Cowboys & Aliens: Bonus Story Page 4

THE LUCKY CHARM - 1944

Another explosion, another jeep engulfed in flame. PFC Will Stoddard huddled in the ditch as a shower of debris rained down on the Belgian countryside.

Will looked at Private Joe Hayes, lying in the snow beside him, holding his ruined leg in hands slick with blood. “What’re we gonna do?” said Hayes. Tears cut a path through the dirt streaking his face.

“We’re gonna shut up and wait for orders! Keep your damn head down!” said Will, yelling to make himself heard over the continuing bombardment.

“But my leg—“

“Your leg’s the least of our problems. It’s not like we don’t have medical assistance on-hand.” Will waved at the ambulances the 285th Field Artillery Observation Battalion had escorted right into a hail of enemy fire. “Just hold tight and…”

A growing rumble drowned out Will’s voice. Though it risked revealing his position, he raised his head and peered down the country road just in time to see a Panzer smash aside his abandoned jeep. Another tank followed the first, and another behind that one.

“We’re dead,” said Hayes. “We don’t have anything that’ll scratch those!”

Will winced. Unfortunately, Hayes was wrong. They did have something that might scratch an enemy tank. One thing, and of course, he was the one holding it. Will felt the cold weight tucked inside his shirt. His lucky charm didn’t feel so lucky, at the moment.

An explosion sent the shell of an ambulance pinwheeling through the air. The 285th Division was being taken apart. Will knew what he had to do.

“Where’re you going?” yelled Hayes. Will ignored him, heading for the tree line. He could get a line of sight on more Germans there.

Moments after Stoddard disappeared into the brush, someone dropped into the ditch beside Hayes. His insignia made him an American sergeant. He moved with a smooth grace, seemingly unhindered by his bulky army kit. “Thank God,” said Hayes. “I need medical help!”

An explosion pummelled the ground not fifty feet from their position. The officer appeared unfazed. He knelt next to Hayes. “Where’s Stoddard?” he shouted.

“I need help!” yelled Hayes, gesturing frantically at his leg.

The man punched Hayes’ shredded thigh. Agony wracked his body. He teetered on the brink of consciousness. The officer slapped him, bringing the world back into focus. “Where is Stoddard?”

Hayes pointed to the tree line; a string of red flesh dangled from his finger.

Will yanked out the lucky charm. It still looked like a toy gun to him, but he knew better.

The 285th would surrender. They weren’t equipped to fight a Panzer Division. But Will could buy them some time, maybe help some of his friends evade the Nazis.

Will focused the charm’s site on the lead Panzer’s gun turret. Focused on the tanks, he never saw the red-haired figure moving through the undergrowth behind him.

THE PRESENT

“The Germans gathered the survivors together. An officer shot one with a pistol, then another, then he was, shall we say, assisted by soldiers with machine guns. An American patrol discovered more than seventy bodies that night.”

“I’ve heard of the Malmedy Massacre,” said Dawn. “But how on earth could you know about the item’s presence there?”

Shepherd smiled. “So history intrigues you after all.” Dawn’s only answer was a stony glare. Shepherd shook his head, as though only just becoming aware they’d reached their destination. “I’m sorry,” he said, digging into his pockets.

He frowned. “Damn it. Forgot my keys.” He looked at Dawn, smiling sheepishly. “Don’t you worry. Won’t take a moment to fetch them.” He began to shuffle back the way they’d come.

“I found out about the item from the journal I acquired. It belonged to a Doctor Franz Heinrich. Have you heard of him?”

“No,” said Dawn.

“He was a scientist developing the Nazi missiles that were to succeed the V-2 when the massacre occurred. The item fell into his possession after some German soldiers discovered it in…” he paused, searching for the right words, finally settling on, “…rather strange circumstances.

“It was held by a dead American private whose name I’ve never been able to determine. But he wasn’t killed the way his fellow GI’s were. No, according to the German reports, they discovered him under attack by some kind of animal, a bear, a werewolf, or a large lizard, depending whose account you believe.

“In any event, the creature ran off, and the weapon went to Heinrich. The Americans were killed to keep its existence and the fact that the Germans had it a secret. Ironic, considering nobody seemed to know the Americans had it in the first place.

“When Hitler self-destructed, Heinrich escaped Germany with the help of American agents in Berlin. He became part of a secret American space program that ran from—“

Dawn cut in. “The item was used in an American space program?”

“Oh, no,” said Shepherd, apparently amused by the prospect. “Old Heinrich kept that to himself. He wasn’t satisfied simply to serve, you see. In 1954, the Americans attempted to launch the world’s first satellite. Heinrich rigged it to explode, knowing the incident would be covered up. Then he sold the plans to Russia, who used them to create Sputnik 1 in ’57.

“But Heinrich’s knowledge extended well beyond what he’d given either side. With the Russians’ payment, he had the resources to do the unimaginable.”