SNAFU: Wolves at the Door

They followed the trail of blood to a helicopter pad and made it just in time to see a helicopter whir away.

“Looks like we missed our ride.” Mara’s head followed the helicopter as it sped away.

“We better get moving. The temperature’s going to drop as soon as the sun sets.”

They moved past the landing pad and found a narrow path leading down. “Thanks, you know, for getting me out of there,” Mara said.

Rolf looked down and noticed a few drops of blood. “We’re not out of the woods yet.” A few steps later they found a discarded gun. “It looks like the good doctor missed her ride too.”

“We might be able to catch her if we hurry.”

A few steps later they found a tattered lab coat and the same flash drive Dr Sturgess showed them earlier.

Beside the flash drive were footprints. Hybrid footprints.

“Damn,” Rolf said.

Mara came closer. “What is it?”

Rolf pointed down.

“At least we got her research. Maybe we can help stop it.” Mara slipped the flash drive into her pocket.

A howl sounded in the distance and bounced around the peak of the mountain.

Werwolf! W.D. Gagliani & David Benton

A hybrid excerpt from W.D. Gagliani’s Wolf’s Edge

1

Northern Italy, 1944

Giovanni Lupo walked fast, hands in his pockets, one wrapped around the tubular lead weight he carried in case he needed a little more oomph behind his considerable right hook.

It wouldn’t help against a German patrol, but a single adversary would pay the price if his jaw got between Giovanni and his escape route. It might be all the advantage he needed. He walked fast, hoping to beat the rapidly approaching darkness as well as the random patrols.

For as dusk arrived, so would the Allied bombers.

They came every night, almost as soon as the sirens went off and the spotlights went on, trying to catch their silhouettes like bugs on a glass.

Giovanni Lupo lived with his family on the outskirts of Genova, the huge port city whose importance to the German war machine was incalculable. Its factories had turned to slave labor to churn out goods for the war effort, but it was Germany’s war effort – no longer Italy’s. In September 1943, the Italian monarchy and its political backers signed a secret armistice with the Allies. As soon as it became known that Italy had surrendered, the German ally’s resident forces had become an outright occupation. Everyone knew the war was lost except the mad German leadership, and few Italians saw the benefit of that, but the die was cast.

But those factories were a fat prize for the Allied bombardiers. As was the German high command, located somewhere near the harbor.

Now heading home on foot from his meager employment in a local foundry that had miraculously avoided nationalization by the Germans, Giovanni Lupo kept a cautious watch for German patrols, his greatest fear. They would sometimes sweep up able-bodied Italian men to fill gaps in factory assembly lines.

A typical tactic was for a covered truck to drive to a public square or market, pull up, and disperse a platoon of Wehrmacht infantrymen who would then round up bystanders and passersby and hold them at gunpoint until a cattle van could cart away the victims.

Giovanni watched for the rumbling covered trucks.

He was convinced his ears were sensitive. The moment he heard the unforgettable gear-grinding sound of one of those vehicles, he would melt into one of the narrow lanes that lined the street. He had mapped numerous routes home to avoid this very danger. He walked briskly, avoiding the glances of strangers, hoping he could make it home without trouble. His fellow pedestrians surely thought the same and went their way, avoiding him.

He looked straight ahead, ears attuned to the infrequent roar of a motor vehicle or the grinding of trucks.

Maria, I’m coming home. Don’t worry too much.

He hoped his son had found his way home from school by now. A month ago, a teacher had disappeared – presumably in a street sweep. The children had been dismissed until a substitute could be coaxed from another school farther away. Hardly anyone wanted to work so close to a German high command, for it was an Allied high-priority target.

Giovanni had worked a full day for the first time in months, eagerly accepting the opportunity to earn a few extra lire. Maybe there would be eggs and some lard in the kitchen tomorrow because of it.