The rough sack is ripped off Van de Berg's head. The sky is overcast, misty beams of sunlight drifting over the landscape. Even in the gloomy conditions, the light causes him to squint, his head throbbing with pain.
He is shoved forcefully against a stone wall. Blearily trying to take stock of his surroundings, he sees a copse of trees ahead, and feels a wall at his back. His frozen fingers pass over the rough surface of the stones, their jagged sandy edges lightly grazing his skin.
Van de Berg's mind pulses violently inside his skull. How long had they interrogated him? Hours? Days? Weeks? He was pretty sure he had told them everything he knew, and after that, all he could remember was screaming, begging, crying out for mercy. But they didn't stop. They continued to claw his mind, scour his soul, break him down into nothing – and then some more.
Soldiers stand in a line in front of him. Black Sun soldiers. Looking to his left, he sees Miller standing beside him, his face a dark swelling of cuts and bruises. The American's eyes appear lifeless, as if all that lay behind them was a hollow emptiness. However, as Van de Berg looks at him, he turns his head and weakly manages a wink, a crooked smile on his broken lips.
The troopers raise their rifles.
Van de Berg closes his eyes, breathing slowly.
The loud 'crack' of gunfire echoes around the trees.
But...
No pain. No end. No biting kiss of hot lead. Van de Berg opens his eyes.
The Black Sun troopers lie dead on the ground, bodies riddled with bullet holes, blood staining the snowy ground. Then, he sees them – the men emerging from the trees. Men in pale camouflage gear, scanning the surroundings cautiously as they approach, weapons raised. Van de Berg turns to Miller, a bewildered look on his face. The American smiles.
“Now we're even.”
The commando unit reaches the two captives, wrapping them in thick coats and ushering them away into the trees. His mind spinning, Van de Berg lets the Allied soldiers lead him through the snow-laden conifers, panting and trying not to stumble. What will he do? The Reich has abandoned him – and he would rather die than stand alongside men like Engel and Adam. But where can he go?
They reach a sheltered clearing in the woods – the commandos begin pulling branches and tarps off a concealed jeep, hidden from view. Miller looks Van de Berg in the eye with a knowing gaze, seeming to understand the confusion in his mind.
“Welcome to Section D,” he says.
He is shoved forcefully against a stone wall. Blearily trying to take stock of his surroundings, he sees a copse of trees ahead, and feels a wall at his back. His frozen fingers pass over the rough surface of the stones, their jagged sandy edges lightly grazing his skin.
Van de Berg's mind pulses violently inside his skull. How long had they interrogated him? Hours? Days? Weeks? He was pretty sure he had told them everything he knew, and after that, all he could remember was screaming, begging, crying out for mercy. But they didn't stop. They continued to claw his mind, scour his soul, break him down into nothing – and then some more.
Soldiers stand in a line in front of him. Black Sun soldiers. Looking to his left, he sees Miller standing beside him, his face a dark swelling of cuts and bruises. The American's eyes appear lifeless, as if all that lay behind them was a hollow emptiness. However, as Van de Berg looks at him, he turns his head and weakly manages a wink, a crooked smile on his broken lips.
The troopers raise their rifles.
Van de Berg closes his eyes, breathing slowly.
The loud 'crack' of gunfire echoes around the trees.
But...
No pain. No end. No biting kiss of hot lead. Van de Berg opens his eyes.
The Black Sun troopers lie dead on the ground, bodies riddled with bullet holes, blood staining the snowy ground. Then, he sees them – the men emerging from the trees. Men in pale camouflage gear, scanning the surroundings cautiously as they approach, weapons raised. Van de Berg turns to Miller, a bewildered look on his face. The American smiles.
“Now we're even.”
The commando unit reaches the two captives, wrapping them in thick coats and ushering them away into the trees. His mind spinning, Van de Berg lets the Allied soldiers lead him through the snow-laden conifers, panting and trying not to stumble. What will he do? The Reich has abandoned him – and he would rather die than stand alongside men like Engel and Adam. But where can he go?
They reach a sheltered clearing in the woods – the commandos begin pulling branches and tarps off a concealed jeep, hidden from view. Miller looks Van de Berg in the eye with a knowing gaze, seeming to understand the confusion in his mind.
“Welcome to Section D,” he says.
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