The Gabrielle Series Boxed Set

by Zachary Chopchinski

  After a few moments of only the sound of their combat boots methodically pounding the unforgiving earth, Fausto began to whistle to himself. Gabrielle smiled. She knew this stretch of necessary silence was driving him mad.

  As the group walked further down the road, a large red barn began to slowly emerge on the horizon. According to the map, Gabrielle pulled out of her pack, there was a large farm ahead that held several small buildings and sat on a wide-open lot. This would be the halfway point to the next village and a good place for the group to stop.

  Fausto’s eagerness to relieve himself of this boring trek had become apparent as they neared the building, his whistling grew louder and louder. Lyudmila stopped mid-step, causing Fausto to run face first into her as she turned to face him.

  “Must you always make noise?” she snapped, a look of utter un-amusement stretched across her long face.

  “Why do you find it necessary to be so boring? Does the boredom not drive you mad? We have not seen an enemy or even heard an animal in what seems to be hours. We are alone in this country. Oh, I know, we could sing! Come on Lyudmila, sing with me!” Fausto got out one note of a song before Gianni slapped his son on the back of the head causing him to flinch and slam his mouth shut.

  “You would do best to hush your tones! The both of you!” Gianni snapped, stepping between the two and staring them both down. Gabrielle hated it when the group bickered like this. It made her want to scream at the top of her lungs. She was already on her way to die another horrible death, she didn’t need to deal with them fighting all the time on top of it.

  “We’re almost to the farm. We’ll stop for lunch and rest,” Gabrielle interrupted, stepping forward, laying her hand on Gianni’s shoulder who maintained his glare at his son.

  “When we get there,’ Gabrielle continued, trying her best to soften the mood. “Fausto can sing as loudly as he wants. Lyudmila, you can hit him as hard as you want for doing so.” A tense moment of silence was broken as Fausto smiled and patted his father on the shoulder.

  “Gabrielle is right. See, you both have something to look forward to. Lyudmila can try and fail at hitting me and, Father, you can get lunch. We all know at your age, you grow tired when hungry…” Fausto joked, hopping backward as Gianni swatted his open hand at his son.

  “She’s right. Let’s just get to the farm, and we can all relax for a while,” Lyudmila spoke up as she turned and walked ahead of the group.

  Fausto looked from Lyudmila to his father, who was pointing at Lyudmila, the sign to shut up and follow her. Fausto rolled his eyes and started after her. Gianni looked at Gabrielle with a sheepish smile, and they all began to walk again.

  “He better hope Lyudmila forgets that promise before we get there. The Russian’s were never ones to back down,” Gianni jested, following the rest of the group.

  “Well, from what I can tell, neither do the Italians,” Gabrielle shot back, poking at Gianni, a laugh threatening to burst from her lips. After a few moments, the sound of whistling crept back into the air.

  “Fausto!” Gianni shot, tired of the foolishness of his son.

  “Papà, it’s not me,” Fausto returned. The whistling grew louder, and Gianni turned to face Gabrielle, his face pale as death. Without a word, he grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her to the side of the road, casting her down the edge of the ditch.

  She came to a stop at the base of the ditch, and as she brought her head up, the road they had just been standing on exploded, sending earth and gravel into the air. Another whistling noise rang, then another explosion several feet up the road in the direction of where Fausto and Lyudmila had just been moments ago!

  “Stay down!” Gianni yelled, throwing himself over Gabrielle as another shell came down, just missing them and exploding beyond the crest of the ditch. The entire aground shook, and for a moment Gabrielle thought she had gone deaf from the violent ringing in her ears. She tried to pull herself out of the ditch but she was disoriented from the blast, and she couldn’t discern which way was up. Two identical Giannis appeared at the edge of her vision. They were both yelling at her, but she could only see their lips moving in tandem. Slowly the two Giannis merged until the real man sat before her screaming something incomprehensible. He motioned to her rifle, then to the crest of the other side of the ditch.

