by Smith, Bryan
The deceptive complexity of the warden’s binding skills should have come as no surprise. There was an art to what she’d done. Helga had the feeling it was the kind of master-level skill one was trained in within certain circles of the Order of the Dragon. It was an insight that didn’t help her any, but she derived some satisfaction from the knowledge that the woman’s position of privilege within the organization had been permanently revoked. Even if she somehow managed to escape the prison, the Order would hunt her down and kill her. Helga was sure about this, if nothing else.
Just as she was about to give up hope of getting free at any point soon, she heard someone knock on the outer door to the warden’s office. She raised her head off the floor and tried shouting through the gag in her mouth. This was futile, she knew. No one could hear her from the other side of that soundproofed door. But she couldn’t help trying, such was her fear of the likelihood of this potential rescuer giving up and going away.
The knock came again, more strident this time. Helga yelled through her gag some more, straining her throat despite the futility of the effort. Fortunately, the person (or persons) at the door, presumably in possession of some urgent need for an audience with the warden, did not seem inclined to give up as easily as she’d feared.
After a brief silence, there was an escalation as that outer door rattled loudly in its frame. This was followed by louder banging sounds. Helga sobbed in relief. A forced entry was being attempted. She might yet be out of these bonds soon. Even better, she might still have a chance to foil Ms. Wickman’s getaway.
A heavy crash came from the office as the door was smashed open. Then came the sound of footsteps and voices as several people entered the room. Helga again raised her voice and screamed as loudly as the gag would allow.
Soon the footsteps were headed her way. Helga again sobbed in relief. Any other time, the moisture spilling from her eyes would have shamed her. She would’ve considered any such display an unforgiveable weakness. But it couldn’t be helped. This was the most vulnerable she’d felt in a long time and she didn’t care for the feeling at all.
The door connecting the office to Ms. Wickman’s living quarters was thrown open. There was a babble of conversation as several people streamed through the opening. Helga again lifted her head off the floor to look at them. Most of them were men dressed in SS black. All were armed with machine guns. Helga was happy to see them, but the sight of one face among that crowd pleased her infinitely more than the rest.
Ms. Ludmire knelt before Helga and pried the gag from her mouth. “What’s happened here, Helga?”
Helga sniffled and let out a big breath. Then the words came out in a rush as she told the woman all about what had transpired.
As they neared the second checkpoint, it became apparent that Ms. Wickman’s prediction of a more difficult breech would be correct. The men stationed here were not regular prison guards. There were four of them this time. All four wore SS black. Machine guns were held at the ready as the warden and the women with her arrived at the checkpoint.
Jessica let out a breath as her grip tightened again on the MG 42. In a normal context, she would not feel an ounce of intimidation in a four-against-one situation. This, however, was not a normal context. The barely comfortable outfit was marginally tolerable, but Helga’s high-heeled shoes were another matter. Her feet were approximately a size smaller than those of the woman who had, until recently, owned the shoes. This had not been too much of an issue thus far. She was as skilled at walking in heels as any woman and had managed to keep the shoes from slipping off her feet despite the brisk pace set by Ms. Wickman.
Upon reaching the second checkpoint, however, her right foot slipped sideways inside the shoe and she wobbled for a moment before righting herself. The slip had been fleeting and well shy of precarious, but it did draw the attention of the guards. The scrutiny made Jessica’s heart beat a little faster. She kept her expression blank and showed no outward signs of distress. She did, however, entertain a fleeting impulse to simply shoot the men where they stood and be done with it.
The notion was not without allure. They were here. Their destination was on the other side of a set of double doors. They could kill these men and be inside the transport center within seconds. Freedom was potentially just a trigger squeeze away.
But she resisted the impulse as the gazes of most of the men shifted to the warden, who was again explaining their purpose in visiting the transport center. The fourth man kept his eyes on her. There was a troubling glint in them. At first Jessica interpreted this as an indication of suspicion, but in the next instant she realized what she was seeing was standard-issue lust. It was just the way men usually looked at her. After a week spent almost entirely in the company of women, she’d temporarily forgotten about it.
A faint smile touched the corners of this man’s mouth when he realized she was looking at him. He wasn’t bad-looking for an idiot in a Nazi costume, possessing a trim body and a square-jawed, ruggedly handsome face. A moment of mutual appreciation passed between them. The man’s smile widened.
Jessica tuned back in to the exchange between the warden and the man who seemed to be in charge here when she heard him say, “I’ll have to make a call.”
The warden’s expression, which always had that pinched quality to it, turned more severe than usual. She looked like she’d bitten into something with an unexpectedly bitter taste.
Her eyes flicked in Jessica’s direction.
The man in charge turned away from the warden and went to a red phone mounted on the wall to the right. He picked up the receiver and punched in a number.
Jessica held the warden’s gaze a second longer. What she read in them was a mix of desperation and panic. Keeping her eyes on the warden, she squeezed the trigger of the MG 42. A rapid series of loud bangs issued from the weapon as she swept the barrel toward the right. Three bodies hit the ground immediately. The fourth man, the one clutching the phone’s receiver in his right hand, fell against the wall and slid slowly down it, trailing a red smear as he went.
