Clockwork Chaos (6 page)

The first of the armored soldiers was stepping over a pile of wood that once perhaps was a piece of furniture. Brian crept up behind him and saw a gap in the armored plates, revealing the man’s neck. Stuffing the muzzle of his gun in-between the gaps, Brian pulled the trigger and felt the recoil. The round sped through the German’s neck, then head, and burst through his skull and made a distinct metallic
thunk
as it imbedded inside the crown of the helmet. The German fell face first.

The deafening chatter of the chain-guns covered the sound of Brian’s shot and the collapse of their comrade. The two remaining Kaiser-Guard, oblivious to the danger behind them, sprayed a torrent of rounds into the ruins where Brian’s squad hunkered down and feebly returned fire.

Moving, Brian hopped over the dead Kaiser-Guard and closed on the rear of the next soldier. His men, only a few yards off, caught sight of him and ceased fire. The pair of Germans did the same and a sudden silence filled the air. The armored German leveled his smoking chain-gun preparing another burst, but before he could fire, Brian repeated the precise shot between gaps in the armor. He was already running towards the last soldier before the other had fallen over dead. The sound of the shot and the clattering of armor echoed loudly.

The exhaust pipes on the backpack of the remaining foe belched out a cloud of vapor. The hulking form half-turned and upon seeing two of his comrades dead and Brian rushing him, let out a bestial roar. The chain-gun sputtered to life.

Brian saw the spinning barrels and watched the glittering tracer-rounds spit past him. The animal inside him cried out for him to cower. To do so was to die. The pain inside him bubbled and boiled, as if the thought of retreat somehow made his own body reject him. Training, and the unnatural agony, shouted down instinct and Brian replied with his own roar, not nearly as menacing, but certainly primal. He leveled his pistol and squeezed the trigger again and again. The revolver bucked while he ducked under the climbing spray of rounds. He could feel the air displace just above his head as he rushed the German like a rugby player. Brian’s squad stood up, lending throaty cheers.

His two shots bounced harmlessly off the armored plates of the Kaiser-Guard. In desperation, Brian continued to rush the man, jamming the barrel of his weapon against the eye-piece. He pulled the trigger just as the heated barrels crashed into his side, flinging him away under its weight and the enhanced strength of the elite foe.

Brian rolled over rough earth, hissing as his leg went numb from the impact of the earth and several bits of concrete and splintered wood bit into his flesh. He glanced up, raised his pistol, and pulled the trigger.

Click.

It didn’t matter. Smoke ghosted up from the German’s shattered eye-piece. He waivered, took two blind steps, and collapsed heavily, causing his armor’s engine to sputter out with a rattling cough.

Panting, Brian curled up. He felt fear, worry, panic and rush back into his veins as the unexplained pain vanished the moment the crisis was over. While his men cheered his bravery and called him mad, Leftenant Brian Willox vomited. He had performed dozens of such ‘heroic’ acts and each time he felt sick afterwards. In a few days time the madness of it all would fade and he would accept the next assignment. Besides, saying ‘no’ tended to inexplicably hurt.

As if reading his thoughts, Sergeant Lemwill hauled him to his feet with a grimy hand. “You’ll be dead n’ no time, beggin’ your pardon, sir.” He gave Brian a long, solemn look that was contrasted sharply by the smiles of the others.

Brian nodded. He took in a great lungful of air, but found it tainted with the smoke of the endless Great War; thirty-eight years and no end in sight. “We’ll all be dead in no time, Sergeant. That’s how these things work.” Brian patted Lemwill on the arm. “Thank you, sergeant for the concern though. Wish I could stop!” He forced a smile.

Lemwill opened his mouth as if to say something, stammered and then nodded, though his expression was tight.

A war that started in the time of his grandfather was unlikely to be merciful to any of them, no matter how brash or conversely cautious they were. Brian looked upon the fallen Kaiser-Guard. They were Germany’s elite, equipped and armored to the highest standards. His eyes strayed over his squad. They were shrouded in dust, but otherwise unharmed. “We are fortunate none of us are dead right now. Good work!”

Lemwill walked over to one of the corpses and nudged it with his boot. The motor on the backpack grumbled and he racked his trench-gun, sneering. “Bad luck, blunderin’ into them, I still says, sir.”

