THE PHANTOM STRIKES BACK
by
DIANE FARNSWORTH KACHMAR
Lee once again felt the fog...
cold, wet, clinging... enveloping him as
his life ebbed away. Krueger had left
again. Where the German's voice had been
in his mind, there now was only deep paralyzing cold. The whisper no longer controlled him, making
Lee do things he didn't want to do. He
couldn't see, couldn't move. Black
rustling darkness surrounded him. Dimly
he heard voices. Krueger. No, there were two voices, arguing. Nelson. The Admiral wouldn’t leave him here to die.
Crane struggled to open his
eyes, to move, but the darkness remained.
Was he still on the island?
"Kaptain."
That voice made him shiver
uncontrollably. Lee knew it only too
well. Krueger. He had returned from his errand to possess
him once again. No. He wouldn't be pushed aside again. There had to be some way to fight...
"It does you no good to
resist, Kaptain. You are mine and I will
have you."
"No." Lee shook his head vehemently, not knowing
whether it was his voice or his thoughts that formed the words. "I won't go with you. I'll die first."
There was a pause; then
Krueger's voice came back, soft, icily cold.
"You ARE dead, Kaptain. That
is why I have come back for you."
"No." Lee sat bolt upright, the dark fog finally
lifting from his vision. A room hazily
took shape around him. Sick Bay. Seaview. Nelson HAD brought him home.
"Alas, he tried, Kaptain,
but the shock - he
made me leave you once too often. A
mortal body can only take so much ..."
Krueger gestured behind Crane, and Lee turned, his eyes widening in
shock.
He was lying, or at least his
body, was lying in the Sick Bay berth. Unnaturally pale, and so still. Dead?
"Come, Kaptain." Krueger latched onto his arm, his touch
burning like ice. "It is time to
go."
Lee recoiled, pulling his arm
free. "I'm not going anywhere with
you."
"You must,
Kaptain." Krueger smiled. " I have
claimed the right to your soul. You must
come serve my submarine."
"You're mad! I destroyed your U-Boat. I saw her explode."
"No, Kaptain. She merely ceased to exist on your mortal
plane. And now so have you. You have crossed the threshold into my world
now, and you will do as I say."
Against his will, Lee felt
himself being drawn. He steeled himself
against the insidious whisper inside his head.
His body was there on the bed, apparently lifeless; yet he could see,
and hear. "This is wrong. There's been a mistake. I won't go with you."
"But you must,
Kaptain."
The whisper grew stronger,
forcing him to move. No. I can't.
Admiral...
"Nelson can no longer help
you. You are mine."
Lee felt his feet moving. Krueger's will was too strong and he didn't
have the strength to resist. They walked
past Nelson, asleep in the other Sickbay berth, and out of
the room. Jamieson raised his
head from his report as they walked in front of him; but when he looked right
through him, Lee knew he must be dead.
Cold despair filled him, yet
Krueger kept urging him on. Turning in
the corridor, the German walked straight through a bulkhead, heading for the
sea. Lee expected to be brought up
short, but found he passed through the seven inches of steel plate as easily as
his companion. Three more bulkheads and
they had left the submarine behind.
"Come, Kaptain, it grows
late."
Kreuger set off across the open
sea, walking about thirty feet above the ocean floor without a thought for his
surroundings or height. Lee felt his
flesh crawl momentarily but doggedly followed after Krueger. There was no sensation of pressure, or water,
only cold. He had to be dead. There was no way he could defy the laws of
gravity and pressure this way.
Lee smiled wryly. If he wasn't dead, he would be by now, no
suit, no tank. He stopped, feeling his
chest. He wasn't breathing, either. Great. And he certainly wasn't wet. Being dead was turning out to be quite
weird. He also felt no sense of
time. One minute they were walking; the
next the U-444 loomed before them.
"Is she not
beautiful?" Krueger gestured
expansively. "You will serve her
well."
Lee stopped, staring at his new
home in disbelief. There were gaping,
rusted holes in the hull, the deck plates twisted and warped by the
explosions. The hatches were buckled,
the conning tower bent and twisted.
Krueger was mad if he thought he could raise her.
Krueger walked through the
nearest bulkhead, disappearing inside the U-444.
Lee paused. This was insanity. But what other choice did he have? Wander the seas forever in this 'spirit'
existence? He longed for Seaview.
But what could he do there? Walk the corridors unseen, watch his friends
grieve for him, and then get on their lives.
