Whatever May Happen

ONE - The Plane In The Forest

Katja stumbled over the mock trench, running for her plane, trying to escape the two men behind her. She could see the knife flash in the bigger one's hand, the one who tried to cut her pants open. He'd failed and had cut her thigh instead, the healthy one, without the burn scar. She stepped a bit too near to Aleksandra's sleeping body, and she was worried for a second that she'd stepped on her, but she didn't move or make a sound. The tall Russian had almost climbed into her plane when she felt a hand on her arm, trying to hold her back, and a familiar voice.

"Stop!"screamed tiny Roza, putting another hand on her arm "Katja, you can't! They'll call you a deserter and have you killed!"

Katja turned her beaten - up face to her, tears in her eyes. "I'd die anyway, right? I don't want them to touch me before that."

She managed to free her arm from the younger pilot's grasp, and felt her uniform's rough fabric tear through her burn. She winced at the pain, but couldn't pretend that she was somehow used to it. She'd bandage the thing or something.

She started the plane and took off, while the last of Roza's pleas drowned away in the distance.

Without her jacket, it was getting much colder as she went higher, and the wind hurt her unprotected eyes. Below her, a dark forest showed tiny white spots where the snow had landed on small clearings. She was sure that there'd be Germans close, and relaxing slightly she turned off the engine and kept gliding instead.

It was the lights in the distance that made her panic.

Small lights flashed where she could only imagine a German camp to be, and she realized she'd be seen if she kept gliding in that direction. She attempted to turn and change her route, but to no avail; so, praying to nobody in particular, she turned the engine back on. When it stayed quiet, she tried again, and with one last effort, the plane caught fire.

She dived as close as she could to the ground before jumping from the plane into the soft snow. When the plane crashed near her, she rushed over and tried to put out the fire, and when the snow and kicks didn't work she ran as far away from the burning wreckage as her pained legs and malnourished body could take her. She lay in the snow when she came to the edge of a clearing, wrapped tight in her telogreika and light coat. Hoping the hypothermy didn't hurt, she finally fell asleep.

The long line of prisoners walked slowly down the larger trail, tracked by two SS men every fifty feet or so. The two in front, just behind two dark colored cars, were a very large one, clearly in command, and a younger, more graceful man with an MP40, who winced every time the other spoke. When Katja opened her eyes, the line of people was next to her larger clearing, and the two men in front were fighting violently. The smaller one kept a hand on his cheek gingerly, and kept wincing as the other gesticulated angrily.

Without thinking, the girl muttered something about them never shutting up, a little bit too loud. The bigger man's head whipped around, and he took the weapon from the other, pointing it in her general direction

"Get up!"

The harshly accented English let Katja know that that order was for her. She stayed put and hoped he was bluffing, but when she barely dodged a warning shot, she realized he wasn't, and automatically stood up, her hands behind her head, her blonde hair ruffled up around her half- burned face. To her surprise, the man kept pointing the firearm at her, but he didn't shoot, and when she came near enough, he lowered it, yanked her drenched coat off of her, and replaced it with his black one. Before she could even speak, he took her to one of the cars, pushing her by the shoulders and shoving her in, before climbing in himself.

Whenshe finally managed to look at him, with a confused stare, he looked at her and simply said: "I won't take you to a camp."

A camp? Katja knew it was a bluff. A gut feeling told her that she'd be put into some room and tortured to get information that she couldn't possibly have. A camp, fitted for the deserter she was. She felt nauseous, but she didn't vomit. She had nothing in her stomach anyway.

Heinrich looked at his small passenger, wrapped up in his huge coat. She looked sick: maybe if she got worse he'd call a camp medic, or the village one if it was anything serious, but for now she would just stay like this; it wouldn't be a problem for what he wanted her for. He guessed a Russian girl was a lucky catch after all. They wouldn't miss one of their pretty little pilots and she'd like German life anyway. He'd been told life in the Soviet Union was worse. So she'd stay. Besides, he preferred a girl. They were more malleable and would adapt better - and besides, he didn't really like men, especially for what he wanted to do. He half -smiled, almost happy with his little catch. Well, it would've been better if she really was healthy. She was painfully thin, cold, and looked a bit green, especially in the car. A healthy girl would've been better, yes, and maybe a German instead so she'd adapt much more easily, and besides, he wasn't very keen on actually caring for a sick person. He guessed perhaps he should have left her in the forest, or actually sent her to a camp. On the other hand, he needed someone right now and the Russian would do.

He studied her, and found she was really quite pretty, even with the large burn covering half her face. It was symmetrical, and her features were soft. He ended up liking it, and her gray - blue eyes and her dirty blonde hair. He still had second thoughts, but he liked the fact that she was pretty after all. He hoped it'd make the whole ordeal more bearable.

The Russian girl looked at her captor sometimes, and he seemed lost in thought. He was bigger up close, much taller than her, and quite muscular. Escaping with this giant next to her felt even more impossible. He had a sharp profile, and he always looked hostile. She hoped he wasn't always hostile.

To her surprise, in about two hours, the landscape outside the window changed from a forest to a small village, neatly made of small houses with lawns, all similar although not the same. She spotted a church,and a few stores, a small square, but no monuments of any kind. As they crossed the village, close to the outskirts, the small glimmer of hope she'd started to feel disappeared completely. No village, she reminded herself, she'd be staying in a camp.

Near the outskirts, the car stopped in front of a small lawn. The German man in the car with her stepped out, took her out as well and pushed her into the house. As he locked the door, she felt a shiver go down her spine

"So," came the man's voice behind her "it seems you're stuck with me now"