The never-ending rain continued its assault, turning the paths from packed dirt to soft messy mud. The skies were almost pitch black at night, no stars or moonlight visible through the heavy clouds that only brought more water with them. A young woman did her best to avoid the larger piles of water as she quickly made her way down a back ally of the small French town, her feet already soaked through with the cold water, and her black coat offering little protection from the constant onslaught. She carried no candle or source of light with her- no one could know she was out here. Instead, she made her way through the winding streets that she knew as well as the back of her hand.

Glancing back every so often, almost sure that the sound of footsteps were intermingling with the pattering of the rain, the woman finally reached a wooden door at the back of a house. With three sharp knocks followed by a short whistle, a small eye slot opened. Old wrinkled eyes peered out, silhouetted by the faint glow of a fire. The slot closed as quickly as it opened and the door opened after the sound of multiple locks being undone. “Quickly child. Were you followed?” Asked an old man as he ushered her in.

“No, I made sure to make a few loops before coming here just in case. Not even the cats are out in this rain,” the woman responded as she quickly made her way in front of the fire. Her entire body was soaked through and the heat was too inviting to ignore.

“You look like a drowned rat Clarice! Hold on, I think I have some of Maria’s old clothes I can give you to dry off in. They’re around here somewhere,” said the old man as he began shuffling around, digging into an old chest.

“Thank you Doc,” Clarice responded, removing the heavy coat, hanging it on a chair close to the fire, hoping to dry it out a bit before she’d have to make her return. The young woman, no older than 21, did her best to wring out her long wavy auburn hair. “They hit Arago Street this morning. Almost completely destroyed the deli…” the woman reported as she graciously took the dry clothes from the man.

“And you weren’t anywhere near there at the time were you,” he said with a bit of a twinkle in his eye, knowing the answer.

“Of course not,” she said, even though they both new as soon as the sounds of bombings went off, Clarice had a bad habit of going to investigate.

“You know, one of these days your nine lives will run out petit chaton,” he teased. Before she had time to respond though, banging on the back door shook the entire room. “Quickly,” he said in a hushed panicked whisper as he covered the table littered with papers with a cloth. Clarice had instinctively already made her way into the hole under the floorboards. The little bit of light that made it through the cracks was quickly gone, covering Clarice in darkness, as the old man covered the entrance with a rug. Again, the room shook as the banging became even more forcefully. “Oi! I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m just an old man you know,” he cursed as he finally opened the peep hole. Instead of the sound of the door opening to guards as Clarice had expected, all that came from the old man was a gasp of fear.

One more round of banging shook Clarice to the bones before the sound of the door opening. “Henry, what in heaven’s name. What…” the old man sounded confused and concerned. Almost disgusted. Instead of a gravelly voice that Clarice was familiar with, there was a sickening half-growl half-pained cry that was very unhuman. Knowing it was just Henry though, Clarice started to lift up the floorboard to see why the Doc was so concerned.

A small squeak of a yell escaped Clarice before she could catch herself. That…that thing in front of her was not Henry. It was barely even human! In a ripped French uniform stood a hunchback, covered in scars and fresh wounds. Bones seemed to pull at the skin in some places and hang in others. What once was a fairly attractive face was now the face of a monster. It looked as if his face was melting right off. His bottom lip was much larger than it should have been, and pulled slightly to one side. His eyes seemed much too large for his face, and his nose much too flat. Everything was wrong. This wasn’t Henry.

The man... Henry…monster thing seemed to be distressed, wheezing for breath as his hands shook with papers in his hands, covered and soaked in rain and mud. Every breath the thing took seemed to wrack his whole body and every movement was jerky and random. Clarice was frozen in place, her heart pounding as fast as if she had just been running. She locked eyes with the beast and couldn’t pull her stare away. Pain and sadness oozed from behind his eyes. Suffering and yet a blank stare as if he was looking past her at the same time. It was the same look a lot of the returning soldiers had- the thousand mile stare they called it. What had happened to him…
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“You should be off Clarice. I’ll deal with this. Just give me the notes you have and I’ll see you around the shop tomorrow,” said the old man dismissively as he gave the young woman a hand out of the hiding space. The woman’s eyes never left the creature as she stood up, fixated as if they were glued there.

