The Great Escape (IC)

[TheScarletBlade]

The Germans brought another one in today, another female and she looked pretty bad. Something about her struck a cord deep down within him that made him want to spring up and kill each and every one of those Nazi pieces of shit that held her down and dragged her wounded through the mud. Standing on the other side of the wire fence, looking out at the Main gate as they dragged this woman away into one of the main buildings where they took prisoners for interrogation. Knowing what might be waiting there for her was even a worse thought to him as he moved away from the fence and walked back into the Prisoner camp. Everywhere he went,other prisoners either acknowledged him, greeted him or were talking about him as he passed. To many people, he was the main reason that they were still alive,thriving and so unified under the articles of the code of conduct,indoctrinated in each US service member since basic training. He had many titles around the camp, many things that many people knew him as. Some people knew him as Sir, they were usually former US service members that were also captured and acknowledged him by his rank of Captain. Some called his boss, they were those who were either non military or non American military that gave him their alliegence and respect. Some called him savior or master,he didn't like either of those but the frightened,half starved commoners saw him as a inspiration and their savior.Some of the more wild rumors were him being called Ladies Man, because he seemed to have a thing for female prisoners,but not in the way that would first come to mind. He was seen as always kind and almost more supportive of them than other prisoners,he seemed to "pamper them" sometimes and deep down in the ugly world of captivity,it enraged some people.Many didn't understand that deep down in the bottom of his heart, buried beneath the darkness and the taint of death the war had put on him, he was chivalrous and had a noble heart beating in his chest,so he couldn't stand seeing a woman suffer,it retched at his heart. Fewer still called him Friend, there was only two people who dared to be so brash as to address him in such an informal manner when in front of everyone and that was Staff Sergeant Rafiel,his right hand man in his operations in the camp and former platoon sergeant in his Ranger platoon,a tough as hell bastard with a good attitude and knew how to work well with him,despite their many differences. The other was Captain Price, his left hand man and someone who was very dangerous, someone that he kept his eye on enough to fit the term "keep your friends closer but your enemies closer". The two were counter parts,both commandos and both highly decorated and dangerous Officer in their perspective services and since Captain Price was technically the senior officer for having been in the camp so long,it was a strange deal that had made him the commander. He was a natural born leader and the face of the resistance,someone the massive could flock to and respect where as Captain Price was the under hand left side that moved through the shadows and brutally did whatever was required of him to do at the time. All of these were names that he had but the one that he held true to himself and the one name everyone knew him by, especially his captors: Derek Stackhouse, Captain, United States Army Air Bourne Rangers, 1 Ranger battalion.

Sighing,he was nervous and sullen about the whole thing but tonight was the night, the only night and so few would escape. Finally after months of planning between himself,Rafiel and Price, the three of them had created a plan to escape. There escape had decided to be a small force that could escape and bring help, maybe get somebody to rescue the prisoners. They had thought about bringing everyone out but they realized that this deep into Nazi Germany,they would never make it with 500+ people on their tails. It was originally going to be only Price and Rafiel but Rafiel refused to leave without Derek and said he would never let his captain martyr himself for his men. They had finally fleshed out their plan and were anxious to execute it when during one of their planning sessions,the beautiful, resourceful and deadly Russian had learned of their plans. She was a female sniper and a damn good one at that, they didn't even know she was there until she revealed herself and between the three of them,they admitted they were either to lazy or she was to good. So she had worked herself into the plan and now they were four. They soon became five though as Derek, "the ladies man", had decided to admit his plan to one of the female prisoners that he often had conversations with: never being one who was good with woman or lying,the somewhat devious and well trained intelligence gathering former resistance fighter from France was good with her tongue and manipulating him,they had to take her as well. Finally when the five of them were ready,tonight would be when they were going to escape. The power had to be shut down for a mandatory hour because of a glitch in one of the generators or something like that. It had only happened once before and 2 people had escaped to just be captured but they did it. So the Germans learned their mistakes and had a huge amount of security to guard the prisoners but trusting their escape details to Price, Derek hadn't been surprised when the man returned with 5 German uniforms: two officers and 3 enlisted. A coincidence? who knew but that was just part of the mystery of Captain Jeremy Price,no one knew what went through his mind or at least Derek couldn't fathom how he thought.