Could he stand to see her commanded by another?
A hand came snaking out from the
bulkhead and closed around his wrist, yanking him toward the submarine. A moment later Lee was
inside the U-444.
"Are you always this
stubborn, Kaptain?" Krueger dropped
his wrist. "We must get
underway."
Lee followed the German up to
the control room. The inside of the sub
was filled with water, but Krueger seemed oblivious to the fish that swam past
his ears. Lee could not feel them, in
time, he supposed, he would get used to it.
The control room was
deserted. Lee was not sure what he had
been expecting. A skeleton or two
perhaps, but then they had probably all returned to the sea after sixty years. The small cramped room bore no resemblance to
Seaview, but the equipment looked somewhat familiar. Lee picked up an archaic is-was plotter from
the navigation table.
"Set course. Bearing 270. Mark 54."
Lee set the coordinates on the
plotter, wondering how Krueger knew them.
The periscope would never rise - not with its cables off track and
underfoot. The ship began to rise. Lee grabbed for the edge of the table as the
bow came up slowly. "Where are we
going?" He turned to Krueger.
"Hunting," was the
German's grim reply.
******
And hunt they did. It did not seem to matter than the U-444 was
in ruins. The controls worked...
somehow. They would stalk and target,
and then destroy. One
long endless game. It became hard
to think in terms of time or reality.
They were hunters in a grand game, and they hunted ghosts. Lee say classes of ships he had only read
about in his history texts.
Krueger was in his element,
shouting orders, and Lee had no choice but to obey. Where could he go? Doomed to an eternity of
fighting. He had never liked
fighting. Was it blind fate or poetic
justice that had so bound his soul to Krueger's? He had killed, but it wasn't his life, and Lee
had never wanted it to be his death.
Krueger had been tracking the
World War II sub for days it seemed. Lee
had remained silent. The German was
going to be outmatched if he persisted to setting up Wahoo as a
target. The old ships had been no match
for U-444, but this was different.
But then, maybe he'd get lucky and Wahoo would release him from
this nightmare existence.
"Fire!" Krueger yelled, and Lee hit the torpedo
firing button.
Krueger began counting. Nothing. The count exceeded the range. Still nothing. A miss. Lee turned to set up the plot again.
The U-444 shook with a
sudden clang. They had been hit. Wahoo had their range. Their forward bulkhead buckled, and U-444 lurched,
her bow dropping. Two more torpedoes
thudded into their side, driving them to the sea floor.
All around him the submarine was
breaking apart. Krueger was still
shouting orders, but Lee refused to obey them.
They were going down. Soon she
would bottom out and the bulkheads would implode in on top of them. He could not die again, but would he cease to
exist now the U-444 was destroyed? Or
would Krueger find another place for them to dwell?
Lee put the plotter down on the
table. Enough was enough. What else could Krueger do to him, he was
already dead.
"Kaptain, you must - " Krueger was
beside him, shoving the plotter into his hands.
"No!" Lee threw the plotter to the deck. "Do what you will, exile me to limbo,
but I won't be your slave!"
Krueger glowered
menacingly. "You will do as I
say!"
Then the sub bottomed out. The bulkheads came crashing inward, knocking
Lee to the deck. Everything went hazy, then the rustling darkness was back. How could a dead person be knocked
unconscious?
"Lee?"
Crane started. That wasn't Krueger's voice.
"Lee?!" the voice
persisted, a strong undercurrent of concern in it. Nelson. What was he doing here? The Admiral was far away on Seaview. It was a trick of Krueger's. He was trying to drive him mad.
Lee did not dare open his
eyes. He did not want to see the
gloating face of the German above him.
"Lee??" Nelson's voice nearly broke, and Crane forced
his eyes open. There was no way Krueger
could duplicate that inflection.
Everything was fuzzy and he
blinked, trying to focus. Lee felt the
pressure on his arms ease, and he was suddenly aware someone had been shaking
him.
"He's with us." Jamieson's voice came from behind his head.
"Thank God." Nelson replied, relief evident in his tired
voice.
Crane turned his head toward
Nelson, and the slight movement set off a fire in his right side. The fuzziness began to spin, and he shut his
eyes against the vertigo, feeling weak and sick. Strong hands gripped his shoulders, raising him
slightly, and Lee felt something - no, someone, sit on the bed and slide in
behind him, bracing him.
"Easy," Jamie
cautioned as the grip around his shoulders tightened.
