The Stories: Five Years of Original Fiction on Tor.com

by Various

  The world beyond swam into focus. Black boots, long coats marked with the white and black cross of the Wehrmacht. He tilted his head, trying to move as slowly as possible, but the pain amplified with such intensity that a groan spilled from between his lips.

  “Er ist wach,” said one of the men. Donnie felt hands on him, hauling him onto his knees. He closed his eyes, but even that didn’t stop the rush of agony and the vertigo that followed. He gagged, thinking that he might vomit, but the acid only made it as far as his throat before simmering back down. “Er wird weinen,” said the voice again, followed by an uneasy laughter. “Öffnen Sie Ihre Augen. Open your eyes.”

  Donnie did as he was told. Right in front of him was a German soldier. He grinned, grabbing Donnie’s chin in a gloved hand and twisting it upward.

  “Smile, ami,” he said. “Are you not happy to see us?”

  More quiet laughter. Donnie shook himself loose, glancing to his left to see Henry and Mike, both kneeling, their hands tied behind their backs. Neither of them looked back. Eddie and Joan were nowhere to be seen.

  “Drei kleinen amerikanischen Jungen, verloren in den Wäldern,” the man said. Donnie wasn’t fluent in German by a long shot, but he knew enough. Three little American boys, lost in the woods. That was good. It meant the others hadn’t been found. “Did you kill them? Was it you, Yank bastard? Amerikanischen Feigling.”

  “Lassen sie das allein, Hans,” said another voice. Leave them alone. Donnie peered past the first man to see maybe half a dozen more, some crouched in the snow, others leaning against trees, all as pale and wide-eyed as Donnie’s men. They all had Mausers, although some held Lugers, too. The soldier who had spoken last stood to one side, his helmet off to reveal cropped blond hair. He studied Donnie with the same contempt as the others, saying, “Kreuz wird sie sehen wollen.”

  Kreuz will want to see them.

  “Kreuz?” said the grinning Nazi. “Nein. Why don’t we tell him they were already dead, eh, amis? Shall we do that? You all deserve to die, for what you did.”

  He pulled out his Luger, waving it in front of Donnie’s face. Donnie swallowed, studying the vast black hole that swept back and forth before him, trying not to think about the bullet there. He couldn’t bear for his life to end here, in this forest. He had no idea what happened when you died, but he knew this much: If he died here then this is where he would stay. He would never escape. He would be forever trapped here, between the trees.

  “It wasn’t us,” he said; then, clumsily, “Es war uns nicht. Wir sind ein, uh, search party. Suchtrupp. We’re just looking for lost men.”

  “Don’t lie,” the soldier said. “You are assassins.”

  He cocked his weapon and it was all Donnie could do not to scream not here, please not here! But he never got the chance.

  “Hans, legte das Pistole.”

  The voice came from the trees, and its effect was instantaneous. The soldier, Hans, snapped his revolver back into its holster and stood to attention, every other man doing the same, saluting as a silhouette peeled itself from the shadows. The figure strode into the middle of the group, at least a head taller than the rest of them, and removed his helmet to reveal a face that was more scar than skin. His eyes shone blue even in the half-light of the forest, and there was murder in them, as cold and emotionless as the glint of a bullet.

  “Oberleutnant Kreuz,” said Hans. “Wir haben sie gefunden.” We have found them.

  “Gut,” said another voice, a high-pitched whine. Another soldier stepped from behind the giant, as skinny as the other was wide. He was young, the same age as Eddie maybe, almost lost in the folds of his greatcoat. And yet he wore the emblem of a first lieutenant. He stumbled over the snow until he stood in front of Donnie, his acned teenage face curling into a smile.

  “Did you think you could evade us, amis?” he said in stumbling, broken English. “Did you think we would not find you?”

  “We’re a search party,” Donnie said again, keeping his eyes on the floor. “A Suchtrupp. We were sent—”

  “You were sent to butcher us like Schwein, were you not? To frighten us back into the arms of the Fatherland. But do we look scared?” He turned to the men behind him. “Are we scared?”

  They answered together—“Nein”—but there was little conviction there. Donnie frowned, trying to make sense of what he was hearing. Why did the Germans think they were assassins, butchers, when it was they who had murdered Cuddy and his men?

