He continued to climb downhill, and the fear of what he would find took his breath away. The ice-cold fist squeezed his guts together again and made him pause for a moment. Then it went further downhill.
After a few minutes he surprisingly realized that he had already reached the car wreck and that he was about to climb down further past the side of it. He stood up and illuminated what was left of the vehicle. It was a BMW X6, black, but the impact on a thick tree had utterly destroyed the front. Hannes stood two meters from the wreck and turned his head back and forth, unable to understand why the car was so wrecked. Maybe, he thought helplessly, maybe the sight was worse than the actual damage. He carefully stomped to the car. Gastric acid got in his throat. He strangled even though his throat seemed to be tied. "Hello?" he shouted in a trembling voice, "Hello? Is anyone there?" Bullshit, man. Of course, there was. He reached the driver's door. The window was shattered. Even the windshield. Glass splinters covered the bodies he discovered in and beside the driver's seat.
Behind the wheel sat a woman, collapsed, her head on the collapsed airbag. The driver's face was hidden by the airbag, but everything was covered in blood. He carefully stretched his hand through the opening and gently nudged the woman. "Hello?" he shouted. The figure didn't move. Hannes went closer to the door and lit his head brightly. He noticed that a very quietly breath was visible like a very sparse fog. Hannes took a step back and raised his eyes a little, lit up the passenger seat, someone was sitting there. Straight and upright, the airbag had also gone off there and had collapsed again, but that hadn't helped. A thick branch of the tree had hit the head of the passenger, struck the mouth and made the figure look like it wanted to eat the branch. Shocked, but somehow spellbound Hannes stared at the surreal picture. He let his gaze wander and saw that the branch had penetrated through the head and had torn the headrest from its anchorage. Hannes looked in the back. There also sat a figure, broad and strong, dressed in black. The head rested on the chest. Hannes illuminated the head and saw that a dark liquid dripped from the mouth on the jacket. The branch had just missed. Also, here Hannes saw a thin, quiet breath cloud, which appeared in irregular distances in front of the person´s face.
Hannes took two steps back from the driver's door, staring into space. One dead, two injured. Severely injured, he corrected himself. Despite the cold Hannes was sweating like a pig. Strangely enough, he didn't have to puke anymore, but the floor under him swayed. Hannes quickly realized that not only his knees were shaking like a leaf, but that he was shaking all over his body. He laboriously managed to control the shaking and forced himself to think.
Was he able to help them? No way. The two of them would freeze to death or die from the injuries. He shone through the window opening and noticed that the driver was wearing a kind of uniform with camouflage print. He perceived it while his thoughts continued to circulate in his head. Did he touch anything? No, and he was also wearing gloves. He tried to remember the accident. The car hadn't hit his car, the driver was irritated by the suddenly illuminated high beam and, he thought, had probably hit the brake too hard. And the road had been really slippery. The car had also been going too fast, way too fast for this weather.
Hannes shook his head carefully, shone around him, and was surprised to find that much of the wreck was scattered around the scene of the accident. A pack of paper handkerchiefs, a block attached with a ballpoint pen, a cap, plastic pieces, Hannes couldn't put it together, glass splinters sparkling in the slush, a pack of cigarettes, a shoe, a glove, a newspaper that was already soaked with water. In Hannes‘s head, it clicked. Cigs. He carefully stomped to the point where he had seen the cigarettes, bent down and picked up the pack, still wrapped in foil and therefore not wet. Don't smoke here, he reminded himself, and don't throw a cigarette away in here. DNA. He put the box away. Gradually the fog in his head lifted. If no one had seen the accident, they wouldn't associate him with it either. He definitely didn’t want any trouble with the army, whatever it was. But actually, he has to get help, right? There were two seriously injured people here. If he would get help now, maybe they'd survive. The tracks up on the road would prove that the driver of the BMW had made a driving mistake. That Hannes wasn't to blame for the accident, was he? And the statement by the driver (and the surviving passenger in the rear) that they had been blinded, Hannes thought, could be taken as a defensive lie, right?