Three of the men were dead. The one she’d shared a moment of silent flirtation with was still alive. He was shaking and struggling to raise his own MG 42. Jessica moved into position over him and aimed the barrel of the weapon at his face. His lips quivered and he shook his head weakly as he struggled to utter a plea for mercy.
Jessica shot him in the face.
She kicked off the uncomfortable heels and looked at the women behind her.
“What are you waiting for? Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
After they dragged two of the bodies out of the way to make room for the gurney, they passed through the second checkpoint and entered the transport center.
Once she had been cut free of her bonds, Helga got shakily to her feet and staggered over to the bed. She sat on its edge and grimaced as she stretched her aching limbs. At Ms. Ludmire’s direction, some of the SS men had run out of the room and were en route to the transport center. A few remained behind, eyeing Helga with guarded expressions as Ms. Ludmire paced the room and spoke in sharp, urgent tones on a cell phone.
Helga didn’t like the way the men were looking at her. She was naked and bleeding, the victim of an assault. Though their expressions were impassive, she knew what they were thinking. They were men, after all. In her former life as a stripper, she’d become well acquainted with the inner workings of most kinds of men. It didn’t matter what walk of life they were from, they were all pretty much the same on the inside.
But she wasn’t a stripper anymore. She was in a position of high authority above these men. Soon she would be the boss of this place. They should show the proper respect and look away.
That didn’t happen.
She’d gotten pretty worked up about it by the time Ms. Ludmire ended her call and approached the bed. Helga’s indignation over the scrutiny of the men faded as the woman came closer than seemed necessary. She was looming over the
still-seated Helga as she said, “You should be ashamed of yourself.”
Helga frowned, genuinely puzzled by this. She’d done nothing wrong, yet the Order official was clearly displeased with her. “I don’t understand. I--”
Ms. Ludmire slapped her. “Shut up. It’s obvious I erred in my judgement of you. What kind of leader allows this to happen to her?”
She shook her head, her face twisted with distaste as she eyed Helga’s naked, blood-smeared form up and down.
Helga made a sound of exasperation. “There was nothing I could do!” she insisted, a shrill note of pleading entering her tone. “She pulled a gun on me, for fuck’s sake. She fucking whipped me!” A single tear spilled down her cheek as she relived the memory of that humiliation. “Don’t you get it? I was helpless!”
Ms. Ludmire snorted in derision. “A true leader is never helpless. A leader of true strength never winds up naked and bleeding at the hands of an opponent.”
Helga sniffled, her face crumpling at the woman’s harsh tone. “I’ll do better when I take over here, I promise. I’ll be everything you--”
Ms. Ludmire sneered as she slapped Helga again. “The offer you received this morning has been rescinded, you incompetent cunt. Through your inaction, you have put at risk our most important asset. I can only pray it isn’t too late to forestall disaster. You are unfit for leadership. You are unfit to be a part of the glorious resurgence of the true Reich. I will stay on and run this place myself. It’s the only way to ensure our Aryan warrior goddesses receive the strong leadership and example of unfaltering resolve they deserve.”
Tears spilled in hot, ceaseless streams down Helga’s face as she shook her head in useless denial. “I can be all those things! I promise. Just give me a chance. Please.”
Ms. Ludmire shook her head. “You are out of chances, you stupid cow.”
She held out a hand and one of the men placed a knife with a big, serrated blade in it.
Helga gasped when she saw it. “No! You can’t!”
Ms. Ludmire smiled. “But I can.”
She pushed Helga down on the bed and climbed on top of her, straddling her. Helga writhed beneath her, desperate to get loose and away from that knife.
The effort was unsuccessful.
Ms. Ludmire plunged the knife into her belly up to the hilt, holding it inside Helga as she stared down into the dying woman’s eyes and watched the light slowly fade from them.
Four more men in SS black stood with their backs turned to Jessica and the other women as they came through the entrance to the transport center. Some thirty feet away from the double doors that stood between the transport center and the checkpoint, the men appeared not to have heard the brief burst of gunfire from the other side of those doors.
There was no big mystery to this. They hadn’t heard the discharge of Jessica’s weapon because it had been drowned out by another, even louder sound. The building had a retractable roof that could be opened to allow the descent of a helicopter into the building. The reason for this, as the warden had explained earlier, was the forbidding outdoor environment, where the mean year-round temperature was a deadly fifty below zero. Once a helicopter was safely on the ground or up in the air, the roof was always immediately closed. The system allowed for maximum traveling comfort for both visiting dignitaries and employees on leave.
The roof was open and a black helicopter was descending into the building. The racket of the whirling rotor blades made normal conversation impossible, leading Jessica to communicate with the other women via hand signals. She indicated that they should follow behind her as she took the lead. Understanding wasn’t instantaneous, but they caught on soon enough and trailed after Jessica as she approached the line of black-clad soldiers.
