By Monkey

Chapter 35

Freezing Death

     As they drove along the forest track in their hijacked German armored car Jones turned to Vadoma, “Take over!” He shouted, and motioned to the controls for the vehicle. 

     Vadoma seemed unsure of herself, but nonetheless slipped over into the driver’s side, pushed her foot down on the accelerator, and took over the wheel as Jones crawled back up to the gun emplacement.  He swung the weapon around so that it was aiming straight back and opened fire at the Nazis behind them.

     Simple physics dictated that Indiana Jones in the lead vehicle would have more success in a running gun battle than would his pursuer; and this was indeed the case.  Jones opened up with a sustained volley.  The twin barrels once more spat fire.  Jones swung the weapon back and forth in a small arc knowing that at the range he was firing, accuracy would be a matter of luck anyway.

     Enough of his bullets spattered off the front of the SS vehicle to disrupt the driver.  The Nazi swerved first to one side, and then to the other, and then finally off of the road entirely.  The armored car bounced and bucked through some rough terrain before bounding back up on to the road again.  It wasn’t much, but it bought a little more time for the pair of fugitives.

     Once again though, the staccato crackling of their pursuers’ machine gun rent the air.  After a few more moments they began to find the range and bullets spattered off of the steel armored skirt of Jones’ vehicle.  Again the archaeologist returned fire.  His gun barrels spit fire for a brief moment, but then went silent.

     He was out of ammunition.

      “Shit!” Jones cursed and searched around in the gun emplacement for more bullets.

     His eyes fell on a large wooden box with a padlock on it.  Indiana Jones reached into his pocket and pulled out his Webley handgun.  He fired point blank at the lock and a moment later was pulling out a new belt of ammo to load into the armored car’s machine gun.  Also inside the ammunition box were three submachine guns and a handful of ‘potato masher’ stick grenades.

     Indy fumbled with the belt of bullets and struggled to figure out how to load the weapon while Vadoma kept the armored car moving at its highest rate of speed down the straight, flat roadway with steely determination.

     But the pursuing vehicle was now gaining considerably on them.  It let loose with a torrent of machine gun bullets.  They were now close enough so that the Nazi gunner could ‘walk’ his bullets up the road until they found their true mark.  This he did, and small fountains of earth began to explode up the road, creeping inexorably closer to Jones and Vadoma’s armored vehicle.

     Indiana Jones saw it coming.  He threw down the belt of ammunition and leaped back over into the front of the car.  Jones wrenched the wheel from Vadoma and jerked it to the right.  The evasive maneuver was a split second ahead of the stream of bullets, which stitched their way past them to the left.  Then Indy repeated the maneuver again to the left and watched the ground to their right burst forth with small clods of dusty road soil.

     He zigzagged again but the Nazi had ceased firing.  Maybe he was reloading too, Jones thought, and jumped back up to the gun.  He picked up the belt of ammo momentarily, but then threw it back down. He didn’t have time right now to figure out how to load the unfamiliar weapon.  Instead he reached for some of the grenades.

     Jones had no way of knowing how long the fuses in these grenades were set for and so he just pulled the pin in one of them and tossed it off on to the road behind them.  He watched and waited, and waited….. Finally the grenade exploded, but it exploded behind their pursuers.

     Jones pulled another pin, but this time he held on to the grenade.

     “One, two, three, four, five,” at five seconds he tossed it.

     Once again the grenade exploded behind the Nazi car, and failed to have any effect.  Then the SS gunner opened fire again.  Once again his bullets stitched their way up the road towards Jones and Vadoma. 

     Jones pulled the pins on two grenades and held them for a count of seven, grimacing as he counted, and hoping that the factory that produced them practiced strict quality control.  Then he let them fly.  Two and a half seconds later dual explosions burst directly in front of the Nazi vehicle and sent it off the road where it slammed into a tree.

