by Kacey Ezell
Let’s eat, Abram said. Give Evie the majority of it. Then we’ll make a plan and get some rest.
* * *
Evelyn woke to the feeling of a rifle barrel being pressed to her chest. Her mouth went dry, and her consciousness instantly snapped out to Paul, Sean, and Abram. The men were waking in similar circumstances, and Evelyn could feel the instinctive violence that surged through them as they reached surreptitiously for their weapons...
Wait, she said. They’re not speaking German!
It was true, they weren’t. She didn’t recognize the language, per se, but it wasn’t German. It was similar, but the speakers had more of a round throatiness to their diction, and the words weren’t the same. They weren’t soldiers, either, these people. There were five of them, all armed, though only three held what looked like hunting rifles. The other two carried a pitchfork and a stout cudgel, respectively. Their clothes were rough and well-worn, and the grim set of their faces didn’t do much to reassure her...
...but they weren’t speaking German.
“Ben jij Engels?” the man with the rifle said lowly. “Amerikaan?”
Evelyn stiffened slightly.
“American. Yes. We’re American,” Abram said, from off to the side.
“Naam?” the man said, speaking slowly. “Bommenwerper?”
Evelyn licked her lips and glanced over to Abram.
Can you tell what they want? Abram asked her. Who are they?
I can’t link with him without him noticing, Evelyn answered. And If I reach out, there might be a psychic nearby who would feel it...
Gotta take that risk, Paul said. Through the net, Evelyn could feel him wrap his long-fingered hands around the German Mauser he’d hidden under his coat. She swallowed hard against her dry-mouthed fear and lifted her hand slowly from the blankets. The man holding the rifle gaped at the blood-spotted bandages that covered her forearm, then narrowed his eyes as he saw her fine-boned hand. He spoke another sharp word over his shoulder, and one of the other men came forward.
Not a man, Evelyn realized, and passed through the net. For although the figure was clothed in a drab, figure-hiding coat, she could see the thin face and pointed chin as the other woman came forward and set her pitchfork on the ground within easy reach. Then she reached out and took hold of Evelyn’s wrist.
Evelyn started to reach out, to draw her into the net, but then stopped. If this was a trap, if this woman was another enemy psychic, she didn’t want to expose her men. Better that she drop the net connection entirely first...
The memory of the storm rose up within Evelyn, howling behind her eyes, engulfing her senses until she cried out in an unmistakably female voice and collapsed backward against the roots of the tree. A sharp pain in the back of her skull told her she’d hit her head. That, as much as anything else, hauled her back to reality.
The net connection was still strong. She could feel her men’s concern pouring down the lines toward her.
I can’t, she whispered to them, shame trembling in her thoughts. I can’t let go of the net, and I won’t risk bringing her in. It could be a trap. But if I let go...
No, Evie, it’s all right, Sean said stalwartly. I don’t think they’re going to hurt us. Look.
Indeed, through his eyes, she could see that out the door, another person approached. This one was wearing a hat, a long, dark overcoat and carrying a distinctively shaped bag with a caduceus painted on the side. A doctor.
It could still be a trap...Evelyn replied, fear building within her chest.
“Dokter,” the woman said, welcome in her tone. “Deze is een vrouw, en ze is gekwetst. Ik denk dat ze allemaal zijn. Kun je ze helpen? Ze zeggen dat ze zijn Amerikaans.”
“American?” the doctor said, his accent clipped and British. “And a woman? Yes, of course.” He removed his hat and looked around at them with blue eyes wreathed with smile lines. He was tall, thin, and completely bald, this doctor. Evelyn had the irreverent thought that she would have left the hat on.
“Doctor?” Abram asked, his voice somehow managing to be both harsh and tentative. “Who...ah...who are you? They?”
“Doctor Frederic van Duren, at your service,” he said with a wintry smile. “You and your friends are very lucky. Please forgive my companions their caution. We have learned hard lessons of late. However, your injuries lend credence to your claims. As does the presence of the young lady. I cannot imagine the Nazis would plant a woman in with men wearing the uniforms of downed aircrew. What would be the point? No, I think you must be genuine.”
