Necrocide (11 page)

“Put a bullet in it.” She replied casually.

“She's full of heart this one.” Granger laughed as Genevieve never failed to surprise. Hawkins shook his head in disbelief.

“I'm a soldier, not an executioner. Anyway, George is my superior and I only take orders from him.”

“Now I see why you have lost the war.” She replied with a cutting edge that belied her youthful charms. Ignoring her, Hawkins turned to Granger.

“George, this could be a good chance to interrogate and find out what's what.”

“I'm with you on this one mate.” Granger replied looking over to Genevieve and smiling sarcastically.

With great effort and cunning, the two Brits shifted the weight of the truck so that the wheel lifted a little and the German soldier was pulled free from the vehicle. Hawkins clutched the big man under the armpits and dragged him clear stumbling along the way. The German, who was a tall muscular man in his late forties with cropped blonde hair, was immediately grateful yet cautious in his manner. He bore a long grey overcoat and looked battle hardened, dishevelled and tired. His face was disfigured along his right cheek and he began to tend to his leg which was causing him some pain. It was of course, still dark and in the flickering light of the fire which still burned from the truck, the soldier looked rather noble to Hawkins despite his dress.

“Holy shit John, Take a look at his insignia.” Granger whispered pointing out the tunic underneath the long grey coat which hung from his bulk. Hawkins lifted the coat with the muzzle of his gun and dropped it off his broad shoulders revealing the most distinguished of military honours.

“Colonel. We bagged a big one here, mate.” George jested.

“Enough honours to put this guy quite a way up the chain of command.” Hawkins replied as he looked to the German's array of ribbons then to his colleagues. Genevieve raised her eyebrows as if to say, 'you wanted my opinion and you got it'.

“Name, Rank.” Granger barked. The German swayed, his eyes closing. He could barely stay awake.

“Wakey, wakey.” Granger prodded him with his long barrelled machine gun.

“My name is Bauer, you have already worked out the rank, I commend you” The German spoke and to the surprise of all, in very clear English.

“Blimey.” Granger exclaimed in pleasant surprise.

“Blimey, yes. I see you are from the south east of England.” Bauer replied casually catching George unawares.

“Bloody hell, how did you know that?” Granger inquired. Bauer cocked his head to one side and smiled. Clearly he had a grasp on the dialect of the region.

“How bad is the leg?” Hawkins interjected. His thoughts were always about moving forward.

“I do not think it is broken, thank you for asking.”

“Fuckin' ell'! He's a bit polite this one!” Granger said chortling to himself.

“We may be enemies but we are still human beings.” Bauer replied. Hawkins stared at the German who attempted to stand but stumbled. Aiding his attempts, the German finally stood upright with Hawkins assistance although a little gingerly. It was then that Hawkins realised that this man was huge in comparison to himself.

“Go on then big man; tell us what's going on.” Granger asked, his interrogation techniques lacking somewhat. Bauer smiled as he leaned against the rear of the truck.

“Well, it started this morning when the Allied invasion failed...” Bauer smiled again and shrugged his shoulders. He was a humorous man who seemed unlikely to be rattled by a couple of grunts posing as interrogators.

Hawkins looked at Granger and smiled. This was going to be an interesting relationship.

Everybody's attention was drawn to the body of the SS soldier as he lay upon the asphalt. Several small twitches were followed by a larger one and it seemed incredible there was still some kind of nerve activity possible considering the amount of brain damage.

“I see you met my friend. I thank you by the way. I did not yet thank you for what you did.” Bauer spoke softly and appeared genuine. The Brits had indeed saved his life. Ironically, without Genevieve's interjection, they might have allowed this man’s execution. Hawkins felt particularly uncomfortable with his choices and was glad of the unexpected actions of his fair French maiden.

“What is that?” Granger asked as he poked and prodded the body with his boot. “It stinks.”

Bauer hobbled forward.

