Wesley Julian: Omega: War and the Supernatural

Upon my return to Amsterdam, I asked about the girl. No one knew her. No one knew the haunting girl I saw. No one called me crazy for seeing her, but they could not verify that she existed.

The third time I went out to kill, I did not see her. I took position in a window by the river to eliminate a Nazi captain. It was dark, dreary, and the wind fired unpredictable blasts. The shot was two hundred yards away. I scoped my target. I searched for the girl, but did not find her. This worried me. She was not there to give me her deathly nod. I knew that I would have to do this myself, so I thought through the mathematics and adjusted my aim to the wind. In a sharp exhale, I loosed the bullet. The shot dove wide and missed; no time to try again. I dropped the rifle and bolted.

Each time I killed, I saw the girl. I could not explain her, but I did not want to. She was my good luck charm and I did not want to spoil her. When she revealed herself, I felt a rare pleasure, and my targets died. When she did not, I did not even fire my rifle. Schalkwijk demanded to know why I would not shoot, but I dared not reveal my secret. He berated me, but I ignored him. He did not understand. He could not. He did not have to. I killed more Nazis than anyone else.

After the death of a dozen officers, renown spread for the mysterious marksman. They posted a bounty for even a hint of who I might be. I became a legendary thorn in the Nazi backside. They called me the Whisper; I heard them speak of me. As much as I hated them, I loved to sit near the Nazi guards and listen to them. The rumors were ludicrous. Some said that I was a riflemen brought in from the orient, others that I was the precursor to an American invasion.

I am none of these but, to them, I am all of these.

But it did not last. My biggest target came as one Colonel Hans Heinrich Hemmelstoff, an expert on extinguishing movements such as ours. Hemmelstoff proved himself repeatedly, He brutally eliminated resistances across northern France and, finally, they brought him in to the Netherlands. They brought him in to silence the Whisper with the deafening eagle’s call.

He needed to die and it was my duty to harbinge his death.

The first task was to plan the kill. Information is power and we needed all we could get. Our agents placed themselves around the city to learn as much as possible. It did not take us long to learn that Hemmelstoff stayed at the hotel on the north side of the city where he had also set up his command center. Occasionally, he ate at one of the nearby restaurants, but mostly he kept out of sight. Each night, however, he had the nerve to frequent the Tipsy Bride, my favorite bar. The bartender and I were good friends and he gave us clues vital to my hunt. We established a routine. Problem was, Hemmelstoff kept himself well-guarded and finding opportunity for a hit proved difficult.

After a week, he hardened his patrols. We lost two safehouses and eleven men in just five days. All of them were executed without trial. Two of the men killed were not even with us. Hemmelstoff rewarded any who ratted us out and many did. There were some, like me, however, who only took this as a challenge. We worked with redoubled efforts to be the deepest dagger in the heart of the darkest evil. There was no window to target Hemmelstoff himself, so we hunted down and murdered his subordinates. And each time I did, she was there. Luck held fast. I eliminated three lieutenants and a major without missing. Each time I killed, she was there.

Finally, we caught our window. An informant revealed that Hemmelstoff planned to inspect a barracks outside of his normal routine. To do this, he would have to pass through an area overlooked by the same southern bell tower from my first kill. It was perfect. The night before, I set up a rope and climbed to the top of the tower. All night, I waited.

Rarely did my thoughts leave the girl. I realized that I did not know her face, but I knew her. I would recognize her anywhere. In a way, I loved her, but not in the way you are thinking. It was not that I was infatuated by her or enraptured by her beauty. Believe me when I say that she truly was beautiful. She was beautiful in a fantastic noir and irresistible shadow. In her, I saw the death of my enemies, the hope of freedom for my country, my family, and I saw the chance that I might live despite the danger. So to her I clung, for I loved her as I love my life.

When the sun fixed to the morning sky, Schalkwijk gave the signal from below that Hemmelstoff was on his way. I then made sure all was ready to kill. I opened the bolt on my rifle and saw a brass tube; the spit of death lay in wait. The scope was set exactly as it should be and I did all I could in mental preparation. There was nothing left but to wait for the colonel and for the girl.

A troop of Nazi soldiers marched down the road in parallel formation. At least a dozen passed before I saw Hemmelstoff. There was no girl. He suddenly cried out in German. The soldiers stopped. He stood still. The shot was perfect, but I did not fire, for she was not there. The colonel turned and faced me. He looked right up at the bell tower. The bastard knew I was there, but I did not fire because she was not there. Smugly, he grinned. Anger coursed through me at his arrogance. I met his challenge. I had to. Without seeing the girl, I squeezed my trigger and the rifle clicked. My rifle refused my commands. I looked back down the scope and watched a pair of soldiers drag Schalkwijk to the colonel. Hemmelstoff looked back up at me, drew his pistol and, without removing his gaze from my position, put a bullet through Schalkwijk’s brain.

I made not a sound. I set down my rifle and crawled to my rope. The colonel shouted orders and boots shuffled. They came for me. I threw down the line and descended, but I moved too quickly and slipped fifteen feet and slammed onto the cobbled street. My foot hit first, but it surrendered and twisted away at the ankle. I may have screamed, but I would rather say that I did not. I needed to keep my silence unbroken.

I tried to stand, but fell on my face. My ankle shot in pain. It denied all weight. But I had to move. Using the wall, I balanced myself and hobbled forward on one foot.

I looked ahead. Before me was a large building: a bakery with three floors of apartments above it. I knew I could hide there. As I limped, I glanced to my left and saw the Nazis; still about two hundred yards away. They saw me and they fired. Bullets sliced the air around me. One struck me in the shoulder. I lost balance, but managed to push myself forward until my body collided with the wall by the bakery door. I screamed in pain.

To my surprise, the bakery door opened for me. A voice from inside, a shadowed feminine voice said, “Come in! Quickly!”

I obeyed without reservation. I pulled myself inside and came face to face with the girl from my kills. Her hair and clothing were both dark, as I described before, but finally I saw her face as well. She was gorgeous, but indescribably so. I gasped, “You!”

“Yes.” She helped me move through the bakery towards the back of the store. “Come, we must hurry.”

“Where are we going?” I asked. I followed her lead and dared not challenge her. She kept me alive this long.

“Up,” she said. The girl opened a door, revealing a flight of stairs. “You need to climb.”

“I — I don’t know if I can.” I put my hand on my loudly throbbing shoulder.

“You must,” she insisted. “I will help you.”

I put my arm around her shoulder and she supported me. I grabbed the railing with my free hand and used it to pull myself up the stairs. Her strength surprised me. Her frame was slender, but certainly not frail. One would not expect a girl of her stature to sustain a grown man as I. But she did. I asked, “Why were you not there? I could have killed him!”