The Haigerloch Project

The room immediately inside was unexpectedly small, its walls of unfinished lumber. It was lit by two strong naked bulbs hanging from the ceiling. Behind a plain table in the middle of the floor sat Major Rosenfeld. Gone were his taunts, his levity. He looked sober. Grim. He pointed to two piles of ammunition lying on the table before him.

“Six rounds each,” he said. “Load your guns.”

Dirk and Sig at once began to load their magazines. Rosenfeld watched them solemnly.

“This is the last station,” he said quietly. He glanced back over his shoulder. “You will go through the door behind me.” He placed a stopwatch on the table before him. “You will have exactly seven minutes. If you do not reach the exit at the other end of the barn within that time, you will have failed the entire course.”

He looked searchingly at them. “Ready?”

They nodded.

Sig's hands were suddenly clammy. What the hell — it was only a test. What could happen to him?

Rosenfeld stood up. He picked up the stopwatch.

“Stand by the door,” he said.

Dirk and Sig took up positions facing the door, guns ready.

“Remember what you have been taught,” Rosenfeld said softly, his voice concerned. “If — if anything should happen, we'll be standing by.” He looked from one to the other. “Be— be careful!”

He held up the watch.

“Go'” he said.

They entered.

The door closed behind them with the emphasis of finality.

They peered ahead….

Sig could not shake the feeling of apprehension. Why the hell was Rosenfeld so damned gloomy? What did lie ahead of them?

The wide, bare corridor in front of them was lit only by dim bulbs set far apart in the ceiling.

For a moment they stood stock still. Gradually their eyes adjusted to the faint light.

Dirk gestured to Sig. Take the right side. He himself moved toward the left. Slowly, cautiously they started down the corridor.

And the lights went out.

The place was suddenly shrouded in total darkness.

Sig started.

He clutched his gun before him, locked firmly against his abdomen as he had been taught.

Where was Dirk?

He strained every nerve to distinguish any sight or sound. He heard Dirk whisper.

“Move to the center, Sig We've got to stay together.”

“Right.” Sig's whisper came out hoarse and strained. Slowly he moved toward the middle of the corridor, feeling his way with his feet.

Where was Dirk?

He must be almost to the left wall by now. Where the hell was Dirk?

The soft whisper came only inches from his ear.

“Okay. Let's move on. You cover the right. I'll take the left. No use shooting the balls off each other.”

Suddenly the rough floorboards under Sig gave way, sagging down several inches, creaking loudly.

Involuntarily his finger tightened on the trigger — but in the last instant he caught himself and eased off.

They went on.

The gloom was impenetrable. Sig felt strangely disembodied. The absolute darkness seemed to permeate his whole being. He felt gripped by a tension greater than any he had ever experienced.

He almost screamed when something brushed softly across his face. He stopped dead. He had a flash impulse to turn and run back. The specter of panic bloated and trembled in his mind. Then he was aware of Dirk standing next to him.

“Burlap,” Dirk whispered. “Strips of fucking burlap!”

Sig reached up. He felt around in the blackness, somehow surprised that it wasn't solid. Several pieces of shredded burlap were hanging across the corridor at face height.

They kept going.

Suddenly a door in the right corridor wall creaked open, spilling a faint yellow light onto the floor.

Both men whirled on the door. They froze.

Sig threw a quick glance at his partner. The dim light from the open door was barely enough to be able to make him out.

Dirk motioned to him. On the floor. Cover me. I'll move in! He understood at once.

Noiselessly they moved toward the open door.

Not a sound was to be heard.

Nothing moved.

They stopped.

Dirk nodded to Sig.

At once Sig hurled himself to the floor in the doorway — his gun held out in front of him—

In the same split instant Dirk crashed through the open door—

The small room beyond was completely empty.

They resumed their slow progress down the corridor. A few feet farther on, it turned sharply to the left. A dim light seeped around the corner.

Sig felt his body harden with tension. Something had to happen. What? When?

They negotiated the corner. The corridor made a sharp U-turn and continued. Once again a string of dim bulbs cast a faint light from above. Several stacks of crates and boxes lined the walls.

They moved steadily on.

How much time had gone by?

Suddenly, from behind a stack of crates on the lefthand side a target, a German-soldier cut-out, jumped into view. Even as Dirk's gun barked twice, another target shot out on Sig's side. Instantly he shifted to face it squarely — and fired. Two rounds.

He felt an enormous excitement course through him.

A shooting gallery… The barn was one huge house-of-horrors shooting gallery!