The more time passed, the more Shaw began to feel like himself. He had eaten two helpings of mystery meat and was sitting back enjoying a cup of coffee when there was a loud knocking on the door.
Moving to the door, Bruce opened the door and looked outside. Standing there covered with snow were two German soldiers. They said something. Turning his back, Bruce looked over at Shaw and shrugged his shoulders.
“They want me to go with them to see Major Vogel,” explained Shaw to Bruce.
“Ok then I guess you had best go, not that you have much of a choice,” said Bruce.
Shaw grabbed his parka and woolen hat. Throwing both on, he stepped out into the cold night. He could only see the soldier’s eyes as the rest was wrapped in frost-covered scarves. There seemed to be a moment of hesitation from one of the soldiers as if not sure what to do next.
“Lead on gents,” said Shaw to the men.
“This way,” said the other soldier to Shaw, pointing with his rifle away from the headquarters and towards the vehicles parked beside the fence at the far side of the camp.
“Major Vogel’s office is that way,” said Shaw, indicating back towards the headquarters building.
Loading a round into his rifle’s chamber, the soldier warned, “Keep your mouth shut and come with us.”
The hair went up on the back of Shaw’s neck. He knew he wasn’t being taken to see Vogel. These men intended to kill him in cold blood.
With a sharp jab from the muzzle of the soldier’s rifle into Shaw’s ribs, he began to walk towards the dimly lit line of vehicles. His only hope lay in quickly overpowering the two men before they killed him. Walking slowly, Shaw looked about for something to use as a weapon, but saw nothing. Time was not on his side. He would have to think of something fast, or he was doomed.
Watching Shaw being led away at gunpoint, Bruce knew that something was wrong. Looking about, he was surprised to see that no one had come to replace the men guarding the shack. Cursing aloud, he instantly knew what he had to do. Grabbing his parka, Bruce opened the door and ran outside, the wind buffeting his body as he hurried to get dressed. Running towards the headquarters, Bruce prayed that he didn’t run into a trigger-happy soldier. Turning the corner of the building, Bruce ran straight into a man coming from the opposite direction. Both men staggered back, surprised to see the other.
Seeing a weapon in the man’s hands, Bruce threw up his hands and said, “Vogel…I need to see Major Vogel.”
The line of trucks grew closer with each step that he took. Shaw knew that he had perhaps a minute to do something, or he was going to be summarily shot in the head. His body left to freeze out in the cold. The wind suddenly seemed to pick up, making each step a struggle to keep moving forward. Keeping his head down, Shaw kept scouring the ground for something to use, but so far, all he had seen was snow and more snow. His heart sank; he was running out of time. All of a sudden, over the sound of the roaring wind, he heard the sound of a man desperately gasping for air. Spinning about, Shaw’s heart began to race when he saw the soldier who had threatened him holding the other man by the neck. With one hand, the soldier effortlessly picked the man up off the ground. A second later, Shaw heard the sound of the man’s neck snapping. Dropping the dead body to the ground, the other soldier turned his head and looked over at Shaw. Tossing his rifle aside, he strode straight at Shaw.
Fear gripped Shaw. Turning on his heels to run, Shaw suddenly felt a hand grab his parka. Struggling to escape, Shaw found that his leather boots couldn’t gain traction in the snow. It was like trying to run on ice. A second later, a sharp pain shot through his right side as his attacker clamped down with his hand on Shaw’s collarbone. The pain was excruciating. Reaching up with his hands, he tried to break his opponent’s hold on him. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t break free. Shaw found himself being dragged through the snow. Desperate to escape, Shaw tried digging in his feet, but found he couldn’t stop the inexorable pull on his body. Stopping at the back of the nearest truck, Shaw was hauled up off the ground and then hurled into the back of an empty two-ton truck. Landing hard in the dark, Shaw let out a muffled moan as he rolled end over end until he came to a sudden, jarring halt at the far end of the truck. Struggling to rise, Shaw felt a pair of hands grab hold of his parka. Before he could say or do anything, he was hauled up and then forced down onto the wooden bench running along the interior of the truck.