  “Tell me,” said Kreuz. “Tell me why were you sent after us?”

  “We weren’t,” Donnie replied, meeting the boy’s eyes. “We were trying to locate a missing American squad. We found them. They were dead.”

  “Torn to pieces,” said Mike. “By you bastards.”

  Kreuz’s eyes flashed and he looked over his shoulder at the giant. The man read an unspoken order there, walking up to Mike and backhanding him across the cheek with a sound like a gunshot. He managed to stay upright, spitting blood.

  “I’m telling you the truth,” Donnie said, urgent now. “You’re the first Nazis we’ve seen since we left the front.”

  “Such a convincing little liar,” said Kreuz, the grin fading. “Last chance. Tell me where their bodies are. Tell me why you left their faces behind.”

  Donnie looked at Mike, then Henry, then back at Kreuz.

  “I don’t know what happened to your men,” he said slowly, deliberately. “But listen to me, just listen. The men we were trying to find, the Americans, they had their faces removed. They’d been…I don’t know, they’d been mounted onto wood. Posed. We couldn’t find their bodies.”

  Kreuz’s smile had completely vanished. The boy wrapped a gloved hand around Donnie’s throat, squeezing. He wasn’t strong, not by a long stretch, but all the same when Donnie tried to inhale his lungs stayed empty.

  “Lies,” he said. “How would you know this unless you did it yourselves?”

  “I’m not lying,” Donnie choked, the words barely there. “You can look for yourselves, they’re back there, follow our tracks.”

  “Into a trap, no doubt,” said Kreuz, his fingers pinching the knot of Donnie’s windpipe. “Into a nest of American vipers.”

  “No, I promise you.” More black snow was falling at the edges of Donnie’s vision, forming drifts. “I promise. We didn’t kill your men. Something else did. Something out there in the trees.”

  “Oberleutnant,” said the giant. “Er könnte die Wahrheit zu sagen.”

  The words were lost in the roar of blood, the scream of Donnie’s empty lungs, but it sounded like he might be telling the truth. Kreuz didn’t let up, his watery blue eyes fixed on Donnie’s as the world burned into darkness around them. Someone else was speaking—what we saw, it was no man—and Donnie saw it, too, charging from the darkness of his memory, the creature with nothing-eyes. It couldn’t have been real. It couldn’t have. And yet it was.

  “There’s something else out there,” he wheezed. His head was so full of blood that it felt about to pop, the forest all but gone.

  Kreuz let go. Oxygen rushed into Donnie’s lungs with such wonderful, overwhelming force that he crumpled onto the ground, gulping in air. He just lay there, trying to pick up words as the Nazis argued among themselves.

  —lying—

  —if they’re not then we’ve got bigger problems. Another assassin. They are just boys, do they really look like they could have overpowered Holzmann and Kohl—

  —I am your commander, you will do as I say or die here with the American dogs—

  “Freeze!” The shout cut through the German chatter, coming from somewhere in the forest. “Do not reach for your weapons.”

  The soldiers did exactly that, going for their Mausers and swinging them into the darkness between the pines. There was a gunshot and one of them crashed to the ground with a wound in his leg.

  “Drop your guns, do it now. You’re surrounded.”

  That was a lie, because Donnie recognized Eddie’s voice, co
uld hear the tremor in it. But it was evidently convincing enough, because one by one the Nazis dropped their weapons—all except for Kreuz and the giant, who had both drawn their Lugers.

  “Drop them!” Eddie yelled, stepping out from behind a tree. His rifle was pointed right at Kreuz. “I’m not going to tell you again.”

  “Es ist nur eine von ihnen,” said Kreuz. There is just one of them. “Ihn erschießen!”

  The giant obeyed his order, raising his pistol toward Eddie. There was another gunshot, this time from behind Donnie, and the man’s head whipped back, the bullet grazing his cheek. He staggered, dropping the gun.

  “I told you,” said Eddie. “You’re surrounded.”

  Kreuz’s eyes were so wide, so full of hatred, that they looked ready to boil right out of their sockets. He hawked up a ball of phlegm, spitting it to the ground, and finally let the gun slip from his fingers. Eddie took a step forward, his helmet sliding down over his eyes. He pushed it back, his rifle wavering wildly, sweeping between the Germans.

  “On your knees,” he said. “Do it now. Donnie, can you get your hands free?”