Their plan was to switch uniforms an hour before the power went down that night. Since the prisoners were confined to the shitty little huts they lived in,it would be hard to slip around without being seen by the extra security but Derek had found a way to assemble them all an hour before the power went off. Each of the five members of his party were Nervous but they each had a different way of showing it. Derek was taking a deep breath and staring off into space,deep in thought,it mind running through a million different scenerios on how this could all end. It didn't look good when you stacked it all up but then again Derek was a pessimist and truly believed in himself and his fellow comrades in arms. Switching into one of the German officer uniforms, it fit surprisingly well though he felt sick wearing the Nazi officer's uniform, a uniform of a man that Derek would kill if he saw him wearing it. Fixing the cover as he adjusted the medals and made it look as authentic as he knew how,he looked every bit a German officer except he would truly fool no one that talked to him or saw his face good enough because Derek was known as the leader of the Prisoners by the prisoners and the captors themselves. Often drawn in to see the warden,he was a pompous ass hole that fancied himself a gentleman despite all sorts of twisted things he did to his prisoners. Derek looked over the others as he made sure they each looked good,deep down he felt responsible for each and every one of them though all of them were seasoned veterans of this great war, he couldn't stop his natural reaction to protect them all. They all looked spot on and everyone in the group spent the next twenty minutes in silence,thinking about what lay ahead and how it would affect them. Derek didn't know what everyone else was thinking about but Derek was thinking about only one thing: The beautiful blonde Brit that the Germans had brought in a couple hours before. Unlike other men who were probably wondering what she looked like without he clothes,he was genuinely worried about her and shuddered inside at what the Germans might be doing to her as he stood ready to escape this hell hole and make a mad dash in an attempt to survive an escape attempt in Nazi controlled France. Finally, as if it were the whistle to mark the beginning of their long race,the power whined down and all the lights flickered then died.

Captain Price led the way as they escaped,Derek falling in behind him. He trusted the man's sense to move through darkness and shadows as he led them across the main portion of the camp. They were not traditionally sneaking but they were being low key in their uniforms as they headed off toward the Main gate. Prices modified plan for the day was to Hijack the automobile that the repairers had come here on and in an epic rush out the front gate, drive head long through the barrier and into the wilds of France,driving as far and as fast as he could before the thing ran out of gas. They had no better option,so Derek led silently behind the British commando as he led the way toward the front gate. Rounding a corner,they followed the wall of a building that lead them out into the open four way intersection that had the gate straight ahead and the building that they had taken the female Brit that Derek couldn't get off his mind was to his left across the street. As Prince waited for them to move down the street to where the car was,Derek quickly turned left and dashed across the street,moving full speed as his powerful legs propelled him across the street in the darkness and up to the door of the building. Before anyone else could follow him,he pushed open the door and stepped in slowly. The hall way was barely lit,there was a young private standing watch 100 meters at the other end of the hall and holding a candle up to see around him. Derek slipped down beside the wall and began to creep very slowly. Despite being in a tight uniform and being a pretty bulky looking guy,he was light on his feet and extremely graceful,his foot falls not making a sound as he approached the oblivious guard. When he got within hands reach, Derek slipped in behind him and grabbed his chin and mouth in the same hand,making sure the man couldn't scream or make any sort of noise as his other muscular arm shot in down around is neck in a rear naked choke. As he tightened his muscles up and started to squeeze,Derek was spot on the man's jugular and within 10 seconds,he was limp and unconscious in his hands. Slowly setting down the man, Derek grabbed the mans MP-40 sub machine gun with two full clips and the man's candle,walking deeper into he building on a crazy yet self righteous mission.

He had met only one guard along the way who had gotten his brains beaten in by the butt stock of his newly acquired MP-40, Derek grabbing the mans bolt action rifle with some magazines as well,the more weapons the better their chances of survival. Creeping his way through the darkness,he knew he was getting close by the soft light coming from a door that just barely illuminated a foot of darkness in the pitch black hall. Creeping slowly,foot by foot,he slid the bolt back on the mp-40 as he chambered a round in the weapon,having to use a new magazine in the weapon,he made sure it was ready to use as he finally crept up to the door frame. and looked in. The room was illuminated by candles and the female pilot was chained down to a chair and looked pretty bad. Despite maybe a bruise or two on her face,she was still beautiful and just seeing that look of pain on her face pulled at his heart strings. The two Nazi interrogators were sharpening some sort of torture device as they asked her the location of her comrades,trying to act intimidating. Derek couldn't resist the rage building in his chest,his heart beat quickening as adrenaline began to pump through his veins. Right before another interrogator took a knife to her face, Derek couldn't take any more as he sprung into the room,setting the butt stock of the weapon in the shooting groove on his right shoulder and raising the weapon muscles up as he shot. Spraying an entire clip into the room,it looked like he wasn't as he swung the firing weapon between the two interrogators but in fact he was spot on as he sent bursts of bullets into each man,turning the man into a human version of swiss cheese. The weapon finally clicking dry,Derek executed a flawless speed reload, slamming a fresh clip in within a couple seconds of dropping the other,being that fast at drawing magazines.