  The explosions were growing closer. They had to get out of the ditch and move to safety. Gianni got to his knees and made his way up the side of the ditch. He motioned over his shoulder for Gabrielle to follow him. Without thought, she rolled onto her stomach and then pushed herself to a crawling position. As she got up behind Gianni, she looked down the length of the ditch for Fausto and Lyudmila. Her vision was still blurred, and she could only hear the ringing in her ears, but she was certain Fausto and Lyudmila were nowhere to be seen.

  Her stomach churned, and she stopped for a moment to concentrate on not throwing up. She said a silent prayer that her friends had made it to someplace safe as she drew in gritty gasps of dirt laced air. A tap on her shoulder drew her attention up. Gianni was signaling for her to follow him. She had to stay focused. Get to Arawn. Whatever it takes. She thought, and she ground her teeth and pushed herself over the edge of the ditch.

  Gabrielle followed Gianni who low-crawled toward the cover of a grouping of trees that lined the road. When they stopped at the base of a wide oak tree, the ground shook again as two more explosions rattled Gabrielle to her core.

  Watching Gianni was like watching a surgeon perform an open heart procedure. His face was a mask of concentration. The wrinkles of fear that littered Gabrielle’s once smooth skin were completely absent in the older man.

  Gianni tapped her once more and pointed to a spot roughly a hundred yards from their position. A mostly run down grain silo house was taken over by what looked to be a mortar team of twelve German soldiers. They couldn’t go in that direction. The two of them couldn’t take on an entire mortar team of trained men.

  Gianni was surveying the team off in the distance when Gabrielle noticed a wooden fence line that started several feet behind them but led directly to the mortar group. The fence was hidden by dense brush. This could serve as the perfect cover. She shook Gianni’s arm and pointed to the fence. He gave a confirmatory nod, and the two slowly slid back away from the tree.

  Crawling as low as they possibly could, Gabrielle and Gianni made their way to the fence and the cover that it provided. The mortar bombardment continued around them as they collected themselves behind the fence. The muffled sounds of Gianni’s voice rung in her ears, and she pointed to her ears and shook her head.

  He placed his hand on her arm then motioned at his back. Gabrielle nodded. He wanted her to follow his lead. He motioned to her rifle then brought his up to aim before turning and heading down the side of the fence line. Be ready.

  Keeping their heads below the bush line, the two were able to keep the pace at a light jog as they made their way toward their attackers. As they closed the distance, the bombing stopped. Gabrielle froze, wondering if this was a good sign or a bad one and what this meant for Fausto and Lyudmila.

  Gianni turned on the tips of his toes and brought his finger to his lips. He then lowered his rifle and dug into the satchel he carried with him.

  Like a surgeon taking up his knives, Gianni took two boxes from the sack roughly the size of his hand. He took them in one hand and retrieved two steel tubes with circular pins from his pack. Gabrielle recognized the steel tubes as fuses, but the boxes must have been something from Gianni’s own design.

  Before the war, Gianni had a rather successful life as an engineer. In the depths of battle, he found an awfully handy application for his trade: explosives. Gianni had a knack for making things blow up with almost no supplies. These particular charges he’d made a week or so ago in roughly twenty minutes, and she knew he’d been itching to try them out. Unfortunately for the mortar team, they would be his test subjects.

  He placed the fuses in the boxes and slid his f
ingers through the loops. Gianni motioned to Gabrielle’s rifle and then to the bombs. It was time to get a little revenge.

  Gianni winked at Gabrielle and yanked the pins free of the fuses. He threw them blindly over the fence toward the group of German soldiers. Reflexively, Gabrielle threw herself to the ground away from the fence and covered her head. She only had to wait a few second before the ground violently shook, and the sound of muffled screams filled her ears.

  As Gabrielle rolled from her stomach to ready herself for the return volley, she saw that Gianni had vanished. Damning herself for cowering, she grabbed her rifle and slid to the fence. He must have already gone over. Unable to hear any gun fire, she took a deep breath and hurled herself over the fence line.

