Doctor Who_ Autumn Mist Part 22

Garcia was curiously glad that Lewis had decided to take cover. He didn't want to he responsible for killing any American soldiers. h.e.l.l, he was a doctor he didn't want to kill anybody.

The trap was better here anyway, as the southern side of the road fell away in a steep cutting, leaving the Shermans even less room for manoeuvre.

The leading Sherman nudged the fallen tree, and detonated the grenades. They exploded harmlessly above the tanks' steel.

The modifications made to the Shermans were less well protected, however. The strange electrical box on the first one exploded in a shower of sparks, while the second fizzled, and began to ripple, neither quite here nor there. It remained unmoving, preventing the four Shermans behind it from continuing along the road.

'What the h.e.l.l is that?' Wiesniewski muttered. Garcia didn't have much of an answer. 'I wonder if it's hurting the Sidhe.'

'No,' Galastel's voice said in his ear. 'The mechanism is merely damaged. With such weak forces they can only break through at the centre of the rift.'

'The crossroads,' Wiesniewski said thoughtfully.

The first Sherman halted, even though the road was clear. Lewis and his crew were hastily disembarking, and opening the toolboxes that were also affixed to the sides of the tank.

'They must need repairs to continue,' Garcia said. 'Maybe this is our chance.'

'To do what?' Wiesniewski asked. 'I sure as h.e.l.l can't open fire on our boys. Can you?'

'No, that's not what I was thinking,' Garcia said. He turned to the Sidhe. 'Galastel, if we can get the crews of those tanks away from them, can your people cloud their perceptions enough to lead them out of harm's way?'

'Easily,' Galastel said. 'If they leave the road and enter the woods...'

Garcia felt more at home suddenly. He would save some more lives here, not take them. If nothing else, those men would be able to fight the Germans later.

'Come on,' he said. 'Let's go and do our stuff.'

Bearclaw ducked behind a tree as the air filled with flying lead. More SS troops had reinforced the originals, and now a half-track was approaching the roadblock.

He realised with a mixture of fear and annoyance that he was too close to the trap they'd set the shrapnel from the grenades would catch him too. He turned to run for a safe place, and found himself face to face with a German soldier.

Bearclaw was sure he was dead. He had survived the ma.s.sacre, just to die alone like this. It wasn't fair.

Then the German stiffened and fell, and Bearclaw saw a tiny dart embedded in his neck. It was like a clothyard arrowshaft, but scaled down immensely. He sensed the area from which it had come, and directed a smile of thanks. All he could see there was some dead wood s.h.i.+fting in the breeze.

Behind him, the Hanomag rammed the barrier, and the grenades exploded. Yells and screams came from the half track, as it careened off the road, its driver obviously incapacitated. It had knocked the roadblock aside, however, and armoured cars were approaching the gap. Bearclaw straightened. It was time to go.

Kovacs was in a clearing on the other side of the road. The Sidhe might have been keeping any footsoldiers out of the woods, but they weren't doing much about the ones who were accompanying the vehicles.

Several Germans had him pinned down in a small snow-filled depression, and he had begun to suspect that they might have figured out that they were just facing two men. h.e.l.l, maybe just one, if Bearclaw had been taken out.

He saw more SS helmets moving along the roadside ditch, and loosed a burst at them. They went down, but he thought they had dived rather than fallen.

Kovacs's nostrils were filled with the scent of hot metal from an overused gun, and he could barely hear himself think over the sound of shooting, but he just managed to hear the movement behind him. Someone had outflanked him.

Kovacs whirled round, but his Thompson was empty, and he had no spare magazines left. He swung the gun into the German's stomach. Winded, the man doubled over, and Kovacs smashed the b.u.t.t of the Thompson over his head.

Kovacs drew his backup automatic, and saw that the German had a Luger stuck in his belt. He took that too. 'This is getting personal,' he muttered to himself.

Wiesniewski crept around the back of the last Sherman in Lewis's column, and climbed on to the rear deck. He rapped softly on the turret hatch. 'Hey, open up.'

