Doctor Who_ Autumn Mist Part 5

'Interesting,' Leitz murmured. 'Didn't that cause you any problems?'

Fitz shook his head. 'She died a long time ago.'

'Ah... Well, so long as it doesn't interfere with your duties. It's not as if you were half Jewish, is it?' He rose. 'You may as well stay here until you're a.s.signed a billet. When Farber comes with your a.s.signment, you'll have guard duty tonight.' He turned and left.

Fitz snapped a hurried salute.

'Jawohl,' he said as Leitz turned and went back through the door, then added 'mein Obergruppenn.a.z.ib.o.l.l.o.c.ks...'

If all this wasn't so terrifying it'd be d.a.m.n funny.

In the cramped office, Wiesniewski had been repeating to Garcia the tale he had already told the Doctor. 'I don't even remember how I got here,' Wiesniewski finished. 'One minute I was in combat, the next I was in a foxhole.'

'And what was it you saw in between?' the Doctor asked. 'Can you remember?'

'I didn't see anything. Maybe a couple of deer watching me...

'Deer?' Garcia echoed. 'You must have been seeing things. Or that mist was thicker than you thought.'

'Mist?'

The Doctor turned back to Wiesniewski. 'You're forgetting it, aren't you? You're forgetting that a mist rose, and you saw something in it that frightened you.'

Wiesniewski looked blank for a moment, then astonished. 'The mist, yes! How the h.e.l.l could I forget that? And there was... something.'

'Deer, naturally,' Garcia suggested drily, tying off the last st.i.tch to a cut in Wiesniewski's scalp.

Wiesniewski started to nod, but then caught himself. 'It can't have been. Not on two legs...'

The Doctor smiled suddenly. 'Now that's some useful information.'

'It is?' Garcia asked. For the life of him, he couldn't see how a vague story about mist and deer from a possible deserter could be in any way informative.

'Well, it informs us that his perceptions have been tampered with, and quite expertly, too. Someone doesn't want him to remember something he saw.'

'Like a couple of out-ofplace deer? Not exactly a big secret worth covering up, surely?'

The Doctor shook his head. The deer aren't real. I'd guess they're a cover memory, implanted to take the place of something else something more... worrying.'

'Like the Germans?' Garcia asked. Germans didn't really worry Garcia: he was of the opinion that people really were alike all over. He led the Doctor outside the little operating area. 'He's probably just repressing some really bad experience. Losing his squad would certainly qualify, I should think.'

'Depends who he lost them to, doesn't it?' the Doctor replied. 'In any case, he's left me with plenty to think about. Tell me: where can I find a staff officer who might be able to authorise equipment issues?'

Garcia thought. The current ranking officer, Middleton, had reportedly been ordered to pull back; and there was some talk of McAuliffe having come to visit him. 'There are some changes due at the top, so I'd guess Colonel Lewis would be your best bet.'

'Lewis?'

'In charge of I and R. Intelligence and Reconnaissance,' Garcia added in response to the Doctor's polite raised eyebrow. 'He's got a headquarters set up in the old police headquarters here. G.o.d knows why, but he seems to like it there.'

'Good for interrogating prisoners, I imagine.'

Garcia shrugged. 'You'd think so, but the weird thing is that his own private office is in one of the old cells.'

'That is odd,' the Doctor agreed, brightly. 'It probably says something profoundly worrying about his psychological state.'

'Well, I wouldn't know. I like illnesses I can see. And can see I've fixed up.'

'There's always going to be something just out of view.' For a moment the Doctor's features clouded over and he looked much older. Then he affected to shrug the moment off. 'I don't suppose you could show me the way? To Lewis I mean.'

'Sure. Wait just one moment.'

Garcia walked back to the cubbyhole and put his head round the door. 'Think you can make it to one of the wards?' he asked Wiesniewski; then, without waiting for an answer, 'Twelve hours' complete rest. That's an order.' He went back to the Doctor. 'OK. Let's go.'

The walk would give him a chance to find out just who this stranger was.

Bearclaw had started quietly humming an old song under his breath, since there was little more to do while their jeep was stuck in a traffic jam of US Army trucks. Sam seemed like a nice girl, if a little too tomboyish for his taste.

'This your first time out of the States?' she asked.

He nodded, then corrected himself. 'Well, I been up to Canada and down to Mexico a couple of times. That isn't really the same thing, though, is it?'

'It's better than nothing.'

'How about you? You travel a lot, or just because of the war?'

Sam laughed. 'Oh, I travel a lot. I've been to a lot of places you've never heard of, and some you wouldn't want to.'

'Ever been to the States?'

'A couple of times. DC and San Francisco.'

'Never been to DC myself.' Didn't sound very interesting, to be honest. Sure it was the nation's capital, but it sounded rather lifeless to him. 'Frisco's nice; I been there.'