     Jones fell back against the steel plating of the gun emplacement, breathing heavily and wiping sweat that dripped from his forehead despite the chilly temperatures and the rushing wind.  He jumped back down next to Vadoma but let her continue to drive, exhausted as he was from the battle just concluded.

     In a moment they passed a fork in the road.  To the right the road went upwards, to the left it remained straight and flat.  Jones said nothing to Vadoma, instead trusting in her knowledge of the terrain, or maybe in her gypsy abilities to find her way to the lake.  Whichever it was she stayed to the left and continued on the flat road.  A few moments later the other pursuing vehicle, the truck full of SS men which was considerably behind them, came to the fork, but they chose the road on the right.

     Jones and Vadoma continued for some distance, and a few minutes along the relatively straight flat roadway before it began to change into an upward incline.  As they drove along they presented somewhat of a bizarre picture.  Excepting the heavy machine-gun equipped armored vehicle, they looked incongruously enough like nothing more than just some happy young couple out for a Sunday drive in the country.

     Their speed was somewhat reduced by the hill, but the little armored vehicle chugged along steadily nonetheless.  Indiana Jones knew that the only chance they had was to make it across the lake to Switzerland as quickly as possible.  He knew that he’d killed at least a few, and maybe a lot, of the SS soldiers, and to be captured now would most certainly mean a quick ...or worse, a slow death for both of them.  Either way, if they were to make it out of Germany alive they’d better hurry up and find the lake.

     After another minute they crested the hill and there, about five hundred feet of twisting road below them, lay Lake Constance.  Jones could see clearly across its eight mile stretch of icy water to the snow clad mountains of Switzerland beyond.

      “There it is!” he shouted excitedly and pointed.  Then his eyes surveyed the mountainous, switchback road below them, “take it slow and easy,” he said to Vadoma.

     She slowed the vehicle down and began to descend the roadway.  As they rounded the first bend Indiana Jones saw something that made his heart race.  There was a road junction where a paved roadway joined on to the mountain track that they now descended.  Barreling down this paved roadway towards them was the Nazi truck full of SS soldiers.

      “Step on it!” He shouted to Vadoma even as small arms fire began pelting down on them from behind and ricocheting off of the armor plating of their car.

     Jones hoped that they could outrun the more clumsy and cumbersome truck on the rugged, descending mountain road.  But he wasn’t taking any chances.  He reached over, grabbed one of the three submachine guns and aimed backward to return the fire from the SS truck.

     The two vehicles engaged in a running battle.  Jones was outgunned, but neither could get a clear shot as they both bounced and bucked along the rough road.  He held down the trigger and kept up a steady stream of return fire at the Nazis while Vadoma kept her eyes focused on the road ahead, hoping that they could reach the lake before a lucky shot from behind found its mark.  Indiana Jones fired the submachine gun until the last round was spent and then tossed the weapon to the floor of the vehicle.

     Vadoma reached the next switchback bend in the road and turned.  They were particularly vulnerable at this point since the Nazi truck was in effect, right above them.  Mauser rounds rained down on them as Jones and Vadoma crouched as low as possible in the front of the car.  Vadoma struggled to keep control of the armored vehicle while at the same time trying to avoid being shot.

     A moment later the Nazi truck made an audacious move to try and cut off their escape completely.  In a daring ploy the driver suddenly turned to the left, went off the road, and came barreling down the small hill that separated the two parallel stretches of switchback road.  In a few seconds the truck would be able to cut off the path of the fleeing archaeologist and gypsy girl completely.

     The large, lumbering vehicle bounded clumsily down the side of the hill like some kind of huge mechanized beast fanatically pursuing its prey.  But the fanatical move was just a bit too much, and in a stroke of luck for Jones and Vadoma the truck flipped over on to its side before it reached the road and could cut them off.  Nazi soldiers spilled out of the back of the capsized truck like rag dolls.

     But some of the rag dolls got up and ran on to the roadway in front of Jones and Vadoma. 

     Vadoma threw a nervous look at Jones, “Indy, what should I do?!”

