“Then I’d better make sure I kill you all before tomorrow,” the French soldier spat back.
Auguste froze. He recognized that voice. He would know it anywhere. It was the same voice that had pestered him relentlessly during boot camp when he’d first joined the French Army. It was the same voice that had kept him company during months of trench warfare. It was the voice of the only family Auguste had ever really had.
Jean-Luc.
Rage coursed through his veins, awakening the powerful soldier who still resided inside him. He listened as they taunted his friend, pushing him to the ground once again and he fought the urge to run in swinging. There were at least seven, all armed. Killing seven men would be easy, but doing so with Jean-Luc in their custody would be more difficult. One wrong move and they might injure him, or worse, before Auguste could disarm them all and free him. No. He would have to be quiet. Furtive. Deliberate. He would need to wait until the moment was right or risk getting Jean-Luc killed in the process. Auguste listened as they passed, their footsteps growing quieter as the distance between them increased.
Auguste took to the ground and stalked them, ducking in and out of the shelter of the trees. The darkness was on his side and he used it to his advantage, following the small lantern they carried between them. Eventually they would stop and rest for the night, and when they did, he would rescue his brother. Though he wanted to get to Isabelle and explain himself to her, that would have to wait. Right now, he needed to focus on saving Jean-Luc.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CROUCHING IN THE BUSHES outside the clearing where the soldiers had taken up refuge, Auguste watched as they started a small fire before eating and settling in for the night. Fury caused him to tighten his fist when he watched Jean-Luc get pushed to the ground. His friend’s hands were tied, rendering him unable to brace for the fall. The biggest soldier pulled out a rope and fastened it around Jean-Luc’s feet, attaching it to the rope already wrapped tight around his wrists.
One by one they lay down by the fire. The soldier left to guard Jean-Luc blinked sleepy eyes and Auguste knew he would soon drift off as well. Paying close attention to the other soldier’s breathing, he watched from the trees until he was convinced they had all drifted off to sleep. His eyes moved to the guard sitting beside Jean-Luc, fighting to stay awake. When he saw his tired eyes blink closed and remain there, he knew this was his window. Sliding onto his stomach, he crawled out of his hiding place, staying as close to cover as he could. Moving slowly, he crept up behind Jean-Luc, pausing when one soldier mumbled and rolled over. Once the soldier settled down again, he took a breath and rose to his knees just inches behind his friend who slept in an uncomfortable heap only a few feet away from his guard. Sliding his hand over Jean-Luc’s mouth, he held him tight while he awoke and struggled. Careful to keep him from waking the others, he leaned his head around until he was face to face with the man he called brother.
The whites of Jean-Luc’s eyes flashed in the distant firelight and he stopped his struggling. Auguste placed his finger to his lips and slid his hand from Jean-Luc’s mouth. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the soldiers and the guard were still fast asleep, so he went to work on the rope tightly knotted around Jean-Luc’s wrists. No words passed between them. Jean-Luc stared at him in disbelief as Auguste struggled with the first of the three knots. The knots were too tight. Auguste wouldn’t be able to release them without a knife. He took out his knife and sawed at the thick ropes, careful to keep the noise down.
The guard beside them grumbled and Auguste froze, waiting a moment before continuing his assault on the ropes. Looking up, he could see Jean-Luc’s ashen face as he watched the situation with horror-filled eyes. The soldiers could awaken at any moment and Auguste needed to have Jean-Luc free and out of camp when that happened.
While he worked hard on the ropes, his knife cut through the last of the threads securing Jean-Luc’s wrists. When the last strand let loose, it snapped and the sound popped through the still night air. The guard’s eyes snapped open and locked with his own.
“What the hell?” The soldier yelled as he tried to scramble to his feet. Auguste spun around and drove the knife into the side of his neck. The muddied face of the brown-eyed soldier twisted and writhed while he gasped for breath, gurgling out blood from his lips parted in shock. Auguste heard the movement of the other soldiers and leapt to his feet. Six left.
