Tales from the Kurtherian Universe: Fans Write For The Fans: Book 3

by Michael Anderle

  "No, it is my blood. I heal quickly."

  The doctor held up the pants. The legs were drenched in slowly drying blood. He looked Fabien over and said, "You're pale."

  Staying in the closet doorway, as far as he could be from the doctor, Fabien said, "I need something to eat. Healing that injury took a lot."

  Eying Fabien, the doctor nodded once and said, "What do you need?"

  "Human blood."

  "Ah." The doctor said, "Does it need to be, uh...fresh?"

  "That would be best, yes."

  "Will the donor survive?"

  Fabien nodded slightly. "I can limit myself."

  The doctor crossed the room and held out his wrist. "Then take what you need."

  Moving as slowly as he could, Fabien took the doctor's wrist in his mouth and drank as little as he thought he could get away with. When he was done, the doctor backed away, holding his wrist. "That is all you need? I expected you to take more."

  "It will do, thank you, Doctor," Fabien said, bowing deeply. "You need your blood as much as I."

  Dropping lightly into a chair, he said, "So, Ferd, I—"

  The doctor interrupted him, "Fernand if you must, or doctor, or even mayor. No one has called me Ferd in quite some time."

  "Sorry, doctor. I was able to get a look at the disposition of the Germans. Would I be correct in saying that you have people hiding in this house?"

  "Yes. That was why we were digging in the cellar. We realized that the brick wall was not external, and hoped to find a place to hide more people. There are thirty here who need to remain out of German hands at all costs. The Germans are not well disposed toward the Jews or the Roma."

  Crossing one foot over a knee, Fabien wiped at his shoe and said, "As I thought, though I didn't know the specifics. I saw a hole in the Germans’ patrol. There's a half-hour period when their patrols are all in the Hotel de Ville as they change over. If we move during that time, we should be able to get them out of town without being noticed."

  "How certain of this are you?"

  "Completely. The guards waiting outside the Hotel de Ville were expecting it. That tells me it must happen at the same time each night—a couple of hours after midnight."

  The doctor started absently as he washed the blood out of the pants and said, "If we take them north, moving away from the town square, it will give us extra time. Once in the countryside, they can spread out and go to ground. It's the best we can do."

  "While everyone is moving, I can keep an eye out for any Germans. With my capabilities, I can move across the rooftops, and should be able to hear them coming long before they can see us."

  The doctor spread the pants on a rod to dry and said, "Very well, but now I need to sleep. There's a bed in the spare room you can use."

  "Thank you, but I will need to sleep on the…" Fabien paused, "on the couch in the cellar. I cannot chance exposure to the sun."

  "As long as you don't mind sharing. The people I mentioned are down there now."

  Fabien shrugged. "I'll make do."

  Fismes, France, Cellar of Genillon Home

  Bang!

  Fabien jerked awake at the sound from above.

  The front door to the house slammed open and German voices called, "Doctor! Get down here."

  In his groggy state and surrounded by the huddled mass of people, he couldn't tell how many came in, but it was quite a few. They stomped around the building, pulling open cabinets and looking through closets. In the room with him, a mother started bouncing a baby on her knee to keep it quiet.

  From above, the doctor said in a muffled voice, "Sorry, I was asleep. What's wrong?"

  "Show me the injured. Someone was spying on us last night. They were badly injured escaping, and I will find them," the German commander snarled.

  "Of course, sir. They are all right back this way. They are the same ones who were here yesterday. No one new."

  "I'll be the judge of that," the commander snapped.

  Fabien pulled back against the side of his coffin, knowing exactly who they were looking for.

  The soldiers continued searching the house as the doctor took the commander to the back and showed him the injured people. The doctor said, "All these are sick with diseases. I wouldn't touch them."

  A voice called out in pain, and the commander said, "Aha! Show me your leg!"

  There was coughing, over which the doctor said, "Let me."