Hannes sighed, took off his gloves, put them in his jacket pocket, and reached for his mobile phone. No signal was shown in the status bar. Hannes grumbled and put his cell phone away; he would try again on the street. He lowered his head and tried to keep his head clear. Again, it clicked in his head. It was quiet in the woods now. Even the wreck didn't make any noise. Silence. Hannes heard himself breathing. He pulled up his nose and listened to this, too. And he heard something else. A quiet whimper. From behind. Back of the car. Again, his intestines cramped up. Another wounded person? Maybe he was thrown out of the car? Hannes climbed up a bit, lit up the rear window. This one was in one part. He listened, looking at the trunk. Another whimper. Out of the trunk. He lit up the rear of the car with some head movements, it seemed to be intact. Go away, ordered a strange voice in his head, that's enough!
Hannes trudged to the tailgate, but before he pressed the button to open it, the voice had become loud in his head: No! Don't do it! Get out of here!
Hannes saw his hand approach the button and pressed it. With a hissing noise the trunk lid slowly swung open. Hannes bent down and shone his headlight into the trunk. There was a big, long roll. No, no role, but something rolled into a blanket or sheet and it was whining and smelling like shit. The smell was so strong and so surprising that Hannes stepped back a bit, gasped for air and then stepped near the car again. Again, he shone into the trunk. The roll moved a little, a soft whimper penetrated his ear. The blanket or sheet had dark, damp spots. It looked like blood. Most likely blood. Hannes gasped for air again. A plastic sheet would be leak-proof, only through a blanket liquid can leak out. Another smell mingled with the stench. Like spices, distant worlds, strange things. But that hardly penetrated his consciousness. He stopped for a moment and thought. That looked like the three in the front had something terrible going on. Despite their uniform. Was this bundle supposed to be disposed somewhere? This area would really be the place for that.
The bundle answered his thoughts with a coughing attack and loud moaning. "All good, all good," Hannes said with a shaky voice, "I'll get you out of there." The bundle became silent. Hannes stretched out his hand, grabbed the blanket, but then realized that he had touched it with his bare hand. He pulled his hand back, lit it up. An orange-red grease covered the hand. It smelled strange. "Shit!" he yelled, pulled the gloves out of his jacket pocket and put them on. Then he reached into the trunk with both hands and pulled the bundle to the edge. Behind the bundle, at the separation to the seats, Hannes saw a backpack and a package wrapped into transparent foil. He reached for both, put on the backpack, and lit up the package. Hannes was glad to discover that it was a blanket. A label said "Blanket" and much more, but Hannes saw it was a blanket and he ripped the package open. It was a cloth blanket and he unfolded it. It was way too big for what he was up to. He folded and fumbled for a moment, then he had what he wanted. The blanket would cover his shoulders and the side of his head as he was carrying this bundle on his shoulders.
It still took quite a while until the blanket was right and he had the bundle on his shoulders the way he wanted it to be. The legs clearly felt in the role, he held tight and laboriously swung the roll on his shoulders. The bundle moaned. "It's going to be alright," Hannes mumbled and set off on the long, arduous path up to the street.
Almost half an hour Hannes had to fight his way up to the street with the bundle he had put over his shoulder and was hanging over his shoulder like a wet sack. Constantly the package almost slipped from his shoulder, which very soon began to hurt like hell.
He also got bad side stitches that prevented
him from breathing and climbing so much that he had to take a break every few meters. One hand in the mud, the other convulsively holding the bundle, the feet sliding in the mud. The wind still whistled sharply, but on top, it started raining. The slush was washed from the trees and Hannes noticed that if he didn't hurry, it would be even slipper and darker.
He could already see the light schemes of his headlights up on the road, including the flashing hazard warning lights. Panting, he climbed until he reached the road. He held the bundle and staggered to his car. The bundle moaned softly. Panting Hannes straightened up and stretched out.
The accident victims down in the wreck he had utterly deleted off his mind. They should stay there. The bundle, obviously a kidnap victim, should apparently be disposed. "Are you all right? Wait!" he shouted, "I'll open it right away! I'll drive you to the hospital." No reaction of the bundle.
Hannes went to the back door and opened it, wanted to carefully put the bundle on the back seat, the lighting inside the car would be enough to open the bundle and provide first aid. He opened the car door and stopped for a moment.
Getaway
It was quiet, he could only hear his breath. The bundle was silent. He listened to the slush falling from the trees, brushing branches, hitting the ground. He heard water flowing at his feet, melted snow. Hannes listened to the rain that quietly pelted down on the car. He heard sirens in the distance. Sirens. He heard sirens! Not only the Tatütata of German police cars but also the annoying Uiuiuiuiui of American police cars. It came from above, from the direction of Kalmit, from the summit. They came from Elmstein!
