You Think That'll Work? - Chapter 35
It wasn't much of a plan... but it was all they had
The fire had burned low, leaving only the occasional snap beneath the ash.
Lina sat stiff-backed near the hearth, hands gripping the stool’s edge. Her eyes, dry from fatigue, were fierce in the firelight.
“Damn cold,” Jakob muttered, grabbing a log from the stack. He tossed it onto the coals; sparks jumped as flames stirred to life, casting flickering light across the room.
His pistol rested on the table beside him, its worn grip catching the fire’s restless dance—a quiet reminder of the danger already at their door.
Max shifted near the hearth with a soft huff, ears twitching at some distant sound only he heard.
At the table, Gerhard hunched over a stained rag — a burlap strip torn from a sack of spoiled grain outside. He smeared it with a mix of ash and something darker—blackberry preserves thinned with water, the rag stiff with flecks of straw pressed into the mess. The smell curled through the kitchen’s warmth—sharp, sour, like sickness clinging to heat.
Jakob watched in silence until he couldn’t hold back. “That’s all you’ve got? A bit of burlap and muck?”
He drew deeply on his pipe, then scoffed, “Bah, that’s supposed to be a man?”
Gerhard didn’t look up. “Just enough of one.”
Lina’s brow furrowed, her shoulders rising with the kind of tension that clings like smoke. “It’s not even cloth from a uniform or a soldier’s… ”
Jakob remained standing across from Gerhard, arms crossed, eyes narrowing. “What if they ain’t fooled? What if they dig and find nothing but old rags and rotted fruit?”
Gerhard’s steady gaze met Jakob’s. “Then we hope their pride outweighs their suspicion. And if it doesn’t — we run.”
Jakob grunted with disbelief. “Not much of a plan.” He turned toward the dark windowpane, where the night crowded the glass. “You’ve seen what a mob will do once it gets blood in its teeth.”
Lina gasped softly, her face paling as if the words had cut through the stale air.
Jakob didn’t look at her. “If they think we lied, they won’t stop at one rope.”
“It’s all we’ve got,” Gerhard said, twisting the burlap into a crude bundle, tying it off with twine. “We’ll bury it deep enough that it takes effort to check. Add some blood if we can — pig, maybe. Something that’ll stink fast. It only needs to hold up until they walk away.”
Jakob pulled out his chair and sank into it with a grunt, elbows hitting the table, pipe clenched between his teeth. “If they’re coming back, we’d better pray your plan’s more than smoke and splinters — or none of us walks.”
Lina rose from the stool stiffly, jaw locked and fingers curling into fists at her sides as she wore a slow path across the room. The soft scrape of her shoes on the floorboards punctuated the tension.
Gerhard said nothing. He was already on his feet, crossing toward the hatch.
Johann shifted uneasily, arms crossed. “You really believe they’ll be back at first light?”
Gerhard paused at the open hatch, hand resting on the rough wood. “I’d bet the farm on it.”
Silence fell heavy, broken only by the sharp crack of Jakob banging his pipe against the table to empty it.
The firelight played across Lina’s face, shadows stretching long over the floor. The weight of what had happened in the village lay on her like a sack of wet grain—inescapable, and entirely of her own making. If only I had kept my mouth shut, she thought.
Jakob leaned forward, pipe clenched tight in his teeth, voice sharp as a blade. “What if they dig up something we didn’t see coming? That damn uniform—someone could’ve laid eyes on it. Or worse—carried it straight to the wrong doorstep.”
“Maybe it’s still hidden,” Johann said, trying to hold onto hope.
Jakob’s voice rose, splintered with agitation. “Hell, if someone’s already found that damn uniform, we’re all riding for the noose. The whole blasted village knows—and don’t think it’s not because of loose lips.”
Lina stopped suddenly, eyes fixed on the floor, jaw tight, swallowing words she couldn’t say.
Johann’s gaze darted to Gerhard, anxiety tightening his chest. “I was in a hurry that night. I thought I hid it well enough, but… maybe I didn’t.”
Gerhard’s jaw tightened, the weight of Johann’s words settling in. He didn’t stop his slow descent down the cellar steps. “We can’t change what’s been done. We prepare for what comes next.”