“We are,” Abram said. “But why are we lucky? We haven’t felt all that lucky lately.”
“Ah, my new friend, but God smiles upon you even so,” Doctor van Duren said. “You see, we are with the Belgian Resistance.”
* * *
The woman identified herself as Deedee, and it turned out that she was one of the nurses who worked with Doctor van Duren at the hospital in Brussels. Despite her apparent youth, her hands were gentle and competent as she and the doctor examined each of them. Evelyn’s ankle and Abram’s ribs occasioned the most concern.
“This was not set properly,” the doctor said, his voice soft and grave. He looked up and said something to Deedee, who nodded with sober brown eyes and pushed a tendril of curly brown hair back under her stocking cap. She got to her feet and said something in the language the doctor had identified as Flemish Dutch. Two of the other men stood and followed her out of the ruined farmhouse.
“What does that mean?” Sean asked. All three of Evie’s men were sitting or standing nearby as the doctor performed her examination. Or as much of it as he could in this setting. Evelyn was thankful he hadn’t asked her to undress.
“It means that if she is to walk again, I shall have to re-break it and set it properly. Even so, she will likely limp for the rest of her life. But I cannot perform such a procedure here. We must take you in to Brussels, where I have the facilities and tools I need.”
“Brussels?” Paul asked. “That seems dangerous. Brussels is under Nazi occupation.”
The doctor looked up at him with a grim smile. “All of Europe is under Nazi occupation, or near enough as makes no difference. If you are to survive this, you must trust me. We have helpers who can keep you safe. But you must do exactly as we say.”
Paul looked at Abram, then Sean, then Evelyn.
Do we trust them? he asked.
They haven’t killed us yet, Abram pointed out. And he’s a doctor...and we’re all in pretty bad shape. For the first time, the navigator let a bit of the pain he was feeling slip across the lines of the net to the others. Evelyn gasped and tried to take more from him, but he quickly shut her down. He didn’t need to say it as his intent was clear: she was as bad off or worse than him.
I...I think we can trust them, Evelyn said. I can’t read any of them right now, but...my instincts say we can.
And it’s not like we have much choice anyway, Sean said. The lieutenant’s right. Evie’s bad hurt and so is he. And I’m not exactly on the beam myself.
Paul looked at each one of them one more time and then turned to the doctor and nodded.
“Fine,” he said. “Don’t see as we have much choice in the matter.”
“None at all,” the doctor said, almost cheerfully. “So I am pleased you are willing to listen to reason. Now, I must have your weapons. Those are a death sentence if you are caught...for both you and your helpers. This is an absolute condition of our help. Give me the rifles, and we will dispose of them discreetly.”
Paul let out a soft curse, then pulled his rifle out from under the blanket where it had been hidden. Abram and Sean followed suit, and the doctor took each of them without another word.
“How did you know?” Paul asked.
“You did not have both hands over your head,” Doctor van Duren replied. “Even though our men were pointing their weapons at you. You each kept one hand buried under the blanket. It stands to reason that you had something under there.
I will not ask where you acquired Nazi weapons, for it is far better I do not know.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Sean murmured.
“It is, indeed,” the doctor replied. One of the other men returned to their rude shelter and said something else, and the doctor nodded, then handed him the weapons. He took them outside, and another, larger man took his place beside the doctor.
“The truck has arrived,” Doctor van Duren said. “There is a road just on the other side of this small hill out here. Can you men walk that far? I will have Lucas here carry this young lady.”
“We can walk,” Paul said shortly, getting to his feet and then offering a hand to Sean and Abram. “And I can carry Evie,” the bombardier added.
“I have no doubt, but you have been weakened by your ordeal as well. Lucas has three daughters of his own. He will be a perfect gentleman, I assure you,” the doctor said, and gestured to the big man beside him.
