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"Lascarone, Taskforce Zero-Two reporting."
"Lascarone here. Go ahead, Zero-Two."
"Forest is getting dark. Team's holding in position. Do we continue east or wait for daybreak?"
"Sit tight and wait until visibility improves. I don't want you stumbling into a patrol. Objective status?"
"Stable."
"What's Zero-One's condition?"
"Stable. Zero-Four will provide medical assistance once we've found somewhere to hold."
"Understood. Repeat radio check-in within the next fifteen minutes. Stay smart, stay alive."
The radio crackled and then fell silent. The team sat as quiet as the forest did, all awaiting the verdict to be relayed from their leader. Giancarlo clipped the radio to his belt and looked up at the team.
"Lascarone says to wait for daylight."
"And wait for a patrol to find us sitting here?" Alex said.
"Beats walking into one waiting for us," Aelwin said, Alvotolini against her shoulder. "We'll have the element of surprise this way. I'd prefer that to strolling in front of a machine gun."
"Not exactly a dugout," Maxim said, looking around at where they stood.
Giancarlo looked over his shoulder. The team had trudged along a gutter in the forest for the last ten minutes, following it east. It continued on ahead, a narrow highway of dirt and root, and provided a means of defence if someone fired at them from north or south.
Hardly as reassuring as the stoic defence of a sandbag wall but certainly greater than nothing.
"It'll have to do. Aelwin, see to team leader here. Maxim watch west and Alex watch east. I'll keep an eye on north and south."
"Flashlights?" Maxim asked.
"Off. We make this work in the dark."
With that, the team took to their positions. Alex turned and faced east, sitting down in the gutter and facing ahead, while Maxim oriented west and kneeled with weapon at low-ready. Aelwin eased Alvotolini against the side of the gutter, leaving him on his side, while Giancarlo deposited the box opposite.
"Cazzo," Alvotolini hissed.
"You're okay, sir," Giancarlo said. "We'll fix this."
Aelwin removed her helmet and placed it beside her upside down, rummaging through the medical kit seized from the downed transport helicopter. Giancarlo placed a gloved paw on Alvotolini's shoulder to steady him.
"What did Lascarone say?" Alvotolini said. "Anything else?"
"Just to wait here, sir. He's confident it's the best course of action."
Alvotolini nodded, unburdened with further questions. Aelwin eased a flashlight from the kit and turned it on. With a click, a beam of white illuminated the dirt beneath them. Giancarlo could see the minute details in forest floor; every mound and bump of dirt beneath their boots scrutinised by the torch's strong glare.
"Remove his tail wrap, Gian," Aelwin asked.
Giancarlo knelt but hesitated, looking over at Alvotolini.
"Go," he said.
Giancarlo eased the tail wraps off, careful to not apply any pressure to Alvotolini's wounded tail, while Aelwin inspected his head injury. Alvotolini stirred and grunted, forcing air in and out with exertion, but not a word of complaint was uttered. Giancarlo admired his endurance in silence.
"Done," he said.
Aelwin shone the flashlight over the tail and the severity of the injury became apparent. While Alvotolini's tail from base to three-quarters length proved normal, beyond that threshold sat the problem. The last quarter bent away by almost sixty degrees to the left, the bone poking at the skin to break free from beneath.
"Sir," Aelwin said. "The good news is that your head wound isn't severe and your tail's broken towards the tip. Both are easy to heal."
"The bad news?" Alvotolini winced.
"Your tail is only going to fix if I set it back in place."
Alvotolini hesitated. The pain of such a brief yet forceful procedure was apparent to him without needing to interrogate further. He nodded and gestured to Giancarlo.
"Get me a stick."
Giancarlo felt along the ground beside the gutter, gloved digits crossing powdery soil, before his paw closed around a fallen branch. Giancarlo passed it to his team leader who then placed it in his mouth and bit down.
"Ugh," Alvotolini grimaced, tasting dirt.
"Shouldn't we radio this in, get medical instruction?" Giancarlo said.
"They'll tell us the same thing," Aelwin said. "I don't want it setting wrong and complicating treatment. Steady him."
Giancarlo steadied him with a paw on Alvotolini's shoulder. The team leader tensed in anticipation as Aelwin eased her paws onto the tail.
"What's your favourite colour, sir?"