  Fabien heard a gasp and gagging noise, then the doctor said, "As I said, disease. His leg is rotting, not broken."

  From where he lay, as still as he could be, Fabien heard the commander stumble out of the house and retch in the backyard. He pushed himself in order to try to remain awake, but in the middle of the day, it was hard. He faded in and out of awareness as the soldiers searched the rest of the house.

  They didn’t find the hidden staircase that led to the cellar, and by the time they left Fabien was deeply asleep.

  Fismes, France

  After the sun set, the doctor came down into the cellar. Fabien was sitting in his coffin, a Roma child in his arms as he swayed back and forth. She leaned against his chest and sucked on her thumb. The child's mother, who was feeding her son a few feet away, glanced up as the doctor came into the room.

  The doctor said, "Time to get ready. The patrol should be heading back to the Hotel de Ville in the next half-hour. At that point, we can leave."

  Heads nodded around the room. A Roma man stood up and said, "We have been talking," motioning with his head to a group of four young men near him, "and we are not going with you. We want to stay in Fismes to fight the Germans."

  The doctor said, "Are you sure? This may be the last chance to leave for a long time."

  "We are sure."

  "That may help us tonight. Can the five of you stay in nearby buildings and watch for the patrol? If they come earlier than we expect, try to draw them off. It will be dangerous, but it could help the rest of the people here get out of town safely."

  The young man stood straighter, glanced at his friends, and nodded. "Yes, we can do that. We will not let them find you!"

  Fabien said, "Don't risk too much. Just draw them away and then hide. Don't get yourself killed."

  His face set, the young man assured him, "We will not let them find you." His friends stood up, and one put a hand on his shoulder before nodding. The five of them left the house to find places to watch from.

  Fabien handed the child in his arms back to her mother. "I'll go make sure that the patrol is changing shift. I’ll meet you back here shortly."

  The doctor waved him off and started helping people pack.

  Fabien headed toward the town square, being more careful than the night before. He didn't need to get all the way there to be sure of their schedule. As long as the patrol was heading in that direction, it should be fine.

  He climbed onto the roof of the first tall building he came to and looked for the patrols. He couldn't see them, but a short time later he heard them several streets over.

  Taking a running start, he cleared the street and rolled to a stop on a roof closer to the patrol. After standing and brushing himself off, he found that he had a good vantage and looked down the street. A squad of German soldiers, ten in total, was a hundred meters away.

  As they passed each building, they checked any dark spots, looked down alleys, and gazed into the ground-floor windows. A member of the squad with a machine gun had remained in the middle of the street at all times, shoulders tight, looking ahead. The final soldier in line walked backward with a rifle at the ready and several grenades on his belt. Every few seconds one of the soldiers would lift his rifle and scan the windows and rooftops.

  Fabien backed away from the edge of the building as the patrol passed. He stayed out of sight, hearing them go farther toward the square. When he could no longer hear them, he climbed down off the building and returned to the doctor's house.

  Rounding the corner to approach the house from behind, Fabien co
uldn't see anyone, but he could hear the breathing of dozens of people. He walked into the yard with his hands out and softly said, "It's me."

  The doctor stood from behind a rose bush and asked, "Well?"

  "The patrols are returning to the Hotel de Ville. We can go, but should hurry."

  Everyone rose from wherever they were hiding in bushes, doorways, and even from below the stairs. The doctor led the way, and Fabien took up the rear. Things went smoothly as they passed through the yards behind houses, over several streets, and toward the north part of town.

  Across the street, the first of the young men waved at Fabien and ducked into an alley. He was holding a long metal rod that looked like a fence pole. Fabien waved back, then jogged to catch up to the rest of the group.

  At each road they crossed, the doctor would hold everyone up for a few moments to check both ways and listen, making sure no soldiers lurked out of sight. Every few blocks he saw another of the young men, each with their own improvised weapon.

  When the buildings started to thin out, Fabien both heard and saw the last of the five young men who were staying behind peel off to head back toward the main part of town. It looked like he carried a sword. The doctor led the group into the next street and across, heading toward the La Vesle river a few blocks away.