“Hey!” he heard another soldier yell when he saw the intruder standing over his dead friend. “Get him!”
The soldiers all leapt to their feet. Jean-Luc yelled for Auguste to look out as a soldier ran up behind him, a bayonet pointed at his back. Auguste stepped left, and the soldier flew past him. Spinning around, he drove the knife deep into his back. The stunned soldier fell forward and landed on his face. Five left. The sound of footsteps thundering toward him pulled his attention around. Another soldier ran at him and Auguste charged to meet him, dodging the bayonet the soldier jabbed at his stomach. Auguste caught the barrel of the gun in his hands and thrust upward with all his strength, catching the soldier in the teeth with the butt of his own gun. Blood spewed from his mouth as he stumbled and fell, landing on his back. With a fury, Auguste was on top of him, rage radiating from his eyes while he lifted the knife and prepared to drive it into the soldier’s chest.
“STOP!” he heard a German soldier’s voice shout above the commotion. “Move and he dies!”
Auguste stopped just before the knife plunged through the man’s chest. When he turned around, he saw the big soldier holding a knife to Jean-Luc’s throat.
“Is this what you’re here for? Move one inch and I’ll slit his throat.”
Auguste stared into Jean-Luc’s petrified eyes. He glanced down at the soldier panting beneath him, his knife touching his chest, hovering over his heart. Auguste looked back to Jean-Luc. There was no way to get to him before that knife took his life.
“Drop the knife and put your hands up or he dies. You understand?”
Assuming he didn’t speak German, the shortest soldier translated it into French. Allowing them to keep their assumptions that he didn’t speak their language, he acknowledged the French translation. Lowering his head, he let the knife fall onto the ground. When he stood up, he raised his hands into the air before folding them behind his head.
“Now, on your knees. On your knees!” The soldier pushed the knife harder into Jean-Luc’s neck. Not wanting to see his friend hurt and knowing he had no way to get them out of this, he lowered himself down until he knelt before the soldier.
“Now tie him up! Go on! Hurry! Tie him up! He’s a feisty one!”
The remaining soldiers rushed around gathering rope from their bags. The one who had the knife pointed at his chest grabbed his hands and pulled the rope taught around them. He kicked Auguste in the back, causing him to fall forward, landing with his face in the dirt. When he looked up, the first thing he saw were Jean-Luc’s eyes staring back at him. The soft brown eyes blinked back with confusion.
They pulled Auguste to his feet and dragged him over to where Jean-Luc sat propped against the stump. The big soldier pushed him down and he landed on his side, his head nearly in Jean-Luc’s lap.
“Tie up his feet!” the leader demanded as the lanky one pulled out more rope and wrapped Auguste’s ankles with it. Pain seared through him as they pulled the ropes tighter and secured his hands to his feet behind his back. After he was secured, they refastened Jean-Luc’s wrists.
“Looks like one of us will have to stay on watch to make sure that sneaky one doesn’t wiggle free.”
“I’ll do it.” The jaded soldier who Auguste had nearly killed minutes before glared at him.
Auguste watched as the soldiers settled back down by the fire. The one on watch leaned his back up against an old stump and his eyes glared across the opening to where Jean-Luc and Auguste lay on their sides.
“Auguste! What are you doing here?” Jean-Luc whispered.
“I was cutting th
rough the woods when I heard your voice and realized you were in trouble. I’ve been tailing you for over an hour. I’m sorry my plan didn’t work, Jean-Luc,” Auguste said, realizing they may not make it out of this.
“Thank you for trying, Auguste, although I’m surprised you didn’t join in and help them kill me, being a German soldier yourself.” Jean-Luc’s demeanor shifted and darkened.
“Jean-Luc. I can explain,” Auguste whispered back.
“Were you or were you not sent here by the Germans to infiltrate our army and send back intel?”
Auguste swallowed. “I was. But Jean-Luc...”
“Then we have nothing else to say to one another,” Jean-Luc snapped as he cut him off. “You are a traitor and I thought you were my friend. How could you, Auguste? I trusted you.”