With a fresh source of ammunition, Derek sprung across the room where the female,pilot by the looks of her uniform, was laying chained down to the chair,heavy metal chains wrapped solidly around her sitting form. Struggling at the chains first,releasing they wouldn't budge,he grabbed the keys off of the dead man before using them to open the locks. untying her from the chair,she slumped weakly into him,having put up a hell of a struggle and having been punished for it. Her shallow breathing and her unique smell was like stepping into heaven for a second but he shook his head out of those kind of thoughts and quickly lifted her small frame up onto broad shoulders,fire man's carrying her. Steadying her with one hand, Derek held the Mp-40 with the other as he dashed out of the room. Moving at a quick pace,he moved back through the empty hall ways,his muzzle leading the way as he expected any second the alarm would be going off. No surprise when 5 seconds after he thought about it, the alarm from Horns began to play,since the speakers had no power, suddenly the whole plan got worse.

Derek had reached the main gate before the first enemy soldiers crashed in through the doors into the lobby,only a second to late. Having already leveled his weapon,Derek had it set to the guy on the left when he squeezed down the heavy metal trigger,the sub machine loosing burning hot lead round after burning hot lead round right into the mother fuckers. The weapon drifting right,he traversed all of the soldiers coming in through the door him as his bullets ripped into them as they rushed into their deaths, the first soldier catching bullet right to the chest and blowing him back with amazing force,right into the two behind him. The second caught a bullet to the head, the lead entering the side of his cranium and bursting out the other side, leaving a fist sized hole on the other size, his dead body immediately limped and fell gimply to the ground. Shouting as he advanced,still holding the female pilot on his broad,strong shoulders with his left hand,his MP-40 was held in his right hand and set against his hip as he sprayed bullets in a path of destruction before him. Four dead German Nazi soldiers were bleeding out,limp and lifeless at the door of the building. Crossing the room to their bodies,he quickly slung the MP-40 and then picked up two more rifles from two of the dead bodies, they wouldn't need them anyway and slung them as well. Suddenly a bundle of weapons and women,the quick Ranger was already dashing out the front door and into the snow covered street of the camp.

It took a second but suddenly there was a roaring alarm that sounded like someone screaming into a microphone that had been distorted. As Derek dashed across the road to where the rest of them were waiting for him,he had a serious look on his grim face,his eyes flaring with energy, enough to power a building. Suddenly within a couple minutes,the beast inside him had come alive,having been whipped down and subjugated for so many months while in captivity,by the time the first body had hit the floor,he was already relishing in the rush of the adrenaline and the thrill of the fight that had been absent for so long. Derek could see the angry look on Rafiel's face, probably more from being left behind then actually sabotaguing the mission. Price was a different story and despite his face being deadly serious and calm,he could tell that the British commando was pissed off. Derek was probably a little harsh but he cut the Brit off before he could say anything,offering him a steely,piercing look as he spoke to him with a tone that offered no smart little comments or anything but absolute obedience " Price,get that fucking truck and lets go. You two,take these weapons and lets get the fuck out of here"

Though he was not in fact the true leader of the place and Price could have said whatever he wanted to,Derek didn't want to deal with his mouth right now and if he was going to act like he was in charge,then he was going to take charge. Slipping the rifles off his shoulders for the other two to use, Derek kept one of the rifles for himself when they made their mistake,Rafiel taking the MP-40 and the deadly accurate Russian sniperess, as Derek referred to her as, took one of the rifles and then passed the other to Andree. Still carrying the unconscious British pilot on his shoulders,he waved the others a head of him as Price had already taken off toward the truck that thankfully was already running and idling while its master, who had already been knifed to death by Price, was laying in a pile of bloody snow under the truck. Price smoothly jumped into the drivers seat and slammed the door behind him as the rest of the members of his little group began to climb into the large flat back of the cargo 7 ton vehicle. Derek offered the unconscious female pilot up to Rafiel, using his hand to support him as he dragged her into the back. Unslinging the rifle off his shoulder,he dropped to a knee and got into a shooting position: setting his forward elbow against his knee cap and set his back arm against his side,stabilizing the polished wooden weapon. Racking the bolt back with his left hand with one amazingly fast and well practiced movement, his rested his cheek against the cold butt stock of the weapon and aimed with the Iron sights of the weapon at the Main guard shack at the front gate that was already in the process of locking down the base. Suddenly the world began to disappear about him and all sound faded from him,the world becoming still and silent as he became so focused on his enemy,the iron front sight tip came to rest right on the soldier's face, the top of the tip right between the man's eyes. Taking in a deep breath and letting it out extremely fast with practiced skill,he steadied the weapon and then smoothly squeezed the trigger. The weapon roared out a flash as the heavy bullet screeched through the air. From 300 yards away he could see the figure inside the guard hut crumple over through the open window,hanging dead with half his body in the guard shack and half of it hanging out. As the suddenly quiet world came back into focus as he suddenly allowed his concentration to expand, Derek could hear Rafiel yelling at him and grappling him from above,lifting him into the truck as he suddenly screamed out in protest as Price gunned it. The heavy truck swerved on the slick snow, its huge wheels kicking it up everywhere before it finally shot forward and headed straight for the main gate.

