Star Crossed Enemies

Chapter 1

 Lieutenant Mark Heinrich felt the vehicle slow to a halt as it grumbled underneath him. The Volkswagen bucked with the rough road and engine dying simultaneously. The driver cursed under his breath in their native German tongue.

"What is happening?" asked Mark stiffly.

"I'm not sure, sir."

Mark stepped out of the back seat as knocking continued to emit from the engine. His boots sunk in the freshly fallen snow and crunched as he stepped behind the vehicle. The driver and the other soldier followed suit. The driver yanked up the trunk and continued to curse to himself.

"Well, what is it?" asked Mark.

"Nothing I can fix here. We need to wait for the other vehicle to catch up to us."

Mark looked down the road. All he could see was the darkness of the night and the glimmering of snow from the moon's rays.

"That could take a long time," said Mark sternly.

"You can stay in the vehicle, sir, while we stand guard."

Mark didn't like the idea of sitting around doing nothing. He knew the town they were heading to wasn't too far away. 

"I think we should walk."

"Sir, I can't leave the vehicle here."

Mark grunted in response. The vehicle wasn't his concern. He wanted to reach the Danish town as soon as possible and stay at headquarters. The sooner he arrived, the sooner he could go back home to Germany. The soldier's defiance to his subtle order irritated him even more. 

"I'm going to walk. You two are more than welcome to join me, or you can stay behind with this broken thing," said Mark as he gestured to the vehicle now billowing steam behind them. 

"Sir, it would be better if you stay with us."

Mark ignored the young soldier with a cocky raised eyebrow and started trudging through the thick snow. As the wind whistled by pushing open the coat he wore, his Knight's Cross momentarily gleamed under the full moon. He adjusted his coat that draped over the Nazi uniform he proudly wore and straightened the hat that sat on his neatly combed blonde hair. His bold blue eyes squinted against the white flakes being picked up by the relentless wind. 

Mark adjusted the rifle on his shoulder as he continued to stare at the glittering fluffy snow, careful not to trip on the landscape beneath his black boots. He continued to take long strides, knowing his tall stature would help him arrive at his destination faster. He had much to discuss with Klaus.

As he was deep in his thoughts, he couldn't help but feel a sudden revulsion with the subject he needed to speak to him about. Mark hated one thing more than anything. In his twenty-five years of life, he had never despised anything more. Mark hated Jews. He sneered at the thought of them as he continued to trek through the accumulating snow. 

Mark's thoughts were silenced as he heard two gunshots ring in the air, followed by his back burning like fire. He fell on his stomach, feeling the hot rush of blood escaping his wounds where the bullets had seared through his flesh. He turned over looking for his rifle through gritted teeth while fumbling with his pistol in his waistband. 

Mark heard crunching of footsteps slowly making their way to him. He couldn't see the shooter's face from the darkness of the night and the heavy blowing snow. As Mark pulled his Luger from his belt, the shadowed figure kicked it out of his hands. He felt another sharp agonizing pain below his chest as another shot met his ears. 

As his vision blurred, Mark watched the shooter snatch both the firearms sunken in the snow before taking off in a sprint. Mark's head fell limply to one side as his vision faded to black.