The hatch cracked open about an inch, and an eye and a pistol muzzle peered out at him. When the owner of both saw an American soldier, he emerged more fully. 'What's up?'

Wiesniewski hoped he could make this convincing. He should be able to; it was more or less true. 'I need you and your boys to get out of this Ronson, and get into the woods.'

'What the h.e.l.l for? 'Wiesniewski winced, hoping Lewis's own crew up at the front wouldn't hear.

'Because you ain't here for whatever reason you think you are. You're here because Lewis has made a deal with the Krauts.' The tank commander started to protest, but then looked into Wiesniewski's eyes, and must have seen something there that silenced him. 'There's an SS colonel called Leitz, who's coming up the other road. Lewis has arranged to meet him at the crossroads.'

'Bulls.h.i.+t.'

'Look,' Wiesniewski said. He brandished his Tommy gun. 'If I was a German, I'd just shoot you, right? But I'm not, so I'm telling you something you need to know.'

The tank commander hesitated. 'OK... I guess you've got me on that one. And we can't move the tanks anyway until the front ones are repaired.'

'Right.'

Bearclaw got back to the crossroads, thoroughly out of breath. 'They're through the roadblock,' he told Sam.

'That's not your only concern,' a worried-looking Galastel said as he reappeared from coordinating his people. 'We have perhaps a hundred humans trapped in circles in the woods, but one of your tribes has sent two vehicles through the woods. We cannot approach them, and they are heading directly here.'

'Take us there,' Sam said immediately. Now maybe she could do something useful. Galastel grabbed both their arms, and suddenly the three of them were in the woods, about a hundred yards from what Sam recognised as two German tanks.

'Tigers,' Bearclaw said. 'Leitz is smarter than Lewis; I'll give him that. But we three can't hold them alone. Unless...'

'What?' Sam asked.

'The best way to stop Lewis's tanks would be to blow them to h.e.l.l, right?'

Sam paused, clenching her fists. 'I guess. Given the circ.u.mstances.'

Bearclaw grinned. 'So if we gave these Tigers some nice American tanks to shoot at...'

Lewis heard a commotion from the rear of the column, and walked back to see what was happening. For some reason, the crews of the remaining four Shermans had dismounted, and were walking into the woods on one side of the road. There, the shadows enveloped them.

Stranger still, there were two newcomers watching him Garcia and Wiesniewski. 'Traitors!' he yelled, and ran towards them.

Garcia ran, Wiesniewski held his ground.

'Sir! Sir!' he yelled urgently. 'I have to talk to you! We're no traitors!'

Lewis paused, still aiming his gun. He doubted the man could say anything to convince him.

Garcia ran. Perhaps he could use this opportunity to circle round, and get the rest of Lewis's crew to safety. Then they could think of some way to get rid of the tanks. Damage their engines, perhaps.

Before he could do any of this, he saw that Lewis's crew had taken it upon themselves to go and see what was happening. Once off the road, they would be taken.

He spotted Sam and Bearclaw running down the road from the direction of the crossroads. 'What's up?'

'The Germans have broken through,' Sam told him, 'and there are two Tigers cutting through the woods down there.' She pointed to the floor of the cutting on the other side of the road.'

'd.a.m.n. Then we're '

'In luck,' Bearclaw finished for him.

'In luck?' But surely the Germans would cut them off?

'We need something to destroy these Shermans, don't we? If we go down and attract those Tigers' attention, we can draw them over here.'

Garcia nodded. It was crazy, but what wasn't crazy around here?

'All right,' Sam said, 'I'll make sure the crews are kept safe.'

'Yeah,' Garcia agreed. 'You do that. Then go find Kovacs and Wiesniewski, and tell them what we're up to if they're still alive.'

'And if not?' Sam asked.

'Then you and Galastel get the h.e.l.l out of here.'

To Wiesniewski's relief, Lewis had lowered his gun. He was a US officer, after all. He had to listen to listen to what Wiesniewski had to say.

The two men walked into the woods, Wiesniewski leading the way.