The bundle stiffened, straightened up, almost fell off his shoulder. A sigh escaped Hannes, simultaneously with a groan of the package that sounded like Hanne’s sigh. He stood there, undecided for a moment. It would be very complicated to explain it all, he thought blurred, but suddenly the bundle on his shoulder jerked back and forth, almost unable to hold. Hannes woke up. He closed the car door, went to the trunk, opened the lid, and pushed the bundle under the cover without much care. "We're leaving!" he explained. He closed the lid, ran to the driver's door, got in, threw the lamp and gloves on the passenger seat. Hastily he released the hand brake and drove off. On the road there wasn't much snow left, if it was slippery from the ice rain, then he would notice that very quickly.
It was easier to drive and faster than expected. Hannes tried to see if he could drive in third gear at 50 km/h without the car slipping. The road got steeper and steeper. After a right turn, driven with cramped hands, Hannes managed to release one hand from the steering wheel and set the heating in the car to maximum power. The howling of the vent was deafening, but it got warm. There was no noise coming from the trunk. As soon as he had the opportunity, he had to check what was up with the blanket wrapped person.
There was a smell of fire in the air. It came from the fan. Hannes lowered the power and discovered a big hotel further down the road, dark of course, and a parking lot in front of it. Suddenly Hannes braked, followed by a sudden impulse he turned and drove in the parking lot, turned off the headlights and engine. He had parked in a way that he only had to turn his head slightly to keep an eye on the road. The rain pelted lightly on the car, but it caused streaks on the windows, but that didn't matter. He couldn't see the road in the dark, but suddenly he knew what he was waiting for. It didn't take long either. Two police cars with blue lights, without sirens, drove up the road, not particularly fast, perhaps without any motivation. Hannes leaned back into the seat and tried to grasp a clear thought.
He took his phone out of his jacket, turned it on, saw the time, and turned it off. Just before two. He had stayed at the accident scene longer than he had thought. Rescuing the victim had also taken longer than expected. I'm on the road for a good thirty minutes now, Hannes thought, let it be forty minutes.
He wasn't sure anymore, but then he remembered the cigarettes. He cranked the car window down to a crack, fiddled off the plastic foil, and lit a cigarette, but not with the lighter, but with the cigar lighter of the car. Avoid brightness. He smoked, blew the smoke out the window, slowly. No noise from the trunk.
Hannes thought it was easier to think with nicotine. Whoever was up there had to fight their way to the car wreck. And then organize help. Or not. Maybe they were just looking for the bundle, the victim.
Hannes stroked his beard stumbles. Maybe they were just looking for the victim. Maybe the bundle in his trunk was a terrorist who was to be taken to another place for interrogation. Now perhaps he had ... It was someone in military uniform ... The Americans had a base in Ramstein. Another base was nearby ... Maybe he or she was supposed to be taken there...
No, dummy, he's getting it, there was blood in the trunk. Blood on the blanket in which the victim was rolled and tied up. There was something wrong…
The road was dark, Hannes started the engine, switched on the lights, and drove slowly off the parking lot. As he drove towards Maikammer, he tried to make a plan to escape from Palatinate. If he remembered correctly, he had to drive to Edenkoben to get to the highway there, or he could drive to Neustadt to drive up there. Would Neustadt and the ramp be monitored? He was sure it would be. The police officers who were driving towards the accident had either already been informed or were now telling their colleagues. But did they even know what happened? That a second car was involved in the accident?
Let's say, Hannes considered, while he was reaching Maikammer and driving through the town, thought about it, let's assume that police officers and rescue team are standing at the top of the BMW. Two seriously injured, one dead. The passenger, let's call it that, disappeared. Do they even know there was another passenger onboard? And is it normal for passengers in such transports to be rolled up in blankets? Then it would be reasonable to assume that such passengers would not have been able to free themselves. If such a passenger was dangerous, the manhunt would have been started by now at the latest.
Arriving at the wine road in Maikammer, Hannes stood undecided at the crossroads and forced himself to think quickly.
Edenkoben is on the right, goes fast, I didn't see a car here, but there should be some on the highway. Is quicker. Neustadt, takes longer, have to drive through the city. It can be noticed. Edenkoben.