“Keep it down over there!” the watchful soldier who spoke French called out. “One more word out of either one of you and I’ll slice out your tongues. You don’t need to have tongues for us to gather our reward tomorrow for turning you in.” His accent wasn’t as refined as Auguste’s and he butchered the words, but the meaning behind them rang true.
Auguste sighed. He desperately wanted to explain himself to Jean-Luc. To tell him how he had found family in him. How he’d meant to assassinate the other spy, but things had gone horribly wrong. He had to find a way to make Jean-Luc understand. He had to. But for now, he had to sit beside his angry friend in painful silence.
The two men remained quiet through the night until the sun peeked up over the trees. Auguste watched as the soldiers stretched and stumbled back to their feet.
“We best get moving,” the leader said. “We’ve now got two Frenchman to turn in and I bet we get an extra bottle of wine! They will make for some excellent sport tonight to get everyone’s spirits up!” he said, sneering over at Auguste and Jean-Luc.
Sport? Auguste thought, becoming a bit unsettled. Exactly what did this group do to French soldiers and why not just kill them on the spot? He’d never served in the war on the German side, so he had no first-hand experience of their practices, but he’d heard stories of things they did to torture captured prisoners for entertainment to lift the spirits of the other soldiers. Swallowing hard, he looked over at Jean-Luc.
“Untie their feet and bind their hands to each other. Don’t want them running off now.” Auguste felt the pull on his legs as the soldiers cut the knots. The rope loosened, and he stretched his cramped legs. They pulled him to his feet, and he watched as they cut Jean-Luc free and stood him up. The rope was then strung through each of their hands and knotted tightly in the middle.
“Let’s get a move on,” the lead soldier commanded as they pushed their prisoners forward.
“We’ve only got a couple more hours walk north until we’re back at camp. Then the fun begins.” The soldier sneered at Auguste, revealing blackened and dirty teeth.
While they trudged through the woods, he paid close attention to the landmarks they passed as they headed north. He intended to get free and would need to find his way back if he wanted to get out of here alive. Jean-Luc still refused to look at him as he marched beside him through the woods.
He heard the sounds from the soldier’s camp before he saw it. The sounds of thick German accents and men yelling cut through the crisp air until it appeared through the trees. Hundreds of Germans. Auguste swallowed hard. He’d hoped maybe fifty or less. It looked like the Germans had pushed farther into France than they had heard. It was unsettling to think how close they were to the farm and to Paris and Isabelle’s aunt’s home in such numbers. He could only imagine that more must be nearby.
“German pieces of shit,” Jean-Luc whispered as his eyes roved over the camp of tattered and disheveled men. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to insult your kind,” he snorted.
The disdain in Jean-Luc’s voice cut Auguste to his soul. He had to find a way to make his friend understand. He had to make Isabelle understand. Isabelle. He felt his heart sink as his chances of catching her to explain himself dwindled away. Shaking his head, he regained his focus. Right now, he needed to figure out how to get himself and Jean-Luc out of this alive. Their captors would make a mistake at some point and he wouldn’t hesitate to exploit it. Now he just had to bide his time and keep them alive until the opportunity for escape arose. He would get them both out or die trying.
They paraded Auguste and Jean-Luc through the camp like trophies. Soldiers scurried over, leaving their fires and games to jeer at the prisoners, tossing stones and dirt while the two men covered their faces as best they could with bound hands. The largest soldier who’d captured them hoisted his rifle in the air, encouraging the others to continue their taunting assault on the two captives.
When they made it through the mob, relief washed over Auguste until he saw the makeshift prison cell ahead. Dozens of strands of barbed wire tied around posts pounded into the ground formed a holding area. Armed guards stood at each corner of the small enclosure.
“Make room for the fresh meat!” a voice up ahead called.
