CHAPTER SIX
By the time Billy and his comrades had woken up, Charlie was already outside. Slowly, they yawned themselves awake, stretching out their aches and pains from the harshness of the stone church floor. The Nazi patients they had bunked with were doing much the same, though they had the luxury of the village’s makeshift nurses caring for their needs. And although the four men felt an automatic resentment towards them all, they couldn’t help but notice just how non-threatening the opposition were being towards them.
Grabbing their things they made their way outside, in search of their Captain. The day was beautiful - dazzling light hit them, a glorious blue sky, a fresh layer of snow on the ground, and a stunning sun looking down on them. The magnificent red of the poppies broke through the white snow, and coupled with the lapping sound of the nearby waters, the men couldn’t help but feel slightly relaxed.
The villagers were going about their day, as was apparently typical for them. People were working hard. Men were picking the closest trees clean of the few fruits they had left to offer. Women were chasing and ensnaring field mice, rabbits and even foxes, whilst all the children were kept busy, scraping up snow into buckets, in turn pouring it into large cauldrons, perched above small fires, being boiled for drinking water. There were even several chickens fenced off in a small area, and a single goat tied to a post.
Charlie was talking to the Old Woman beneath the water tower, and they appeared to be in deep conversation. So, led by Yankee, the squad marched over, politely nodding to the villagers they passed.
‘What’s the happening, Cap’n?’ asked Yankee, who was sounding rather cheerful.
Charlie and the Old Woman immediately ceased their conversation. She gave them all a well-wrinkled smile, before hobbling off towards some of her fellow villagers. She tapped a rather skinny woman, dressed in little more than rags, with no shoes on her feet, on the shoulder, ordering her towards the men. As instructed the woman came over, holding up grotesque looking cooked rats on sticks - breakfast offerings, it would seem. The men quickly declined. They wished it was because they were being gentlemanly, sparing the food for the other villagers, or better yet because they were already full. But it was purely because of just how disgusting they thought it was. Shamed, they all said no.
‘No, thanks,’ said Doodle. ‘I already had rat for dinner.’
‘Trying to… watch my figure,’ replied Billy, awkwardly.
‘Bleuh…’ retched Specks, who still had a somewhat weak stomach from last night’s episode.
‘She’s given us a point in the right direction,’ said Charlie, finally answering Yankee’s question, but getting straight to the point. ‘The facts are solid enough, and it’s our best lead. She has informed me that every time the long grey man, Shoebox to you and I, arrives, he comes from south by south west. To which he always leaves.’
‘What? That’s it? Whole Goddamned world is to our south by south west, Captain. Besides, I thought we were gonna clamp down here for a few days. Get some chow and help out these good folk,’ said Yankee, who’s mood was swiftly changing.
‘I said no such thing,’ responded Charlie, checking his pistol and placing it firmly in its holster. ‘The Old Woman has offered us limited food supplies for our journey. But it helps our cause. Chances are, if we keep tight to the directions, and luck is on our side, us and Shoebox will simply cross paths. So get your gear. And let’s get moving. I want to be on route within the hour.’
‘You can’t be serious, Cap,’ remarked Yankee, following Charlie as he marched off to prepare supplies. ‘We only just got here, and now you want us heading off into the Goddamned oblivion because of some vague chance.’
‘Get your things, Yankee. That’s an order.’ Yankee stopped dead in his tracks, and dropped every single one of his weapons to the ground. Charlie turned, looking at the action with great curiosity. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’
‘I can’t speak for these fine guys, but I’m done. I ain’t going nowhere,’ exclaimed Yankee.
Charlie took a moment, looking off at the horizon they’d be heading off into within the hour. He glanced at Billy and his other men, who were standing behind Yankee, all of whom had their heads lowered, desperately avoiding eye contact. And then he looked at Yankee, who was staring right back at him, waiting.
‘You ain’t going nowhere?’ repeated Charlie, very slowly, emphasising every syllable.
‘Permission to speak freely, sir,’ requested Yankee.
‘Granted.’
‘Sir, I’m tired of following your crazy orders. Captain, I would willingly follow you to the ends of the earth, and I would gladly lay down my life for you, as long as there was good reason for it, as long as your orders made sense. But there ain’t no good reason for this. And your orders haven’t made sense for a long time.’
Charlie processed the information quickly and without empathy:
‘Fine. You are no longer required. I relieve you of duty. Doodle, I’ll assume you’re with your brother. So, that leaves Billy and Specks. And that’s all I need. Now, let’s go.’
