Cover of Night

Sanders rejoined the group several hours ago. The trees and foliage were getting denser the further up they went, but the scenery remained wrong as far as Andy could tell. His heart sank more when Sanders told Sarge what he found. Nothing. All that time moving up the river, not stopping until the others caught up, and he found nothing. Now moving slowly beside the riverbank under the cover of night, Andy’s mind raced. What was this place, why was he here? More importantly, he figured a search party might be looking for him. Would they be able to find him here? The only interruption to these concerns came when Sarge gave the order for them to get down. Coulson pulled Andy to the ground when he hesitated. They all stayed still for several minutes.

“Thought I heard someone,” Sarge said.

Coulson slowly came up to a crouch. “I don’t see anyone, sir.”

Sarge got to the edge of the bank and looked upriver. “We’re not risking it,” he whispered. “Onto the bank.”

They filed onto the bank’s ledge. Andy, his hands tied, was the slowest doing so.

“Sir, I’m thinking we should probably untie Houston,” Coulson said.

Sarge agreed. “You’re not going to give us any trouble now, are you?”

Andy shook his head.

“Yeah, you look a bit more relaxed. Good. Everyone keep quiet.”

Andy went along with it. The way he saw it, playing along was his best chance to make it through and get back home. Though, it would’ve been nice if they stopped to eat. Or just to rest. Unfortunately, these men were focused on whatever their mission was. He prayed whatever it was, it’d be over soon. It was morning when he met up with Suzie, and by now she had to be more worried. Was there a search party involved? Had he actually been gone long enough for a search party to be formed? More important, was the fear itching at the back of his mind the reality: was this another world?

More hours ticked by, and Andy found himself wondering what they were being so cautious of. All he heard were bugs and the river. He needed to say something, anything, to help him get a sense of what was going on. Where these guys seriously expecting to run into some enemy soldiers?

Maybe the Wehrmacht are chasing them. He laughed at that, but it didn’t come out right through the rope gag.

“Hey,” Coulson snapped. “Quiet.”

Andy slipped the rope out of his mouth, ignoring his stomach’s rumbling as he did. “Who are you? What are you being so careful of?” he dared to ask.

“You seriously don’t know?”

Glancing back at Coulson, Andy shook his head.

“We’re at war,” he said. There was a look of disbelief on his face. “We’re all at war.”

“Yeah, but who’s ‘we’? What war? I mean, you guys look like you walked out of a damned history book!”

Coulson squinted at him through the darkness. “What can you tell me of your home, this Why-Ohming.”

“What?”

“Do it.”

“I-I don’t know. It’s got big open fields, some trees, mountains. Why are you asking me this?”

Coulson shook his head. “You just said we ‘walked out of a damned history book.’ What does that mean?”

Andy stifled a laugh. “It means just that.”

“We need to keep moving,” Sarge said. Andy didn’t even realize they had stopped.

They continued on until the ledge was too small. Sarge climbed up out of the bank to look around.

“Anything, sir?” Sanders asked.

“I don’t see them, but we need to proceed as though they’re here. Stay low and close to the river like before. It might be our best chance of escape if they find us.”

*

The idea of keeping low was abandoned when they exited the trees. They continued growing denser and denser until about half a mile from a lake. Mountains bordered its far side, and Andy could see a building of some kind overlooking the water. Along the lakeshore were pillboxes, with the spaces between them lit up. Sarge led the way to one of those lighted spots.

This must be that Drügeldorf place they mentioned.

In the light, they were stopped by two men in similar soldier uniforms. One asked for identification. Sarge, Coulson, Sanders, and Polski all handed him little metal plates. After looking them over for a few minutes, the man handed them back.

He nodded at Andy. “Who’s this?”

“Fella we fished out of the river,” Sarge explained. “Said he was with a friend further up.”

“And?”

“We only found him. Look familiar?”

The soldier grunted. “I don’t recognize him. You?”

His partner took a good, long look. “Nope. What’s the deal with that shirt?”

“It’s a Metatron T-Shirt,” Andy answered.

“The hell’s a Metatron?”

“Haven’t... You’ve never heard of them?”

“Get this,” Sarge said, “the kid claims to be from some place called Why-Ohming.”

“Why-Ohming?”

Sarge nodded. “I have a suspicion. Is Spartan still in the castle?”

Spartan? After all this confusion over real places and bands, hearing such a familiar name sparked a bit of hope in Andy.

The first soldier shrugged. “I don’t know. If he’s not, he didn’t come this way. Are you thinking...?”

Sarge said nothing. The second soldier went back inside his pillbox to say something in their radio. In mere minutes, a boat whisked them from the shore across the lake. On the other side was a dock carved into the side of a cliff. With this closer vantage, Andy could see most of the mountains were nearly sheer on this side. They docked and Andy was met with more curious stares inside. He did his best not to notice. He merely followed Sarge’s men into an elevator.

At the top, Sarge turned to Coulson. “Take him to the courtyard and wait. Polski, Sanders: get some sleep.”

They all went their separate ways.

“Don’t mind him,” Coulson said. “Sarge is alright once you get to know him.”

Andy scoffed. “I’ve heard that before,” he muttered. He just hoped Spartan wasn’t one of those types as well.