  “I’ve got it,” said Joan, and Donnie could hear her running across the snow. There was a tug, the scrape of a knife against cord, then his hands were loose.

  “Eine Frau,” shouted Kreuz, apoplectic. “Es ist eine Frau!”

  The boy went for his gun, but Donnie was quicker. He threw himself at the Luger, snatching it and bringing his arm up in a looping arc. The pistol caught Kreuz’s cheek, knocking him back.

  “Eine Frau!” Kreuz squealed, holding his face.

  “Yes, I’m a Frau,” said Joan, keeping the Webley aimed at the boy’s head. “What of it?”

  “Down, now,” Eddie said, taking another step forward. The Germans looked at each other, then sank to their knees, hands on their helmets. Donnie aimed the Luger at the giant until he too joined them. Only Kreuz remained standing, but it was insanity, not courage, that burned in his young eyes.

  “What now, Schwein?” he spat. “Get your Sau here to cut off our faces?”

  Donnie ignored him, walking over to Mike and Henry and working loose the ropes around their wrists. They both stood, rubbing the welts on their arms. Mike picked up the Luger dropped by the giant; Henry skipped over and reclaimed his Garand from the snow.

  “Hure!” Kreuz continued his tirade, almost screaming at Joan. “I knew it was you, only a Sau would cut off a man’s face. Hure!”

  “This guy is a real charmer,” said Joan, the barest tremor in her voice. “I’ve a mind to bring him home to meet my mother.”

  Donnie managed a weak laugh, his head still ringing from the blow that had knocked him out.

  “Thank you,” he said to her. “And good work, Eddie. We should tie them up until we work out what to do.”

  Eddie pushed his helmet up and grinned like a kid who’s caught his first pike.

  “Yes, sir,” he said, beaming.

  And they were the last words he ever spoke, because the forest came alive and took him.

  0417

  This time there was no warning—no screams, no cries, no thunder of footsteps.

  A bone-white animal burst from the trees like a freight train, clearing twenty feet in a single leap. It landed on Eddie, folding the boy into a crumpled pillow of wet cloth, which it scooped up in monstrous fingers. Another impossible jump and it had vanished, branches cracking as it threw itself into the canopy—there and gone in a heartbeat, so fast that Donnie’s brain couldn’t process what it had seen.

  “Eddie?” he said. Other than the flakes of snow that dropped lazily from the pines there was no sign that anything had been through there. “Eddie!”

  “Was war das?” one of the Germans screamed. “Was war das?”

  The soldier was clambering up, going for his rifle.

  “Don’t,” said Donnie, aiming the pistol at him. “Don’t move.”

  Branches cracked and another creature bulldozed into the crowd, this one huge and pink, as big as four men. It passed close enough to Donnie for him to see its face, a child’s face, one that should have belonged to a boy of seven or eight, drowned in folds of flesh. The beast was grinning, a playful smile. It snatched up the soldier who had spoken, lifting him so fast and so hard that his neck snapped, his head hanging like a ragdoll’s as his killer bounded away.

  Donnie raised the pistol and fired after it, the Luger barking in his hands but the bullets hitting nothing but wood. Joan was shooting, too, and one of the Germans who had found his feet and his gun. Chaos erupted as others followed, the deafening roar of an MG 42 machine gun and the snap of Mausers.

  “Watch out!” Henry yelled, thumping into Donnie and knocking him to the ground as another demonic shape blasted over their heads. It was the creature from the clearing, its single eye blinking as it tore into a Nazi. Donnie raised his gun but Henry clamped a hand on his arm, shaking his head.

  The beast was busy, laying into its prey like a kid with a toy soldier. It uttered a grunt of delight, throwing the corpse to one side and searching for another victim. Its face was ravaged by the gunshot wounds it had taken earlier, but bathed in moonlight, and there was no denying that it, too, had once been a child. Rounds thudded into it from every direction, making its mahogany flesh ripple, but it didn’t seem to notice them.

  “Go!” Henry yelled, pulling a grenade from his belt. “I’m right behind you.”

