Five Past Midnight - James Thayer [61]
"You're the American, the one who was at the Vassy Chateau."
Enge's voice wavered as if from the wind. He clasped his hands together so they wouldn't shake, but instead they trembled in unison.
"You know about me?" The American handed Enge the pack.
Private Enge's head pounded. He still had no idea how the American had blacked him out. A hit to the head, for sure, but Enge had seen nothing, just a blur. He pulled a flyer from his coat pocket. Jack Cray's face was printed on it.
Cray studied it. "That's me, all right. Where'd you get this?"
"Everybody in my unit has one. And they are posted all over Berlin, all over Germany."
Groaning, Sergeant Keppler rolled onto his belly.
Cray chewed on nothing, staring at the flyer. Below the photograph of his face were the words NATIONAL ALERT, and then in slightly smaller type, VASSY CHATEAU KILLER ESCAPES POW CAMP. And below that was a description of Jack Cray's actions at the chateau. On the bottom of the flyer was Cray's name, and under that SPEAKS GERMAN FLUENTLY.
Cray returned the flyer to the private. "Let's go." He lifted Enge's rifle.
Enge was startled. "Go? Go where?"
"North."
"If you wanted to go further north, why didn't you stay on the train?"
"I held on as long as I could," Cray replied. "Let's go."
The private shook his head solemnly. "I'm not going anywhere without my sergeant." He pointed at Keppler, who was now sitting with his legs splayed out in front of him, a hand touching his head, his jaw open and his eyes closed.
"You don't have a lot to say about it," Cray said. "Get in your truck and let's go."
Enge said with satisfaction, "The truck doesn't work."
Cray stared at Private Enge's face, an open face incapable of a lie. "Then let's walk."
The private shook his head. "Not without Sergeant Keppler."
"You read that flyer." Cray smiled. "You are talking to a dangerous fellow here. You should do what I say, and quickly."
Another adamant shake of the private's head. His lip was out.
Cray shrugged. "All right. Let's get him to his feet."
One on each side of the sergeant, they pulled Keppler up. He swayed, but could move his legs as Cray and Enge began walking north along the road. The sergeant's rifle was left behind. Cray carried the other Mauser in his free hand.
"That's quite a bloody wrap you have on your neck," Enge said. "Are you really injured?"
Cray shook his head. "I do it for sympathy."
After a while Sergeant Keppler shook off their help and walked unassisted. He said nothing. Red welts were forming on his forehead where the stone had hit him. Blood seeped into an eye and he wiped it away with a finger. Cray dropped a pace behind so he could watch both of them.
High in the east, a bomber formation moved south, the rumble of the Fortress engines rolling softly over the fields. The country lane paralleled the railroad tracks, and the three of them passed several farmhouses.
"Where did you get that Wehrmacht major's uniform?" Enge asked. "Did you kill some poor guy to get it?"
"From a box in a warehouse."
"I'll bet you killed somebody for it," Enge insisted. "Took it off a dead body."
Sergeant Keppler scowled at Enge.
"I promise I didn't." Cray moved his hand across his uniform. "Cross my heart."
That satisfied the private.
Keppler said his first words to the American, "Where are you taking us?"
"As far north as I can get."
"Why don't you kill us now and save us the walk?" Keppler asked.
Enge's eyes widened. "You think he's going to kill us, Sergeant?"
"Christ, Enge, you read about him. That's what his country pays him to do. I'll bet he's got a knife half a meter long hidden under his coat, and he's going to stick it into us."
Enge stared at the American. "He's not going to do that."
"Why would it be any different for you and me than it was for those poor bastards at the chateau?" the sergeant said.
"But he seems friendly