The helicopter pilot’s descent was slow and cautious. The craft’s landing skids were still some two dozen feet above the ground as Jessica and the others drew closer. Though the oblivious soldiers could not see them, they were clearly visible to anyone inside the craft. Perhaps because Jessica was attired in SS black with the standard Nazi armband around her left arm, their presence did not seem to be a source of concern.
The craft continued to descend.
Once they were about ten feet to the rear of the soldiers, Jessica stopped moving forward and indicated that the other women should do the same with a discreet hand gesture. They complied at once and the four of them stood there and waited for the helicopter to finish its descent.
When it was on the ground, the pilot cut the engine and that big roar went away. There was still significant noise from the slowing whir of the rotor blades for a few more moments. The soldiers in front of Jessica and the others ducked their heads and began moving forward. Jessica did the same and the other women followed her lead, though they were cautious to maintain a steady distance from the soldiers.
The soldiers approached a side of the helicopter and stopped several feet short of the craft. Several people were inside it. Jessica could just make out their shadowy forms, but she couldn’t tell much about them, including whether they were armed. This was troublesome, but there was nothing she could do about it. She could only stay on her toes and be ready to start shooting again at just the right moment.
Because more shooting would definitely be necessary. There was no longer any doubt of that. There were just too many people in this equation. That number needed reducing to keep a handle on the situation. They were fortunate that these four soldiers appeared to be the only transport center employees on duty at the moment.
They all heard a loud clack as the lock was popped on the craft’s side door. The door remained shut a few moments longer, however, as some of the people inside shifted about and appeared to confer with each other. While they waited, one of the soldiers finally sensed an unanticipated presence behind him and glanced over his shoulder.
He smiled when he saw Ms. Wickman and turned fully around, executing a precision salute. This was somewhat reassuring. It indicated that these men had not yet received an alert regarding the warden. But that sense of reassurance only went so far. Unlike the lowly prison guards at the first checkpoint, these men might have some actual notion of what the impending big change was all about. Or they might not. The uncertainty was unfortunate, but there was nothing to be done about it.
At least not yet.
Yet again, Jessica’s grip tensed on the MG 42.
“Warden,” the man said. “What brings you here today? You’re not on our schedule.”
Ms. Wickman smiled. “No, I’m not going anywhere today.” Her poker face as she uttered this lie was perfect. “I’m here to see off my friend here. She’s an emergency evac, not on the schedule.”
She gestured at Spider and commenced an abbreviated version of the same story she’d already told twice. By then the other soldiers had noticed their presence and had tuned in to what was being said. Jessica watched their faces carefully, looking for signs of doubt.
There was nothing.
They all seemed to accept what the warden was saying. Most of the men shifted their attention back to the helicopter. The side door still hadn’t come open. The warden and the man who’d first spoken to her continued to converse. It was just the empty banter of two colleagues, nothing of substance. Still, Jessica knew it prudent to remain aware of as many aspects of a dangerously fluid situation as possible. Her gaze continued to flick rapidly back and forth from Ms. Wickman and the soldier to the helicopter and back again. This went on until the helicopter’s side door finally swung outward.
A man in a business suit poked out his head, took a look around, and started down the metal steps to the ground. He was followed out by a slender woman in a dark dress. Two machine gun-toting men in SS black emerged behind her. That left just three more shadowy forms inside the craft, one of which was the pilot in the cockpit. Then the pilot emerged, still wearing his flight helmet. The pilot moved away from them and started punching numbers into some type of handheld devi
ce.
The man in the business suit approached the soldiers and exchanged greetings with the man who’d just been talking to Ms. Wickman. A slight frown creased his face when he glimpsed the warden, but he did not seem overly concerned about her unannounced presence. The two men continued to converse. Jessica caught multiple references to “the VIP”. Who that might be, she had no idea, except that it was one of the two people still on board the helicopter.
The exchange between the men came to an abrupt stop as the man in the business suit frowned and patted a pocket of his blazer. In another moment, he took out a cell phone and put it to his ear. His expression was unreadable in that first moment as he listened to whoever was on the other end. However, the look on his face soon underwent a dramatic transformation. His eyes opened wide and his head snapped in the direction of Ms. Wickman and her associates. He took a backward step and began to turn toward the helicopter.
Jessica let out a breath.
Time to rock and roll.
She squeezed the MG 42’s trigger and shot down the men directly in front of her. The woman in the black dress hiked up its hem and reached for a pistol in a holster strapped to her thigh. At the same time, the SS men who’d emerged from the helicopter were bringing their weapons to bear. Even the pilot was going for a gun strapped to his hip. The odds were formidable. Jessica was in motion, moving sideways as she continued to fire the MG 42.
Though she was outnumbered, the element of surprise gave her a slight advantage. Her opponents had not anticipated an assault of this type happening within the transport center. The question was whether this would be enough of an edge. Fortunately, Spider came to the rescue. At the last checkpoint, they had taken another MG 42 from one of the dead soldiers there, planting it with Spider under the sheet covering her. Now she swept the sheet aside and brought the weapon up as the nurse ducked down and rolled her forward.