“I think it best to leave it be at this moment...” Bauer offered advice which Granger failed to heed. Suddenly, the SS officer's corpse convulsed as if having a grand-mal seizure and guns were once again trained on the writhing mass.

“Do not waste the bullets.” Bauer called out. The perceived inefficiency of their weapons at killing the thing did cause the soldiers to pause before unleashing more fiery wrath.

“At the nape of its neck, you will find a metallic device. You need only remove it...” Bauer spoke calmly as if confident of his advice. Hawkins rolled the soldier over with his boot and indeed, the glimmer of metal shone from beneath a dark, congealed mass of blood and tissue.

“Pull it out then, George.” Hawkins said as the body twitched.

“I'm not touching it. You pull it out.” Came the reply, the smell was acrid enough to persuade anyone to not come into contact with it. Hawkins sighed and reached down. Grasping the rectangular object tightly, he yanked at it. Realising he would need significantly more force, he tore the flesh with his fingernails and ripped it away causing the freakishly cool body to immediately rest limp. Hawkins immediately threw the small metallic device down to the ground and wiped his hands furiously upon his trousers. Trying not to vomit, Hawkins spluttered and spat bile.

“That's disgusting.” He croaked.

“Quite.” Bauer said serenely. Genevieve stood impassive, watching cautiously with her hand over her mouth and nose.

“Come on then, Colonel. Spill the beans. What was that?” George asked his heart rate pounding. Bauer raised his eyebrows as if weighing up his options. Duty bound him not to offer any information although duty was something which had ruled his life from a very young age. It was duty that led him down the path he now trod so begrudgingly.

“Listen. I am very tired. I have no wish to be uncooperative with you. I need rest.” Bauer was clearly fatigued but tiredness was a poor excuse not to talk.

“Now come on, Sir. I don't think you are in a position to dictate terms.”

Hawkins remained respectful to his enemy. There was no need for dishonourable conduct. Bauer obviously was appreciative of that.

“You have done well, my friend. You have defeated great odds by surviving to this point. If you want any information from me, then my very best advice would be to go back to the beach you landed on and find a boat back to England. If you value your life, you will do this.”

Hawkins took a deep breath and wondered what it was that the German did not want to share.

“So this is a German problem then?” Hawkins asked, looking back at the now still corpse bearing the black uniform.

“It most certainly is.” Bauer replied, his tones were dulcet as if he was still fully in control of the situation. Genevieve felt aggrieved by the respect being shown on all sides.

“Do not give into this pig's demands!” She whined. Bauer shook his head as if he had not made his point clearly enough.

“I am not demanding anything young lady. I merely offer advice to those who are not in possession of the facts.”

“It would be great to know the facts.” Granger said as he kicked the small metal device around in an attempt to get a better look of it. The visible metallic panel concealed a hidden stiletto-like appendage which would have sunk deep into the Nazi's neck.

“As I have said before, I am very tired. Perhaps after some sleep I can oblige.” Bauer whispered.

“Hawk, this old fart's playing us.” Granger remarked cynically. Hawkins found the whole situation perplexing. There was no apparent solution.

“Perhaps after some rest, you can tell us the whole story. We can sit down over a mug of tea and wile away the day with tales of gallantry and good deeds. Until that time, Sir, we are fighting for our lives here. We are heading to Caen and you are coming with us.” Hawkins began to lose his patience.

“Caen?” Bauer looked surprised. “Well, I was going that direction anyway. I'll let you join me if you wish.” The Germans' sense of irony was not lost on Hawkins who laughed at the officer's dark humour.

“Although, if I may be so bold, my legs are rather old and not in good shape. There is a car just along the road...” Hans Bauer was a cool character and Hawkins felt that if he was not careful he could be easily swayed by this experienced soldier.

“Could do with a break anyway.” Granger said accepting the situation.