Jakob snorted, the sound sharp as a snapped twig in the silence. “Prepare to bury our necks in the dirt.”
Lina’s breath hitched, a dry gasp catching in her throat like she’d swallowed wrong. “We’ve risked everything hiding him here. If they find out… ”
Jakob’s chair scraped harshly against the floor, breaking the tension. He jabbed a finger toward her, voice low but fierce. “You’re the one who ran her mouth in town. You think they just wandered out here for the scenery?”
Lina’s face flushed, shame and fear washing over her. “I didn’t —”
“Didn’t mean to?” Jakob spat, eyes flashing. “Well, it’s done. And now we’re patching together a grave with jam and rags.”
Gerhard’s footsteps echoed as he returned from the cellar. Without looking up, he resumed his place at the table, voice rising with finality. “Enough. It won’t help us now.”
Lina muttered under her breath, barely audible, “Wouldn’t have come to this if people had just listened to me.”
Jakob snorted again. “That’s the trouble — they did listen. Too damn well.”
Johann shifted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Do you think… it’ll work? That they’ll believe it?”
Gerhard sank deeper in his chair. “That’s the truth we’ll bury.”
Outside, the wind pressed hard against the shutters. Max stood again, padded across the floor with nails clicking faintly. He sniffed at the bottom of the door, ears twitching, then settled back down with a low chuff.
The fire still burned steady, casting flickering shadows over the rough wooden table where the burlap dummy lay like a grim joke.
Lina’s voice broke the silence, tight and brittle. “Where are we supposed to bury it? Right outside the door?”
Jakob’s gaze darted to the dark window, where the night pressed close against the glass. “We take it to the woods. Away from the house. Put it where a man might’ve crawled off to die.”
Gerhard shook his head slowly, the lines on his face hardening. “Too risky. That scout’s still out there watching us.”
Lina’s arms stiffened, fingers curling into her skirt. “So we dig a grave here? Let him watch us?”
Jakob’s pipe hung loosely from his teeth. His spit hit the floor as his eyes narrowed with grim resolve. “Then we kill the scout. Bury him.”
Lina gasped.
Johann stared, stunned. “You’d — you’d just kill him?”
Gerhard’s gaze sharpened, his voice cutting through the quiet like a knife. “And then what? If he disappears, they’ll know something’s wrong. That scout’s their eyes and ears. Killing him won’t bury the trouble — it’ll raise it.”
Jakob grunted as he sat back in his chair.
“No,” Gerhard continued. “Bodies like that we don’t need. You kill a man in a uniform, even a quiet one, and the whole damn company comes looking for blood.”
Resignation edged Lina’s words. “They’ll come anyway if they catch us burying jam and straw.”
Jakob tugged his jaw, a grim laugh slipping out. “So we got nothing. No proof he’s dead, no body they’ll believe, and no way to dig without someone watching.”
Max growled low by the door where he lay curled tight. Every head turned toward him.
No one spoke — until Jakob slammed a fist on the table. “Then what—wait here ‘til they come string us up like dogs?”
Gerhard’s jaw tightened as he leaned forward, eyes dark with resolve. “We survive. We make them believe what we need them to. That’s the only chance we’ve got.”
“We could say he was fevered — dying. We didn’t know what else to do,” Lina said.
Gerhard shook his head. “They’ll ask why we didn’t tell them. Why we didn’t bring them to the grave when they were here earlier.”
Jakob’s jaw tightened. “Then we lie better.”
Johann took a shaky breath, eyes dropping briefly before looking back at the crude dummy. His voice cracked as he said, “Maybe…maybe it’s better if they want to believe. If they want to see a body, they’ll see this one.”
Gerhard’s tired eyes fixed on the makeshift figure. “It needs to stink — badly. Enough to turn their stomachs so they don’t dig deeper. Not the truth, but the wanting to believe.”
“You think the smell will fool them?” Lina asked, the faintest trace of hope breaking through.
Gerhard didn’t look up. “No. But maybe that’s enough — maybe they’ll want to believe it.”