“I’ll do no such thing,” Clarice responded defiantly as she looked away for the first time in several minutes to glare at the doctor.

“Clarice, this isn’t just passing notes or moving around refuges. We don’t know what we’ve just stumbled upon. Now, go home,” he insisted, carefully leading her towards the door, helping her put back on her still damp coat.

“Doc, I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m not playing war here. I know the risks, I’ve known them for years now. What if that thing decides to attack you? Then what? I suppose you’ll be fighting him off won’t yah?” Clarice spat as she spun out of his grasp. “Please. Let me help. Let me at least figure out what happened to him,” she pleaded.

With an exasperated sigh, the old man gave a wave admitting defeat. Clarice was much too hard headed to be talked out of it. He turned his attention back to the creature who seemed to try to talk. Instead of words though, all that came out was mixed up garbles and coughs. With every failing word, the beast became more and more frustrated and distressed. “Who did this to you? Henry please, can you write maybe?” the old man asked handing him a pen and scratch paper. The animal just threw the pen across the room, becoming more and more upset. Before either one could do anything though, another knock came from the door.

In German first followed by broken French, a voice called out, “Open up. MPs here are here to investigate. We heard the ruckus, we know you’re there. Open up!” Panicked, Clarice found herself being shoved back into the hole with the beast. Uncomfortable close, and reeking of death, Clarice pushed herself up as far away from the creature as the small hide-away would allow. Not seeming to understand the danger they’d be in if they were discovered, the creature continued to breath loudly, wheezing and cough.

“Shh! If they hear you, they might take you back! Quiet please,” she pleaded, wishing that she had taken the doctor up on his original offer to leave. Still, the creature wheezed. Someone, understanding the danger he was putting everyone in, the monster reached into his torn uniform and pulled out his gun, shooting himself in the head before Clarice could even react. Just like that. Blood pooled around her feet as the monster crumbled up against her, crushing her against the wall a bit.

The door was slammed open at the sound of the shot, and footsteps ran in. Yelling in German filled the room as three German officers ran in, trying to find the source of the gunfire. Clarice held her breath, struggling to breathe through her nose with the weight of the beast pressed up against her, but never daring to move for fear of being found. Eventually the yelling between the old man and the officers quieted down to just a heated discussion. Doors were thrown open, and every nook and cranny were explored as the doctor tried to explain that the gun shot didn’t come from the house. It must have been where the earlier attacks were occurring.

What seemed like hours passed before they finally left. “You can come out now petit chaton.” Shaking, and struggling against the weight, Clarice crawled out of the hole, covered in blood and grime from the monster. She couldn’t help but feel the painful sting of tears that threatened to fall. Clarice had seen death, but never two feet away from her. And not self inflicted. How much pain must he have been in to have caused him to act in such a way? The old man just took her into his arms as she could feel herself begin to shake. It had been a long time since she had felt so small and like a child. He just brushed her hair and rocked her like he used to when she was just a few years old. No tears fell, but Clarice still felt hollow as if they were.

Clarice eventually pulled away though. She wasn’t a child. Not anymore. Not since the war. Swallowing hard, but with her voice still shaking. “We should clean this place up. I’ll put on some tea for us,” she said, already moving towards the kettle.

Two Years, one month, and an unknown amount of time left till this hell ends. The thoughts of one woman who hoped to assist her people and her country from the side lines is now on the front lines with little to no experience. It wasn't the worst thing that could of happened since there is a chance for survival as slim as it may seem. But the quirky woman was not built for such situations and that scared her more than anything else; so she thought.