But before Billy or Specks could speak or even move, Yankee spoke out again:
‘If you think I’m letting you march my friends off on another one of your suicidal missions, without me to look out for them, then you’re even more crazy than I thought. You’ll end up getting them killed. Or worse yet, dead!’
‘You don’t have jurisdiction over these men. They are mine to command,’ whispered Charlie, stepping forward so he was face to face with Yankee.
‘You’ve lost it, old man. You lost it months ago, ever since the spook house,’ replied Yankee, his speech slowly spiralling into an uncontrolled rant. ‘You’ve become obsessed with your Alpha-Omega mission. And you’re completely mad with finding Shoebox. So much so that you’ve forgotten why we’re really here. We’re still soldiers, Goddamnit. I’m here to serve a purpose. It’s like you’re on some kind of personal vende… ven… ve…’
‘Vendetta,’ helped Specks.
‘Right. Vendetta.’
‘Maybe you should take it easy, Bro,’ suggested Doodle, walking forward and resting a hand on Yankee’s shoulder, who instantly pulled away. ‘Or not.’
‘I think it best you remember your place, soldier,’ said Charlie, slightly raising his voice and getting the attention of the villagers.
‘Charlie. I don’t know, maybe if we…’ began Billy, but Charlie raised his hand, silencing the young man.
‘I am still a soldier,’ continued Yankee. ‘I am meant to be ridding the world of evil. Not ignoring it. Can’t even remember the last time I actually felt like I was aiding the war, or any other human being for that matter. I’m just busy helping you with your stupid personal vendetta. Ignoring the calls for help from others, whilst we chase down some mysterious madman, that half the planet don’t even know exists.’
‘That’s enough out of you, soldier.’
‘You used to be a hero, man. I used to look up to you. But not anymore. No way. Not anymore.’ Yankee looked around the village, admiring all the people working in harmony about him. ‘I’m done. I quit your stupid Alpha-Omega missions. We’re through. You go off on your fairy tale adventures. I’m gonna do something far more worthwhile with my time, however long that may be. I’m gonna stay. And I’m gonna help these people.’
‘You’re a deserter, and a coward,’ roared Charlie.
‘And you’re a selfish bastard, whose family would be ashamed of.’
Charlie punched Yankee. THWACK. There was no warning. There was no chance to move. Within a blink of an eye, the Captain had balled up his fist, drawn back his arm and walloped Yankee round the side of his face, instantly flooring the man. He hit the ground hard and everyone gasped in shock. All eyes were now completely devoted to the two soldiers. Gradually, Yankee picked himself up, wiping the blood from his lip with the back of his hand.
‘I’m gonna give you that one for free,’ he said, struggling to remain calm.
But Charlie punched him again. Another swift balled up fist straight across his face, taking the man off guard. Yankee took it well, staying on his feet this time, pacing backwards from the power of the blow. He looked back at his brother and fellow soldiers, all of whom were slowly shaking their heads as if to deter him from succumbing to his own temptations. He turned back to Charlie, grinning. ‘Now that one is gonna cost ya.’
Yankee went for a wild strike, but Charlie saw it coming, blocking the force of the blow with his forearm, before quickly pushing the American backwards, buying himself a little bit of breathing space. Doodle and Billy moved to break up the fight, but the Old Woman appeared, holding out her cane and stopping them. They both looked at her, perplexed by her intervention.
‘Let them fight,’ she said. ‘It is something they need to do.’
And so they did, allowing a strange set of affairs to play out in front of an ever-growing crowd, who had all but stopped in their daily chores, astounded by the brawl. Even a few of the Nazi patients had limped their way out of the church to see what all the commotion was about.
‘Let’s settle this like men,’ said Charlie, pulling his belt off, and dropping his holstered gun to the ground.
‘I intend to.’
‘Well obviously you aren’t going to shoot each other,’ commented Billy and Doodle in unison, both utterly annoyed at their actions, undecided in who was being the more stupid of the two.
Charlie and Yankee slowly paced the arena that had formed, both sizing the other one up. They’d worked together for years. They’d saved each other’s lives countless times. But none of that mattered right now. All there was, was anger. The pair charged, and collided. The fight was on.
But from a great distance away, someone else was watching the fight unfold. Upon a high hill, laying low on the snowy ground, camouflaged in a white and grey uniform, was the One Eyed Man. In silence he watched, enjoying the clash through a sniper scope, grinning to himself broadly. He pulled a portable handheld transceiver from his backpack and turned it on. Static crackled from the speaker. With a bit of fine tuning he cleared it up and spoke:
‘Master. I have news. The Alpha-Omega squad survived the hangar attack.’
