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Petra saw red and felt only pain as she ran toward the hotel. She could hear the victim's screams of terror, as they were herded like cattle into the gas chamber. She could hear the wails as the doors clanged shut and the darkness crowded in on everyone. She could see fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, huddled together, trying to extract the last drop of human comfort from each other before their lives were cruelly snatched from them. She could see the monsters gloating in their inhumane work, and she could see her poor mother, alone and unwanted by anyone around her, not knowing what was about to happen to her. All she had wanted were her husband and sons to come home, but the Nazis had taken them from her as surely as they had taken her own life.
Petra felt alone in the world.
Her mother's face filled her mind and all she could see was the choking anguish on that face as the gas did its pitiful work. All that she felt was hate as she tore into the hotel's ancient games room that was now doubling as a guardroom. No one was there; she searched the lockers and found what she wanted. She picked up the heavy Smith & Wesson pistol and moved out down the corridor, turning left, turning right and then Petra could hear her mother’s voice, and she followed where she was led. She could hear other voices too, German, Ukraine and English. As she approached the laundry room, Petra held the gun behind her with her right hand, wiped her tear-stained face with her left and smiled.
Private Hatton turned as Petra approached and he smiled. Before he could say anything, the pistol hit the side of his head. The prisoners all turned as one at the sound and Petra smiled. "Good evening."
Four shots rang out, there was a screaming maelstrom of Ukraine and German pleas for mercy, and cries of agony coming from the laundry room as Monroe raced through the door. With his Colt .45 at the ready, the Colonel took in all he saw in an instant, dropped low and bowled Petra over as shot number 5 echoed into the room. Petra fell heavily hitting her head and the gun skidded from her hand, sliding across the floor and stopping at the feet of a burly Ukrainian. The man stood transfixed, looking at the weapon. Meanwhile, Petra was lying partly across Monroe's back and he himself was face down on the floor. Petra was not moving. Monroe was looking across the floor at three bodies, and one more huddled in the corner, gasping and mewing like a cat, holding a bloodied hand to his head. It was then that Monroe noticed Petra’s gun at the big Ukrainian’s feet. Monroe looked up and could see the Ukrainian was shocked. Then, he looked at Monroe, at the gun, back at Monroe and his course of action was decided.
"No," Monroe shouted.
Too late, the gun was in the big man’s hand and being cocked, ready to fire.
A split-second was all Monroe had, and he fired.
The man screamed as Monroe's heavy calibre .45 bullet tore into the Ukrainian’s foot, almost cutting it in two between the two middle toes, tearing into his shin before burying itself in the wall behind.
The Ukrainian sobbed from the agonizing pain in his foot and dropped to his knees, then rolled onto his back, the gun clattering to the floor. Monroe shook off Petra's inert body and retrieved the gun.
"Good Shot, Davy Crocket would be proud of my friend."
Geshenko smacked Monroe on the back as he passed him and dipped down to check on Petra.
"A wildcat, Da? Calamity Jane! She was good shot too I read this somewhere. Winded and stunned but she will be ok."
Reid arrived next and was shocked by the scene. Jamie came in a close fourth.
"Jesus," who did this.
Private Hatton was sat to one side holding his head where Petra had swiped him with the Smith & Wesson. "She did, and she used your gun, Major."
Reid picked up his gun and turned it over in his hands. "Why on earth would she do this?"
Jamie sighed. "I told her."
"Yes, about what's buried, but..."
"Her Mother was taken away by the Nazis. A neighbour mentioned a camp," Jamie’s voice trailed off.
"And you did not think she would get a little annoyed with these gentlemen?"
"Yes, but well, I thought she had a right to know."
"And we too have a right to know. We have a right to know where this damn Punkt des Adlers is, but now we’ll never find..."
"Punkt des Adlers, Ja," a voice sobbed.