      “Keep going! Run them down!” He shouted as their car sped towards the fanatical SS men, “but keep your head down!”

     There were about a half dozen soldiers standing in the roadway as Vadoma depressed the accelerator and prepared to ram the human blockade in front of them.

     A few seconds later they drove through.

     Hands reached out for them and grasped at the passing vehicle.  One of the soldiers jumped on to the side and held on with one hand, while with his other he fought with Vadoma for control of the wheel.

      “Indy!” She screamed.

     Jones quickly stood up and landed a solid punch into the jaw of the SS man who slipped off, but still held tightly to the steering wheel as he dragged alongside.  Vadoma leaned forward and bit down hard with her teeth into the white knuckles that gripped the wheel eliciting a scream which faded as the fanatic released his grip and tumbled to the side of the road.

     While Vadoma was getting rid of Nazi rider number one, Indiana Jones turned to see that two more SS soldiers had managed to jump on to the back of their armored car and were now climbing up into the gun turret behind him.

     Jones wasted no time.  He climbed up into the turret himself and grabbed hold of the twin machine gun.  He swung the weapon around and caught one of the Nazis hard in the chest with the barrels of it.  The man was swept off of the car like a piece of unwanted rubbish and tumbled back down on to the road.  But the second man had managed to climb up into the turret and now stood facing Indiana Jones with a wicked looking SS dagger clutched in his hand.

     Jones reached into his pocket for his Webley as Vadoma continued speeding down the mountain track.  He raised his weapon to fire but was too slow and the Nazi kicked the gun out of his hand.  Indy watched as it tumbled down under the front seat.

     He turned back in time to see the man lunge at him with the razor sharp weapon.  Jones evaded the thrust with a quick sidestep followed by a right uppercut that caught the Nazi under the jaw.  The man staggered backward and reached out to grasp hold of the machine gun to keep from falling.  His fingers gripped into the bolt action of the gun.  Indiana Jones saw his chance to exploit the moment.

     In a flash of inspiration he brought his foot up and used his boot to ram the bolt of the machine gun forward.  The metal edges of the bolt action severed all four of the Nazi’s fingers no less effectively than a guillotine.  The SS man let out a high pitched, ear piercing shriek as he held up the bloody stumps and stared with unbelieving eyes at the new, fingerless configuration of his right hand.

     Indiana Jones terminated the scream with a well placed blow straight to the face that knocked the Nazi fanatic backwards.  He tumbled off the side of the armored car and down on to the roadway to join the rest of his comrades.

     Vadoma turned around the last switchback bend in the road.  It was now just a straight shot to the lake and she accelerated the vehicle.  Jones looked back to see a handful of Nazi soldiers still running after them on foot; all that were left in any condition to do so.  They were far behind, and falling further, but Indiana Jones knew that it was still a race against time to get across the lake.

      “Where is the boat?!” Vadoma shouted to him.

      “What boat?!” Indiana Jones shouted back with a wry look on his face.

      “The boat!  The boat that’s going to take us across the lake.!” She asked again.

     Jones shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t know!  Just drive until you see one!”

     She cast a nervous glance over at him and kept on driving.

     They had now entered the outlying area of the town of Friedrichshafen.  They were on the shore of Lake Constance, or rather the main road that ran along the shore of the lake.  As they rode along both Jones and Vadoma kept scanning their eyes, looking for any suitable water craft to get them out of Germany and across to Switzerland; anything would do, as long as it was fast, and would stay afloat across the eight miles of frigid alpine lake water.

      “That will do just fine!” Jones shouted above the sound of the armored car’s engine and pointed at a small wharf where two speed boats were tied up.

     Vadoma slowed and turned the vehicle down a small road in the direction of the wharf.  When they got there a few moments later they both jumped out, abandoning the car with the engine still running.

      “Which one?”  Vadoma asked as she surveyed the two boats.

      “Whichever one starts first,” Jones answered, “I’ll try this one you try that one.”