“OK, let's play it your way. I have news for you though; we aren’t just driving through Bayeux with our dicks hanging out waiting for one of these pigs to put us to sleep. First empty farmhouse, barn or pig sty, we are holding up for a few hours. You can get some sleep and when we all rise and shine; you're going to tell us all about these freaks and what the hell is going on around here.” It was not lost on Bauer how Hawkins, despite his rank was very much taking charge of the situation whilst his senior colleague stood back. Genevieve seemed flustered at Hawkins choice to delay the journey to Caen which was geographically some distance beyond the bustling historic town of Bayeux.

“You are a smart man Private. What is your name?” Bauer seemed to take a shine to his captor.

“Hawkins, John Hawkins.”

“A good English name. Would suit a Dickens novel.”

“Dick who?” Hawkins inquired.

CHAPTER 14

Bauer led the party on the slow walk down the road to Bayeux. Hawkins walked behind him with his gun ready. Bauer was limping heavily and in some pain, Hawkins was prepared to cut him some slack for their slow progress. The Brits had not gone looking for Beach whom they had left behind at the junction. In the young Commando's eyes, he had forsaken them at their most desperate moment. There was no sense in carrying dead weight with them on this journey. Best to leave him to find his own path, Hawkins thought.

Bauer had assured them that a vehicle lay abandoned but in good working order half a mile down the winding lane. It would always be hard to trust a German but Hawkins felt that his counterparts need was just as great as his. The allied soldiers at least for the moment did not seem to be the foremost protagonists on the German's minds.

True to his word, in the darkness of the early hours of the morning, a German military general purpose vehicle sat motionless, two of its wheels sunk into the verge. Granger took the driving responsibilities, Genevieve sat in the front passenger seat and Hawkins had the privilege of keeping an eye on their prisoner in the rear. With some extended effort, the vehicle spluttered into life and George recovered with very little grace, the car back to the hard road surface. Driving with caution, knowing that their movements would draw attention, Granger kept the pace slow and easy. The open top allowed a cool wind to rush into their faces which kept them alert and awake despite all being exhausted from the day's trauma.

Very little was said as the concentrated efforts to keep vigilant were maintained but Hawkins reiterated that the first place to take shelter would be used no matter how comfortable the surroundings. Less than two miles along the road, a small farmhouse came into view and as Granger hammered on the brakes, they could see a small muddy path leading from the road into a yard with some outhouses and a barn.

“George, let's take this one.” Hawkins tapped his mate on the shoulder and with the lights and engine off, Granger rolled the vehicle down the gentle decline and pulled up outside the barn. Asking Genevieve to keep a pistol trained on the German, the two Brits recce'd the farmhouse which like many other homes had been abandoned. Deciding to make use of the absentee's hospitality, Granger rolled the car into the barn out of sight from the roadside.

Entering the compact living space which was warm but unkempt, Hawkins lit a lamp as Bauer flopped down upon a poorly upholstered chair and wheezed. He was clearly being courageous considering his wounds. Granger also flopped down and laid his head back on a settee, his body and mind numb.

“Make us a brew, John?” He called out as if talking to a subservient wife. Hawkins duly obliged by rattling pots and pans and rummaging through cupboards for powdered milk and sugar. Genevieve sat gingerly upon a rickety wooden rocking chair where she kept her pistol trained on Bauer who cared little for her vigilance. Nothing to him was more important now than sleep.

By the time Hawkins had boiled the water for a hot drink, Bauer was snoring in his chair and Granger was laying back, his mouth wide open, spittle dribbling from the corner of his quivering maw. Hawkins offered a mug to Genevieve who sat with her heavy head leaning on her elbow, her eyes drooping. She nodded in acceptance and Hawkins pulled up a small chair beside her still clutching his prized brew.

“Are you OK?” Hawkins asked. His question was nonsensical; it was just an excuse to talk a while.

“Yes, thank you.” She replied almost whispering.

“So your mother lives in Caen, what does she do?” Hawkins was poor at small talk but the French girl obliged.