Disclaimer: Hogan and his heroes as well as Sam and his friends all have one thing in common: none of them belong to me. And, as that is the case, I make no money from this publication. Thank you.
Chapter 7: So Many Questions, So Little Time
"What do you want now?" The visitor's tone was aggressive as was his stance, with his arms crossed and an unpleasant scowl on his face. Even after all this time, it was still disconcerting when the visitors did something out of character for the physicist - Al didn't believe he'd ever seen that particular expression directed at him when Sam had been where he belonged - and it was always an unpleasant surprise.
The fact that the visitor did not appear as though he was very interested in
hearing what Al had to say wasn't.
He closed his eyes briefly, wondering if maybe his attempt to rectify the
situation would just make the whole mess worse. Still, there wasn't much choice
- Ziggy still hadn't managed to come up with any ideas as to who would want to
kill this character and it seemed to Al that the only hope they had was to see
if the visitor knew of any enemies he had that would be happy to do him in.
As it stood, he doubted that the visitor would trust him enough to tell him
these things if he did know. And, while Al was certain that it would take more
than a simple apology to smooth understandably ruffled feathers, for Sam, he
was willing to give it a try.
"I wanted to, uh, apologize for before. I was very unprofessional."
There. No one could say that he hadn't tried.
The Colonel looked nonplused as if he couldn't believe what he'd just heard.
Then he seemed to recover. "Perhaps, although Dr. Beeks hinted that there
may be a reason for it." He smiled wanly, "So, what brings you here,
really, Al? I appreciate the apology but I know that's not the reason you came
in here."
Al felt his eyes narrow at the other man's cynicism. "What makes you say
that?"
The visitor sighed and tapped his forehead with his finger. "I know enough
about you from these memories I have to know that you don't apologize to anyone
unless there is a very, very good reason." He shrugged, "I don't
think hurt feelings on my part would be enough so there must be something in it
for you; something you need my cooperation for."
Dr. Beeks had mentioned the fact that this visitor had more of Sam's memories
than usual but he hadn't realized what that really meant until this moment. The
idea that this stranger knew anything about him was very uncomfortable - it
made him feel as though the visitor had one up on him.
But the visitor had been correct and Al saw no point in denying it.
"You're right. I do need your help - but it's for your own good too."
"Really?" the visitor sounded almost bored. Almost but not almost
enough for Al not to notice his interest.
Good. That would make his job a lot easier in the long run. "It has come
to our attention that your life is in danger. I want to know if you can think
of anyone who would want to kill you."
All pretense of boredom fled and the Colonel's face paled as he fell to the
bunk. "What?"
"All we know for sure," Al said, trying to project calmness, "is
that there is some kind of plot to end your life - we want to help you but we
can't unless you help us."
It wasn't working. The man in front of him seemed inches away from full on
panic. "But I don't know anyone who hates me that much - I mean, I know
some people who hate me but they don't care about me enough to go to this kind
of trouble!"
Not what Al wanted to hear at all. "Are you sure? There isn't anyone? Have
you insulted any brass lately?"
For a moment, the Colonel's panic was replaced with confusion.
"Brass?" Then he shook his head as he wrung his hands. "No, no
one."
Al wasn't always a good judge of such things, but it didn't seem as though the
visitor was lying. "Do you know any Generals called Metziger?" It was
a long shot but -
"Not personally," the visitor frowned as if he was trying to remember
something, "but, I think I remember General Burkhalter talking about a
General Metziger."
Well, so much for that idea. It looked like, wherever the answers were, they
weren't in here. He just had to hope that Ziggy could find them before Sam's
time was up. "Well, thanks for your help, Colonel. Just keep thinking
about it" - the look the Colonel gave him told Al plainly that the man
would be hard pressed to think about anything else - "and, if you do come
up with something, just shout. Someone will hear you."
The visitor did not look the least bit comforted but he nodded. "All
right, I'll try."
Al just nodded and left the man where he sat. Once he was out of the Waiting
Room, he allowed himself a sigh. That had been all too helpful but he couldn't
say that it had been completely unproductive.
At least now they could assume that it probably wasn't somebody that the
Colonel knew who would end up killing him - that along with the fact that they
couldn't find any records about this General Metziger who was supposed to be
paying Stalag 13 a visit made the man a very likely suspect.
Assuming, of course, that Colonel Klink hadn't been killed in an accident.
Al had to remind himself that an untimely accident could also be responisble
and that it was too soon to say one way or the other. Although, once his mind
latched on to an idea, it liked to hold on to it for as long as possible - to
Al, this whole situation screamed foul play.
In any case, it was something to run by Sam. And maybe, by now, Sam might be
able to fill in some blanks himself.
***
"Is your name Sam?"
Sam stared at the man sitting across from him, the question flying out of his
mouth before he had a chance to stop it. "How did you know my name?"
The man, a Sergeant Something or Other smiled, looking pleased with himself.
"I didn't think you were Al. I mean, Al didn't sound like Klink the way
you do and he kept calling you Sam so it was pretty simple, you see?"
There were many questions that Sam could have asked at this point. It was a
measure of his shock that he'd settled on the one he ended up asking. "You
could hear Al?"
"Well, golly, it wasn't like he was whispering or anything. But could you
tell me something?"