Crack....Crack... the sound of two shots kicked off as the two women let loose two more well aimed shots right at two more guards who moved in their path to stop them, the force of the heavy bullet taking their bodies down with the impact,just to be smashed under the heavy wheels of the truck as Price drove through them,leaving nothing more than bloody snow and pieces of bone. Price began to pick up speed as the truck gunned it for the barrier that was half way down. Throwing himself flat to the deck, Derek reached up and grabbed Andree by the ass,completely unintentionally of course and pulled her down to the deck right next to him, putting a strong over her as he somewhat unthinking moved over her to cover her with his own body. They were all laying flat when the top of the flat back hit the half down barrier at at least 60mph,the force of it breaking the top of the back down, bending and warping the metal as it lowered the roof by at least 4 inches. Price was a mad man but a useful one,so as the truck broke on its way out into freedom, leaving the camp behind them to become nothing but tiny lights in the horizon as the shrill sound of the alarm seemed to follow them on the wind.

After about 6 hours of constant speeding down winding and random country roads, the gas in the truck was finally out of gas as it stalled dead in the snowy road. Price put on the brakes heavily as the truck skidded to a stop a few feet from where he wanted to stop. When it finally stopped, Derek threw open the back and motioned for everyone to get off, Including the now mostly conscious female British pilot who had introduced herself as Sarah. Derek had hopped down first and slung his right over his broad,left shoulder and then reached up to grab a hold of Andree first to help her down and then Sarah as they got off the back with Rafiel being the last one out. Assembling a few feet away from the truck, they all looked each other over for any sort of wounds and made sure they had what gear they could carry before looking to Derek somewhat for guidance. It was now or never for the Ranger Commander, now everyone here needed him to make a decision and he had no problem doing that as he took a deep breath then spoke " Alright, Price, torch this bitch and lets go. I have idea where we are but I assume its in the southern part of France and by the look of these woods,there has to be some sort of place to stay for the rest of the night and maybe the day. This place will be crawling with German's soon, tons of Germans, and we cannot afford to be caught, more than just our lives ride on our getting out of here, So grab your shit and lets go" Derek said in a calm, naturally authorative tone as he addressed them much like he would a squad of Soldiers but right now,with the adrenaline burning through his veins and to much doubt building in the back of his mind,he had to look strong, for them. Shifting Sarah's arm over his neck as he put his strong arms down around her waist to support her,she was still weak but conscious so he was going to help her move along so they could move faster: after all,now they were on the run, and run they would.

 

[BrazenFellow]

The hardest part of acquiring their disguises had been bringing them into the camp. It was nothing to bribe the guard to bribe a quartermaster contact of his to acquire the uniforms; he had been subject to a number of indignities during capture but they'd not taken his uniform. Being male perhaps the wiry Captain Price had nothing under it they were interested in. A shame; since his SOE training he'd made it a point to sew several hundred forged Reichmarks of various denominations into a waterproof lining on the inside of his trouser legs. And his men had always wondered why his trouser creases were so sharp. 500RM per pant-leg will do that for a crease. Dressed in a rollneck sweater borrowed from an RAF accomplice, Price had taken the uniforms from the guard in their storage shed meeting location and upbraided the Westphalian guard as if he were a man with scuffed boots on a Sergeant-Major's inspection. "How the fuck, mate, do you expect me to get these to where they need to be?"
"It is," the German stuttered, "not my problem now."

Price had leaned close, close like a lover - the same distance one took to slide a dagger into someone's vitals. He spoke quietly, politely, calmly. "And when I am picked up crossing the compound with five German uniforms in my arms, what do you think they will ask me after 'Halt! Was machts du da?' I think they will ask me, Franz, where I got five German uniforms. And an officer doesn't lie Franz." His voice rose but the intonation remained level over the next few, clipped words: "Now get me a fucking ration box and be quick about it." Both understood the threat perfectly; for something like this Franz could expect only to be shot, not even a stint on the Russian Front.

Franz had done as he was instructed. Wisely so. The uniforms were added to the carefully scoured ration box, closed inside, and lugged by Price to the prisoner's mess hall where he could get them to where they needed to go. The enlisted men's uniforms would fit poorly on the women, squaring shoulders and torsos, pantlegs intended for more thickly muscled legs. But that was quite all right; women weren't a common part of this branch of the enemy's military and with their hair up and in the darkness, perhaps the females would pass muster as diminuitive guards. It wasn't as if prison camp guards were the best personnel, all of those had long since been sent to one of the many Fronts the Germans had to maintain against ever-growing Allied pressure.

