The Golden Soldier (Call of Duty: WW2 Fanfiction)

Chapter 5

The faint sounds of murmurs and shouts came into my ears first. I shifted, my legs twitching, and then let out a groan of discomfort. My eyes opened, the light in the tent dim and easy to adjust to.
I had turned over in my sleep, because I now faced towards the door where Zussman sat on a borrowed chair. He was looking out of the opening of the tent, his hand holding the heavy-duty cover back. His shoulders were slumped, as if he were tired and bored of sitting there.
"Welcome back," he spoke without looking at me.
"How long was I out?"
"A few hours," he paused and then allowed the tent door to fall closed, facing me. "You talk in your sleep."
"I've been told," I muttered and then braced myself to get up.
My muscles were sore, especially my legs, and they shook as I lifted myself up to plop into one of the chairs near the table. I let out a sigh of helplessness as I rubbed my face with my bound wrists.
"We will discuss this tomorrow," there was a firm voice right outside the tent, getting louder towards the end of the sentence.
The leader who'd ordered me to stay prisoner in the tent flung the curtains open, eyes resting first on me and then on Zussman. Zussman stood immediately, his chin poking out, shoulders back.
"Thank you for your help, Private," the man sounded more drained than the last time.
"Yes sir," Zussman moved to exit, pausing to whisper to his leader.
The wiser man's brown eyes trained back on me and I blinked, obviously still waking up from my deep, dreamless nap. He nodded once to Zussman's words and then waited for him to leave before stepping forwards. When he did, I sat back in the uncomfortable chair, facing the back part of the large wall tent.
"Are you a spy, Avaline Baker?"
"No," I looked directly into the leader's eyes.
"Do you have any affiliations to the Germans?"
"No."
He proceeded to dig into me like I was a piece of stone awaiting to be carved into a sculpture. Every question was the same, more or less, and every answer of mine was too. I didn't even count how many he asked, but it got to a point where it was more than annoying--I was fed up with it.
"Crying because you're far from home?"
Knowing he was referring to the Germans, I shook my head and batted at my eyes frantically. I hadn't even realized I'd begun crying and I was embarrassed I had. The smug man probably thought it was because he got to me.
"I don't know where I am or how I got here, but I promise you I'm not a German spy! For crying out loud, the bastards did this to me," I looked at and raised my bound wrists, sniffling. "How could I possibly be a spy? I'm not a threat to you! I'm an American!"
The soldier betrayed no emotion. "How is a young American woman over here in the middle of a war zone?"
"I can't explain it because I don't even know," I whispered, defeated, and then shook my head because I knew he didn't believe me. "Look, whatever you planned on doing with me, do it. I've told you nothing but the truth this whole time."
The place was silent as the thoughts of both of us whirled around. He was trying to guess if I actually was being honest while I was wondering why he would think I wasn't. When I lied I either couldn't make eye contact, would stumble over words, or would raise my left brow unconsciously. Wouldn't someone as trained as him know to look for those things, recognize them?
"You're stubborn."
"Stubbornly honest?" I managed a small smile.
The man shook his head, avoiding the reveal of his smirk as he shifted some papers around on the desk. I looked at my wrists, swallowing in nervousness. Though we shared a lighter moment, it wasn't enough to change my fate...yet.
"What's your name?"
"Joesph Turner."
"You seem important," I paused, deciding last name formalities would be best, "Turner. What's your rank?"
He eyed me, sensitive to reveal too much information. Clearly he still thought I was a spy.
"I'm just asking," I held up my hands. "I don't know whether to bow to you or spit at you like dirt."
There was the faint smirk again. "Neither."
I sighed and sat back in the chair once more. Turner covered a few papers with less important ones, his dark eyes flickering to my puny frame from time to time. I realized I was smaller than him, than all of them, but that didn't mean he had to stare and point it out.
"Are you going to keep me as prisoner too?"
"Perhaps. I haven't decided yet," Turner shrugged, sitting across from me for the first time.