Sam nodded numbly, his mind racing. As if this leap hadn't had enough problems
already! Did this man have the same kind of brain waves? Did he have some kind
of mental problem or chemical imbalance that made it so he could hear Al?
Abruptly, the situation got worse. "What did you say?" Sam asked,
hoping that he'd heard the Sergeant wrong.
"How come Colonel Hogan and Hilda thought you were Klink? I mean, you
don't really look like him at all," the Sergeant repeated without rancor.
Then he frowned. "Well, I suppose you would look like him his face didn't
keep fading out."
Why it was that this man could see through his aura didn't matter: what did
matter was that he could and complications that fact entailed. It would be
pointless try and pretend that he was Klink when this man could clearly tell that
he wasn't but what could he do? Telling this man the truth could cause horrible
damage to the timeline - at least, that was what Al had warned him time and
time again. Sometimes Sam wondered whether telling the truth was really as
dangerous as Al said it was.
But before Sam could decide what he was going to do about this situation, the
Imaging Chamber door opened and in stepped Al in all of his finery. At least it
was tailored, it seemed to Sam that it had to be - no clothes maker in his
right mind would create that particular concoction of fuchsia and green
pinstripe.
Sergeant Something's eyes widened and he jumped out of the chair. "Where
did you come from!"
If the situation had been radically different, Sam might have found the man's
shock a little amusing. As it was, his shock only confirmed what the man had
already said and there was nothing funny about the problems that was going to
cause.
As for Al, he had on the puzzled, worried expression that he always wore those
few but distressing times when he found out that someone besides Sam knew he
was there. "He can see me?"
"Of course I can!" The Sergeant exclaimed, his eyes still wide,
"I'd have to be blind not to see those clothes!"
Al sounded alarmed. "He can hear me too?"
Sam sighed, seeing the situation rapidly falling apart as he watched.
"Calm down, both of you!" Once he felt he had their attention, he
held out his hands in supplication. "Now, let's not panic, okay? Why don't
you just sit back down, Sergeant?"
The Sergeant did so but it was painfully clear to Sam that he could bolt at any
second. Apparently, Sam being some kind of imposter he could handle but men
appearing out of nothing was straining his limits of endurance.
But there was nothing Sam could do about that so he turned his attention to his
friend instead. "He can see and hear the real me too, Al." Then he
took a deep breath because he already knew that what he was about to say
wouldn't go down well. "I think we'll have to tell him."
"No, we don't." Al gestured wildly, his voice rising with every word
that he spoke, "You do want to leap, don't you, Sam? You don't want to be
here for the rest of your life, do you!"
"Of course not," Sam snapped, wishing, once again, that his friend
wasn't so melodramatic. "But I've told people the truth before and nothing
bad has happened."
"As far as you know," Al retorted, suggesting that maybe something
bad had happened, "and you don't know for sure that those times weren't
just flukes - why take that risk if you don't have to."
"Well, what do you suggest I do," Sam asked unable to rein his
sarcasm, "ask him nicely not to say anything? Or maybe you'd like me to
throw him in the cooler or toss him into solitary just to be sure?"
A dark look passed over Al's face. "Don't make jokes about that,
Sam." Then he sighed, "I'm just saying that it's a bad idea."
Privately, Sam agreed that it wasn't a good idea but he couldn't think of a
better way to convince the man to stay silent. Assuming he believed what Sam
told him. Assuming that he cared about Sam's mission. There were too many
assumptions but he didn't know what else to do. He refused to do something
violent to keep the man quiet unless it was absolutely a last resort - he was
here to save people!
Thinking of what he was going to say to do this convincing, he turned to look
back at the Sergeant. Or, at least, at the chair where the Sergeant had been
sitting.
***
As soon as Sam hadn't been watching him anymore, Carter had snuck out of the
room. He thought he’d heard Hilda say something to him but he was in not
condition to react to it. He had to get out of that place. He needed some air.
He needed to clear his head.
Once out in the air, he realized that what he really needed was to tell
someone. He had to tell someone because he was deathly afraid that he had gone
crazy. People don't appear out of thin air and especially not wearing fuchsia.
What if the reason that Klink imposter had looked so strange to him was because
there was something wrong with him instead of there being something wrong with
everyone else?
The fellas joked all the time that there was something wrong with him; what if
they were right? What if he'd imagined that other voice on the coffee pot? What
if -
It was then that he ran full tilt into Sergeant Shultz, knocking both of them
down.
***
Sergeant Hans Shultz sat on the ground for a long moment, feeling dazed and
wondering what in the world had happened. When he had recovered himself and
realized just how he'd ended up on the ground, he glared at Sergeant Carter,
intending to let the boy have it.
The annoyed tirade died in his throat and his glare disappeared as he took in
the American's appearance. Carter looked more than just winded from falling to
the ground - he looked pale and frightened. Shultz wondered what had spooked the
normally carefree man.
He dragged himself up to his feet and then helped a lightly shaking Carter to
his own. Then knowing - knowing, mind you - that this had to do with some
monkey business that he'd probably be better off not knowing about, he asked
the him what was wrong.
Carter looked up at him, smiling weakly. "You won't believe me."
Returning the smile, Shultz nodded. "You are probably right, but why don't
you tell me anyway?" He took the American's arm and gently started to lead
him back to his barracks as Carter began his tale