  Snap, crack!

  A piece of the road near Fabien shot into the air as the sound of a gunshot reached him. A hundred meters away, just at the end of the road, a squad of German soldiers was running toward them. Their rifles in hand, they moved a short distance and stopped to fire before hurrying toward the fleeing group again.

  Fabien yelled, "Run!"

  All pretense of stealth was lost. The fugitives sprinted outright toward the river. Fabien saw the mother of two struggling with her children. Putting on a burst of speed, he scooped up the young boy, all of five years old, and ran with him to the doctor. He said, "Here! Carry him, and I will try to lead them away."

  Child in hand, the doctor led the rest toward the river. Fabien returned to the corner of the building. On the way, he picked up a few loose cobbles from the road.

  Fismes, France, Near the La Vesle River

  Staying out of sight Fabien waited at the corner of the building. The soldiers were running full out and would be there in a moment. Too soon for those fleeing to escape. Closing his eyes, he waited. When it sounded like they were only a short distance away, he spun around the corner and threw the cobblestones at the soldiers as hard as he could.

  The soldiers dove out of the way. Most of the stones missed, but one slammed into the helmeted head of a soldier several back in line. It hit with enough force to flip the soldier end over end. Fabien sprinted back toward town before that soldier hit the ground, dead.

  Gunshots sounded behind him, and bullets zipped past him, but none struck home before he made it out of sight. He ran to the end of the alley, scooping up more cobblestones as he went, and waited.

  Even though he was much faster than them, the soldiers only took a few seconds to reach the alley.

  Fabien was preparing to throw the cobblestones again when the machine gunner stepped into view, firing as he moved into the alley. The gun kicked and bucked in his hands, making it impossible for him to aim, but it was enough.

  Fabien dropped the cobblestones and dove out of the way. One round from the machine gun clipped the back of his leg and sent him sprawling. He scrambled to his feet and stumbled across the street, the back of his leg quickly closing up.

  The machine gun stopped firing after a few seconds, and the soldiers chased him. They made it to the street as he made it to the alley and charged toward him, bayonets leading the way. The machine gunner ran up last.

  Most of the soldiers didn't fire as they were running, not being accurate enough, and Fabien used that to full advantage. He ducked behind every obstacle he could find. He knocked down barrels and jumped over fences. As he cleared one fence, the squad leader fired two shots from his pistol, one of which hit him in the shoulder and sent him sprawling again.

  At that point, he started to worry he wouldn't have enough blood in him to be able to make it back to the fleeing people. He picked up speed, dove over the next few fences, and ran into an alley.

  As he ducked from view, the soldiers opened fire again. Bullets slammed into the walls around him. Over the sound of bullets, he heard a clink, thud, thud sound as a grenade rolled to a stop a few feet away.

  He threw himself up the side of the building and reached the top in a single jump, then sprinted across it and leapt toward the next building. When he was mid-air, he heard it go off. The grenade blew apart the fence and a corner of the building. He landed in a roll and ran for the next roof, and the next, aiming for buildings that would give him quick passage but leave the Germans far behind. Soon he couldn't even hear them running, so he circled around to try to catch up with the rest of the fleeing people.

  Fismes, France, Near the La Vesle River

  Hopping from one roof to another, Fabien tracked back along his path. He only climbed down to the ground when the buildings got too far apart. He didn't see any of the fleeing people, but also didn't see any bodies or smell any blood, so he took it as a good sign.

  He made it to the bridge across the river before he heard any people moving—running boots from more soldiers on the other side of the river. He sprinted across the bridge and ran toward the sounds of shouting German voices.

  Rounding a corner, he saw them—another squad of German soldiers. They had the escapees backed against a building. All twenty-six of them, including the doctor. The soldier's rifles were raised.