"I can be useful," I paused, deciphering my words carefully. "I have experience in the medical field..."
It was true. Before deciding to switch my major to history, I had been on track to being a travel nurse. I had quite a lot of information under my belt and would be willing to use it if needed. Not only that but I had history with guns and a self-defense class--the beginnings of training to fight.
But that will never happen because of the time period.
"We will see," Turner almost seemed amused. "For right now, I'm going to try and find a way to get you to safety."
"I'm not safe here?"
"The front lines are no place for a woman to be."
I wanted to bite back a sharp remark, but I sucked in a breath. "Because these are the front lines? Doesn't look like it."
"We will be."
I clenched and released my fists. "Well then, I'll just have to wait for you to decide."
Turner gave a nod.
"Are you going to make me sit here the whole time?"
"Perhaps."
"Unfair. There are things a human must have to be...humane."
"Oh?" he raised an eyebrow. "And what are those things?"
"Food," I blurted. "A bath, clothes, a place to sleep."
"Those sound like amenities."
"Food is required," I argued. "And the bath, sleep and clothing is for everyone else's sake."
Turner smiled, a rare sight for sure. He sat back in his wooden chair and tapped his chin in thought. "Alright, I suppose you have a point."
I didn't say anything back, instead looking down at my hands. For once I knew it wasn't lighting when they looked a shade of purple. My jaw clenched and I wiggled my fingers. They were numb.
"Whatever you decide, I have one request," I looked back to Turner and he cocked his head. "Please take this off of me."
He looked hesitant, eyeing my hips for weapons. I shook my head with a groan of annoyance.
"I don't have any weapons--you aren't checking me for any either!" I narrowed my eyes; I knew all of these men were in a drought of female companionship. "The rope is cutting off circulation that's all and, besides, I can't do jack shit with my hands tied like this."
"Another good point," Turner sighed and then leaned forwards on the table, uncrossing his fit arms. "Alright, Ava Baker, here's the deal. You're going to have access to bathing, one of my platoon will escort you so that nothing bad happens with men of other squads. You will be able to eat and access all of the required faculties for good hygiene. I'll figure out sleeping arrangements. As of now, you are going to have an escort at all times until you're in a...safer position."
"Thank you."
"You need to understand that I'm risking a lot not immediately telling Colonel Davis about you. I need you to keep yourself at a low-key atmosphere, understood?" I nodded twice firmly. "Good. I'm going to find contact to get you back to England within the next few days."
I really didn't want such to happen, being that I was from the future and all. I had nothing to return home to, no one. Currently, Turner and those I'd met--Zussman and Daniels--were the only people I had. Them and my phone still securely tucked in my back pocket. Leaving would mean losing almost all of that.
What life would I start when I was forced to return? I know in these days women had to marry to live comfortably; they couldn't work, yet only stay at home with children to clean. I knew one hundred percent that wasn't me. I would end up in prison from going insane than do that.
"Come with me now," Turner stood, moving to exit the tent.
"Not to be rude, uh sir," I paused after standing. Turner faced me with confusion. "Aren't you forgetting something?"
Looking at my outstretched wrists, Turner drew a knife from his hip and sawed at the rope. I let out a breath of relief, gingerly caressing my wrists in pain. Turner nodded his head and then began again.
As we exited, I overlooked the settling camp. By this time, the sun had set, leaving the scene of the camp gloomy. Most men were settling for dinner or a quick rest--if at all possible. Some still counted weapons, ammunition or rations. Others trained; those were likely the new-comers...what were they called...replacements? That sounded accurate.
"Excuse me for asking, but where are we exactly?"
"Normandy, France."
If that was the case, D-Day had already happened. It had to be June or July of 1944.
"And the date?"
Turner gave me a curious sideways glance. "July fifteenth."
I let out a shaky breath. This is actually real. You're in the middle of the World War Two, Ava.
"Is everything alright?"