After slicing the rope securing Jean-Luc and Auguste together, one of the prison guards stepped forward and unraveled the barbed wire from the makeshift gate and slid it through the mud, making an opening. They took Auguste and Jean-Luc to the edge of the gate and pushed them forward. Jean-Luc stumbled, and Auguste caught him with bound hands just short of his friend going face first into the muddied ground. Whipping around, he glared at Auguste and ripped himself free of his helping hands.
“I don’t need your help, traitor!” he snarled, terror and anger intertwined on his face.
“I’m sorry, Jean-Luc. I just wanted to...”
“Don’t talk to me, German.” Jean-Luc cut him off and walked to the corner of the small pen. He slid down and sat defeated in the mud.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” the French-speaking soldier said with a sneer. “We’ll be taking one of you soon when we’re ready for some entertainment. The last chap only lasted an hour, so we’ll be having bets to see if one of you can outlast him.” His lip curled in a snarl and then he spat on the ground.
Auguste watched as they wrapped the barbed wire around the gate. The wire wasn’t a problem, he could get through that. Getting past the armed guards and through a camp of hundreds of men with an obstinate Jean-Luc posed the biggest problem. If they had any chance of getting out of here alive, he needed to do something, say something, to convince Jean-Luc to trust him. “I’m getting us out of here.”
Jean-Luc snorted. “I’m sure you weren’t the first to say that, and you won’t be the last. From the looks of the nooses over there, there’ve been many before us. Since I don’t see them here, I’d say we’re not getting out of this.”
Most normal soldiers didn’t have the training to escape, but Auguste was no normal soldier. He was a specially trained espionage agent capable of engaging dozens of attackers and ending as the victor. However, hundreds was out of even his skill range.
“I need you to trust me.”
He scoffed. “Trust you? Are you kidding? I did trust you! More than anyone I’ve ever trusted in my life... and it was all a lie!” The anger slipped behind glassy eyes while he sniffed and sucked back the tears. “Why don’t you just speak up and tell them you’re their brethren. I’m sure you can lead the charge while they torture me for entertainment to see how long I can last, like I’ve heard they do.”
“Jean-Luc. You have to listen to me.” Auguste turned his attention to Jean-Luc, who buried his face in his arms. “I never wanted to lie to you. I’m going to tell you what happened, and you are going to listen.”
“I won’t listen to anything you have to say,” he mumbled into his arms.
“Well, lucky for me, you don’t have a choice. Unless you intend to break through this fence or cover your ears and hum like an obstinate child you are stuck here with me and you are going to listen.”
Jean-Luc looked up from between his arms and leveled him with a glare.
“I admit
I was a German-trained espionage agent. I was raised in an orphanage in Hamburg, found almost dead when I was about five. I had no family and they had no information about me other than that I spoke both German and French. At sixteen I had no money, no friends and nowhere to go. I was taken into the German Army by Colonel Conrad Schumacher and due to my language skills, I was trained to infiltrate the French Army and send back information once they activated me. For four years, I lived and breathed as a true French soldier. I made friends... a brother. I respected my officers and slowly climbed up the ranks. That day, the day at the camp, the man that came had the information to activate me. But I didn’t want to be activated... I was one of you now.”
Whipping his head up, he snorted. “And that’s why you snuck off to meet him, hmm? Because you were one of us?” Rolling his eyes, he looked away.
“I wasn’t there to meet him and give him information. I was going to kill him.”
Jean-Luc peeked back over at him with wary eyes.
“I’d decided that night to kill him, and any others that came my way, hoping someday Colonel Schumacher would forget me or think me dead. However, he was a fake, as you know. Had you sent him and watched, you would have seen me slit his throat. But that didn’t happen.”
“Then why did you run?” Jean-Luc snapped, his eyes narrowing even more.
“Because none of you would have believed me. I would have been hanged and had no way to prove my innocence. Even you, my brother, didn’t believe me.”
“I still don’t believe you,” he spat back. “For all I know this is some elaborate ploy you staged to win my trust back and get back in with the French Army. Pretend you stumbled on me in the woods, save me, and we let you back in. What are the chances you just happened to stumble onto me?”
A War Within (Epic WWI Love Story) Page 20