The plan itself was brutally simplistic, opportunistic, and unrefined. In the darkness, it wouldn't be clear if the van were manned by Germans or disguised prisoners, thus lowering the chances one of the tower guards would spray it with the pintle-mounted machinegun beside the searchlight in each tower. Putting distance between the camp and themselves left pursuers far behind while they would not be exhausted by ramming themselves through snow and forest in an attempt to escape on foot. It probably wouldn't be necessary to ram the gate, thus raising no suspicion until morning roll call. Then, of course, the boss had decided to be a hero for reasons of his own. Price waited in the trapped shadow of a building masked by the night's darkness and raised his hand in a gesture demanding stillness and silence from those behind him. The Ranger certainly needed no help doing what he was doing. Price waited, listening closely. The tense silence, broken only by by the crunching footfalls of a patrolling guard team outside the double wire fences, was shattered with two long bursts of staccato automatic fire.

Guards rushed the entranceway. Price's hands tightened, feeling nothing but his palms and longing for the easy weight of a rifle, submachinegun, or some sort of firearm to strike them with. Then there was a long burst and the thud of bodies collapsing was drowned out by the hue and cry of the alarm. He wore his tense expression the same way he did an angered one and wasn't surprised when Stackhouse asserted his command authority. That was fine by the Englishman, who took off at a dead run to the truck, flinging the driver's side door open as the others were armed with captured ordnance. "Sorry, Jerry", said Price, and he struck forward with the utility knife from the mess hall kitchen, coming up through the soft skin below the jaw and into the brain stem. The driver slumped forward and out of his seat with a face perpetually frozen in surprise.

Then Price lost his patience with the truck, slapping the seat and screaming as the tires scrabbled for purchase on the snow-covered frozen ground. "Traction, you bitch! Come the fuck on!" Acceleration pressed him back against the driver's seat as the truck complied. The engine's screech declined into something more pleasing just as he heard rifles firing from the rear. He saw two guards crumple, felt the truck lurch as it passed over them, and laughed. "Good truck," he said, patting the dashboard. "Don't you seize up on me until we're far, far away." The fucking barrier is half down! Price half-turned, shouting into the loadbed over the sound of the engine and not knowing if his warning made it through or not. "Get down!" He ducked, felt the barrier shear off as he rammed it, the tortured shout of metal-reinforced wood giving way. Then they were free. He kept to the back roads, avoiding the main routes likely to be patrolled and certainly going to be checkpointed and patrolled as soon as word of the escape spread.

He wiped the blood from his knife, checked for wounds and was checked for wounds in turn, and waited for Stackhouse's decision. He grinned when issued the order to destroy the truck. Hanging half out of the cab he slit a generous stretch of fabric from the upholstery, pulled stuffing out, tied this filling to the fabric strip and disappeared underneath the truck to drain its oil. Soaking the ad-hoc torch in this, he waited by the filling cap until his fellow escapees were a safe distance away, unscrewed it, lit the upholstery with his Ronson lighter, and waited. He could smell gas, meaning the fuel-air mixture was at a tolerable level, and in the same motion he stuffed the burning bundle into the fuel tank and turned to run into the woods. At the first opportunity he put a tree between himself and the truck - a good idea, as the fuel tank exploded a moment later with a muted crump, the truck began smoldering, and then it caught. The fire quickly washed up from the underside and rose to such a temperature that the rubber wheels began to melt. Smoke rose into the sky, and Price thought there was a good chance this would bring German pursuers down on them. It, however, would also keep them from using the truck to get ahead of them. It balanced out, so long as they moved quickly.

Price jogged up behind the group, taking the rear security position and turning every two minutes to watch their back trail. With a broken off evergreen branch, he dusted the snow's surface to conceal their prints, working to develop a pattern that looked like the wind sweeping over it. If the snow got deeper or if it developed a hard crust further ahead, this technique would become useless very quickly, but until then it worked better than whistling to keep the elephants away.

 

[LitShark]

Rafiel Marino

It had been a long, sleepless night for Rafiel; leading into a cold and miserable morning. The plan that had been a month in the planning had been changed three times in the last two days. It was a good thing that the Germans hadn’t figured out Captain Stackhouse’s weakness for women, otherwise Hitler might be marching through Times Square by now. Derek always had a way of making things work though, Raf still couldn’t decipher how or why it always worked out for that guy, but it was definitely why he kept pressing his luck the way he did.

Rafiel saw the new girl being dragged in, and he also saw Derek seeing her be dragged in as well. To Raf it looked like only one thing: Trouble.

It was bad enough that their escape plan had gone from two, to three, to four, to five. All because Rafiel refused to leave Derek behind. Now, on the morning of the big event itself, Raf knew it was going to become six before they could get out of this damned prison.

