? What if they already knew the location of the 358th's camp and were mounting an attack?
She knew she shouldn't think such things about an ally, but she couldn't squash the alarm bubbling in her stomach like a volcano about to burst. Something was wrong.
She watched in silent turmoil as Graham stepped out of the tree line, his hands raised to show he had no ill intent. From her limited view through her rifle scope, she saw him slowly approach the two guards who stood at the front door of the barn.
The Russians aimed their guns at Graham the instant they noticed him, but they didn't shoot. They conversed for a while then one of the guards slipped inside the building while the other kept his gun trained on Graham who still had his arms up.
It took an agonizingly long moment before the first guard reappeared. He led Graham and the other guard around the side of the building, stepping behind a truck and out of Suzie's view. She could only see three pairs of feet moving from the gap underneath the truck. Worry seized inside her, making her sweat despite lying in the cool shade of the woods.
She heard the gunshot before she saw a man fall. The bang startled her and she had to re-aim her rifle to peer through the scope to find out what happened.
Two pairs of feet instead of three stood behind the truck. A body lay prone on the ground, his face obscured by a large tire, but she could see the green of a US uniform.
Graham was dead.
No!
Suzie scrambled to her feet and sprinted as fast as she could while keeping low to the ground. Out of breath, she stumbled into Richard, who also had the same idea to find Fisher and Cortez.
"What happened?" Fisher asked when they all reconvened as if he didn't already know.
"They shot Graham," Richard answered.
"What?!" Cortez hollered. His dark brows pinched together in guilt and he threw his helmet onto the ground.
Everyone had liked Graham. He had been a cheery man and somehow never had enemies in the troops. Sure, some people exploited his naiveness, but they never intended to hurt him or get him in trouble.
"We go get his body back and teach those bastards a lesson," Fisher growled and pounded his fist into his palm for good measure.
Anger surged in Suzie's chest. Fisher had been the one to get Graham killed, and now he acted like the poor man had any choice in the matter. If Fisher actually cared about Graham, he wouldn't have sent Graham alone and unarmed in the first place.
"I hate to say I told you so, but we should leave," Suzie hissed. She jabbed a finger into Fisher's chest. "Graham's dead 'cause you're too pig-headed to listen to anyone else. Maybe you should've been the one to go talk to them, not Graham."
"Know your place, Private," Fisher said, once again pulling his meager rank. "Don't talk to me like that."
"Don't act like you cared. You're too damn stuck-up and stupid to lead."
"Hey, hey, hey!" Richard stepped between the two and shoved them away from each other. "Now's not the time to argue. We've got a man down, and no way back to camp. Either we leave or we fight. Negotiating is out of the question, but the only advantage we have right now is the element of surprise. Avenge Graham or retreat. Whatever we choose, we all have to agree to it. Understood?"
The soldiers stood fuming in silence. Cortez's finger traced the top of his sidearm, anger flashing in his dark eyes. Fisher huffed out a deep sigh, lit a cigarette, and shoved it into his mouth. Richard knowingly kept a hand on Suzie's shoulder to stop her from punching Fisher right in his stupid face.
"There's four of us and who knows how many of them," Richard reiterated.
Fisher threw his half-finished cigarette onto the ground and drove his heel into it to snuff it out. "We fight. We'll wait til nightfall then Cortez and I will sneak up on the side while you two stay out here to cover us. All in agreement say 'aye.'"
"Aye," Cortez said.
Richard glanced at Suzie before nodding. "Aye."
Suzie squeezed her eyes shut. Oh, what the hell. She had nothing to live for anymore, so why not go down swinging? It was a stupid plan, but most of her plans involved some level of stupidity anyway. If she died, then at least she died somewhere pretty. "Aye."
For once in agreement, the team trekked deeper into the woods to put some distance between them and any potential Russian patrols. After finding a small enclave to set up camp, they rotated guards, ate only the bare minimum, and mourned Graham's death in silence.
When the sun finally sank below the horizon and the first stars twinkled in the sky, the quartet set out. In the light of the moon, they reached their earlier location along the tree line and broke into two groups. Suzie and Richard split off to reposition themselves in their previous spots while Cortez and Fisher snuck closer to the barn, their pistols in hand and rifles slung across their backs.
Suzie waited until Fisher peered around the corner of the barn and raised his gun to shoot one of the guards in the head at point-blank range before she fired off a shot at a guard standing in the second-floor window. Both Russians dropped, and then all hell broke loose.