“Sit still and keep quiet, or I’ll snap your neck as easily as I did to the other soldier,” said Shaw’s attacker as he took a seat opposite him.
Shaw’s heart skipped a beat when he heard the voice. It was Andrew’s. His heart wanted it to be true, but his mind told him that it was all an illusion. Shaking his aching head, he sat back. “Where are your dress blues Andrew?” said Shaw to the man sitting with him in the dark.
Slowly, the soldier removed his helmet and then pulled down his scarf to reveal his face. Even in the dark Shaw could see his brother’s features. It was as if he was looking at the last picture ever sent to him by his brother from Honolulu. Every detail was perfect right down to his brother’s rakish grin. Only it wasn’t his brother sitting there and Shaw knew it.
“To answer your question, we’re alone. I don’t need to concentrate as much as I’ve had to over the past few days. It takes a lot out of me to keep everyone else’s minds clouded,” explained Andrew.
Shaw sat back trying to remain outwardly calm, but inside, he was fighting to control his growing fear. His mind had questions to ask, but knew that if he didn’t escape from whoever or whatever was sitting across from him, he would soon share the dead soldier’s fate.
“Why did you kill that soldier?” asked Shaw.
“I didn’t need him anymore,” said Andrew. “He served his purpose and was now disposable. The man was a weak-minded fool anyway. All I had to do was say that you were helping the partisans who had been killing his people, and he was ready to shoot you, no questions asked.”
Shaw decided to play for time. “Why Andrew? Why do you appear and sound like my brother Andrew to me?”
“With the others, in order to remain safely hidden among them, I had to become the person I had just killed. However, with you, your mind chose how I would look to you,” said Andrew. “I suspect that you are your brother had a very close bond to one another. His death still haunts you. Even though you know he’s dead, you still hope deep down in your heart that a mistake has been made and that he will one day walk through the door and tell you that everything is all right.”
“Yeah, I guess I do,” said Shaw, feeling a lump in his throat. Whatever it was sitting across from him, it knew his feelings and what he was thinking, perhaps a little too well, thought Shaw.
“Jim, you’re a statistical anomaly. I was told that only one in perhaps ten million of your species could see through the cloud.”
“Your species,” said Shaw, “what the hell does that mean?”
“Come now Jim, you’re no fool you and I both know that after all you have seen these past few days you cannot possibly believe that the craft your people stumbled across in the woods was built here.”
“No, I guess not. I take it that you intend to kill me and then gut me, so there’s no harm in answering a few questions for me, now is there, Andrew.”
“No, I suppose not, but don’t be under any illusions. I may look and sound like your brother, but you need to understand that you’re a dead man.”
“Fair enough,” said Shaw, as he sat back and placed his hands in his pockets, his mind desperate to find a way out of this nightmare. He could have yelled out for joy when his right hand wrapped around his old pocketknife. He had forgotten that he had placed it in his pocket earlier in the day. Slowly, he pulled his hands out and placed them together on his lap. “If you’re not from here, where do you come from?”
The imposter smiled. “That is a far more complicated question than you could possibly imagine. Let’s just say that I have travelled long and far to
get here.”
Keeping his eyes fixed on Andrew’s doppelganger, Shaw ever so slowly opened up the pocketknife hidden in his hands.
“What happened? Why are you here?”
“That I can answer. I was on a routine reconnaissance mission when I accidentally smashed into one of your primitive aircraft. I expected him to turn out the way as I flew towards him, but he must have frozen at the controls. And then before you knew it, we crashed into one another, and I was struggling to remain aloft.”
“Bad luck for you.”
“You have no idea how much I hate the cold. After I crashed, I thought I was going to die on this miserable frozen rock. When I saw the lights from this camp, in the distance, I realized that I still had a chance. I came here looking for food and warmth. Killing the first man I saw, I easily took his place and then tried to keep a low profile until help arrived.”
“What happened to the garrison?” said Shaw as he gripped his knife tight in his hand. If he could get Andrew’s double to keep talking, he knew he had a chance to try and catch him unaware.
