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The woods just outside Stalag 13 were shrouded in fog. Ideal conditions for moving around unseen. Sergeant Isaac Olsen peered around after climbing out of the tree stump tunnel entrance, focusing for a moment on the barely visible fence surrounding the camp. Whenever the searchlights panned around, he could see the slowly moving silhouettes of the guards unfortunate enough to have gotten night duty. Satisfied he hadn’t been noticed, Olsen slunk into the woods, adjusting the large, bulky item tucked under his arm. When he got to a more secluded spot in the woods, he whistled three times, and heard rustling in a tree overhead. He jogged over to where a man in a dark-blue turtleneck and black coat was climbing down from a tall conifer. “I didn’t keep you waiting long, did I?”
“No.” Florian Reiger, formerly a captain in the German army and once used in a cruel experiment by the SS to perfect and reduce the flaws of vampires, had become close friends with Olsen after spending time in Stalag 13 the previous year. He had shelter in a different prisoner-of-war camp in southern Germany, but regularly visited Hammelburg in order to assist Olsen in his duties as Hogan’s “outside man.” That night was supposed to be a simple mission—deliver an unsuspecting item that actually contained information for the Underground.
“At least this shouldn’t be hard,” Olsen said as the two started walking.
“What even is that?” Reiger asked.
“Oh. It’s a cuckoo clock.” Olsen held up the clock. “It’s also a long story. There’s stuff inside for the Underground. That’s really all we need to know.”
“A… cuckoo clock.”
“Yeah.”
“I shouldn’t even be surprised.” Reiger looked over the clock. “It is nice, I’ll say that.”
“Hogan had Klink convinced this and a few others were ‘genuine antiques.’”
“Antique or not, cuckoo clocks have a lot of moving parts and little pieces, so be careful.”
“I know, I know. My parents have a cuckoo clock at their house. A few, actually. There’s one they always put up for Christmas.”
“There is something quite special and magical about cuckoo clocks,” Reiger said. “They have been around for a long time, and are a big part of German culture. They had their start in the Black Forest.”
“Have you been there?”
“Once. Recently. As dangerous as it is, I ventured out from my camp and decided to spend a few days in the Black Forest. I wanted to be alone, and just… away from people during the full moon. Even though I can’t curse anyone anymore, I felt it would be better for everyone.”
“Still have that stuck in your head?”
Reiger nodded. “I told you before that I often have nightmares of… of losing control. I see myself ravaging the people I love. When that happens, I feel it is best to isolate myself from the rest of the world for a while.”
“I hate to be this way, but you can’t do that every time. You’re just letting it sink deeper into you that you’re a monster, and you’re not.”
Reiger sighed. “Sometimes I feel it is also because I am going to outlive everyone I know now. A hundred years from now, I will still be here. You… probably won’t be.”
“I would rather have the memories of a friend than go that long alone.”
The ghost of a smile tugged on Reiger’s lips. “See, this is why I like spending time with you, because you’re wiser than you let on. You are right. I would rather have these memories, and enjoy the little things.” He glanced at the cuckoo clock. “Can I see that?”
“Sure.” Olsen handed the clock over.
“Things like this, for instance,” Reiger said. “Taking the time to admire the craftmanship—” He suddenly dropped the cuckoo clock, wincing and waving his hands as though he had just touched something hot. Olsen lunged to grab the clock before it hit the ground, breathing a sigh of relief that it hadn’t broke. Reiger swore aloud in German, and looked at the clock.
“What happened?” Olsen asked. “You okay?”
“I…” Reiger looked at his hands. They were red, but already starting to heal. “Strange. The cuckoo clock… feels like it’s made of silver. Or perhaps silver is hidden inside it?”
Olsen looked at the clock, but all of a sudden, the tiny doors above the clockface opened, and the cuckoo bird inside popped out to sing. Olsen didn’t move for a moment, but he was confused. It wasn’t the start of a new hour, according to his watch.
The cuckoo bird didn’t stop. It kept popping in and out, making a racket.
“Oh, no, did I break it?” Reiger groaned with a grimace. He covered his ears.
“I doubt it. I caught it just in time,” Olsen said. “How do I stop it?”