  He lobbed it, the Mk 2 bouncing off a tree and landing by the creature’s feet. It must have seen one before, because with a howl it bounded away, covering its head with its enormous hands. The explosion rocked the forest, shaking the snow from the trees. Donnie ran, crashing into a German who was going in the other direction. The air was full of smoke, the acrid stench of cordite and gunpowder, but through it he could see Joan sprinting fast. Kreuz was right next to her, the giant’s arms wrapped protectively around him as they fled.

  Donnie hurled himself after them, branches ripping his helmet away, tugging at his clothes as if to hold him there for the freaks. Strobing gunshots lit his path, making everything move as if it were in slow motion. Behind him somebody was screaming out a prayer in German, the words cut off by a liquid snap. He didn’t look, even when another explosion rang out, a shock wave of heat against his back.

  Henry ran by Donnie’s side, stumbling. Mike was there, too, clutching a stolen assault rifle as he overtook them. He glanced at Donnie, his eyes small and dark and full of madness.

  “This way,” panted Donnie, seeing a glimmer of movement ahead and hoping it was Joan. He bolted after her, his body seeming to grow heavier with every step, the adrenaline ebbing from his blood and the cold creeping there in its place until he felt like he was a man carved from ice and stone. His run slowed into a jog, then to a stumbling, drunken walk, and he eventually stopped, leaning against the bare trunk of a tree. Henry stopped next to him, doubled over; then Mike trotted into view, aiming the StG 44 over his shoulder.

  It was impossible to hear anything past his jackhammering heart and wheezed breaths, but there was no sign of life back there, not even the spark of gunfire. Just the forest, once again still and silent and softly dark. He took a deep breath, tried to hold it so he could listen.

  Voices, close by.

  He straightened, motioning toward the sounds with the Luger. Henry nodded, Mike, too, and together they stalked toward them.

  “What did you do?” A boy’s voice, the nasal whine of Kreuz.

  “Nothing!” That one was Joan. “It’s nothing to do with me.”

  “Tell me what they are!” Kreuz was shrieking now. There was a slap, a grunt, and Donnie increased his pace to see three figures. One was Joan, on her knees. Kreuz stood over her with one hand around her neck and the other overhead. The giant looked on, a golem of flesh standing guard.

  Donnie didn’t hesitate. He strode into the clearing and smashed the Luger into the back of the giant’s head, felling him like one of the forest’s ancient trees. Then he gra
bbed Kreuz, throwing the boy to the ground and planting a boot on his chest.

  “You okay?” he asked Joan. She nodded, rubbing her throat.

  “Mike, got any rope?”

  “You won’t get away with this,” sneered Kreuz, looking no older than fifteen in his oversized greatcoat. “We’re camped three kilometers from here, reinforcements will be on their way.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Donnie, seeing the lie in his blinking eyes, his twitching lips. He looked at Mike. “Gag him, too.”

  “With pleasure,” said Mike, kneeling down and tying a length of cloth around Kreuz’s wrist before rolling him over and securing the other one behind his back. Kreuz struggled, spitting out a tirade of abuse in German and English. Mike secured a gag around the kid’s head to muffle him, making sure to knot it twice.

  “Do him, as well,” said Donnie.

  Mike and Henry set about tying up the giant. Donnie would have helped, only the clearing was spinning like a carousel. He braced himself, heaving out a jet of milky white vomit.

  “Better out than in, as my mother used to say,” said Joan, brushing a strand of hair away from his eyes. “Can you stand?”

  Donnie took her hand and hauled himself up, the world still shaky but no longer cartwheeling. The giant was secured and Henry was slapping him firmly on the cheek trying to bring him around.

  “Bastards got Eddie,” said Mike, so pale, so thin that his face could have been carved from bone. “Didn’t stand a chance.”

  “What were they?” said Henry. “Did you see their faces?”

  “Children,” said Joan, her eyes glassy. “They were children.”

  “It doesn’t matter what they are,” said Donnie, spitting acid and wiping the tears from his eyes. “We’ve just got to get away from them.” He patted his pockets, realized for the first time that he’d left his bag back there in the carnage. That meant no compass, no map, no supplies and no fire. He glanced between the others, his heart sinking. “Anyone know which way is west?”

  Crack.

  Donnie spun around, raising the Luger, expecting to see a demon with a child’s face grinning at him from the shadows, knowing that would be the last straw, the thing that tipped him into insanity. And surely it was one of them, a behemoth with six legs which blundered forward uttering whimpered groans.