“Food is the problem. I need to eat a lot to survive in this awful climate. Your food here is inedible, so I turned to the next readily available source of food.”
“You mean us, don’t you?”
“It only makes sense to eat what is easy to find. The problem was that the people here started to kill one another faster than I had anticipated, and I quickly began to run out of fresh food. That is until you, and your people came along.”
“My God, you killed Gert, took his place and then began to kill the Norwegians to stay alive, didn’t you.”
“I think you already know the answer to that.”
“Yeah, I suppose I do,” said Shaw, leaning forward. His heart began to race. He could feel the mix of fear and adrenaline coursing through his body. Coiled like a snake ready to strike, Shaw took a deep breath and readied himself.
“Alright I think this has gone on long enough. I have answered all of your answers, and I’m really hungry. It is time to finish this. I have to cleanse the camp before leaving.”
Before Andrew could move, Shaw attacked. Leaping forward, Shaw thrust his knife straight at Andrew’s face. With unbelievable speed, Andrew reached up and grabbed Shaw’s right hand firmly and then began to twist his arm over. Agonizing pain shot through Shaw’s outstretched arm. Clenching his left fist, Shaw sent it flying into Andrew’s face. He felt it connect, but his brother sat there stone-faced as if nothing had happened.
Twisting harder, Andrew forced Shaw to let go of his knife, which clattered away in the dark. Letting go of Shaw’s arm, the imposter hauled back with his right arm and then slapped Shaw right across his face, sending him tumbling down onto the cold, metal floor of the truck.
Feeling as if he had just been struck with a baseball bat, Shaw could taste blood in his mouth. Struggling to rise, he felt a pair of hands reach out and grab his parka. A second later, he was pulled up so could look straight up at his brother’s expressionless face. Scrambling with his feet on the smooth metal surface in the back of the truck, Shaw realized that he wasn’t going to escape that easy. Desperation took hold. Flailing with his arms, he sent shot after shot into his brother’s head. Andrew’s head never once moved from the savage blows. To Shaw, it was like he was hitting a brick wall.
Leaning his head down until the imposter could look into Shaw’s eyes, he said, “You fool if I can disguise myself as one of you don’t you think that I could read your thoughts as well. You never stood a chance.”
“Go fuck yourself,” said Shaw, mustering what little bit of defiance he had left in him.
“Time to feed,” said the imposter. The stone-faced expression on Andrew’s face instantly changed. He wanted to enjoy the kill. Closing his eyes for a moment, he dropped any attempt to hide who he was. Letting go of Shaw’s parka with his right hand, he reached over and wrapped his hand around Shaw’s throat.
Looking up, Shaw saw his brother’s face disappear. In the blink of an eye, he found himself looking up at something from a horrible nightmare. The face of his attacker was no longer human. It reminded him of a stone gargoyle perched atop a medieval church. A pair of large red eyes with slit irises stared hungrily down at him. Even in the dim light, Shaw could see a leathery reptilian face looking down on him. His mind screamed for him to escape, but he couldn’t. The creature’s grip was too tight for him to break free.
A bright light suddenly illuminated the back of the truck, as a voice called out, “Freytag, what the hell are you doing?”
“He killed Wedel. I had to stop him,” said the imposter, once more safely hidden behind its disguise.
“Drop him,” ordered Muller, aiming his weapon at the imposter.
Shaw felt the vice-like grip on his throat suddenly release him. Falling to the floor of the truck, Shaw instinctively brought his hands to his bruised neck as he painfully gasped for air.
“Get out,” said Muller to Freytag.
Jumping down from the back of the truck, the imposter stood there staring at the weapon in Muller’s hands. He may have been stronger than any human, but he knew that their weapons could still kill him if he wasn’t careful.
Shaw couldn’t believe how close he had come to death. Slowly, he turned over and looked out the back of the truck. A slight grin crept across his face when he saw Bruce standing there alongside two German soldiers and Muller. Taking a deep, pained breath to fill his lungs, Shaw coughed harshly. Carefully, he got up on his hands and knees and then made his way to the back of the truck. Carefully, he climbed down.