Hannes put on the right signal and drove to Edenkoben. Behind the village, there was a road to the left. Following his feeling Hannes turned left and found himself on an expressway, the highway was signposted. After a 10 minutes’ drive Hannes was feeling more relieved, however filled with an immense restlessness. Finally, he drove on to the highway heading north. There was almost nothing left of the snow, it even seemed to have been salted. The rain also became less. The windshield wipers now left brown streaks on the windshield. Hannes tried to turn the wiper system on, to his surprise it worked.
On the highway, there were actually cars, all driving at the same moderate speed. Hannes relaxed a little. He cranked the window down a bit and fiddled a cigarette out of the pack. With a bit of pleasure, he smoked it. The heating was running, and it was warm in the car. "Can you hear me?" he shouted to the back, "I'll take care of you. I want to drive further first!" No answer from the trunk. "If you want, I can take you to the hospital. Or a doctor. But not here!" Silence. Hannes kept thinking while he was driving.
Army always means something official. Something important. But why the hell are they out at night? And why are they on these roads? In this lousy weather? Maybe the uniform the woman was wearing wasn't a real uniform either. Yeah, had to. Military police showed up. And what was that bundle in the trunk about? Should that be executed? But just the way it was tied up, one's enough, isn't it? Why were there two in the car, the woman wouldn't have gotten it out of the car, of course, but one man, get it out, lay it on the ground, shoot it, kill it, set it on fire, everything works. But there was no canister in the trunk. So, it was definitely a transport. But where to? And how they were speeding uphill. In this weather. It's like they got fires under their asses. Like t
hey were high. Perhaps they were glad that they had their prisoner, now going home to some base and then enjoy the weekend. Or they were looking forward to what was yet to come.
Hannes drove automatically on the Highway A61, had not noticed at all, how far he had already driven. The 61 was already more crowded, now shortly before three o'clock, there were astonishingly many people on the highway. The further away he was from the Palatinate Forest, the better the road conditions were. At some point, just behind Alzey, it was only dark, cold, but no snow nor rain. Hannes drove on automatically, letting his thoughts work in the background; at some point, he had forgotten his passenger. He turned on his radio, looked for a reasonable station, found nothing that was appealing, turned it down, and let it play.
Then he was rudely torn from his thoughts, and a deep shock ran through him when he heard helicopters, three or four, flying low, fast and loud, flying south on the highway. He expected roadblocks, police cars or cars with the "Military Police" label, that overtook him, slowed him down, forced him to stop, and then two or three hooded men would approach him and shoot him. Instinctively, he looked into the rearview mirror, but everything seemed normal. No car suddenly seemed to accelerate to overtake him, everything drove leisurely along the highway. Hannes relaxed and drove on at the same pace. He had forgotten his passenger.
Shortly before Koblenz it suddenly passed through him. What would happen if his passenger had already died in the back of the car? Then what would he do with the body? Then what would he do with the body? Shortly before the Mosel bridge near Dieblich, Hannes left the highway and took an expressway. Vaguely he remembered that a little further down this way was a parking lot which was hardly visited during the day and would undoubtedly be deserted at night.
He drove for a moment, then he saw it, turned off. The parking lot was empty. Hannes put on the hand brake, grabbed the headlamp, got out, and went to the trunk. He turned on the lamp and opened the lid. Lighted in, bent over the tied bundle, listened. It took him a moment to hear the breathing. Carefully he nudged the roll, a soft sigh came out of the fabric. He wondered if he shouldn't open the bundle here and now, so he could see how to help. He swung the lamp along the bundle but saw no new spots indicating new blood loss. The fresh air had cleared his nose, and he smelled blood and excrements again. My God, the whole car must stink infernally, it drove through him. He straightened up, thought about where he had put his pocketknife in the car: Glove compartment, toolbox? Then he noticed that two vehicles were going up the expressway. He heard it before he saw it. He shut the trunk lid, turned off the headlamp and stood as if he was peeing. The vehicles passed Hannes without slowing down. Hannes got back in the car. "I can't free you here. Someone can always pass by. I'm going home now; it won't be long! An hour or so. Then I can certainly help you!" No answer, just a quiet moan. He looked at the clock, quarter past five.
E.B.E. 21- the Hunt Page 2