Rain hit the makeshift shelter, that could easily pass as a dog hut, like miniature bombs. It sent loud thuds to the thin sheets of wood that could be blown over easily by the simplest of gusts. Inside this small shelter that sat in some of the darkest allies of the town, was a woman who has been hiding out for some time now. A woman separated from her group was now on her own for the time being. The thin woman, curled in the fetal position, constantly listening to the radio hoping to patch through to her comrades or to pick up a friendly signal was left with nothing but silence for days now. Glancing up to the darkened clouds, she gave a small sigh and deep down prayed something would come through soon.

Her prayer was not left without a challenge. Shortly after, a static transmission begun to come through on her radio. Startled, she quickly turned the volume down and pressed it against her ear. It's not a code... She thought. Ah, it's the Germans. The transmission was unstable, like most, thus she struggled to get a clear understanding. Eventually, the transmission broke into silence and she placed the bulky radio back down to her side. The Germans were in the area over a suspicious figure, the woman had to be careful if she didn't want to get caught. Listening outside for a moment, she tried her best to block out the rain and listen for footsteps. There were none. The woman sat up in her makeshift shelter and peaked out. For a moment she thought about grabbing the other piece of plywood that was coated in mud to look like a dark open space. A disguise best used at night. But hesitation stopped her. What if the suspicious figure needed help, but what if it was just another enemy? There were just too many "what-ifs" but the woman struggled to stay put.

Pounding her fist into the ground out of frustration towards herself, she got up and begun hugging the buildings, carefully making her way around corners. It was not long before the woman heard a single gunshot echo nearby. This caused her to duck into the mud as fear filled and her limbs froze. She waited a good ten to fifteen minuets before sliding her back against the building, wet stone walls, and taking a few more steps. Fighting was not her specialty, she wasn't even suppose to be out here. But here she was, with an assigned deadman's gun and some heavy equipment.

As she reached one of the corners leading to the next allyway, footsteps could be heard in the opposite direction. Luckily they were leading away which caused her to give a small sigh of relief. Making her way past a few doors, she came across one that had heavy foot trafficking in the mud. This must be it. She thought. The woman, who was covered in mud with barely a clean patch on her face waited a moment listening to her surroundings before knocking on the door. There was some light she could see so someone surely had to be in there. She thought for a moment before translating;
"Bonjour. I'm a friendly. Tout le monde est-il bien? I'm a medic if you need help." she said almost doubtfully in herself.

Clarice’s blood ran frigid at the sound of a knock at the door. The Germans were back! The feminine voice that called out was odd, and she almost missed what she had said. Was it a ruse? It wouldn’t have been anyone else they knew coming to check on them. They would have used the secret knock and waited at least another hour. No, something wasn’t right. Clarice slowly removed the kettle as she gave Doc an uncertain look. She silently gestured to the floor boards again, asking if she needed to go back in. A wave of relief washed over her as Doc held up a hand to her, making his way wearily to the door. She wouldn’t have to squish in with the dead monster. No, it was Henry, he was a good man, Clarice reminded herself.

"Bonjour. I'm a friendly. Tout le monde est-il bien? I'm a medic if you need help."

Doc opened up the eye hole once more, glaring through. Clarice found herself moving closer to the door when he didn’t say anything right away. After careful deliberation though, the old man let out a sigh before starting to unlock the door. “Petit chaton, wipe your face,” he nagged. It was only then that Clarice felt the warm sticky blood starting to dry on her face. She gingerly patted at her cheek with her hand, pulling away to see blood too dark to be human- Henry’s. As Doc opened the door just a crack, using his body to block entrance to the small house, Clarice busied herself at the sink, quickly washing away the night’s horrors.

“We’re fine here. And you might be a friendly, but you're no friend. It’s much too late to visit non-friends. Go home now, out of this rain.” Doc was untrusting, he had to be. Right now it was just the woman, but if it was a trap, he knew he couldn’t do much to stop them and protect Clarice. It was better to be cautious than risk the entire resistance.