Brian pursed his lips and swept a hand across his brow, tipping his bowl-shaped helmet back. “I do not think so, Sergeant. We’re an hour from our rendezvous with the spy and finding a trio of
them
this close is hardly coincidence.”

“Spy been found out, sir?” Private Mores asked. He rubbed his nose and peered around with narrowed eyes.

“Might be a good reason to call it off, sir. If our spy—”

“No.” Brian cut off any excuses they might have to return to their lines. He didn’t want his stomach rebelling, or his eyes pounding, or any other manner of pain that would wash over him at the thought of failure. He had his orders and he shared with his men only the basics; that they had to rendezvous with the spy in a hamlet just within Germany proper. He was not about to have crawled all the way into Germany, defeated three armored monstrosities with a pistol, only to turn back and suffer agony. He gaze the men a stern look and set his jaw. “King and Country.”

They were silent. Sergeant Lemwill lowered his gaze. “Right you are, sir. King n’ Country.”

The other men of the squad echoed him and bowed their heads in submission. It wasn’t too difficult to reassert control and remind them of their duty. They had accompanied him on plenty of missions that most soldiers would write-off as insane. What was one more? He had a career to think of and a nation to defend from the deprivations of the Central Powers. Still, he could sympathize with them in their desire to just go home.

“You all right, sir?” Lemwill asked, raising a brow.

Brian swallowed and nodded. “Yes, Sergeant.” He nodded more vigorously to convince himself. “Come on, the hamlet is this way.” He reloaded his pistol, snapping shut the chamber.

The gray skies continued to dominate and the hamlet looked sinister in Brian’s eyes. Every building could house a sniper; every alleyway could be shielding a German guard. He kept close to the line of hedges leading up the cobbled road to the seemingly quiet town. He heard his men shuffling behind him, their equipment rattling, their bodies brushing the foliage. He waved his hand for them to quiet down.

A small, flickering smile passed across Brian’s features. He whispered, “In the hamlet, Sergeant. You’ll know our man by the cane he uses to get around with.” He blinked. “He’s younger.”

Keeping his voice soft Lemwill said, “Young man with a cane. Right, sir. Plan?”

Brian examined the hamlet for a solid minute. His paranoia was telling him to be cautious, but as far as he could tell the town was undefended. He was about to order a general sweep of the area, when he saw a cherry-red glow in the window of a building overlooking the main road. Peering, Brian could just make out the muzzle of a machine-gun and the outline of a man smoking. He pointed and whispered, “Down the road, Sergeant. Top window, look for the glow.”

The Sergeant sucked in a breath between his yellowed teeth. “I sees ‘im, sir. Where there’s one...” he trailed off.

“There’s lots,” Private Lewis whispered from behind them.

A machine-gun covered the road and in all likelihood there were additional guards. Brian mentally weighed their options. “Sergeant, you’re with me. I’ll need your trench-gun when we sneak in there.” He looked back at his men crouching in the hedges. “The rest of you, do not fire until you are positive we have been detected.”

“Sir,” Private Corey said softly. “If you get captured, should we get back to our lines?”

Brian stifled a laugh. “No, Private. Should Sergeant Lemwill or myself end up in enemy hands, I’m leaving it up to you to personally risk your life and that of your squad in a daring rescue. I have no intention of spending the rest of my life in a work camp.”

“Worry not, sir,” Lemwill said. “They’ll exchange officers. Not so sure ‘bout me though. So, you ‘eard the officer. Save my ass if it gets caught.”

“Listen to your Sergeant,” Brian said with a grin.

Brian smiled as they all nodded their agreement. They were good men and true, though he was unsure if they would be devoted enough to stick around if things went to hell. He tucked his pistol in his holster and crawled along the hedges toward the edge of the hamlet. He heard Sergeant Lemwill rustling behind him and the occasional heavy breath. The stalwart was an old soldier and experienced, but not quite up to the physical tasks Brian routinely subjected his men to.

The pace was slow and steady as they passed under the shadow of white-brick homes with deep brown roofs, built in the sweeping Germanic style. When a breeze whistled, Brian crawled faster using the sound to cover his movement. Once they were past the first home, he stood.