Lucas pulled off his cap, revealing a weathered, craggy face that looked to be in his late thirties or so. He nodded at Evelyn and bent to pick her up. His touch was surprisingly gentle. She suppressed a cry as he jostled her, but then she found herself cradled in his arms like a small child. His jacket smelled of wood smoke and rain and felt incredibly soft under her cheek. It was impossibly difficult not to nestle against this stranger’s chest, and after a moment, she stopped trying.
Paul, Sean, and Abram followed as Lucas carried Evelyn out of the ruined structure and then up and over the hill the doctor had indicated. About a hundred yards beyond that, a small, heavily rutted track cut through the trees.
Calling this a “road” might be a bit optimistic, Paul thought dryly. Riding in that truck is like to jostle the teeth right out of our heads!
Better than trying to walk, Evelyn thought, trying to keep her bitterness out of her words. I’ve been slowing everyone down. This will be much better.
We’re all slow, Abram said. No need to feel special about it.
That caused Evelyn to snort with laughter, and Lucas looked down at her with a smile that softened his forbidding features. This close, she could feel his gentleness and almost paternal concern for her emanating from his psyche. Evelyn smiled tremulously back and thought Lucas must be a good man.
They arrived at the truck, and the doctor translated while Lucas and Paul worked together to get Evelyn arranged in the back. The truck itself looked as if it had been an abandoned piece of military equipment. It had a flat bed and a metal frame, over which was strung some kind of canvas material. She sat on a pile of what looked like empty feed bags, with her injured leg elevated on another pile of the same. The three airmen piled in around her, checking her over once again, reaching out with shaking hands to touch her. Almost like they needed to reassure themselves she was still whole, after being in the care of someone else.
Lucas watched until they were all settled, then nodded and closed the back flap of canvas, leaving them sitting in the dark. The truck’s engine rumbled, then roared to life, and they lurched forward.
The ride was, to say the least, painful. Evelyn’s bottom and legs felt like so much tenderized meat by the time they turned off the rutted forest track and onto a smoother road. Though her backside felt an instant relief, anxiety flooded through her, echoing through the minds of her men and doubling back along the lines of the net.
A road, Abram thought grimly as the truck picked up speed. A real one.
Let’s hope these guys know a way around patrols and entry points, Paul replied, nodding. Evelyn felt him move, although the darkness in the back of the truck was so complete they could hardly see one another.
Despite the fear, Evelyn felt herself drifting as the road noise and sensation of movement lulled her into a light doze. She couldn’t have said how long they drove, though it was long enough for her to slump over onto Sean’s shoulder. Paul sat with her injured leg in his lap, helping to stabilize and cushion it, and Abram reached out to cradle her right hand in his. The bond thus reinforced by physical contact, the three airmen soon followed Evelyn into sleep.
All of which disappeared in a flash of adrenaline when the truck slowed to a stop. Evelyn sat up straight and then hissed as she inadvertently jolted her injured leg. Sean gently placed his palm over her mouth, and Paul ran his hands over her ankle, checking for further injury. It hurt, but Evelyn managed not to make any more sounds.
The back flap of canvas flipped open, revealing the dim outline of a man, and the doctor’s voice floated in to them.
“You must be very quiet now. We are entering the town.”
“How are you gonna—?” Abram started to ask in a pugnacious whisper, but the doctor forestalled him with an outstretched hand.
“Please. You must trust me and be absolutely quiet and still.”
Evelyn felt Abram’s fear rising throughout the channels of the net.
This could be a trap, he thought bitterly, and we’ve walked—or ridden—right into it.
I don’t think so, Evelyn said, amidst the answering fear of the other men. That man, Lucas, when he carried me, he felt so protective. I don’t think they’re going to be selling us out.
Are you sure, Evie? Sean asked. He’d dropped his fingers from her mouth and taken possession of her left hand instead. His hand tightened almost convulsively around hers. I don’t know if we’d survive being captured again...