Bruce walked over and helped Shaw stand. “You ok, sir?” asked Bruce, happy to see Shaw alive.
Shaw nodded his head and then looked over at his attacker. In the dim light, Shaw could see that the creature was as tall as he was. It had broad shoulders, long arms that hung below its waist and was wearing a type of camouflaged body armor from the neck down that Shaw thought resembled a knight’s armor. Its skin was a dark tan color. The imposter’s head was smooth and elongated with a short snout with that protruded outwards. Looking over at Muller and Bruce, he saw that they didn’t see it as it truly was; they only saw what it wanted them to see.
Muller said to Shaw, “Captain, did you kill Private Wedel?”
Shaw tried speaking, but found that he couldn’t. His throat felt like it was on fire. Shaking his head, he pointed over at the imposter.
“I am innocent,” pleaded Freytag. “He’s lying. Who are you going to believe, a murderer or a loyal German soldier?”
“I don’t know who to believe, but you’ll all have to come with me,” said Muller, waving his weapon back towards the headquarters building. “Major Vogel will need to be told right away what has happened here.”
The imposter stood firm.
“Freytag, do as you’re told,” snapped Muller.
Crossing its arms, the imposter shook its head.
“You’ll do as you’re damn well told to,” said Muller. Looking over at the two German soldiers, Muller ordered them to take Freytag into custody. Seeing Freytag standing there challenging Muller, both soldiers seemed to lose their nerve. Neither man was willing to follow their sergeant’s orders. Raising his voice, Muller told them to grab hold of Freytag, or he would have them arrested as well for insubordination. The closest soldier reluctantly nodded his head, slung his weapon over his shoulder, and then strode over to Freytag.
“Sorry Freytag, you should have done what the sergeant said,” said the soldier as he grabbed him by the arm. Yanking hard, the soldier’s hand slid off Freytag’s arm. Grabbing it again, the exasperated soldier pulled harder. A look of puzzlement flashed in the man’s eyes. It was as if Freytag was made of granite.
The second soldier moved to help his friend, but was too late; the imposter saw his opportunity and attacked. Grabbing the closest soldier’s rifle in his left hand, he easily pulled it from the surprised man’s shoulder. Without looking behind him, the imposter threw the weapon up
and over the chain-link fence. The soldier’s eyes widened. Instantly, he panicked and tried to step back from the imposter. The man had barely gone two feet when the imposter reached and grabbed him by the collar. Balling up its right fist, the imposter sent its hand flying straight through the hapless soldier’s body. The wet, sickening sound of the imposter twisting its hand around behind the soldier’s back filled the air. In the cold air, steam rose from the blood-soaked hand sticking out of the man’s back. A second later, the imposter pulled its hand back. With an incredulous look on his face, the soldier crumpled to the ground, dead.
“No,” cried the second soldier. Bringing up his rifle into his shoulder, he fired a bullet at point-blank range into the imposter’s chest.
Stepping back slightly from the force of the impact, the imposter dug in his heels and then looked straight at the soldier.
Only Shaw could see that it was the imposter’s body armor that had stopped the bullet from penetrating its body.
Seeing Freytag standing there unhurt with a look of anger in his eyes, the soldier brought his rifle down and hurried to eject the spent casing.
The imposter did not intend to give him a second chance to kill him. With a loud yell, the imposter dashed forward, grabbed the soldier’s rifle and pulled it out of his hands. Crushing the end of the barrel in its hand as if it were made of clay, the imposter dropped the destroyed rifle, shot his right hand out and then grabbed hold of the terrified soldier’s neck.
Muller brought his weapon up and tried to get a clear shot.
Seeing Muller, the imposter smiled and then held the dying soldier in front of him, blocking the sergeant’s aim.
With a loud, wet snap, the man’s neck shattered. Letting the dead body fall to the ground, the imposter locked his gaze on Muller.
Incursion (A James Shaw Mission Book 1) Page 18
