Arik gave a grunt, and his body fell forward as Gunther stepped to the side, and out of his way.
A great gout of flame erupted from his back where Gunther’s blade slipped through.
The flames around Arik’s body grew higher, and pine needles on the ground around the castle caught fire. Continue reading 1943: Part 6 →
The armor-piercing bullets didn’t do much more than the normal ones.
They knocked Arik backward, some of them ricocheting off him, ripping his suit jacket around his left shoulder. A little blood dripped into the fabric. A wisp of smoke rose from the wound.
“Gunther,” Joe said. “Fire in the hole.” Continue reading 1943: Part 5 →
June 1943, Germany. Somewhere in the Black Forest:
The castle stood on top of a hill. From his position in the forest, Joe wasn’t impressed. It didn’t match up to the castles he’d imagined when he’d read Ivanhoe. This castle wasn’t much more than a big tower connected to a house. Both were made of stone, but at the end of the day it was smaller than the old monstrosity of a house that Giles Hardwick had grown up in.
He found it hard to make out details in the darkness, but the moon gave enough light for him to notice the two soldiers standing at the top of the tower.
He’d have to kill them both, and he doubted it would be quiet. Continue reading 1943: Part 1 →