As sure as I can be, she answered. I’m so...our link is so strong, but I feel almost cut off from the rest of the world. I can’t get all the information I’m used to getting. But Lucas held me, so I could feel his surface emotions. He genuinely wanted to help.
Of course, it did occur to her that she should probably try to sever their net in order to be able to better sense the world around them...but even the thought of doing so brought the screaming terror too close. And so she locked the thought away before even fully acknowledging it. Severing the net wasn’t an option for her. Not right now. The men could feel it, and so they didn’t ask.
Just then, Evelyn started to notice the faint strains of music. It sounded like some kind of jazz piece and was accompanied by the high sort of engine whine she’d never heard before.
What is that? she asked the men through the net. Do you hear it?
Duke Ellington, Sean replied, and she could feel his grin. And what sounds like a motorcycle.
I’ve never seen a motorcycle, Evelyn replied. Not that it mattered. It didn’t look like she’d be seeing this one, either.
As the music and the motorcycle’s engine got louder, the truck under them began to roll forward once more. They crept along at a pace just above idle. Pretty soon, Evelyn could hear that someone was singing along with the swinging jazz piece. None of them could understand the words, but the singer certainly sounded as if he was having a good time. Eventually, a few exasperated shouts in German joined the cacophony. For an idle moment, Evelyn wondered if anyone nearby was trying to sleep. It had to be really quite late.
The truck never paused but continued its slow creeping motion through what turned out to be some very twisty streets. Eventually, the sound of the shouting German, singing Belgian, and blasting jazz started to fade, and the truck began to pick up a little speed again. They made a few more turns, bumping over streets that must have been made of cobblestone. Evelyn reached down and pulled Sean’s hand back up over her mouth, just in case they still needed silence.
Before too long, they rolled to a stop again, and Evelyn heard the sound of a roll-up door being opened behind them. Then the front doors of the truck cab slammed and the back flap flipped open once again. This time, a gentle lantern light greeted them, along with the doctor’s smiling face.
“We made it, my friends! Thanks to Gerritsen,” the doctor said, shaking his head. “Come, we must get you inside.”
Her airmen helped Evelyn to slide toward the back of the truck where Lucas lifted her into his arms once more. The big Belgian then carried her close to his chest as he walked under a short awning, up a few
steps, and in through a large wooden door.
Once they were inside, Evelyn head the soft boom of the door closing, and she lifted her head and looked around. They stood in a large, echoing empty hall made of stone. If she craned her neck backward, Evelyn could just barely make out the great stone arches that supported the vaulted ceiling.
“Is this a church?” she asked softly as Lucas started walking forward.
“A seminary,” Doctor van Duren said. “Or it was, before the occupation. Now we use it as a local hospital and orphanage, since our hospital was destroyed during the invasion. You should be quite safe here, as the Nazis have their own facility. Follow me, please. The clinic is in the cellar.”
He led them through the vast, echoing room that had been stripped of any sort of religious finery.
Sad, she thought idly. The pain and the exhaustion were combining to make her rather limp in Lucas’ arms.
What’s that, Evie? Sean asked. His mind felt just as fatigued and scattered as her own.
This place, with all the trappings gone. It must have been beautiful...
I’m sure it was Evie. Evie? Evie...
The darkness at the edge of her mind swelled, drowning out Sean’s frantic calls, erasing the feel of Lucas’ chest as he started to jostle her, blanking out the pain and the fear and everything as she finally went dark.
* * * * *
Chapter Thirteen
“Well...Fraulein Sucherin! What a surprise to see you returned so quickly!”
Hauptman Krieger hadn’t improved since their last meeting, Lina reflected. She stood motionless in front of his desk, just as she’d done when she’d first reported to his office...days ago? Weeks? She couldn’t say for sure. Time had blurred together since...
No. She must not think of it. She must not fall apart here. Get through this interview, receive her assignment, and then move forward. Once she was free of this odious man, she could begin planning her next task.