“Doc, who is it?” Clarice asked from the sink. Clarice was still young, and trusting. She’d rather help whoever it was, risking her life, than turning them away. That’s what the resistance was there for, wasn’t it? Helping those who had no one else? If they turned away everyone they didn’t know, their help would be limited. Clarice wanted to save everyone she could- help to turn around at least some of the injustices of the cruel world.

“It’s no one. Now shh child,” Doc hissed harshly over his shoulder. Clarice knew he didn’t mean to be so hard, that he wasn’t really mad at her. But he still saw her as a child. And after tonight, she was sure that was even more true. She didn’t argue back though. This wasn’t Clarice’s home, she wasn’t only risking her life here. Instead she just pursed her lips and let out huff of air.

Taking a minuet, an eye slot opened which nearly startled here as it was not a mechanic she expected to face. From there she could tell there was some tension, though it was to be expected after the Germans coming onto this property. The man that had originally looked at the woman through the slot, finally opened the door calmly blocking any possible way in. The woman stood straight up trying to bare the rain, and kept her arms at her side trying not to make anyone uncomfortable.

"Please, I am well aware it is late. There was a gunshot coming from this area, and wanted to make sure everyone was okay. But I have no home to go back to, even if I wanted to." She paused. "My name is Ruth and I am part of the British forces that were sent in to assist France. I mean no harm."

Ruth begun to wipe away some gunk from her uniform revealing an insignia from the British Army reading R.E.M.E. along with an Eagle accompanied by a Royal Crown. It clearly has seen better days, but being nothing more than a straggler, her badges were rather limited. There were a few other patches on her olive colored uniform but the mud from ducking and hiding, made things difficult to see. Tilting her hat, she glanced up back towards the man who stood in the doorway.

"Please, let me in. I can assist you in anyway you need." At this point, Ruth just wanted to feel useful for once.

Rain begun hitting her face more accurately now and the mud that once just a pile of gunk on her face begun running down in trickles. Inside, Ruth can make out another persons voice that sound like a female. Though couldn't understand a word the female said out in the rain.

"Please, I am well aware it is late. There was a gunshot coming from this area, and wanted to make sure everyone was okay. But I have no home to go back to, even if I wanted to." She paused. "My name is Ruth and I am part of the British forces that were sent in to assist France. I mean no harm."Please, let me in. I can assist you in anyway you need." At this point, Ruth just wanted to feel useful for once. "

“No home..no home of course not...no one’s got a home anymore. The germans made sure of that…” the old man grumbled under his breath. Clarice started making her way to the door, hearing the young woman’s pleas. She knew Doc wasn’t happy, but he wouldn’t object. He had a soft spot for younger women, ever since his daughter had died. There was no way he could turn her away. Clairce placed a gentle hand on Doc as she opened the door a bit, finally getting a good look.

“Well come in then, quickly,” she ushered, glancing for any signs of an ambush in the dark ally. “A friend of France is a friend of ours. I’m just putting on a kettle,” Clarice said as she locked the door behind the young woman. “Uh, hold on let me get something to dry you off though. That’s a lot of mud. What were you doing, crawling here?” Clarice asked as she made her way to Doc’s trunk filled with spare clothes. She was just pulling out a large flannel shirt when she paused. “Where’s the rest of your unit?” Clarice asked skeptically, finally giving the woman a once over.

Ruth watched as the door widened revealing the young woman before her. She in turn, gave a polite nod but gave a near apologetic look. The woman invited her in, rather quickly and probably for good reason. With a few steps, she made her way gently placing her hand on the mans shoulder careful not to push him. But Ruth halted as the young woman stopped her making sure not to track anymore mud than she did.

"Crawling, yes. You must a be a visionist." She lightly joked.

Watching the woman go through some things, she examined the room without giving too much away. She didn't want to alarm anyone. There didn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary about the home not that it would really matter, but there were gunshots prior, so what was amiss? The young woman then questioned Ruth about her unit, but she couldn't help but to feel emotionally upset about it though not a tear was shed.