Rafiel grunted as his stomach made loud gurgling sounds, trying to imagine how they would need to change everything around to make room for that lovely little anchor being dropped in the very center of the camp. She was a well-built, beautiful wrench twisting her way in among the delicate workings of a below average plan, they didn‘t have a uniform for her, and there wasn‘t any time or opportunity to find her one now. The uniforms were the lynchpin upon which this entire plan depended. Without the temporary disguise those detestable little suits provided them, they were nothing more than a group of unarmed prisoners trying to make a break for it.

It wasn’t just the stress and anxiety that was upsetting Rafiel’s stomach, he also hadn’t quite mastered the art of keeping in the potato flavored water that these bastards served for breakfast, lunch and dinner; all of which translated to one meal in German. He could barely keep his body upright he was so hungry, he no longer fantasized about women anymore, instead it was meatball subs and feta cheese manicotti and chicken Parmigianino and provolone cheese…. Cannelloni… tiramisu.

The rest of the day seemed to speed by, Rafiel’s dreams about familiar foods being interrupted only periodically by preparations for the big event. Before he knew it they were all together, dressed and gathered in Derek’s cell. Price seemed overly concerned about the women’s appearance in the bulky, oversized uniforms and with good reason. Rafiel, however, was more worried about his own ability to blend in. His dark hair and olive complexion hardly gave off the impression of an Aryan soldier.

Crouching at the back of the pack, Rafiel had to shake his head, having second thoughts about how good this plan actually was. They’d certainly not get more than one shot at it. He was beginning to ponder if they’d be better served to tough out another month of the hell they were living through in order to firm up the details before laying it all on the line.

“We’re sticking to the plan, no matter what. Right Derek?” Rafiel whispered at Derek‘s back, leaning over Anya’s shoulder. It was more of an accusation than a question really. “No cowboy shit, right?”

Derek made no answer, which was answer enough for Rafiel. His mind suddenly processing countless scenarios of the thousands of ways this could all go wrong, but desperately hoping that whatever God or Protector always seemed to look out for Captain Stackhouse, would watch over him too.

Before he even felt himself standing, Rafiel was walking in a low crouch, still a little light headed from starvation but trying to act as casually as possible, also trying to remain unseen. The collection of international soldiers stalked silently through the shadows, following their leaders.

Just as the goal was in sight, Derek metaphorically threw his cape around his shoulders and sprinted off to go rescue his newest damsel in distress. Rafiel felt like the anchor-chain had finally drawn taught and their entire plan was suddenly sinking. Sticking close to the building and in the shadows, Rafiel followed in Derek’s wake, keeping low as possible to the ground.

The uniforms were no longer any help, now that the group had broken up and their cover was essentially blown.

One guard came patrolling over, uncertain if he’d seen a man run into the main building or not. When he leaned over to check in the doorway where Derek had gone, Rafiel slipped his brilliantly fast hand out and silently snatched his Lugar from it’s place in its holster. In the same motion, Rafiel wrapped his arm around the guard’s throat and pressed his own gun into his spine, dragging him back into the dark corner where Rafiel had been hiding.

“You know, I’ve wanted to shoot one of these goofy little pistols ever since I got here.” Rafiel whispered into the red-faced guard’s ear. “Please, just try and make a sound so I can finally shoot one. Do it, make even a tiny peep, I dare you.”

Of course the guard made no sound, since he couldn’t breathe. Soon he was losing consciousness and sinking down to the ground. Just as Rafiel was hiding away his prized, silent take-down, the sound of gunfire alerted the entire camp to the problem that was still developing.

“God damn him!” Rafiel muttered, lining up the barrel of the pistol, quickly and deftly with the first man who ran toward the sound. “If I didn’t love that fuckin’ guy, I’d hate his guts.”

TAK-ping!

The Lugar pistol fired off a deadly accurate round into the running guard’s chest, making a small metallic sound on the end as the gun expelled the empty shell through the breach in the top. Unfortunately for Rafiel the muzzle flash also illuminated the shadows which had previously been obscuring him from sight.

It didn’t take long at all for the Germans to figure out that the break was on, and the alarm began to blast it’s plaintive howl from all directions. From one of the towers a sniper, who had seen Rafiel in the brief moment of illumination after he fired his pistol, shot in the direction of where he had been. Fortunately for Raf, he had started to creep back toward the truck as soon as the alarm sounded and when the sniper shot at him, he ran.

Price was already in the truck, desperately trying to gain traction for the spinning tires. Rafiel jumped up into the truck bed, firing a few shots behind him into the crowd of armed guards who were already making their way toward them.

TAK-ping! TAK-ping!

In his peripheral vision Rafiel could see Derek running out of the interrogation building, with the young woman slung over one shoulder and an entire arsenal slung over his other shoulder. Raf laid down a barrage of cover fire to allow his friend to get over to the truck, still amazingly fast despite his heavy burden and the weeks of starvation and abuse.

