King of Darkness

The Americans

He then blew some sort of whistle, which allowed all of us to hear rustling up ahead. He wasn't like us, he was similar to the teenagers we had found before. I thought about attacking him, the thought of his blood made my stomach jump up and down in happiness, but I stopped myself. He warned his friends that we were coming, we didn't know how many there would be nor did we know if they were like him or like us.

Michael slowly lifted his hands above his head, while I stretched my arm out to stop someone from attacking the man. The man managed to keep his arm entirely steady, never once shaking in fear as he was clearly outnumbered. We were surrounded by trees and bushes, meaning that he didn’t even see the entirety of our group, but I couldn’t see any of his yet. 

People started coming through the bushes, all wearing that same military green. I made sure to keep my chin high as their eyes scanned over me, often lingering on me. Amelia was a little bit up ahead, looking quite frightened yet again. I suppose she was right in this scenario, they were holding quite big guns.

"Great job Perkin." A man with a heavy American accent said, pushing the bushes aside and stomping over to the soldier who had Michael hostage. Perkin smiled widely after being praised by his commander, but never lowered the gun. "We'll take 'em to-"

"You're American." I was so surprised I spoke without thinking. The man looked over at me, equal surprise written on his face.

"You're British?" He asked in return. Perkin finally did lower his gun from Michael's head, though he kept a firm grip on it to be sure.

"Most of us, yes." I answered truthfully. It was rather obvious that they weren't the people we had been looking for. "Some are from America."

He crossed his arms across his chest and walked closer to me. He had a nasty scar over the left side of his face, it looked like he had been burned. His hair didn't grow on that side either, but he did have a stick in his mouth that he kept on that side. He stopped when he was only inches away from me. Though his uniform told me he was in the military, he certainly did not act like it.

"That german blood on your face, girl?" He asked me. I had been so used to seeing our bloodied clothing that I had forgotten it might be upsetting to others. It wasn't really a surprise either that between fighting on a battlefield and murdering three teenagers I got some blood on my face.

"Yes." I answered, making up my lies as I went along. "They held us captive in a basement. We killed them." I was putting all my faith in my instincts which, fuelled by logical thinking, told me that American military men wouldn't be on german grounds just for peaceful cooperation. And they certainly wouldn't be stopping random civilians with guns.

The man seemed to size me up, before slowly nodding and taking a step back. "Looks like we have guests for dinner tonight guys!" He shouted, which was answered by some unenthusiastic muttering.

"Do we have the rations for that sir?" One soldier finally dared to ask him.

"Any person who kills nazies for their country deserves some proper food in their belly." He answered. "Besides, I would like to hear their story."

Our group was rather tense when we followed them back to their camp. I needed to make up more lies, but they all needed to be consistent with them as well. I settled on loudly telling the commander we had been taken captive by the Germans while we were on holiday here. His soldiers seemed to find that a believable explanation, though he himself didn't look entirely convinced.

Their camp wasn't large and most definitely temporary. They were using an abandoned farm, most soldiers were setting up their sleeping spots in the barn. Some of our group broke off to find food, while others worried about shelter. I nodded to Amelia, who went to oversee it all, and hurried after the commander.

"Sir?" I asked, hurrying my paste to catch up with him again. We were walking in between the barn and the house, with where the farmers used to plant their crops right in front of us. It was empty now of course, with odd markings in the mud.

I needed to find out where we were and how long we had been asleep for. My father always raised me to treat men of the army with respect, even if it was a little different that he was from the American one. It quite surprised me really, what were Americans doing on European grounds?

"I'll get out of your hair as soon as I can, truly, I just have a few questions." I said, struggling to meet his long strides in my dress. He stopped for a moment, we were all alone now. His men and my group were busying themselves in the house or in the barn, no one was paying attention to the little alley in between the two. I hadn’t expected him to stop, so suddenly he was right in my face, with a threatening finger too. 

"Who are you?" He asked me. "Why are you all dressed like that? Why were you stupid enough to go on 'holiday' during a war?"

I took a deep breath. "My name is Lady Marigold Shaw." I started. "We are dressed like this because these were the only clothes they provided us with. We went on holiday before the war broke out and were never permitted to return."

"Don't make sense." He huffed, looking out over the field. Still, he patiently waited for me to ask my questions. 

"What year is it?" I started with. He already thought we were odd, asking that was the cherry on top of those suspicions. "We lost track of time down there."

"1944." He answered.

There was no point in hiding my surprise, I couldn't even if I wanted to. I thought it may have been a year, maybe two or three. Not fifty years. It felt like the ground had completely been pulled away from under me. How on earth did we survive for fifty years without food or water? What the hell were we?