Somewhere, far away, in an unknown location, waiting in a dark ghostly room, sat a red leather chair, in the red light of a tall stained glass window. The occupant lingered in the shadows, hidden in the darkness - it was Shoebox Stone. His bony hand, resting calmly upon the armrest, drummed repeatedly. On a table next to him, sat a large transistor radio, the recipient of the call.
‘Their current whereabouts?’ came the composed, collected voice.
‘Master, they’ve stumbled upon Project Elixir. But the Captain appears to be losing control of his men,’ said the voice through heavy static. ‘Your orders, Master?’
The hand stopped drumming on the arm of the chair, as the evil mind mulled over. All that could be heard in the large empty room was a quiet, shallow breathing.
‘Have units one, two and three return to the village, post haste,’ he answered, dispassionately.
‘Yes, Master. Given their current locations, they should by upon the village in approximately thirty-six hours.’
‘As for unit four, I have a job for it to do. Have it round up a horde. It doesn’t matter who they are. Whomever is closest. I want it to lead a bread-crumb trail straight back to Charlie and the others. Their persistence in surviving is starting to become… irritating.’
‘Yes, Master. Very good.’
The transistor radio ceased, and the room fell back into silence. Shoebox stood up from his chair, his long, slender frame stretching high, and gazed out at the fragmented landscape through the red tinted glass of the stained glazed windows. His cruel eyes pierced through the shadows, and very slowly, he began to laugh a long and sinister chuckle, allowing himself a moment’s enjoyment, as he considered the ruthless death sentence he had ordered.
Back on his vantage point above the village, the One Eyed Man stood up, picking up his sniper and swinging it round his back. With one last grin at the brawl playing out below him, he turned and walked off, keen to fulfil his Master’s orders.
Meanwhile, down in the heart of the village, Charlie and Yankee were going at it as best as they individually could, whilst the crowd surrounding them watched in silence. It was difficult to tell who was winning, as blow for blow they were matching each other. Yankee was moving faster, hitting harder, but Charlie was being smarter, biding his time, dodging stray punches and landing a few himself where he could. Boxing turned to wrestling turned to martial arts turned to straight up dirty fighting. The Captain landed three punches into Yankee’s gut, almost lifting him from his feet. He grabbed the man, holding his body with all the strength he had and threw him across the area. Yankee went down, rolling through the snow. Fuelled with anger and embarrassment, Yankee got back to his feet and charged. But Charlie was swift, kicking him backwards, instantly winding him.
‘Come on, old man,’ coughed Yankee, catching his breath. ‘Gimme everything you’ve got.’
‘Oh, I intend to, you American buffoon. We English are always happy to oblige.’
Once again they slogged it out, so much so that the crowd began to become disturbed. Children pushed their way to the front to get a better view, but Billy and Doodle covered their eyes, sparring the young ones the worst of the violence. Suddenly the fight changed, as Charlie got lucky - a collide with Yankee ripped the American’s uniform open, his buttons scattering everywhere. Charlie was quick to think, grabbing the opened jacket, pulling it over Yankee’s head, covering his eyes and locking up his arms. The man was momentarily helpless, stuck, and Charlie was in no mood for sympathy. He stepped forward, and wasted no time punching the hell out of his opponent. Blow after blow came without stop, to the ribs, the stomach, the face, anywhere he could land a strike. Until finally Yankee dropped to his knees. Charlie took a moment, composing himself and regaining his energy. He pulled off Yankee’s jacket, ready to deliver the final blow, to finish the fight once and for all. But he froze. His balled-up fist was tight. His arm was raised. But he daren’t move. All he could do was look at Yankee’s bloodied, beat-up face looking straight back at him. His own man, beaten by his own hand, on his knees, by his doing.
‘Go on,’ retorted Yankee, spitting blood from his swollen mouth, looking up at his Captain with a bruised eye. ‘Finish it. You win.’
But Charlie released his fist. He dropped his arm. He stepped back. He pulled his stare from Yankee and looked around at the crowd of people. The men, the women, the children, the Nazi patients were silent, watching in shock and horror. He looked to his men for comfort, but there was none. Specks’ head was low, hiding himself from the atrocities. Doodle was staring at his brother, grieving, desperate to aid him. Whilst Billy was looking right back at him, slowly shaking his head in disbelief.
Charlie took a few shaky steps backwards, feeling his head swim, his mind race. He didn’t know what else to do, so he turned and fled, dashing down the street and out of sight.