Lee leaned back gratefully. He knew that touch, the familiar
solidness. The Admiral HAD brought him
home.
"I hope all his thrashing
around hasn't started his wound bleeding again." Jamieson's hand touched his side and the pain
flared. Lee tried not to stiffen, but
his body would not respond.
"Sorry." Doc’s hand lifted, and the pain subsided
slightly. Lee fought to bring his
breathing under control. Crane tried to
open his eyes again. After a moment or
two, the fuzziness cleared, and he saw Jamieson about halfway down the
bed. The Doctor had pulled down his
covers, and was doing something to a large, crimson stained bandage wrapped
around his stomach. It felt like Jamie
was driving a ice pick into his side.
"Steady." Nelson's voice came from behind him. Lee could feel his hands, bracing him through
his sweat soaked sickbay shirt. They
were warm, and the Admiral's voice was calm now, low and reassuring.
Lee glanced up at him, and tried
to smile, to let him know who wonderful it felt to be alive. And to be home. That took all the strength he seemed to have
left, but it was worth it when Nelson met his eyes and the corners of his mouth
turned up in a warm, affectionate smile in return.
Again the pain in his side
flared as Jamie added several strips of gauze to his bandage, and taped them
down.
Lee swallowed hard, trying to
find his voice. Jamieson took out his
stethoscope and laid it on his wrist, listening for a moment, then put it away.
"How --
" The words would not form.
"Don't try to talk,
Lee." Jamie put a restraining hand
on his left arm above the IV.
"You want to tell
him?" Nelson asked.
Doc smiled slightly. "If he can stay awake
that long."
Lee tried to nod, but his head
refused to move. He could only look at
Jamieson.
Jamie gave his arm a reassuring
pat. "You lost a lot of blood
before the Admiral finally got you back here yesterday,
in fact it took me all night to get you stable enough to remove the bullet."
Lee's eyes widened as he
realized the passage of time.
Doc shrugged. "After that we could only hope you were
strong enough to come out of it."
Jamieson's eyes narrowed.
"That was some nightmare."
"It's all right, Lee. Krueger's gone. Lani took him with her."
"I --
" Lee forced out the words
out. "I --
thought -- I was -- dead."
"No chance," Nelson
replied. "You only kept us up all
night worrying."
Lee shifted his gaze back to the
Admiral. "Again?"
To his relief, Nelson and the
Doctor laughed.
"C'mon, Harry." Jamie pushed off the bed. "He needs to rest." The CMO scowled down at Crane. "No more nightmares."
"Yes --
Jamie." Lee was too tired to
argue. Nelson eased him back prone on
the bed, and Jamieson pulled the covers back up. He was safe here, they would look after
him. Krueger would not get him
here.
******
Jamieson walked quietly over the
storage cabinet. "He'll be all
right, now he knows where he is."
"What did you call that - a
regression nightmare?"
"Yes. Having Krueger take him over must have upset
him more than we realized. I'll talk to
him about it when he's stronger, help him."
"That
Krueger. I hope he's gone to hell
for good."
"She promised you, didn't she."
"Yes."
"Then let it go." Doc put the gauze roll back in the
cabinet. "C'mon, I'm starved. Let's go eat supper." Will swung the cabinet closed and left. Harry followed him.
******
The
mirror on the cabinet reflected back the now quiet Sick Bay. Frank sat at the desk; writing. The Captain was sleeping, his chest rising
slightly with each breath.
The surface of the mirror
shimmered, then the outline of a man took shape. Short, slightly on the stocky side, dressed
in a black jacket and German Naval Officers' cap.
Crane shifted in his sleep,
tossing restlessly, and Frank rose from the desk. The image in the mirror smiled, then laughed quietly.
"So you think you have won,
Nelson. Your love was stronger than my
will and you managed to snatch him back.
But I have time. One day, when
your guard is down, I shall take him.
Then he will be mine forever."
The mirror shimmered, and the
German's image faded away.
Crane
subsided, burrowing back into his pillow, and after a brief examination, Frank
resumed his seat. Nothing
out of the ordinary. The corpsman
shrugged. Must be the
pain. He’d make a note of it and
let Doc decide whether Crane needed more medication.
The worst of it was over for the
Captain, he would recover. It had been
close, but then that was nothing new. It
had a wild couple of days, something to write home about. Frank looked down at the report. Then again, maybe not...
*****
The End?