When Derek reached the truck, Rafiel crouched down to help lift the human anchor that had kept them grounded for too long already, and lifted her up onto the bed. While he was busy setting the female pilot down gently, Derek was lining up a shot on some distant adversary, going into his “zone” that he went into when he lined up a shot. Rafiel had to shoot down two more guards who came charging from the barracks building to keep them away from the truck.

The entire camp was littered with bodies and the gunfire was becoming much more regular and accurate from the towers. It was now or never! In almost the same instant Derek fired off his well placed shot and the truck finally found traction in the muddy snow. Rafiel lunged forward, swooping his arms underneath Derek’s, lifting him up into the truck-bed in a modified full-nelson. When at last they were all in place, Rafiel shouted up to Price.

“Floor it!” Raf shouted, his desperate cry overshadowed by the sound of a rifle discharging somewhere overhead.

The same sniper who had missed him before managed to clip Staff Sergeant Marino in the side, just a fraction of an inch above his hip. Rafiel bit down hard on his bottom lip, stifling the scream that threatened to escape. When Derek handed him the sub-machine gun, Rafiel gripped it tightly and held it across his middle to disguise the agony he was in.

That was when he finally heard Price shouting from inside the cabin, warning about the barrier and telling them to get down. Rafiel quickly complied, laying down as flat as he could on the wood lined bed. After a quick glance to his left he saw that the female pilot was injured worse than he was and as the truck rolled over two dead bodies, Rafiel’s hand shot out to the back of the young woman’s neck cushioning her head from slamming into the truck bed as the rear wheels bounced over the lifeless bodies.

“You alright?” Rafiel asked, almost rhetorically, still not thrilled about this stranger who had been tossed into the plan in the final moments.

That was when they smashed the barrier. Despite all the preparations, nothing could have readied him for the impact and subsequent movement as the truck battered and then ran over the barrier. When the rear wheels ran over the gate, Rafiel found himself launched into the air, at least two feet high before crashing back down to the wooden truck-bed with a loud thud. His head bounced off the wood and he bit his tongue hard. He’d been so worried about protecting the pilot’s head that he’d unwittingly sacrificed his own, and that wasn’t even the worst part. His bullet wound had expelled a wide splatter of blood underneath his body when he hit the bed once more, blood that he desperately needed to keep his organs functioning and his already deteriorated muscles moving.

But at least they were out…

A smile spread over Rafiel’s lips as the sound of the screeching alarm faded into the distance, confident that the crew they had collected was capable of dealing with any threat that might find them in the ensuing miles. Rafiel slipped a hand inside his Nazi jacket, wrapping his fingers over his side to stop the bleeding from his through-and-through wound. Now curled up in the fetal position Rafiel found the contented sleep that had eluded him since capture. The sleep of a free man.

Rafiel woke several hours later, he was covered up by a thin wool blanket that had been laying around the truck bed. He wondered silently who had done that.

By the time he sat up the plan had already been agreed upon and set into motion, the truck was to be torched and destroyed. Not wanting to alarm his fellow escapees, Rafiel kept the blanket around his shoulders as he hopped out of the truck hiding the dried blood coating his uniform, which had now glued his hand over the wound.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just try and steal some gas?” Rafiel asked Derek, limping over to the safe distance where everyone had gathered to watch. “I mean we could send one of the ladies to-”

It was too late, by now price was shoving the burning bundle down into the gas tank and within seconds their only reliable means of transportation was up in flames. Rafiel hissed to himself, realizing that this meant he’d have to run with the group, a task that seemed nigh on impossible in his current condition. Still, he made up his mind to tough it out as long as he could.

When Derek gave the order, Rafiel ran. He winced sharply each time his left foot crunched into the snow, but his life depended on keeping up with the group now, especially given the long plumes of dark smoke the truck was issuing up into the sky. Almost like raising a flag for their pursuers to say: ‘Hey, this is where we stopped, come pick us up.’

Rafiel grunted as he gave everything he had to keep pace, still trying to disguise his injury.
“We can’t keep this up forever. We’re all half-starved and wounded.” Rafiel muttered, motioning to the pilot, not wanting the others to realize he was injured himself. “We’re going to need to make camp sooner or later. I might suggest the former.”

 

[lil_geek]

“Merde.” The Frenchwoman whispered beneath her breath. Even she could see the escape wasn’t going exactly as the Americans had planned.

Andree watched it all begin to fall apart, for a moment, she wished she had remained in her cell and taken her chances with the firing squad. Her own plan for escape was much simpler, less risky and far easier. However, it might have taken time and that was the one thing she had very little of.