The hamlet was bisected by a single road. On either side were a collection of homes, any one of which could house the spy they were seeking. Brian had little to go on besides the description of a young man with a cane. Suddenly, a door to a small home opened. Before they could slink into the shadows, a young woman emerged. She smiled in a friendly manner. Her eyes widened as she must have realized the pair of soldiers she saw were not fellow countrymen. She froze.

For his advanced age, Lemwill moved swiftly, bounding past Brian and swung the muzzle of his weapon up to her face.

“Shhhhh,” Lemwill whispered. He raised a brow and when she trembled silently he said in broken German, “
Sed gut, frauline
. Shhhh.” He pushed her back into the house and Brian followed.

The doorway led to a kitchen. Bread was cooking and a hallway led to a room from which Brian could hear men talking. He shut the door behind him and scooted past Sergeant Lemwill, who still kept the oversized muzzle of his weapon trained on the woman. For her part, she rubbed her hands in nervous patterns over her slim apron.

Risking a look into the room, Brian was relieved to see not two men, but rather two boys. They were coloring a book together while sprawled out along the wooden floor. A small fire burned in the hearth and they chatted.

Confidently, Brian strode into the room. “Sergeant, bring the woman if you please.” He drew his pistol, and in the international language that had served Lemwill so well, said, “Shhh.”

Nosing her in with the trench-gun, Lemwill guided the woman into the house and pushed her onto the floor. She wrapped her arms about her children who whispered excitedly.

“Speak English, my dear?” Brian said in his most soothing tones. She was having a bad enough day as it was and he didn’t want her hysterical.

She knew enough to shake her head. Brian sighed and looked around the room. He walked over to the fireplace and picked up the iron fire-poker from a bin. He used it as a cane and walked up and down the room. “Sergeant, ask her if she’s seen a man like this.”

Lemwill’s German was about as subtle as his thunderous weapon, but between his butchery of the language and Brian’s charades, the woman was able to nod. She releases her boys and crept to the window, which was partially shuttered, and pointed to a house across the street.

“Figures it would be on that side,” Lemwill groaned. He lowered his weapon and in that moment one of the children sprinted. The youth was spry and out the main door before the older man could even let out a, “Ah ‘ell”.

Brian’s pistol snapped up and he trained it through the window on the child as he started to shout and point in their direction.

Pull the trigger
, his training said.

Brian trembled. The pain was back in force and he fought against some horrendous, outside urge to just squeeze and end the threat.

The boy’s mother wrapped her arms about his leg and started babbling. “It doesn’t matter,” Brian said through grit teeth. He felt his knees buckle. Lemwill stared at him, a frown passed across his features.

Brian heard the voices of the guards. “It doesn’t matter!” he said in an effort to convince himself. The pain ceased and his strength returned. Whatever internal battle had occurred, was over.

“Stay down!” Brian pushed the woman off his leg and let out an exhausted breath. Several men in iron-gray uniforms emerged from the house at the end of the road. Before they could make sense of the situation, Brian squeezed off two rounds. He had no idea if they hit, he was already moving for the kitchen, leaving the woman and her child behind cowering on the floor.

Back the way they had come Brian ran. He heard Lemwill’s boots pounding on the floor behind him. Once outside, Brian started moving towards the main street.

“Not that way, sir!” Lemwill said, “It’s suicide! They’ve seen us!”

The mission hadn’t been accomplished yet. Brian’s duty to his nation was not done. He heard a desperate whispering plea in his mind. Part of him urged him to run and give up the fool’s errand, but something profound crushed his reservations. He didn’t even feel like he was commanding his own voice as he shouted, “God save England!”

“Who’ll save us, sir!” Lemwill said, panting as he followed.

A figure in gray stepped out from a gap between two houses. Brian ducked and fired his pistol. The weapon kicked and the enemy solider staggered back, clutching his stomach. Lemwill rushed past him and delivered a kick to the stricken man, sending him sprawling. The sergeant spat once and glared at Brian. “Come on, sir, let’s save the King’s bloody spy.”

Weapons fire echoed from the other end of the hamlet. Brian smiled. His men were at least attempting to follow their orders. His heart filled with national pride. No, not filled. It was put there.

“The boys won’t sit by for this one!” Again, Brian felt as if the words weren’t entirely his own.