The Golden Soldier (Call of Duty: WW2 Fanfiction)

Chapter 3

"Avaline," someone touched my shoulder, wiggling it softly.
I shook my head, opening my eyes in a flash. How had I fallen asleep? I'd sworn I wouldn't and I'd let myself down. Peter had said he would look over me...had he kept that promise or fallen asleep as well?
"You fell asleep a few hours ago," Peter spoke normally as I sat up, realizing no one else was in the tent. "I know it wasn't much, but you almost went the whole night with no sleep."
That was the point. "Thank you for looking out for me."
"Here," he pulled out a knife and I stiffened, bending my knees. To my look of caution, Peter shook his head. "I'm only cutting the rope."
I nodded and held out my tender wrists. Peter cut the rope at the center, throwing the rope to the side and tucking his knife back away. I rubbed each of my wrists, examining the deep red-purple imprints left by the restraint.
"Come on now, lets go eat."
I was truly puzzled as to why Peter was treating me so kindly while the other Germans wanted one out of two things: me dead or me in bed...in some instances both. Peter had yet to express he wanted either one of the two wishes. Perhaps he was trying to shield me from the others and control my anxiety. That, or he was legitimately kind and didn't wish anything to happen.
"Freshly cooked, so it's still warm," Peter motioned to a log for me to sit on. "I'll dish you up."
Across the fire, three husky German men slouched over bowls. They glared over the edges of the kitchenware as they slurped the mass in them. I uncomfortably shifted, reaching around to touch my back pocket.
My phone was still securely in it. I subtly made sure it wasn't going to slide out of my pocket and then returned my hand to my knees. Right now, that was the only thing keeping me close to home.
"Here," Peter offered me a steaming bowl.
I took it with a grateful smile and then looked down into the dark bowl. My smile instantly turned into a frown. The guck inside the bowl was a grey with specks of black in it. It looked worse than soggy rolls underneath steaming gravy. I gulped and then sat straight, away from the infuriating smell.
"Not to your liking?"
"I'm not too hungry," I lied, offering the bowl to Peter, who had sat next to me.
Peter looked like he wanted to argue, yet he only nodded and then accepted the guck. As he began to eat it, I gazed around at the bustling camp. Most of them were packing weapons just like the day before.
"Why do most of them have weapons?"
Peter swallowed what was in his mouth and then used the back of his grimy hand to wipe his lips. "We have to be prepared for anything nowadays."
"Anything being what exactly?"
"Weather, disease, wolves, Amerikaner."
"Amerikaner?" I questioned.
Peter only shrugged, as if he'd accidentally said too much, and continued to finish off the bowl of mush. I crossed my arms over my stomach, leaning down on them to stare into the dwindling fire.
The word sounded similar to American. I was most likely wrong, but I assumed Peter was talking about American people. If that was the case, I had a very strong feeling as to where I was in time. Somewhere between 1941 and 1945, I was stuck in the middle of a war.
World War Two.
If that was truly the case, which would make sense, I had to get away from the Germans and fast. The museum had shown too many things that put me on edge then. Now...I was more jumpy than usual, more shaky in the hands.
My biggest question was how. How had I gotten here? I'd traveled into the past? From what? How could I even attempt to try and get back?
My eyes flickered over to a table set up with different blades and weapons on it. They rested on a simple knife, shaped more like a dagger if anything. I narrowed my forest-colored eyes.
Feeling heat on the side of my face, I turned my head from the knife to where the Oberst was standing outside his tent. He was giving orders to another highly-ranked soldier, his dark eyes focused on me as he did so. I quickly looked away from his gaze.
He saw you looking, Ava.
"That hit the spot," Peter touched his flat midsection and set the bowl to the side. "I wonder--"
There was the sound of a bell ringing--an old-fashioned brass one. To the sound, many men jumped and started gathering things up. Peter stood up, looking around and then down to me.
"We're moving camps."
I stood up, following Peter in the direction of the Oberst. His narrowed eyes followed every step I took and I found the back of my neck beginning to sweat.
"Peter, fessle ihre Handgelenke."
Peter paused, glancing over to his Oberst, and then nodded.
Without a second for me to protest, I was led to the side of a tent. Peter crouched, cutting extra rope off the stake, and then bound my wrists together. I expected him to not do it as tight, yet as the block of circulation began again, I knew he hadn't.
"They already don't like me because I speak English," Peter explained, noticing my face twisted in discomfort. "I can't tie it loose or else we both die."
I nodded. "I understand."
It was also partially my fault I was bound again. If the Oberst hadn't seen me eyeing the weapons, I would still probably be free. I'd definitely lost trust points with that sly move.
Peter dipped his head and then led me back over to the fire. He ordered me to sit, saying he would be back after the camp had been packed up. I couldn't be reluctant. I stayed there for the hour it took to pack everything up.
I watched the tents and cots be packed into jeeps that had been driven out of cover nearby. Kitchenware, chairs, tables and all of the extras also were packed into larger vehicles--similar to semi- or transport trucks. Men carried their bags on their backs, along with ammo for the weapons they dangerously swung around.
Within no time, everyone was ready to move on. Men who weren't as highly ranked--assuming the Germans were in a military force--walked on the ground. Those like the Oberst rode in jeeps and sat as passengers in the trucks.
"Come on," Peter waved me over and I stood.
I began walking alongside Peter. The Oberst turned in his seat as I did so, continuing to watch me. Since I didn't look at him, I couldn't tell if it was a glare, a look of curiosity, or one of want; all three had been thrown my way from him at some point. He faced back ahead as the squad started moving.
"Where are we going?"
"Not sure," Peter spoke quietly. "We seem to be retreating further back, but we also may be circling to trap the Amerikaner."
"Americans?"
Peter nodded and I breathed a silent sigh of...relief? If there were Americans nearby, that meant I had a chance to escape into the safety of their arms. The mention of Americans also had me convinced I was in the middle of World War Two.
It didn't take us long to retreat deeper in trees. I stuck by Peter's side, silent and calculating. If given the opportunity, I knew I would run for it. I knew the men behind me had rifles and the three ahead did too. They weren't loaded, however, which meant I had a few seconds to reach trees alongside the path and start weaving. Once there, I could book it and, hopefully, find a way to American lines.
"Halt!"
The command came from the front and it passed down the line of traveling people. I stopped next to Peter, breathing out in preparation if my time came.
"They have a road block," Peter translated the rapid German. "Another jeep got a flat tire."
Most of the men from the back started heading towards the front, determined to find out what was going on and help. Peter braced to follow, but then decided against it. Clearly he didn't want to leave my side.
Here's your chance, Ava.
It took me half a second to immobilize Peter. A swift knee to the groin and off I went as he collapsed in groans of pain. The others hadn't seen it coming, scrambling to pick up some sort of weapon or load the one they already had.
I reached the trees. Behind me, a bullet hit a tree with a thunk. Right at head-level too. I wove through the trees, hearing shouts and more shots behind me. Luckily, they didn't sound as if they were closing in.