  As her shoulders hit the dirt, Gabrielle threw herself as hard as she could forward, rolling to a kneeling position with her rifle pressed against her shoulder and scanned the area. Smoke and silt clouded her vision as she remained still and tried to locate Gianni, but nothing seemed to be moving.

  She took several kneeled steps into the tattered remains of the silo. Stepping over what she could only assume were bits and pieces of the German soldiers, Gabrielle kept her eyes focused ahead of her. She looked to her right, through the demolished wall of the structure and saw where her group had been marching moments ago. They had walked right into the enemy’s trap.

  From the corner of her eye, Gabrielle saw movement and turned hoping to greet Gianni. Instead of the gruff older man, she was met by a charging German soldier with his bayonet leading the way. His face was scrunched in hatred, and his eyes burned red.

  She tried to turn and fire, but the man was too close and moving too quickly. With lethal reflexes, Gabrielle flung her weapon sideways at the soldier. The steel butt of the rifle collided with his face, causing her attacker to stumble backward, holding his gushing nose.

  She turned toward the soldier and lunged at him, spearing him in the torso with her shoulder and driving him further back. The weight of his rifle hit her in the back and then rolled off to the ground.

  After another step, the soldier came around from his initial confusion and planted a foot, wrapping his arms around Gabrielle’s torso and locking her head under his arm. The Arditi were known for their close quarter's combat, and Fausto had shown Gabrielle a few interesting tactics. Without thinking, she gritted her teeth and brought her arms down to the man’s legs and pulled them around her. This offset the soldier, and the two fell to the hard ground. Gabrielle drove her elbow into the soft side of her attacker as she landed on his stomach.

  In that brief instant, the man released Gabrielle, and she was able to sit up with her legs straddling his stomach. When she looked down at the soldier, fiery eyes glared back at her. Arawn had managed to find her. He was becoming more ruthless and dangerous as the war went on. Just as her attacker started to claw at her like a wild animal, she brought her fist down into his jaw.

  She sat for a moment and then brought the other fist smashing into his cheek. With her third strike, a crimson spray flew from his mouth, misting her face. With her fourth and fifth strike to the unconscious German soldier, his head jerked from side to side. All of the rage that had been boiling up inside of her washed from her as she continued to hit the soldier until her lungs burned and her knuckles were bloodied.

  She thought she felt Gianni come up behind her, but when she turned her tired body, all she saw was a gun. And then nothing.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Gabrielle came to as she was being dragged through the dirt. The ground was hard and uneven, and when she was finally still, she slowly opened her eyes, preparing to fight.

  She was still in the silo, surrounded by twelve angry enemy soldiers. As she looked around for potential weapons, she noticed the man she had just been attacking was still unconscious. Lying next to the unconscious soldier, bloodied and bruised, was Gianni.

  Blood ran from his head, and he laid still, his eyes closed. Gabrielle watched the shallow rise and fall of his chest and gave a quick sigh of relief that he was still alive. She couldn’t prevent tears of anger from filling her eyes and running down her cheek. She wanted to strike out at the nearest enemy but knew their best chance of survival was for her to stay still and wait for the right opportunity.

  One of the men wore a black SS uniform, and Gabrielle immediately knew he was the one in charge. As the soldiers quietly chattered amongst themselves, he stood silently, staring at Gabrielle. She refused to waver as she glared back. Take him down, and the rest will follow.

  “So, you are the one we were told to intercept? Hardly the threat to the cause as you were portrayed to be,” the commander snarled.

  “Is that why you had to ambush us, then?” she shot back as sarcastically as she could. The cocky grin left the officer’s face, and he turned to his soldiers.

  “She lives. The other ones die. Once you are done with that, bring her. She has a meeting with the Fuhrer,” he said and then walked out of the silo, leaving Gabrielle and Gianni with the soldiers. As he left the room, everyone sprang to life.

  Several of the soldiers walked over to Gianni and tried to lift him to his knees. Two others walked over to Gabrielle and grabbed her by the arms, hoisting her to her feet. She instinctively shoved one away from her, only to be met by a slap to the face from the second soldier. There was no way she was just going to let them kill Gianni and take her.