'Sightseeing?'

He shook his head, as much to clear away the irritation that came with being stuck in such a d.a.m.n slow-moving column. 'Delivering stuff. Driving a truck.' He'd have been as quick to walk. In fact two dog-faces pa.s.sing his jeep were overtaking him. Some a.s.shole screwed up at the front of the column, no doubt. 'Always like to get home, though.'

'Married?'

'Yep. Three kids. Who nearly, but not quite, p.i.s.s me off as much as sitting on my a.s.s in a line like this.' He realised she was looking at him warily and felt strangely hurt. It was probably best to keep quiet, make a little conversation and let things take their course. But Bearclaw hated that. He was cold, tired, scared half out of his wits and just wanted to get home. And some fool up ahead was keeping him that way.

He thumped the steering wheel in frustration. 'Dammit, move!' He'd barely finished the short bark when he realised Sam had jumped half out of her skin. Poor kid was probably more screwed up out here than he was, and all he did was go and act like a thug...

In a lot of ways, that just made him more angry. At himself, this time. 'Sorry. I just...'

'Yeah, I know. It's us Brits who enjoy queueing, isn't it?'

He smiled sheepishly. 'I guess so.'

Suddenly there was an explosion of gunfire, and everyone in the jeep looked around fearfully. At the rear of the column the sound of gunfire was deafening, but the body of the column blocked any view of what was going on.

'What's happening?' Bearclaw asked.

Sam pointed up at the cloudy sky, where a tiny shape was puttering along. 'Could they be shooting at that doodlebug?'

'I don't think so...' Bearclaw said slowly. Men were jumping out of the trucks ahead and shooting towards the east with their rifles. He stepped half out of the jeep, so that he could see past the trucks ahead. 'Oh, d.a.m.n! Get out! Get out now!'

'What?' Sam asked blankly. Instead of answering, Bearclaw swung her bodily out of the jeep and dropped to the ground beside her.

Sam still had no idea what the problem was as she hit the ground, but it was clear that something very bad was happening. Some way ahead the first few trucks in the column were burning. A huge tank was sitting, blocking the road. Eastward, more tanks, supported by half-tracks and infantry, were advancing across the snowy field from the parallel road half a mile away. The tanks were raking the column with machine-gun fire and picking off individual trucks with sh.e.l.lfire.

Men were leaping for cover in the roadside ditches, or at least ducking behind their trucks. One man plunged silently headlong into a stream; it was impossible to tell whether he was alive or dead.

Sam ducked as the nearby catering truck took a direct hit and exploded, scattering flaming wreckage over the road and several other trucks. As if it was the crack of a starting pistol, Sam took off as fast as her legs would carry her. Bearclaw followed, guiding her away from the vulnerable targets on the road. 'Get into cover!' he yelled.

Sam and Bearclaw leapt headlong into the ditch as the jeep erupted in flames behind them.

Her heart pounding frantically, Sam looked for a way out, catching only fragmented glimpses of the running figures and falling bodies around her. Something dug into her shoulder, and she was halfway towards fighting back when she realised it was Bearclaw trying to attract her attention. 'Look,' he said, pointing.

Another American soldier was waving at them from the corner of the Cafe Bodarwe, an inn at the crossroads a couple of hundred yards away. 'Come on,' she said. 'If we're quick, we might not be noticed.'

'That's what I thought,' he agreed. Sam took several deep breaths and then she and Bearclaw dashed across the open ground to the back wall of the cafe. They stumbled to a halt once they were sheltered from the firing, and Sam noticed a couple of other GIs following their lead.

To Sam's horror, she could already hear German voices and shooting from inside the cafe. 'Too late,' she muttered. 'Where the h.e.l.l else is there?'

One of the men who had followed her answered. 'What about in there?' He nodded towards a little woodshed at the back of the cafe. Sam knew the wooden walls would offer no protection if a tank fired at the shed, but at least it would hide them from view.

They all piled inside and for a surreal moment Sam was reminded of playing hide and seek in the allotments at home. There was an old double-barrelled shotgun propped against the wall, and Sam grabbed it. The hammers were stiff under her thumb, but moved eventually. They had just c.o.c.ked into place when the first German soldier kicked the door open.

The SS trooper froze, evidently realising that, even if he tried to dodge, the spread from the shotgun would at least wound him. He was young, Sam noticed, and he held his rifle just as awkwardly as she held the shotgun.

'Shoot him,' Bearclaw urged hoa.r.s.ely. 'Shoot the b.a.s.t.a.r.d, now!'

Sam's finger tightened on one of the triggers. What else could she do? This was a life-ordeath situation, and hadn't she killed before to save herself?