     The engines of both of the identical watercraft turned over with a push of their starters.  Indiana Jones then suddenly jumped out of his boat, ran back over to the armored car momentarily and climbed up into the turret.  He retrieved the two loaded submachine guns and three stick grenades that were still left in the wooden ammo box.  Then he climbed back into the front and fished his Webley out from under the seat.  Finally he ran back over to the two boats whose engines latently purred with the promise of getting the two fugitives across the lake to safety.

     Jones bent down and untied the lines to the boat on his side of the wharf and then stood up.  He shot a glance back up toward the road to see a handful of SS soldiers running towards them.  The cracking reports of a couple of far off Mauser shots rent the cold air as well.

      “Which boat Indy?!” Vadoma shouted as she stood back up on the wharf and saw the approaching soldiers.

     Jones casually pulled the pin on one of the stick grenades and tossed it into the boat on Vadoma’s side, “The one without the hand grenade in it,” he answered as he pulled her over to his side and they both jumped into the other boat.

     Indiana Jones pushed the throttle forward.  The craft lurched ahead; its powerful inboard engine propelled the pair out on to the placid, ice cold surface of the lake and towards the mountains of Switzerland in the distance.

     A few moments later the grenade exploded.  The other speed boat was blasted to pieces.  Fragments and splinters rained down on the lake and on the frustrated SS troopers who ran down the wharf taking their last pot shots at the departing archaeologist and gypsy girl who’d inflicted such a punishing defeat on them.

As they sped across the lake Indiana Jones glanced back at the growing distance between them and the nation of Germany behind them.  He closed his eyes and laid his head back for a moment.  They’d done it!  They’d made it! 

     Neither said a word as the boat bounded along across the surface of the lake accompanied by the powerful sound of the inboard engine.  Both were still somewhat in a state of shock; and of course Vadoma still had to deal with the emotional issue of the death of her sister.

     At least they’d made it out of Germany alive.

     A metallic, droning sound suddenly charged the alpine air around them.  Indiana Jones scanned his eyes around the lake in all directions but saw nothing.  Then he looked skyward and his heart leapt into his throat.

     A Messerschmitt Me-109 fighter plane was descending on them like an angry hornet directly from the rear.  The airplane was maneuvering into position for a kill. Indiana Jones took immediate action and spun the boat’s wheel alternately to the left and then to the right; putting them into a zigzag pattern.  But it was a futile gesture.  With the speed of the plane, and the immense flat expanse of lake water upon which the boat traversed, they were like fish in a fishbowl.  There was nowhere to run.

     The Me-109 cut loose with its well aimed, twenty millimeter cannons.  Indy watched as fountains of water kicked up in a line directly for the boat.  There was no chance.

     A second later the bullets tore into the wooden craft, piercing the engine and chopping huge holes in the deck.  Splinters flew and fire shot out from the engine compartment as Jones and Vadoma threw themselves against the side of the crippled boat and waited for the maelstrom of bullets to pass; hoping they’d be alive when it did.

     Eventually the plane passed overhead; seemingly flying just barely above the water line and close enough so that the two fugitives could actually feel the heat of the airplane’s engine exhaust as it passed.

     Miraculously neither of them had been wounded, but the boat was destroyed. The engine had died, and was on fire.  But even worse, they were rapidly sinking.  The frigid lake water poured in through the huge holes blasted in the hull and swirled around their feet.  The boat was angling up at the bow and quietly slipping into the icy lake.

     As the water reached up past her ankles and towards her knees Vadoma turned to Jones, “Indy, it’s……freezing!”

     Indiana Jones felt helpless.  He knew they wouldn’t last more than a minute in the freezing water.  Frantically he searched around the lake, but they were utterly alone. He looked over at Vadoma but could find no words to say.

      “Indy, hold me!”  Vadoma cried out in a wailing voice, a voice that knew that the end was only a matter of seconds away.

     Jones reached out for her and took her in his arms even as the water surged higher and the boat slipped lower into the freezing lake.

     At least they could die in each others arms.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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