Alvotolini knew why she was asking and decided in silence that he didn't need the distraction. Aelwin offered half a second of mental preparation after issuing the question before bringing the painful procedure to a poignant conclusion.
Giancarlo winced as he heard the tail crack.
Alvotolini tensed beneath his paw and let out a muffled scream, dampened enough by the stick that it did not penetrate beyond the immediate vicinity of the gutter.
"It's done, it's done," Aelwin said, securing the tail in place. "Easy sir. Easy."
"Well done sir," Giancarlo said in Italian, easing the stick out of his mouth and tossing it away. "That's the worst it gets."
Alvotolini said nothing, eyes scrunched shut and face locked in a grimace.
"I'll take it from here," Aelwin said. "Leave me the radio, I'll speak to Lascarone for the next update. In ten minutes, right?"
"Twelve."
"Got it. Go check on Alex and Max, we're all good. I'll get his head treated."
Giancarlo abided by her suggestion, passing her the radio and standing up. He patted the team leader on the shoulder and departed east for Alex, shooting the north side a cursory glance as he walked over.
Nothing but the darkness leered back.
He arrived beside Alex. She sat against the north side of the gutter, weapon pointed east with digit resting against the trigger guard. She shifted and fiddled every few seconds, muttering under her breath.
"All clear over here?" Giancarlo said, sitting opposite and looking over his shoulder south.
"Doesn't feel it," she said. "Feels like there's twenty snipers looking at me."
"I don't disagree."
The duo sat there in silence, eyes peeled for movement. Giancarlo couldn't help but shift and fiddle too; the incessant quiet gave the ringing in his ears plenty of opportunity to make itself known, ushered in by a life of gunshots and explosions. He placed his weapon down and removed his helmet, resting it on his lap while he pressed his paws against either ear. It felt like it helped, although he knew the permanence of the condition could not be deterred by such feeble attempts.
"You okay?" Alex asked.
"Ringing ears."
Alex didn't say anything else. Her lack of response would have seemed curt to anyone else but Giancarlo had the benefit of years of acquaintance to disarm the possible negativity of her absent reply. They all sat with heavy weights; ones that made regular conversation impossible beyond being a routine in staying sane.
"Hey Gian."
"Yeah?"
"How bad was it in there?"
Giancarlo frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"When you went into the helicopter."
The question brought about an unpleasant reminiscence. Giancarlo found himself lying down on his front, crawling through the narrow space the crash site afforded him, and stared at the bodies of his three dead comrades still trapped in their seats.
Recounting such awful images - people capable of thought and emotion and volition rendered messes of primitive organ and torn uniform - was a step too far for him to take.
"I'd rather not talk about it, Alex."
"I'm guessing it was bad."
"It's not how they'd want to be remembered.”
Alex nodded, solemn.
"Do you reckon it was quick?
"Alex—"
"For my peace of mind, Gian. Tanya was..."
She trailed off, voice trembling. Giancarlo exhaled.
"I know you two were close. She died quick. All of them did."
Alex said nothing. Giancarlo sat there, uncertain of what to say, before taking up helmet and weapon. He stood.
"I'm going to check on Maxim. If you see anything--"
"I'll let you know."
Giancarlo didn't overstay his welcome in such difficult times. He patrolled west, casting his eyes south and north, before reaching Maxim. His dented helmet sat discarded beside him. He swept his gun from left to right in a steady back and forth, digit resting against the trigger guard but ready to relocate to the trigger at a moment's notice. The shadows did not move, wary of the gun barrel pointed at them.
"Maxim."
The Russian looked over his shoulder.
"Hello. How's team leader?"
"Broken tail tip and non-serious head injury. Aelwin's on it."
"She always is. You could trust her when the world's on fire."
Giancarlo sat down opposite him. Maxim lowered his weapon, sighing.
"Not much good. I can't see anything."
"Hopefully it's the same for any Neowehrmacht out here."
Maxim scoffed and eased himself down onto his rear, removing his balaclava. His fur sprung out from beneath its fabric hold and he fished out a lighter from his belt, placing a cigarette in his mouth. He curved one paw around it to obscure the light as he brought the lighter's stuttering flame into life. He held it against the end of the cigarette, letting the fire caress it, before taking a puff. Maxim offered a cigarette.
"I'm trying to kick the habit," Giancarlo said.
Maxim scoffed, pocketing the spare.
