Hans stopped for a moment but then gave the door a soft knock. There was no answer, so he knocked once more.
“Oh, who is it?”
The old woman’s familiar voice barked out.
“Ah, it’s just me. Hans.”
The elderly lapine opened the door and scowled at him.
“What is it this time?”
“Um. May I come in? It’s quite cold today.”
“Yes, yes. So’d you see any wolves?”
Hans entered and sat down on the wooden floor. The boy again emerged from the room, staring at Hans, but this time the young lapine came out when he saw the human.
“In fact I did speak to one. I found him down by the river. He was trying to flee because some army is coming this way. Called them ‘Grimeskins.’”
“Hmm. So why did you come back?”
“To warn you, of course. The wolf told me these Grimeskins do terrible things. He says they’re coming this way and will be here soon.”
“Hmm. Well, let them come.”
“What—why?”
“We’ve had invaders before. We’ll have them again. They’ll come, they’ll go, we’ll stay. Though you should probably leave. There’s no space you if these ‘Grimeskins’ come.”
He sat there looked up at the old lady. She was right, of course. Hans needed to go back west to find a home. The lapines were nice enough to help him, so the least he could do was warn them.
“Here.” The woman got up, opened a cupboard and gave Hans a scrolled parchment.
“I can tell you’re one of the travelers from the other world. We won’t be needing this.”
Hans unfurled the scroll and stared transfixed at it. It was a map of their world, with Deltia clearly marked on the south shore of a sea, and Ostia on the North Continent side. Toward the bottom he saw the Velt, and could guess which route he’d taken northward to Deltia, and then beyond into the much wilder North Continent.
“What’s the matter with it?” The lapine asked, but Hans barely registered the woman’s speech.
“…Well?”
Finally he looked up from the parchment.
“Nothing’s wrong. It’s just that I can see the path I’ve taken.”
“Oh? And where are you headed to?”
“Well. I was headed toward The Cottonwine Lands, but I now see that isn’t possible. Where are we on this map?” He asked.
The woman pointed to a forested blot on the map in the south and eastern part of the North Continent.
“Ah, and, what’s here?” Hans placed his index finger on the middle part of the North Continent. According to the map, here were no cities there, only hills, woods and meadows broken up by various blue fingers.
“Huh? Why there? What’s so special about that place?” The old lapine asked.
“Well, it’s the middle of the North Continent,” Hans shrugged, “and, uh, the middle is a good place to be.”
“Well,” she replied, “If you want to go to the middle, avoid the woods to the north. Nothing but wolves. They’ll tear up a lone human. And don’t let the spotted cats find you. You’ll never get away. Stay south, pass through the mountains here, then go straight north.”
“Thank you so much for helping me.”
“And here,” She pulled out a whole loaf of wheat bread from the cupboard. “I shouldn’t give you this, but it’s a long journey where you’re going and you’re too skinny as it is.”
“Thank you Grandma. I think I can make it on this.”
Hans bid her and the boy goodbye, and made his way out to the meadows. The cow mooed loudly at Hans one last time. On his way out he stopped to take a drink at the wooden trough, then turned his back on the village and set out alone once again.
Counsel
Without warning, a titanic crash rocked the packed Dachau War Crimes courtroom, and Jochen found himself jumping from the witness chair, tackling his American defense counsel to the floor before a falling piece of cement could land on the American’s head.
“What the hell’s going on here?!” Jochen shouted in English.
“I was hoping you’d be able to tell me!” The American responded in an accent that, even now, faintly told of cotton fields and plantation homes.
“They’re coming for you! The werewolves are!” The American continued.
Automatic machine gun fire went off and a chorus of screams could be heard from the bleachers just a couple feet away from them.
“You’ve got to help us get out of here!” Jochen tried to shout over the screams.
“The hell I do! That’s treason!”
“They’re going to slaughter us anyway. We never had a fair chance! You know that! Just give us a chance to make it out of this!”
The middle-aged, American military lawyer hesitantly looked down and pressed the handle of his Browning HP…
There was a stern knock on the cast iron door and Jochen stood at attention as he was required to do. A skinny, chestnut-haired man with a soft face entered the room. The man was accompanied by a guard and a Jewish-looking translator.
“Joachim Peiper?” He asked in a voice as soft as his face.
“Jawohl.”
“I’m Colonel Willis Everett Jr., the counsel for yourself and the other defendants.”
The translator repeated Everett’s words in German. This ‘attorney’ was probably another one of Perl’s tricks. Perl had done everything he could to get whatever false confessions from Peiper’s men over the last few weeks. Nevertheless, Jochen had something for his new ‘lawyer,’ Everett.
“I have something for you.” Jochen responded in the Colonel’s language.
“I didn’t know that you spoke English,” Everett said, “but if you could please respond in German it will be easier for both of us.”
Everett handed the paper to his translator and repeated the contents aloud to himself.
“Anton Motzheim; beaten for an hour to extract a confession. Paul Zwigart; rope placed around his neck, kicked in the genitals, mock death sentence, to get confession. Hans Siptrott; strangled until unconscious to get a confession.”
Everett read four others, looked on squeamishly, and cautiously took off his spectacles. There was an awkward pause between the two men.
“Uh… Have all of the men reported to you?”
“No. Only two. I haven’t spoken to all of these men.”
The colonel stood up.
“I will talk to the rest of them. Thank you.”
The three of them left and shut the thick door behind them.
Jochen shook his head and lay back down to stare up at the concrete. He had no faith that Everett would do anything, but Jochen was going to do everything he could do to help his men, even though they were turning on each other. It had been six weeks since he and the others were transferred to Dachau for their trial, a trial which was set to begin at some unknown time.
Solitary confinement made his spirit grow strong, but his body grew week and atrophied. Regarding the outside world, all Peiper and the others had to go by was rumors; rumors such as a manhunt for Hermann Goering of all people. One would think Goering would be hard to miss. Fritz Kramer, Sepp Dietrich’s chief of staff, who sat in a cell adjacent to Jochen, once laughingly told Jochen about a rumor that Dietrich was in fact leading an underground resistance, and that their former division leader was planning to attack and break the men out at the eleventh hour.
Weltanschauung
Willis Everett Jr. never planned on defending those who murdered American soldiers, yet here he was. Willis’ father, a New England carpetbagger who settled in Atlanta at the end of the Civil War, took on his son as a partner in his law firm after Willis finished school with only mediocre grades. Age kept Willis from service during the war, but a lingering feeling of guilt compelled him to enlist toward the end. Willis was too old to be a soldier, but at least he could share in the sacrifice, even though this long assignment was straining his marriage back home.