Dangerous Territory

Attack on Queuleu

Jean wished he could run. Every step was a step further away from Annie. Still, he had to be careful holding Armin. The man was completely limp, and Jean seriously worried if all of this activity had caused permanent injury to Armin's brain.

He had no worries about getting turned around in this labyrinth of stone and concrete halls. All he had to do was follow the trail of bloody boot prints and thick purplish drips from where Floch had made his way to them, his hand print sometimes smearing across the wall as he held himself upright and pushed onward. It was a clear sign of the man's determination and dedication.

Jean frowned at just how much blood there was, and then looked back at where Floch now hung over Reiner's shoulder. It felt like such a disgraceful way to handle the body of a man who was a hero and probably saved many of their lives.

When they exited into the predawn darkness, they saw blood pooled in the back of the limousine.

"How did he even make it that far, bleeding so much?" Jean whispered in horror.

"We have a problem," Reiner said, looking at the truck. "That bitch slashed the tires."

"Shit!" Jean saw that both the limousine and the truck's tires had been stabbed. He also saw that the fuel lines had been cut.

"I brought my own car," Reiner offered. "It might be better if I use that one anyway."

Jean nodded to himself. Yes, an SS officer would have an easier time getting through checkpoints.

They hurried through the courtyard. Air raid sirens blared, gunshots rang, and shouts barked out from all directions. The sky was starting to lighten with the coming sunrise. Overhead in the pinkish-purple sky, they saw the ominous silhouette of squadrons of American bombers.

* * *

Up in one of the lookout towers, Gabi was reveling in the battle. Although Metz had been bombed in the past, never was it so close to her. She had her rifle out, the sights pointed to the fort directly below. When she felt she safely could, she took shots at German soldiers.

Beside her were her two friends from school, Udo and Zofia. The teen boy with thick glasses looked anxious as Gabi's rifle kept firing shot after carefully-aimed shot.

He muttered, "I thought you said that the German soldier told you not to shoot anyone."

"He just doesn't want me to shoot his friends. They're all in the Heer, so I'm shooting anyone in a Waffen-SS uniform, especially all the ones who look like they're 40. Old geezers should know better." She glanced back at them. "Hey, Zofia. You're a good shot. You should have some fun too."

Zofia's face looked distasteful. "I prefer shooting ducks, not Germans. I don't see killing people as having fun. Besides, I thought you liked Hitler."

"I do," Gabi said proudly. "I think he's a great man with bold ideas. Just look at how he turned his country's economy around. I feel he's the right man for Germany ... but I feel Germans need to stay in Germany."

"Isn't your father a German immigrant?" Udo asked hesitantly.

Gabi scoffed. "That's different. He came over legally, peacefully, and he's loyal to France."

Zofia pointed out bluntly, "He's loyal to the Nazis."

"A political party, nothing more. I have no problem with National-Socialists, but I will shoot any invaders." She turned back to the window and took another shot.

Udo mumbled, "I don't like Nazis. I had Jewish cousins taken away."

Gabi insisted, "Hitler has his reasons." She fired the gun again. "Damn, how did I miss that one?" She fired again and smiled. "Gotcha!"