"Despite it all, you're still going with that? That's admirable."
"How do you mean?"
"We almost died. I need this cigarette right now. For you to still stick to quitting after all we've been through in the last couple of days...it's resilient."
"It’s not that impressive, really. I think I'm just dealing with the shock differently."
"Much cleaner than chain smoking," Maxim scoffed, taking another puff and picking up his helmet. "Blyat, look at it. If it wasn't for this, my head would have been broken in two."
Giancarlo gazed at the headgear through the darkness; the attempt on Maxim's life manifested in a dent in his helmet. Sitting so close to a reminder of mortality, of their fragility beneath the body armour and kevlar, made Giancarlo uneasy.
"R&D outdid themselves," Maxim scoffed, tossing it aside. "I'll make sure to send them my regards when we get back. Condiments to the chef and whatnot.”
"Compliments," Giancarlo chuckled.
Maxim frowned.
“What?”
“It’s compliments to the chef, not condiments.”
Maxim stared, shocked.
"You're yanking my tail."
"How long have you been saying it that way?"
"A decade."
"This is the most Maxim thing you have ever done."
"I've said this in restaurants."
Giancarlo laughed, slapping Maxim on the arm. For a moment it felt wrong to share laughter in such dire circumstances; friends and colleagues had perished horribly in an awful crash mere hours ago; but he shed such guilt. He needed time to process and deal with the new world he had woken up to after impact. There would be time for mourning and dwelling later.
He couldn't afford to lose focus on the mission.
Not now.
"God, English," Maxim chuckled, shaking his head and taking another drag of his cigarette. "What a language. You sure you don't want a light?"
Giancarlo hesitated, his oath holding his tongue, before shedding his promise in favour of temporary escape.
"Twist my arm."
Maxim lit a cigarette and passed one to Giancarlo. He hauled his balaclava halfway up his face, pulling up over his snout and letting it sit bundled up on the bridge. One puff brought him that familiar buzz; the spreading relief comprised of pleasure and a revitalised energy. Afterthoughts of the lung damage came not too long after but he pushed them aside. Extraordinary circumstances were no place for such ordinary concerns.
"What a shit situation, huh?" Maxim asked between drags.
"I like to think we've been through worse."
"Like?"
"Kentucky.”
Maxim racked his brain for a moment before he grinned.
"Oh yeah. I remember that."
"Nothing quite like Nazi scientific horrors to leave you scarred and ruined."
"Exactly. Hey, can't be that bad - we're still here."
"You're not wrong. A Russian and an Italian against Germans; worst nightmare since 1940."
The duo chuckled, each taking a drag from their cigarettes, and enjoyed the silence. Giancarlo shot a cursory look north then south over his shoulder but the unyielding darkness prevented him seeing much. That worked for him; for once, a few minutes of quiet camaraderie would go well appreciated.
As he took another drag of his cigarette, a scream echoed through the forest.
Giancarlo looked north and froze, ears standing underneath the balaclava.
No one in the gutter moved. The scream rang out, piercing the tree line. Maxim muttered in Russian, dropping his cigarette.
The burst of distant gunfire was enough to spur the team into action.
Giancarlo tossed his cigarette, pulled his balaclava and helmet on, and then grabbed his weapon before rushing to the north side of the gutter. He pushed two metres right of Maxim and rested his gun on the dirt, sights trained on the darkness.
"Radio!" Giancarlo called out.
A few seconds of approaching boots across the dirt and then Aelwin appeared beside him, radio held in outstretched paw. Giancarlo snatched it.
"Cover right side, face north!" Giancarlo called to Alex, bringing radio up to his mouth. "Ascoltata, Ascoltata, Taskforce Zero-Two here."
The radio crackled.
"Stanmer on the line.”
"Urgent call. Unidentified gunfire north of our position preceded by screaming. I need orders.”
"Wait one.”
The radio fell silent. Giancarlo trained his gaze on the tree line of shadows, listening to the cacophony of screaming and gunfire.
"No targets!" Maxim called.
"I can't see anything!" Alex called. "Flashlights?"
"No flashlights, stay quiet!" Giancarlo yelled.
The radio crackled.
"Taskforce Zero-Two, I have received instruction from Bridge Officer Lascarone. You are to hold position.”
"Hold position? Does he know we can hear gunfire?”