  Gabrielle turned to face the second soldier when the one that she had pushed away kicked her in the back of the knees and brought her back to the floor. He raised his weapon to strike her once more. Just as she tried to cover her face from the imminent attack, a shout caused the man to stop.

  “We have another one!” a soldier shouted from across the room. Gabrielle snapped her head around to see two other soldiers dragging Fausto, kicking and flailing his arms. When Fausto saw his father lying unconscious, he threw his captors aside and ran to the center of the room where he knelt next to him.

  “Papà! Papà!” he shouted, gripping his father’s head and shaking him. Gianni groaned in pain and brought his hand to his son’s face.

  “F-Fausto!” Gabrielle shouted, crawling a few feet toward him before she was grabbed by her two captors. Fausto whipped his head up and look at Gabrielle.

  “Are you alright, Gabrielle?” he shouted, gripping his father. She nodded but did not know what to say.

  “Enough talking!” one of the soldiers barked, stepping into the circle and taking command. The group fell silent as he spoke. “Kill these two and be done with it. We have more important shit to deal with.”

  Fausto began to laugh uncontrollably. The sound was so unnatural and creepy in this situation that Gabrielle couldn’t help but to stare at him. Unsure if her friend had a plan or had just lost his mind, she squinted to try and figure what he was doing.

  “You’re getting off easy, dogs!” Fausto spat, trying to speak between the howls of laughter in his voice. “You attacked us like cowards in the night. Using explosives from a distance. Ooo, look at the mighty Germans! Using a full squadron and massive explosions for the likes of us…and even that was unsuccessful!” His laughter intensified until he was pounding the earth and gasping for air.

  Gabrielle couldn’t figure out what he was talking about until she realized the German soldiers’ once confident faces were now morphing into looks of confusion, anger, and fear. This made Fausto laugh even louder, and he teased their captors as much as he could.

  “Those are some spry words for a dead man!” one of the soldiers shouted back, but the slight waver in his voice gave him away. “Laugh all you want, you’re still going to die like a bitch on the ground.”

  “That may be true, but only because you are too cowardly to fight me like a true soldier. Hand to hand. Blade to blade. You’re not a warrior, you’re a coward!”

  Gabrielle suddenly realized what Fausto was doing. Killing time so they could think of a plan. Murmurs and mumbles filled the silo. Several of the other soldiers
laughed, but it only took one look from their superior for them to quiet themselves.

  “Ha! You think the Fuhrer’s soldiers could not handle a dog like you hand to hand? We would destroy you, you sad, little man. You are no threat in the midst of our might!” the soldier shouted back. The rest of the soldiers stood at attention, some doing the Hitler salute and others pounding their fists against their chests.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry your highness, proceed with my execution…” Fausto continued in a grand show of apology before adding, “…cowards. Forever saving yourselves from glory and hiding from combat like the pests that you are.” These last words struck a chord with the soldiers, and a few of them started shouting at him. Some called for him to fight Fausto, some to shoot him, to hang him. In all of the chaos, he never broke his gaze from the center German soldier, the wannabe leader.

  “You want a ‘true battle’? You think you can beat one of us? We shall see. Stand up!” The soldier shouted at Fausto who hopped up onto his feet, a smile stretched across his face. The soldier unslung his rifle from around his shoulder and placed it on the ground behind him. He made a show of rolling up his cuffed sleeves like he was a father about to show his son how something is done.

  Gabrielle looked around for some way to help Fausto, something she could do to get them all out of this situation, but her two captors remained in place with their guns at the ready.

  “Well, now, I hope you’re ready for your ‘battle.' When we’re done with you, you will beg for death. Don’t worry, my friend, we will gladly grant your wish,” the soldier spoke, a snake-like laughter in his voice.

  “You are still cowards. You do not face death. You may fool those that you terrorize, but I see you for the weak fools that you are,” Fausto spat and Gabrielle let her eyes bounce from him to the Nazi soldier and back to him again, the strange tennis match of wits leaving her slack jawed.