Two more Russians fell at the hands of the quartet. Cortez caught up to Fisher's side and the two dove for cover in the motor pool.
Bullets rained down on the duo. So far unaware of the two sharpshooters posted in the woods, the Russians aimed their attack at the others tucked behind the parked trucks. Metal pinged against metal and retaliatory metal thudded against wood. The glass windshield shattered on one of the trucks, the shards glimmering in the dim light.
Cortez stood up, his pistol raised to fire at a guard running for cover inside the barn. A shot from a soldier on the upper floor splattered Cortez's brains over the hood of the truck. He slumped out of view to the ground, leaving behind a smear of blood on the hood shining in the pale moonlight.
Suzie shot the soldier who had killed Cortez while Richard clipped the first retreating guard in the leg before the barn door slammed closed. Fisher wisely kept himself hidden.
A lull in the fighting pitched the night into silence as both sides ran out of visible targets to shoot. Suzie swept the barn, looking for any sign of retaliation. All the windows were empty, and all the doors stayed closed. Nobody made any appearance for several minutes.
A small grenade flying out of one of the second-story windows broke the pause. Suzie watched helplessly as the grenade landed where Fisher had been hiding amongst the trucks.
He ran as fast as he could before being flung to the ground from a fiery shockwave. One of the trucks caught fire. Metal screeched and more glass burst from the explosion.
A volley of bullets tore into Fisher before he even had the chance to stand. His body convulsed from the numerous hits, shaking on the ground like a bloody rag doll. Suzie took the opportunity to shoot the now reappeared soldiers who stood exposed in the windows.
Five more fell to Suzie and Richard's wrath, but Suzie could tell more hid inside. She aimed for another guard and pulled the trigger. Her empty rifle clicked and she flung it to the side in frustration.
Out of options and patience, he jogged toward Richard. Unclipping her sidearm, she slid to a halt at his side.
"How much ammo do you have left?" Suzie asked, her breaths coming short and quick from both the physical exertion and the rush of adrenaline.
"Not much," Richard said. "You?"
"I'm out. Just my sidearm now."
"We should retreat."
Suzie shook her head. "I've gotta find out what they're hiding."
Richard reeled back in disbelief. "Suzie, earlier you said we should leave, and now you changed your mind?!"
"I know. I know. It's just..."
She couldn't explain it. Something was pulling her—urging her—to enter the barn and find out why the Russians cared so much about secrecy that they were willing to shoot an Allied soldier and blow up one of their own trucks to prevent anyone from entering.
"I need to know, Richard. I can't leave 'til I find out. I have to go."
Richard ran a hand through his hair and gave Suzie a long, hard look. "What's your gut saying?"
"It's never been wrong." Anxiety seized her hard, and she felt dizzy from the sudden wave of panic. "Richard, you've gotta trust me. I gotta do this."
Richard checked his watch, reloaded his rifle, and nodded. "You've got twenty minutes to get in and get out. After that, I'm going in to get you."
Suzie shook her head. "I can't let you do that. It's too risky."
Richard reached out to place his hand on Suzie's cheek. His eyes stared straight into Suzie's in the most intense expression she had seen on his face. "You're my best friend, Suzie. If you're gonna do something stupid, then I gotta get you out of it. I'm not leaving 'til I know you're safe."
Suzie relented. "Be careful out here."
"You should heed your own advice, dummy," Richard teased, a half-hearted smile tugging on his lips. "Twenty minutes, pal. Twenty minutes."
Suzie nodded and took off running. Weaving between the trees, she stumbled out of the woods and followed the path already cleared by Cortez and Fisher. She reached the side of the barn near a small side door uncontested.
This side of the barn did not have any bullet holes punched into the wood. Above her, the entire wall boasted rotting wood which stank of mold and dead animals. No upper windows meant no soldiers shooting her—at least until she moved.
Resting her head against the side of the barn, she sucked in a deep breath. She glanced down to check the clip in her pistol and pulled the hammer back to let a bullet slide into the chamber, arming herself the best she could for such a stupid plan. Alice would kill her if she found out about this suicidal adventure.
"Lord, please don't let this be a mistake," she prayed to herself.
Then she pivoted to kick open the side door and storm inside.
You might remember Graham from chapter 13. Did Graham, Fisher, and Cortez die mere days before VE day on May 8, 1945? Perhaps.
Also, I've got a YouTube channel now (link in profile). Who knows if I'll keep posting things on there, but at least one video is up.