Reiger looked around frantically. “Well, at least we are in the middle of the woods.”
“Someone could still come through and hear us!”
“Right, right, right. Uh—” Reiger grabbed his head in frustration. “How much does this mission count on the clock being intact?”
“Unless you want to walk all the way to France and deliver the information in person, we can’t break it.”
“Damn.” Reiger’s eyes widened. He was becoming quite irritated with the cuckoo’s constant singing. “Oh, heaven help us. This is just going to become a problem!”
It really was hard to think. Several minutes had now gone by with the cuckoo still going. Olsen gently shook the clock. “Uh…” He tried moving the clock’s hands, but even that did nothing. “It’s still cuckoo-ing!”
“Is that even a word?”
“I don’t know, but it is today!”
“We cannot bring it to an antique shop like this!”
“We can’t bring it anywhere like this!”
Reiger froze. “Someone’s coming,” he hissed. “Come on!”
The two began running aimlessly through the woods, trying to avoid getting close to the outskirts of Hammelburg. The cuckoo clock was still sounding off, scaring every bird and animal that heard it. Olsen was tempted to just smash the clock, take the papers, and deal with the trip to France. Surely that was better than getting caught. They certainly couldn’t go back to Stalag 13 with this thing making a ruckus.
Olsen and Reiger stopped when they reached the edge of the woods, overlooking a vast vineyard. Of course, the cuckoo was still going, and both men were steadily losing their minds. Olsen raised the clock above his head, but stopped himself. The cuckoo continuing to make noise made him raise it again. “We should just break it and go to France ourselves!” he snapped, gripping the clock as hard as he could. His hands and arms shook as he tried to resist the temptation to throw the clock against the ground.
“How is Hogan going to explain your absence during roll call?” Reiger asked.
“You ask that like he’s never had to do that before!”
“I am being serious, especially since he is not going to know where to find you!”
“Don’t you have some of those ribbons to tie messages to ravens or crows? Send him a letter!”
“Wait, wait, wait, I have an idea!” Reiger covered his ears. “Put that damn thing down!”
Olsen put the cuckoo clock down, as it continued to sing. He angrily dropped a pile of leaves on top of it before going over to Reiger. “What?”
“It went off when I touched it, right?”
“Yeah. You also said it burned a little, which means it might have silver in it.”
“Exactly. Silver hinders magic, though. The opposite of silver is gold. With the right application, a bit of gold can power certain magical devices.”
“So, if we open the clock, we just have to pull out the gold, if it’s there.”
“Exactly. The cuckoo clock cannot run forever. Even with magic, it would eventually stop, but we can’t afford to wait however long that is.”
“That means I’ll have to perform the operation, because you can’t touch the clock.”
“It also means the clock might not work anymore.”
“I don’t care at this point. We just won’t say anything to the antique dealer. He doesn’t have to know.” Olsen sighed. “I’ll still try. You keep a lookout.” He went over to where he buried the cuckoo clock in leaves. Despite the potential for this job to damage the clock, Olsen propped it up against a tree with its front facing the trunk, giving the cuckoo space to keep popping in and out without breaking. He opened his jacket to take out a set of small tools that he used in emergencies. I think this is definitely an emergency. Olsen glanced over at Reiger before he opened the back of the cuckoo clock with a screwdriver. He had seen Carter putting the information for the Underground in the back, and sure enough, found papers stuffed into a space where they wouldn’t block the clock’s delicate mechanisms. Drawing in a breath, Olsen turned on his flashlight and put it in his mouth, shining it on the clock’s innards.
What am I doing? Olsen thought with a sigh. I’ve never taken apart a clock before. A glint caught his eye, and he angled the flashlight to find a ball of solid gold about the size of a marble, with coiled wires leading to the mechanism that controlled the cuckoo bird. There were silver wires as well, connected to the inner edges of the clock. It looks like a magic user touching the clock will trigger this. That explains why it did nothing unusual up until now. I’m wondering if it’s some kind of magical deterrent from theft. Whatever its purpose was, Olsen knew it wasn’t necessary at the moment. Just gotta take that thing out.
“Olsen! Hide!” Reiger hissed. “People coming—I sense three!”