But this guy... he looked as scared as she felt. h.e.l.l, he was even younger than she was, by the looks of him; he should be at university or messing around with his mates, not trying to take over the world. How was she supposed to kill him?

She knew the answer before she thought of the question. She couldn't. All she could do was lower the gun and feel the looks of the others upon her.

Standartenfuhrer Jochen Peiper was now merely simmering after his earlier rage against the battalion commander in the Cafe Scholzen, as he questioned a prisoner at the foot of a shallow hill. Several of his half-tracks had been damaged by mines left by the Americans, but no matter. They were easily repaired. Jochen Peiper was now merely simmering after his earlier rage against the battalion commander in the Cafe Scholzen, as he questioned a prisoner at the foot of a shallow hill. Several of his half-tracks had been damaged by mines left by the Americans, but no matter. They were easily repaired.

As he had suspected, there was no actual resistance as such, and, despite the paratroops' tales of stiff stiff resistance, he had broken through from Lanzerath to Honsfeld without so much as firing a single shot. resistance, he had broken through from Lanzerath to Honsfeld without so much as firing a single shot.

The paratroops had been an elite force in the original blitzkrieg, he remembered, but they had obviously gone soft. His own forces tempered his anger, though, performing perfectly, as far as he could tell.

Or so he thought until the sounds of shooting and explosions attracted his attention to the traffic jam at the crossroads at Baugnez. Leaving an aide to keep an eye on the prisoner, he took the jeep that had been captured along with the American, and drove back up the hill to see what was going on. A King Tiger had brought an American column to a halt, thoroughly blocking the Ligneuville road with burning trucks.

'Cease fire!' he yelled. Some units were still shooting, and he sent out a runner with instructions to shoot the gunners if that was what it took. After a few minutes, the firing finally died away.

Peiper clenched his fists in frustration as he regarded the column of burning and shattered vehicles. 'Idiots,' he growled at the tank commanders. 'Those beautiful trucks, which we need so badly, all shot up...' Beyond and in between the wrecked trucks American soldiers were beginning to emerge from the ditches, their hands raised.

SS troops began to herd them away from the wreckage, s.n.a.t.c.hing rings and watches from their prisoners. Even gloves and hats were quickly appropriated and anyone who protested was clubbed down.

Peiper, meanwhile, gathered the unit commanders together. 'This is no time for hanging around wasting time on the fleeing. I want that road cleared for our Panzers immediately. You understand?'

A chorus of agreement satisfied him and he climbed aboard a Hanomag. 'Remember clear the road!'

The half-track drove off.

'I'm sorry, Doctor,' Colonel Allen Lewis said, almost sincerely, 'but there's nothing I can do. We're falling back throughout this sector, in the hope of digging in at the most vital points. I certainly don't have any men or equipment spare to go looking for stray civilians.'

The Doctor leaned forward, looking strangely at home in the pale tiled cell that Lewis had adopted as his office. They're not stray civilians, Colonel. They're my friends and my a.s.sistants '

'And as such I'm sure they've been very valuable to the war effort. Montgomery's headquarters said good things about you when I called them, and I've no doubt that applies to your friends too. But '

'You called about me?' the Doctor asked, surprised. 'Already?'

Lewis nodded. 'Combining your service number from Lieutenant Wiesniewski when he telephoned to report his arrival, and the encounter with a...' Lewis looked at a handwritten sheet through half-moon spectacles. 'Sam Jones, who one of our units encountered '

'Sam?' The Doctor was clearly delighted. 'That's wonderful news! What did she say?'

Lewis sat back. 'It seems she made contact with a Sergeant Kovacs as he was pulling out of Lanzerath. He put her on one of the unit's vehicles. So far he's made it back, but her truck hasn't.'

'Oh, no...' The Doctor jumped up. 'Do they know what happened to it?'

'Could be nothing. There are logjams on every road coming off the Skyline Drive. They could have run into advancing Germans or they could just be in a queue waiting to get here.'

'I'd like to go out there and see for myself,' said the Doctor, shuffling from foot to foot, full of jittery energy. 'If this Kovacs of yours can tell me where he last saw Sam...'

Lewis enjoyed being calm and superior, but he didn't like not being listened to. 'I told you once already: I can't spare the men or the equipment.'

'A motorcycle, then '

'No. The way things are going, I want to know where I can find anybody I need at any given time, and that includes you. Garcia tells me you did a good job keeping those three guys in one piece. They wouldn't have made it without you. Perhaps Garcia can use you.' Lewis smiled faintly, recognising from the Doctor's pained expression where his weakness lay. 'Or perhaps you'd prefer some men to die for lack of treatment?'

The Doctor's eyes flashed with anger and Lewis found himself almost recoiling.

'That's hardly fair,' the Doctor said very quietly.