  Fabien screamed and charged. He slammed into the back of the first soldier he came to, shoulder first. The man’s back snapped, and he dropped to the ground. Fabien scooped up his rifle, and all the soldiers turned on him.

  The squad leader fired his pistol directly into Fabien's chest, making him stumble back a few steps. Four soldiers charged him, leading with bayonets. Fabien righted himself and swung his captured rifle wildly.

  The lead soldier couldn't react quickly enough, and the rifle slammed into his head and broke his neck, but the following soldier jumped forward and stabbed Fabien in the arm. From the other side, another soldier stabbed him in the side of his chest.

  He rolled backward still holding half a rifle. The soldiers followed, more of them catching up. His wounds started healing and he threw the rifle butt at the next soldier in line, knocking him to the ground, then grabbed the rifle of another soldier. The soldier wouldn't let go, so he swung the rifle, soldier and all, to the side.

  The soldier let go of his rifle as a bayonet slammed into his back from his charging companion.

  Crack!

  Another round slammed into Fabien. The squad leader was calmly walking around the melee shooting him whenever there was a clear shot. Fabien snarled and threw the rifle he was holding at the squad leader.

  He telegraphed his throw too clearly, though, and the squad leader took a single step back. The rifle shot past him and shattered against the wall almost fifty feet away, so he shot Fabien again.

  Another soldier dove forward and stabbed Fabien, who kicked him in the chest and yanked the rifle from his hand. He flew across the street and slammed into the wall, slumping to the ground, unmoving.

  Crack!

  Yet another round slammed into his shoulder, sending Fabien spinning to the ground. Two of the remaining soldiers stabbed down at him with their bayonets, and he tried to roll out of the way, but only dodged one. The other went through his leg, pinning him in place.

  With a twist he snapped the blade off the bayonet, leaving it in his leg as he rolled forward and tackled the soldier. He hefted him off the ground and bit his neck, and blood shot into his mouth. He backed up, holding the soldier he was draining between him and the rest of the squad.

  The squad leader shot the soldier in Fabien's hands in the back of the head, ending his life. The blood rushed through Fabien’s body, closing hi
s many wounds, but he was slower now. Only four left, he thought, eying them.

  He ran toward the squad leader, holding the corpse like a shield. Seconds before reaching the leader, he threw the body toward the next nearest soldier.

  The squad leader got one last shot off before Fabien grabbed his head and spun him around, throwing him at another soldier. The shot went wide but distracted the soldier who was chasing him.

  Scooping up the pistol, Fabien turned to the next soldier and pulled the trigger. Click. Empty. "Are you kidding me?"

  The three remaining soldiers opened fire. Two shots slammed into him and knocked him down. The third went wide, striking the building against which all the escapees were cowering.

  Fabien ran forward and tackled two of the soldiers. He punched them as quickly as he could, alternating between them to keep them from fighting back. One went still, and he turned to the other but felt a sharp pain as the last soldier slammed his bayonet into Fabien's back.

  He rolled forward off the blade, his wound starting to close, then ran straight back. He tackled the soldier who had stabbed him and crushed his windpipe.

  Standing over the squad of dead soldiers, Fabien panted. The night became strangely quiet. Even the Fismois were still.

  The silence was broken by the growl of a petrol engine from the direction of the bridge.

  Fabien turned toward the river, mouth hanging open, as the Panzer drove toward them. He yelled, "RUN!" and charged toward the tank.

  The Panzer driving toward him had two machine guns and a cannon on the front. As it crossed the bridge, the machine guns spun up, and rounds chewed across the ground toward Fabien. Cobblestones shattered and shards flew into the air in a cloud.

  He dove to the side, came up in a roll, and sprinted toward the building, away from the fleeing Fismois. The machine gun followed him, blowing holes in the building. He pushed himself to vampiric speed as he ran toward the tank.

  He jumped high into the air and slammed onto the tank. It continued after the fleeing civilians.

  He started punching the top, each slam of his fist causing fractures to his bones as well as penetrating the metal of the tank.