"Bridge officer says it is likely a trap to lure you out. Enemy may be using night vision to watch for possible movement. Repeat, enemy may be using night vision. Do not vacate your position, Taskforce.”
The radio fell silent as the screaming did.
Giancarlo swore under his breath and looked back to the tree line.
Still nothing stirred.
"Anything?" Giancarlo whispered to Maxim.
"No movement.”
Giancarlo looked right. He could see the vague shape of Aelwin and Alvotolini, the former holding gun raised while the latter watched south with pistol ready against his chest.
"Aelwin, see anything?"
"Nothing here," she said, not averting her gaze.
"Get Alex to come over. Something's not right. We need to--"
The radio flew from Giancarlo's hand, yanked by a sudden force. Giancarlo whirled around, confused.
He watched as a swaying tree root, snaking across the ground and disappearing into dirt, dragged the radio away into the dark.
That was reason enough to break the silence.
"Obbietivo!"
Giancarlo raised his weapon and fired south, sending three-round bursts into the dark. The team turned and attacked the same direction, visors and masks illuminated in brief flashes of yellow and white. Bullets tore through trees and foliage, sending green debris into the air.
"Target south!" Giancarlo yelled. "Aim south, aim--"
A tree root broke through the gutter floor, snatched his gun from his paws and levelled the muzzle at him with tip resting on the trigger.
“Ma che cazzo?” Giancarlo yelled.
He stepped back, his training compelling him to reach for the pistol in his holster, but had no time to react as another tree root burst from behind and snatched it. He turned to see the root cock the hammer and level the muzzle at his face.
"What the fuck?" Alex screamed.
Giancarlo looked right. Maxim stood bewildered as he stared into the barrel of his own weapon. A glance left showed Aelwin and Alvotolini in the same situation, exchanging confused looks as to what was going on.
“Zero-Seven!” Giancarlo called. “Check in!”
“I just got my guns taken off me by fucking trees!” Alex yelled back. “What the fuck am I meant to check in about?”
“Zero-Four, objective status!”
“It’s gone!” Aelwin called. “They took it!”
Giancarlo swore under his breath, uncertainty in the situation growing. He looked over at Maxim.
“Where’s the—”
“It’s gone,” he said. “They took everything. Transponder, ammo…it’s all gone.”
Deprived of all their equipment, the team of hostages could only stand awkwardly in the gutter. None moved, wary of the weapons pointed at them by tree roots of worrying capability. Giancarlo remained flummoxed; how could he hope to negotiate his team’s safety when he didn’t know if his captors could even hear him, let alone understand what he said?
“What do we do now?” Maxim asked.
Giancarlo looked over at Alvotolini. The team leader met his enquiring gaze with equal uncertainty. A few seconds of inaction preceded Alvotolini’s decision to raise his arms up in surrender. Giancarlo was unsure as to the effectiveness of such a gesture but proceeded without question, raising his paws above his head.
“Do it,” Giancarlo said. “All of you.”
The rest of the team followed suit; first Aelwin, then Maxim, and finally the hesitant Alex. All raised their arms up and stood their ground, conceding to the band of gun-toting forest thugs. Giancarlo anticipated death being delivered upon them soon, ushered to the next life by a volley of hot lead piercing his chest and face.
Raucous gunfire did not arrive.
“Now what?” Aelwin asked.
“I…”
Giancarlo trailed off. If the purpose of such an ambush was to leave them dead, none of them would have time to reflect upon the bizarre nature of the encounter.
The team was wanted alive for reasons unbeknownst to them.
Before any considerations for such motives could be made, Giancarlo heard the foliage shift and rustle to the north.
The tree root in front of him jerked the weapon to the right, gesturing for him to turn.
“Gian?” Alvotolini asked, concerned.
“I’m okay,” Giancarlo said. “Everyone just stay calm. Don’t move.”
Giancarlo turned in minor increments at a time, arms above his head. He fought off panic by focusing on his breathing; the world around him, and the threats that loomed by his side, would hold no power over his courage. A steady inhale and elongated exhale helped to stabilise the operative in the face of peril.
He turned north.
The same familiar darkness met him, divulging nothing.
Giancarlo felt foolish standing there so aimlessly,
There.
In the right corner of his vision, looming in shadow, he saw it.
Two slit irises of gold, stranded in black, observed the team from the dark.
A voice emerged.
“How strange.”