She been in the camp for 4 days, isolated from the rest of the prisoners. Held on a deathwatch because the Krauts didn’t want her to commit suicide before they could kill her, she had little time alone. The SS questioned her about the Maquis, her resistance cell and aiding Allied pilots but it was an interrogation of slaps and intimidation. There was no pain she couldn’t endure and no threats she couldn’t see through. It was clear they didn’t care whether she answered or not, they were simply entertaining themselves at her expense until the bigwigs arrived for her execution.

She was convinced this was the absolute proof that someone in the resistance betrayed her to the Germans. Andree was sure there was a traitor in the organization. Her father was closing in on the traitor when the spy handed him over to the filthy Boche. It cost him his life and lives several of his friends. Although she had a suspicion, until she had evidence prove who the traitor was, no one in the Maquis was safe. Until he was out, she was in particular danger and couldn’t trust her own people.

That was the second reason she fell in with the Americans

She’d managed to convince the sergeant who guarded her cell at night that he was in love with her and, of course, that she loved him, too. He believed her to be an innocent and tragic figure, doomed by the hand of a cruel fate and an evil Maquis. For the price of a few kisses, he brought her extra rations and warm blankets. He even protected her from the enlisted men, when the officers weren’t around and the SS wasn’t questioning her. She didn’t doubt that if she fucked him he’d eventually open her cell door and drive her back to Paris but she couldn’t get it done in 24 hours and that was all the time she had left.

Instead, he’d just have to look the other way while she left with the Americans.

With kisses and caresses, and promised eternal devotion she persuaded the sergeant to help her. He brought her a bag for her clothing, a warm Wehrmacht coat to wear over her own, even a first aid kit and some food. They were lying together on her little cot; bidding each other a sorrowful farewell. They made the promise to reunite when the cruel war was over. They shared a kiss and her tongue was in his mouth when she put the bullet in his brain. He had ordered the other guards to distant posts, so that none would see her leave and the distance made all the difference. The pillow muffled the gunshot just enough that no one was alerted by the sound.

It was never a good idea to leave behind a loose end.

It was always a pleasure to kill a Kraut.

She felt no remorse. He was a German. He was a member of the invading army that marched into her country. He was a threat to their escape. When he realized she wasn’t alone in fleeing the camp he would know that she had duped him and it wasn’t likely he’d keep what he knew to himself. She looted his corpse, and took everything that would fit into her bag. She found French francs and Reichmarks, a long double-bladed knife, and some additional ammunition for the pistol.

She made it to the rendezvous feeling guardedly hopeful. It had all gone as she planned, she believed the others would do as well and they’d all be off in no time. They would be gone before the surviving Germans knew what happened. Cake and Pie.

Piece of cake, easy as pie.

There was a change of plans.

Stackhouse had to rescue a injured British flygirl, the Frenchwoman understood that for a man like him it was a moral imperative. The noble knight cannot leave the fair maiden in peril, of course, once the Germans started shooting Andree was feeling rather imperiled too. It was soon all a blur of muzzle flashes and searchlights, a cacophony of gunfire, German barking, English shouting, and Russian curses. Run, duck, go back, get in, climb up….

Finally, they reached the truck that was to be the means of their escape, and someone thrust a rifle into her hands. As determined as they were to leave, the Germans seemed equally determined to stop them. She sighted a target only to watch the Russian woman pick it off with such deadly accuracy that she knew firing would only be a waste of high-powered ammunition. Instead, she fired the pistol she took from the German sergeant and handed the rifle to the other woman when the Russian emptied her own. The gunfire dropped the Germans and then Price road right over them, making them into satisfying bumps in the road as he busted out of camp and left the raging Nazis behind them.

The six-hour dash across the French countryside seemed like an eternity of bumps, curves and hills. She was never as thankful as when the miserable vehicle ran out of petrol and forced them to abandon it.

"Alright, Price, torch this bitch and lets go. I have idea where we are but I assume its in the southern part of France and by the look of these woods, there has to be some sort of place to stay for the rest of the night and maybe the day. This place will be crawling with German's soon, tons of Germans, and we cannot afford to be caught, more than just our lives ride on our getting out of here, So grab your shit and lets go"

Stackhouse supported the pilot and lead the way, while Price took up the rear. Andree grabbed the bag with her things and the equipment she stole from the dead German. Swamped in the over-large wool coat, she nearly fell out of the truck but quickly recovered her balance.

“We can’t keep this up forever. We’re all half-starved and wounded. We’re going to need to make camp sooner or later. I might suggest the former,” said the American sergeant.

“At the risk of sounding weak, I agree.” She dug her hands deep into her pockets to keep them warm, despite wearing two coats she keenly felt the cold. “Things did not go exactly as planned, we need to reevaluate our situation, assess our position and determine our resources – to do this while getting warm and dry with food in our bellies, would be even better.”

Andree cast a glance at the British pilot then shrugged, "It would be a shame if you rescued her from the Nazis only to drag her to her death."