Sub Human

The snow was beautiful. Lying there in the blind, watching it fall among the trees and the shrubbery. Dancing as the wind blew hither and thither.

Fred could've done without the cold though. He felt like he was being stabbed all over with little pin-knives.

He sighed.

It had been days. He had to find something. His family needed this money. His little boy, Henry, only a year old now. He had seen his little boy starve too often.

Then, finally he heard it, the crunching of snow. He stayed dead still. Looking around, not daring to turn his head.

He saw it. He saw them. Two of them. One of them was big, the biggest he'd seen. His mouth watered as he thought of all that meat.

Slowly, carefully, he lowered his head to the iron sights. Staring down at the brute. If only they would line up so he could get both of them at once. They were too fast. He'd never get two shots off before the other one ran.

Then he saw the third one. A little child. It stopped him. The big one was holding its hand, leading it along. Watching out for it as it walked along in the snow. He realized the big one was female, and the other was male. He couldn't tell the baby's gender.

He thought of last Friday, when they'd taken his Henry on a walk.

Could the baby survive without its mother?

They're sub-human, they're animals. He thought of Henry. Henry who'd cried the first time he realized that no amount of crying or screaming would get him the food his belly ached for. Fred took aim, and fired.

The bullet carried the brute into a tree. It slid down to the -now red- snow.

The baby looked around, confused. The male turned towards Fred and let out a deafening roar. As its mouth stretched he saw a scar stretched across its right eye. It was searching the trees, trying to spot his exact position.

Quickly he worked the lever on his rifle, the brass cartridge shot out and another bullet locked into place. He put his eyes back to the sights but the male was gone. He waited, just to be sure, looking around.

* * *

“I've got a big one this time George.” Fred huffed, as he slung the thing off his back, and onto the shop's floor.

George looked over the carcass with professional efficiency, not moving from behind the counter.

“Yeah-,” George's voice was unusually gruff, ”yeah Fred.” he was staring at the counter now, his lips rigid as though trying not to betray something.

Fred understood. Times were bad, something must've happened to his family.

“George” he began, “if, if you ever need to talk...”

George shook his head suddenly. Then he plunged his left hand into his coat pocket and, pulling out a wad of cash, threw it on the counter. “Just take it.” George's voice broke. Unshed tears filling his eyes.

Fred held back a sigh. He nodded and grabbed the cash. As he stepped out he counted it, it was more than that carcass had been worth. He would not return the extra.

As he stepped into the street, a man in a black uniform suddenly blocked his way.

His heart started racing. He couldn't breath. He heard another officer step behind him. Trapped.

“Herr Friedrichs” the SS officer announced “You will come with me. Surrender your arms.”

The cash slipped from Fred's hand. He didn't move. He couldn't think, his mind was a total blank.