"My unit...I was separated from them so there is no telling if they are still alive..." She said quietly as she lowered her head. "I wasn't even suppose to be on the front lines. I was just a decoder, a communicater. But then I was thrown out to the dogs as a Medic with no experience." Sighing. "I've learned a lot since but I am no expert."
With a pause she glances to her side where a part of her weapon poked out. "I can barely shoot a gun..."

The young woman came back handing her some fresh clothes. Ruth unzipped her military jacket revealing a white, lightly dampened t-shirt underneath. It wasn't muddy other than some spots at the bottom, but she wasn't going to change in front of them respectively. Ruth dressed into the flannel that was given to her then looked up towards both of them. She narrowed her gaze and begun to grow firm in her stance.

"But despite that..." She paused "There was a gunshot here. What happened?"

As the other woman changed out of the muddy clothes, Clarice gave Doc glances between the papers hidden on the table and the girl. Clarice’s German was rudimentary at best, and neither of them had been able to crack the messages they had intercepted. If this woman was really a decoder, she could help them and maybe help them figure out what exactly happened to Henry. The two shared hurried glances and a silent argument over the messages. It was just a matter of trust, and Doc seemed firm on his stance, shaking his head back and forth quickly ‘no’ while the mystery woman was occupied. Clarice’s mind, however, wasn’t as made up. Maybe they wouldn’t show here the messages just yet, but what about Henry’s body. She said she had been assigned as a medic, surely she must have picked some things up in the field. Maybe she’d have a better idea of what happened to him.

“The gunshot was from me. I had to shoot a...friend out of self defense,” Clarice lied. She had never actually shot a gun before, but the other woman didn’t need to know that. If she believed that Clarice was capable of murder, especially of a close friend, she’d probably be less likely to try anything if she wasn’t who she said she was. It was a huge risk, showing her what she didn’t even understand yet. But it was necessary. Something was going on, something inhuman and Clarice needed to find out what. Henry was her friend, she wasn’t going to let him die in vain.

“I’m going to trust you here, and that might be the dumbest thing I do today. But if you’re really a German dog trying to pull a fast one, I won’t hesitate to make sure you never find your unit,” Clarice threatened, trying to make herself seem as intimidating as possible. “My friend...the one I had to shoot,” Clarice started as she moved the rug, opening up the trap door she had recently climbed out of. “Something happened to him. He’s been changed somehow. With whatever time you did have on the front lines, have you ever seen anything like this?” Clarice motioned for the other woman to look into the hideaway and at the horribly disfigured monster that once was Henry.

Watching the two exchange glances, the young woman finally spoke she expected a rather different story. Part of her had doubt, but the other part didn't as Ruth hardly could shoot a gun herself. A moment of silence fell upon her trying to think of any possible situation they could of been in for the need of such. But if the Germans were here I suppose they could of had to shoot someone in order to stay in their home. Ruth shooked her head to herself, that couldn't be right.

The woman begun explaining about her friend and how they changed, which led Ruth looking at a trapped door.With whatever time you did have on the front lines, have you ever seen anything like this? The young woman said which only worried Ruth. She looked at the woman before kneeling down and opening the said trapped door, she could already smell fresh blood but there was already a rotting smell as well, which would of usually indicated it's been there awhile. Before fully opening the trapdoor she took a deep breath, then opened up determinedly. What she saw would be repulsive to any human being.

Looking down the burrow, the thing that now laid dead hardly looked human. Unless it was more than a gunshot, it was hard to believe that this was from a single gunshot. Ruth pondered for a moment before looking up at the woman then back at the older gentleman.
"I can't believe this was from a single gunshot, however if you're asking me if I ever seen anything like it; must mean this is why you shot him. To answer your question previously, no I have not. But I have heard odd rumors about these kind of things...though stories vary." Ruth stood back up on her feet turning around to face the both. "I'll have to do a full examination to get a better idea what happened to that person. Until then all I have is rumors."