In the Crosshairs

Chapter 6: The Enemy Revealed

The Soviet sniper and the German predator both stood pressed between two towering walls of bricks with their hands, tightly covering their ears.

Alexander stood just around the corner of the building, craning his neck to look at who was shooting the bullets.

"When are they going to stop?" Alexander thought to himself.

He looked down at the ground, tucking his head in and shifting his eyes. He watched a stream of runoff water soak his leather boots and drift toward the nearby sewer. The sheer feeling of biting cold on his ankle and toes made Alexander rigid and numb. 

"Shit. My feet are fucking freezing," Alexander whispered to himself.

He heard a soft chuckle in his left ear. He looked up to see a bright smile on his predator's face. The predator, suddenly taken aback by Alexander's gaze, averted his eyes and looked directly at the ground. Alexander heard him quietly say something in a language he couldn't recognize. He followed the predator's lead, and stared at the flowing water emanating from his shoe. No matter what craziness happens in the world of man, the forces of nature simply carry on. It was something Alexander's father had taught him from a young age.

"Do not dain to test Mother Nature's strength," he could hear Alexei instruct him.

Alexander suddenly felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to see his predator staring at him. He gave Alexander a piece of parchment, with some scribbled, roughly-translated Russian on it.

That was the Heeresgruppe Group. Every 30 minutes, they come through and clear the remaining survivors.

Alexander nodded slowly. He wondered how his predator could write, speak, and read Russian. Was he actually just a spy? Was he a threat? Was he one of his countrymen? Questions swam through his mind as the machine gun fire slowly quieted. The German predator gave a slight nod to Alexander, after which Alexander slowly began inching his way out from the space between the two buildings. As soon as he got out, he instantly collapsed, as his leg was far too weak to support him. 

Friedrich then held out his hand to the Soviet sniper. He glared at Friedrich's freezing, shaking fingers, before relunctantly holding his own out to meet it. Friedrich then pulled the sniper up to his feet. 

The sniper started to yawn repeatedly, which Friedrich guessed was to clear the ringing in his ears. The sniper had been closest to the gunfire, so Friedrich stood back and gave him space to do so. Friedrich's mind itself was racing. He couldn't believe he had just escaped death, but even moreso, that he was now helping the enemy.

Alexander was also stunned by the previous chain of events. Being targeted while running down the street, the terrific screams of his fellow countrymen, throwing the grenade and killing tens of Soviets, sneaking away from the encirclement, and finally, sparing the life of the German predator intent on killing him. It was all too much.

Alexander wrapped his arm around the predator's shoulder. They crept slowly off of the sidewalk and into the street. They looked around to see tens of bullet shells scattered around the concrete floor.

Friedrich ducked his head and removed the sniper's arm off of him, and meandered to the spot where he saw his entire infantry division get encircled and slaughtered. He looked again, desperately hoping to see even a single person alive. But there was no one. Just 20 or so lifeless corpses, waiting for the dogs to devour them. Even from 20 feet away, he could see the bulletholes that riddled every one of their bodies. He squinted at the faces who, just a few minutes ago, were cheering him on. Now, they were dead still, their eyes and mouths completely slack wide open.

Friedrich turned around to see a fist flying at his face. It directly hit his temple, causing him to fall onto his bottom. His father's helmet was dislodged from his head, as the sniper quickly stormed toward him.