Traitors (Damned of the 2/19th - Book Five) - Finished

Resistance

2/19th Special Weapons Group Barracks
Restricted Area - Western Germany
Early Winter - 1986
Day: Twelve

The screams faded, not cut off, and silence settled over the room. Nagle shivered and rubbed her arms. We stood there silently for a long time, until we heard footsteps, slow and steady ones, thudding up the hallway. Our eyes had adjusted to the dim light thrown off by the bulb, letting us see the small entryway. The door handle turned slowly and the door seemed to flex strangely for a moment before the door handle slowly returned to where it started. There was a tapping sound at the door, a brittle sound like ice cracking.

"The floor..." Nagle hissed. I looked down and saw frost slowly spread under the edge of the door.

"Christ, he's right out there." Bomber breathed.

There was a scraping noise, like nails on a blackboard, and the door shivered in its frame.

Another liquid sounding chuckle, and footsteps slowly paced away.

"He's in the fucking barracks." Bomber said softly, one of the more unnecessary things he'd ever said.

"Knives?" Nagle asked.

"No. Knives won't do shit against him, trust me." I replied. My shoulder gave a dull throb at the memory of a chunk of ice sliding into the stab wound and a sucking sound right after it withdrew. I shuddered, and rubbed my shoulder.

"Then what?" Bomber asked.

"Eat. Two MRE's if you can handle it, and use the bathroom." I said, heading over to the box and pulling out two MRE's. Bomber and Nagle joined me, grabbing two MRE's out of their boxes and following my example by wolfing it down as quick as possible. Squeezing the peanut butter, jelly, and cheese straight out of the package. The bathroom was rank by the time we were done, but I figured it was better to be fully fed, bladder and bowels empty, than to just go into whatever we were looking at only half fed.

"Now we wait." Nagle said, sitting down on the bed. I sat down next to her, and when Bomber went to sit on the weight bench Nagle patted the bed next to her. She took both of our hands, and we sat there silently, in the dim light, waiting, watching the glow in the dark hands of my windup alarm clock.

Less than a half hour went by before we heard voices at the door. I let go of Nagle's hand and sat in the desk chair, Bomber moved over to sit on the weight bench. I watched as the handle turned after the key rattled in the lock, just waiting.

Oakes, Kebble, the LT, and Nelson stood in my doorway. The LT stared at me for a long moment, and I smiled at him, letting him see my broken front teeth.

"Where is he?" The LT asked, stomping into the dim room. "Sergeant Oakes, turn on the light." Oakes flipped the switch. The light didn't change, just a faint dim yellow. Weird. The LT grabbed me and pulled me to my feet. "Where is Sergeant Martins?"

"He's gone." I said simply. "If that was him in the stairs, with the rifle, he's just gone."

"Bullshit. You three did something to him!" Oakes yelled. "Your shitty Scooby-Doo costume might have fooled Private Logan, but we know that it was you three!" Her voice held the edge of hysteria, and I smiled at her.

"How much blood was in the stairwell?" Nagle asked. She smiled when the LT looked.

"Was it frozen?" Bomber added his smile when the LT looked at him. "It was frozen, wasn't it?"

"Grab them, take them down to the My Office." The LT snarled, letting go of me and turning around to walk out of the room. You could hear the capital letters in the way he said it.