--•--•--•--

    I easily ran a mile. With my hands tied in front of me, it wasn't easy, especially when I tripped over roots hidden by leaves or brush. Despite that, I ran until I couldn't hear shouting anymore. I ran until I almost collapsed.
    Currently, I wandered through the woods. The only sounds guiding me were occasional birds or wind biting at the tops of the trees--which seemed miles high. I expected I would die.
    I supposed I would end up found in a ditch--or at least my decayed body would be. That or it would be mangled from a wild animal, which I knew would attack at any moment.
    Oh yes, I could already see the images and titles in newspapers around the world: Body of woman found in ____ forest in the middle of the war. The thought made me shudder and grow cold.
    I wondered if I could change the future with my actions. If I showed someone my phone, would everything in the future be different? Would my name appear in headlines because I was a woman found in the middle of a war waged between men?
    Rather than worrying too much about rippling the future, I wondered if I was missing to my friends. Had I just disappeared entirely, never even existing in their minds, or was I being searched for?
    That led to my biggest question of all: Was I stuck here?
    The snap of a twig startled me from my thoughts and I paused from walking. As my breath sucked in and I forced myself to be silent, I could hear more prodding footsteps.
    "Wie lange noch? Ich bin fertig mit diesen amerikanischen Feiglingen."
    To the German language, I quickly started backing up. There was only one way for them to see me and that was if they started coming right at me. To the echo of their steps, I knew that was exactly what was happening too.
    "Halt!"
    To the command, I spun around and saw a German--unarmed, surprisingly--staring me down. I shook my head and then took off to the left, a completely different direction than what I'd been walking the whole time. The German shouted, alerting his other companions, and it made me pick up the pace.
    "Can I have a break for five minutes?" I panted, sprinting with my hands bobbing back and forth at my belly button.
    After a while of no more shouting or footsteps running after me, I wanted to slow to a jog. My head turned, forcing me to look over my shoulder to make absolutely certain that no one was following me. I had to be cautious...
    "Look out, Zuss!"
    To the sound of the shout, I turned my head forwards again. It was in perfect timing of running straight into a heavy body.
    "Humph!" there was a grunt as I knocked the person off balance.
    Startled to the entire running-into-a-stranger-in-the-middle-of-a-forest situation, I collapsed back on my butt. My back gave out, forcing me to plop all the way down to my back like a opossum faking death. I held up my hands, palms spread open, to the threat of danger.
    The two men standing above me were calm, their eyes--one pair blue and the other green--studied my shaking form in silence. I studied them right back, eyeing first their readied weapons braced at their waists and then their uniforms--deep green with stains and dust. One man, whom was the shorter of the two, had pointed ears and nose. His lips were thinned as he sucked them in anticipation. The other was thicker at the jaw, bubbled lips poked out like a baby, and his nose was wide. The latter had faint freckles similar to myself.
    They didn't speak a word, but I knew they were different. They definitely weren't German and they weren't set on killing me; they would've already if that had been the case.
    "Please, help me!"
    And for the love of all things holy, please speak English for once!
    To my scattered, rushed plea, the two men gave each other a glance that only the two of them could understand.

--•--•--•--

I've decided this book will be updated weekly on every Saturday (I know it's Sunday, yesterday was insane for me)! Recently, I've started this on my Oneshots book and a recently-completed Infinite Warfare fic and it's interesting to play around with to a) leave you hanging on your seat and b) keep myself organized.
Start getting excited for Saturdays!
Hope you're enjoying!
Song: Far From Home by Sam Tinnesz
~MS~