"Dandy," I nodded, following Turner to where a group of men were sitting around a smaller fire--one of multiple.
"Lieutenant," Zussman perked up as we neared.
    So that's what you are.
"Since it was your bright idea to bring her here, you're to keep track of her until I say otherwise. Understand?"
"Yes sir!"
Turner dipped his head. "She knows what's allowed and what isn't."
How kind of him to put that much faith in me.
Turner walked back the way we'd come without another word, leaving me to face the group of four men sheepishly. Zussman and Daniels were the only two I recognized. The others were studying me in curiosity--well, one of the two. The fourth one sitting on a stump only glared in distrust.
"Ava, come sit down. We have chow," Zussman motioned to the spot across from him, in between Daniels and the man who wasn't glaring.
I stiffly sat. Almost as soon as I did, the stranger next to me gave my back a pat.
"Hey, no need to be so tense, we don't bite."
I managed a sideways smile as I gazed at the stranger. Dark hair and eyes, black-rimmed glasses, no scruff because he smelled like he had just gotten rid of it. He looked like he was friendly, with quirky lips and a thin nose until his thicker nostrils took over at the base.
"I'm Drew Stiles."
"Nice to meet you," I murmured, looking away from the handsome man towards the dwindling fire.
"Say," a new voice spoke, "you got some weird clothes on. Where ya from?"
I glanced to where the glaring man had sat forwards, no longer giving me such an intimidating look. He poked at the fire with a thick stick, more casual than before.
"America," I blinked.
"I've never seen a woman dress like that before."
"I've never seen a man be so arrogant as to not introduce himself."
A choking sound came from Stiles, held back laughter if anything. The stranger cocked his lips to the side, nodding in sore approval. I cocked a sassy eyebrow, knowing if I didn't it wouldn't put the cherry on top of the icing.
"Frank Aiello," he piped. "Where in America?"
"California," I blinked. "San Francisco area."
"Ah, a Cali girl," Aiello sat back again, eyeing me. "I'm from Queens."
A New Yorker...made sense now.
"I'll be sure to throw the shade of my jokes at that part of the continent then."
"You can expect the same in return."
I smiled at the fire, feeling Aiello's gaze follow. The others would glance my way, but truly the circle fell under silence. I'm sure they were wondering why I was here, and how. The unfortunate part was that I couldn't answer for them. The last thing I remembered was touching an exhibit, the jeep, and then having my palm get burned--which showed no sign of any such thing currently.
The camp around us bustled even lighter now. Soldiers were heading for their cots, whether or not they slept was inconsistent.
Aiello shifted to try and get more comfortable, yet other than that most of us stayed still. Daniels scraped at a can of food, the steam coming from it made my mouth water. Americans probably had better food than the Germans.
"Hungry?"
"Yes!" I practically shouted and then sunk down in embarrassment. "I mean, uh, if you have something, it'd be wonderful."
Zussman chuckled and handed over his half-finished can. "I don't have much of an appetite. You can finish mine if you want."
I took the warm can from him gingerly, subtly smelling the food inside. Here I was eating from the same spoon as a mere stranger; I didn't know if he'd done anything to it so I was being cautious. The smell that infiltrated my nasal cavity was...well, delicious. It had the scent of meat and vegetables.
"Meat and veggie stew," Zussman nodded. "Not as good as home-cooked, but better than nothing."
I took a small spoonful, eyeing the glop of food with few colors, and then shoved it into my mouth. The warmth was soothing and I wished to savor every bite. For a millisecond, I closed my eyes in bliss.
"How is it?"
I swallowed, looking at the young soldier across from me. Everyone else watched in absorption. Did they not think I could handle the flavors of C-rations?
"It's...really good."

--•--•--•--

Everyone has finally met! Now, I think it's time to get to know each other...but Ava has to leave, doesn't she?
Hope you're enjoying! Please vote and share this around with friends!
Until next Saturday, my readers ❤️
Song: The Dead of Night by Ruelle
~MS~