“You’ve got to help us get out of here!” Jochen tried to shout over the screams.
“The hell I do! That’s treason!”
Peiper reached for Willis’ pistol, and the defense attorney grabbed Peiper by the wrist. Malnourished as he was, Peiper shoved Everett into the ground and pinned him beneath his knee.
“I’ll be taking that.” Peiper stood up and quickly put three bullets into the backs of three American guards in fast succession.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”
Willis grabbed Jochen’s arm and screamed at him, and Peiper threw his defense attorney across the table when he tried to stop him.
“Surviving,” Peiper answered, and turned around to point the Browning at a mortified William Perl.
Through all the commotion, each of the 72 SS defendants vanished in a white flash. Whatever was going on outside, it didn’t last long. Within minutes an M4 Sherman tank crashed through the wall and hundreds of infantry swarmed in. Thank god their uniforms were green.
“They’ve escaped?!” A captain shouted.
Lieutenant Perl popped up from under the desk, like a mole popping out of its hole, and screamed at Everett.
“It was HIM! He gave Peiper a weapon and helped him escape!”
The soldiers clasped onto Willis Everett and dragged him away.
“Oh shit.”
Kasha
“Stay where you are… Nice and easy, there…”
White vapor escaped from Werner Poetschke’s mouth as he aimed the muzzle at a disheveled young wolf who stared blankly into its barrel. He’d found another male wolf while scanning the perimeter of their new ‘territory.’ This one looked both tired and beaten up. The wolf had some black dye smeared on his right breast. Whatever the painting used to signify, Poetschke couldn’t make it out anymore.
“Ugh. Another one of you pointy-nosed humans.” The young wolf scoffed, “What do you want?”
Poetschke nudged the wolf with the barrel. Doing so elicited a growl.
“Tell me where you’re running from.”
“South and east.”
“From who?”
“I don’t have to tell—”
Poetschke turned the muzzle around and flames went roaring out to swallow up some nearby pine cones and green needles.
“You’ll be next if you don’t talk.” Poetschke grimaced at the young wolf, who sighed.
“I’m running from the Grimeskins.”
“Grimeskins? What about ‘Raiders?’ You seen any of them?”
The wolf stared blankly at him.
“They’re the same thing.”
“So,” Poetschke smiled, “Do you want to kill these Grimeskins?”
The wolf stared at Poetschke once again. He could probably have jumped the human if he really wanted to.
“The Grimeskins did terrible things before my eyes. So yes. I want to kill them.”
Poetschke grinned at the wolf and pointed down his flame nozzle.
“I think you’ll fit in well here…”
The young wolf tilted his head and stared blankly at the human.
“Unless. You already have a pack?” Poetschke said.
“…A pack? Didn’t know Humans had packs…”
“These ones do. Humans and wolves. It’s up to the Alpha. But I think he’ll take you in. What’s your name?”
“Kasha. used to be of the Goldgrass Tribe. What’s your tribe’s name?”
“We’re a new tribe,” Poetschke said, gesturing for the young wolf to follow him. “Of humans and fleeing wolves. Don’t have a name yet.”
“We got a raid tomorrow after dusk. Can you fight?”
“Yes, I can.”
“Well come on.”
Poetschke lead Kasha through the dark, snow-covered woods.
“So where were you headed, wolf boy?”
“I came up here looking to find a new pack, among the forest wolves. Before the Grimeskins got here,” Kasha answered.
“Hate to tell you this. But the Raiders are already here.”
Poetschke brought Kasha deeper into the woods, until they reached a snowy cavern encircled by a trench.
“Here it is,” he looked back to Kasha before shouting aloud.
“Herr Generaloberst! I found another straggler!”
The fire-starting human led Kasha to a narrow “moat” surrounding their lair. Kasha couldn’t understand why the waterless moat was there. That surely wouldn’t stop the Grimeskins. The two hopped over the man-made ditch. A small handful of other wolves were there, staring at him. Some male, some female. The flame-wielder pulled Kasha along until they found another human dressed in the similar, otherworldly attire. This one had a coat made of animal skin.
“This is our alpha. You may call him Master Sepp.”
For an alpha, ‘Master Sepp’ was awfully short, but his weathered face spoke of long, intense wars and sudden intrigue. His being looked strangely invigorated by the struggle, not weighed down by it like most would be.
“What’s his name?” The ‘master’ asked.
“Kasha. I tracked him in the woods. He’s a refugee.”
“A refugee, eh? Do you smoke?”
Kasha jumped back. “Uh-ah. N-no! I don’t do Cottonwine, with other men.”
Both Flame Wielder and Master Sepp looked confused.
“I don’t know what Cottonwine is. I’ll tell you a secret, though, Herr Poetschke and I are from another world.”
Master Sepp took a tubular twig from a packet and lit the tip ablaze.
“In our world, smoking calms the nerves. And by the way, I also only like women.”
Master Sepp seemed honest, but there could have been anything inside those twigs.
“Ah. If you don’t mind I’ll pass.”
“Alright.” Master Sepp exhaled a cloud of smoke.
“Fleeing from the monsters, I take it?”
“Yes, Master Sepp.”
The human smiled, illuminating his weathered face.
“You from a tribe?”
“Yes. The Goldgrass. I’ve been fleeing for months since the rest of my party was killed.”
“We’ll take you in. As long as you don’t shrink from war. For us, war is life, and as men, the greatest thing we can do is exude warfare. Understand?”
Kasha nodded and Sepp smiled at him.
“Besides,” he continued, “our enemy is the same as yours.”
Master Sepp was strangely likable, especially for a Human. Perhaps this ‘Sepp’ was worthy of a chance.
“Thank you for taking me in, Master Sepp.”
That night the alpha called the whole pack together. Master Sepp and Flame Wielder, whose name was hard to pronounce, were the only two humans in the pack. The other seven members were wolves. Five males and two other females, both of whom tagged right behind Master Sepp. Only the moonlight illuminated them in the crisp winter air.
“Ahem.” Master Sepp spoke up in a grunt.
“Everyone, we have a new member of this pack. His name is Kasha. He will help us tomorrow when we take back our loved ones. The loved ones that scream for our help right now.”
The others nodded to the newcomer. Their eyes carried anger and fear, probably much like his own eyes.
Later that night Kasha learned his job was the most simple one: Follow Sepp and keep harm away from him. Simple, but probably not easy. The alpha spoke of their task as if it were already etched into history. The little pack had blind confidence in this man. Such beliefs in a lowly human did seem foolish.
Destiny
ZAP!
That was the only sound Jochen heard when he fired that American pistol at William Perl. But now Perl was gone, and so was everything else: The judges, the looming American flag, Everett, the Leibstandarte. He was all alone in a plain white space.
“Hallo?”
‘Our world needs you…’