Olsen couldn’t decide whether or not to ditch the clock. He reached inside to take the papers out, and dashed over to Reiger. The two hid behind a large tree, freezing when they heard voices.
“What on Earth is that awful racket?” a man’s voice said.
“It sounds like a cuckoo clock,” another said.
“A broken cuckoo clock,” the third grumbled. “It is nowhere close to the next hour.”
Olsen peered past Reiger. The three people were a farmer, leading two plainclothes Gestapo agents through the woods.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s that damn Underground,” the farmer said.
“We appreciate you bringing this up with us,” one of the agents said.
“Underground or not, who brings a cuckoo clock into the woods at this hour?” the other agent muttered. “No one with any sense of decency should be making such a horrible noise in the dead of night.”
The three eventually came across to the cuckoo clock lying against the tree. “It looks like someone already tried to fix it,” the first agent said.
“Or they were in the middle of sabotaging it,” the grumpier agent said.
“Possibly.”
“It could be rigged to explode. I wouldn’t touch it.”
The first agent stepped back. “Naturally, it is what those animals are known for.”
Olsen looked at Reiger, mouthing the words, “What do we do?”
Reiger whispered directly in Olsen’s ear. “A little play-acting. I’ll scare them off.”
“How?”
“Pretend you were fixing the clock, but I came up to attack you.”
“I guess we can try.”
The two quietly left the scene, only for Olsen to return running a moment later, shouting in German that a vampire was in the woods.
The two Gestapo agents looked on in surprise. They both fumbled with their guns, while the farmer dashed behind them.
Reiger was hot on Olsen’s heels before the Gestapo agents caught his eye. They both shot at him, with one missing and the other grazing his arm. All that did was make him furious. He hissed at them before charging, sending them both running back in the direction of town, along with the farmer.
Olsen stopped not far from a creek. He turned and grinned when he saw Reiger jogging over to him. “Nice work.”
“Thank you,” Reiger said. “We should hurry before they come back with more people.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Olsen walked alongside Reiger until they were back at the noisy cuckoo clock. He put his flashlight back in his mouth, and gently pushed aside some wires to get to the gold marble. Fortunately, the marble was easy to pull out, though it did take a bit of straining. A sweet, sweet silence abruptly filled the woods. Olsen breathed a sigh of relief, and held up the marble with a grin on his face. “It stopped cuckoo-ing.”
Reiger gave a sigh of his own. “I can finally hear myself think again. We should get that clock to Hammelburg before either the Gestapo men come back, or more magical mischief occurs.”
Delivering the cuckoo clock went smoothly, much to both Olsen and Reiger’s relief. They enjoyed the quiet of the woods as they made their way back to Stalag 13, though it was broken once by Olsen saying, “It took a lot of effort to not smash that clock.”
“I can’t say I would have blamed you if you did,” Reiger replied. “But it is admirable that you maintained that strength.” He stared ahead for a moment. “I know that feeling a little too well.”
“You could’ve killed those three guys if you wanted to.”
“It would have been easy. They may come back, but I will be long gone.”
“You let them go despite them shooting at you.”
“They weren’t using silver bullets. I could take it. If they shot at you, then I wouldn’t have let them go. You can’t take it. I may as well cause them to waste a few rounds.”
“At least they thought I was a confused civilian.” Olsen looked at his shoulder back at the woods. “And that we don’t have to really think about this anymore.”
“No. We may as well just enjoy the silence, without the cuckoo clock.”
“I’d be okay with not seeing or hearing a cuckoo clock for a little while.” Olsen was quiet for a while, then looked up at Reiger with a quizzical expression. “Who would rig a cuckoo clock to go off for hours on end?”
“Possibly to prevent theft by a magic user. A gold rig is different to a curse. I was worried that the cuckoo clock had been cursed, but cursed cuckoo clocks are a whole other problem.”
“Are they common?”
“Not that I know. We should be grateful that Klink didn’t buy one by accident. If he ever tries to get rich quick again with antiques, that might happen.”
“Maybe that would teach him a lesson,” Reiger said. “Unchecked antiques tend to be the top source of curses, and they can be far worse than a mere inconvenience.”
“Then let’s hope we never have to deal with that.”