He had to make Lewis understand, somehow.

So what if Wiesniewski got cas.h.i.+ered; at least his family wouldn't have to worry. He might even see his daughter sooner on account of this.

Lewis followed him into the little clearing. 'Traitor!'

'Sir,' Wiesniewski said. 'I know how this looks, but you're being led into a trap, and I had to ' Something exploded into his chest, and he felt himself stumble, suddenly light-headed.

It wasn't until he fell to his knees that he even realised Lewis had shot him. He couldn't believe it; surely even a nut like Lewis had more morals than that. Didn't he?

Everybody dies alone, he realised suddenly. It didn't really matter whether it was a lonely alley or a bed in a deserted ward, or even a field in the thick of battle. Once people couldn't hear you anymore, and ignored you as no longer a threat, then you were alone under the open sky; small and afraid, the futility of your life naked and exposed to any pa.s.sing G.o.ds.

The last thing Wiesniewski noticed was that Lewis had turned away, and not even stayed to watch him die.

Chapter Eleven.

All the Time in the World 'What now?' Fitz asked the Doctor in the TARDIS.

'Now we beat the Amadan Amadan at his own game.' at his own game.'

'Not magic again?'

'That's simply a word humans use for arts they don't understand. Magic is the software system which operates reality. Sometimes it's formed by rudimentary technology; sometimes it's inherent. It's all the same thing. People tell each other that magic doesn't exist, and that there's only science; but really they're two words for the same thing.'

'I can think of a useful two words to say to you,' grumbled Fitz.

Bearclaw could think of better places to be than in freezing woods listening to two Tiger tanks rumbling towards him. There were huge crashes deeper in the woods, as the Tigers pushed down trees that they didn't have room to go around.

Even here, where the Tigers were far enough away to still look tiny, snow was being shaken loose from the deadwood all around.

For about the hundredth time, Bearclaw breathlessly checked the action on his Thompson. He felt as if his lungs were simply too small for all the air he needed. In his head he knew it was fear, but his heart wasn't listening. It didn't need to, because it knew he was doing the right thing. The only thing he could do, in fact.

He glanced across at Garcia a few yards away. The medic looked as sick with fear as Bearclaw felt, but he knew the reverse wasn't true. As if to prove him right, Garcia glanced round, and seemed to draw strength from Bearclaw's apparent calm. He felt a little better for being able to boost Garcia's confidence.

'You ready?' he asked.

Garcia hesitated before answering. 'No,' he admitted finally. 'You?'

Bearclaw smiled. 'No.' It wasn't really possible to feel ready for something like this. They exchanged a look, and Bearclaw knew that Garcia understood that too. You just had to go for it anyway.

By now the Tigers were close enough to hit with a thrown baseball as they churned through the snow. Bearclaw hefted a grenade, and pulled the pin. He threw it at the lead Tiger, and heard it clang against the hull a moment before it exploded to one side.

Garcia then leaned out from the side of a tree, and fired a burst. Bearclaw did likewise, this time aiming at the second Tiger.

The lead tank paused, its turret purring round. It was terrifying looking down the barrel of an 88mm cannon, but Bearclaw knew that no tank crew would be stupid enough to waste valuable sh.e.l.ls on two lone footsoldiers.

The machine gun set beside the cannon opened fire instead, but Bearclaw and Garcia had already taken cover. There was no more sound for a moment, and Bearclaw began to wonder if maybe the tank crews had decided that two men weren't worth bothering with. Then he heard the blast of another grenade, and knew that Garcia had regained their attention.

He turned, pausing long enough to fire off a few rounds at the tanks, but not long enough to let them get a bead on him. It didn't matter how inaccurate his own shooting was the bullets couldn't harm the tanks anyway he just needed to get their attention. Now the Tigers' engines roared, and he knew he had it.

The trick now was to stay just out of killing range, but close enough to lead them towards the west road. It shouldn't be too difficult, Bearclaw reasoned, since the rough ground was hampering the Tigers. There was no danger of them catching up to the two men.