This is a bridge of sorts from the last chapter(Nate 31) And the
chapter to come. Had to be set up this way.
Thanks Maggie for being a great beta. I appreciate it.
Any
characters you recognize belong to Sherrilyn Kenyon or Laurell K. Hamilton. I’m
just doing this for fun. This is rated PG-13 to be safe.
I had steered the crippled Mustang toward a large lake hoping the
Germans on my tail would think I was going to bail out before it hit the water.
I didn't. Instead I played dead, cautiously making corrections to stay on
course with a water landing.
Actually there was not going to be a landing. I was crashing.
Bracing my self as the water came up to meet the plane, I was amazed if only
for a second at the sheer violence of the impact. Both wings were torn off. The
canopy all but disintegrated around me as cold water poured in. I took a deep
breath praying that the German fighters would be gone when I ran out of air and
had to surface.
When I couldn't hold my breath any longer, I finally swam up. With
just my head visible I quickly scanned the area. Seeing nothing and no one, I
exited the water and headed for the tree line. Cold and wet I needed to find
shelter, preferably someplace warm. The French resistance had people in the
area I was told, but finding them could prove challenging.
I'd walked a good five miles through the woods before I found an
old well house. My clothes had dried somewhat but I was still cold and tired.
The place looked like it hadn't been used in years. I was surprised to actually
find that there was still water in the well. As thirsty as I was, I didn't even
think about contamination. Water never tasted so good. I sat down in a corner,
my back to the wall and fell asleep.
I woke up to sunshine and two young boys staring at me. They
couldn't have been more than five and eight with dark brown hair and brown
eyes. They were dressed in short pants and knit sweaters.
I was just about to try my bastardized French on them when they
both hightailed it yelling, “Papa! Papa!”
Shit. I tried to stand but my legs wouldn't hold me. The effects
of the crash had caught up to me. So I
waited for whatever fate had in store.
The boys were soon back with a man and a woman in their mid fifties,
farmers more than likely. She was dressed in a blue cotton dress with slacks
underneath. He had on long pants and a sweater similar to the boys’.
He also had a shotgun. I
kept my eye on the weapon as they both fired a bunch of questions at me. Some I
could understand. American? Yes. Pilot? Yes… and so it went. Finally the man
handed the shotgun to his wife and moved to help me up.
It hurt to walk. Everything felt cramped but with his help I made
it to the door. Outside a wagon waited that took me to their home. I bathed in an old fashioned tub. The wife
bandaged my cuts and scrapes from the crash.
I was shown to a room in the cellar. Dinner was brought down to me, plenty of bread, soup, and water.
The farmer assured me that the local resistance would be notified. To thank
them, I gave them all of the French francs that I was carrying. I wouldn't be
needing them after all.
As I was drifting off to sleep I heard another female voice
upstairs. It was their daughter I guessed and she was obviously not happy that
her parents were harboring the enemy.
I awoke the next day to find her staring down at me. She was pretty with long brown hair and
hazel eyes. What bothered me was the way she looked at me, like I was Satan
himself. It was like that for the next few days.
I spent most of my time talking to the parents and playing games
with the boys who I found out were named Gerard and Louis. The eight year old helped me with my French
and I taught him some
English. Marie, the daughter, Gerard told me was infatuated with a
German officer stationed in the next village. The parents didn't think it was a
problem. They were wrong.
The day I was supposed to meet up with the resistance, Marie
showed up with the boyfriend and about a half dozen of his buddies. I gave up.
I was actually naive enough to think that it would help. They shot the boys
first as the mother’s screams filled the air. Marie screamed too. I guess the
boyfriend had told her he wouldn't hurt them. She was sobbing as her family
died in front of her.
I screamed that I would see her in hell. My heart screamed for
revenge even as the bullet from the Mauser entered my head. My last vision was
of the boys in a pool of blood.
Screaming in frustration and anger I woke, my sight momentarily
blinded by the invisible bullet. Running up the stairs I threw open the bedroom
door. Nathan sat there breathing hard, hand clutching his chest. I knew the
tears running down his face mirrored mine. Neither one of us could speak.