North Reich by Robert Conroy Page A

situation.   "At least it's a nice day for a ride," she said.
           Alicia managed a smile and admitted that it was.   In a couple of weeks it would be Christmas, and the day was cold and bright.   There were rumors that it might even snow, which would be a small miracle in Virginia.   It snowed, but not that often and rarely around Christmas.   When she got back to her quarters, she'd find some brandy, medicinal of course, take to her bed and feel sorry for herself.   Maybe she'd get lost in her violin.   She hadn't played it in several days and was worried that she'd lose what skills she had.   Someday the war with Japan would be over, and she could go back to teaching, unless, of course, America was also at war with Germany, which seemed increasingly likely.
           Wilkins and Henry picked up on her lousy mood and left her alone, quietly talking about football while she sat in the back seat with the pouch and sulked.   She did like football, but her University of Virginia wasn't playing, so her interest was limited.   She recalled that Wilkins had a couple of sisters, so maybe he understood her problem.   She put her head against the window and thought about taking a nap.   At least this morning she didn't have to go to any effort to make herself look plain.   Her period and the attendant bloating took care of that.   She would have to apologize to the two corporals for being such a grumpy bitch.
           The road from Camp Washington to the Pentagon was two lanes and paved for most of the way.   It was lined with trees and bushes where there weren't stately homes and quaint villages.   It was really beautiful rolling hill country.   There wasn't much traffic, so they were making good time.
    She was just wondering how much a house in the area would cost when a truck suddenly entered the road in front of them and stopped.   Wilkins swore and slammed on the brakes, hurling Alicia and Henry forward.   Henry's head hit the dashboard with a terrible thud and Alicia slammed into the seat in front of her.   Pain knifed through from her nose.   Dazed, she was dimly aware of men getting out of the truck and wondering why they wore masks while her world spun.   They tried to yank the doors open, but they were locked.   What was going on?   Her mind began to clear and she realized that this was all terribly wrong.  
    One of the men took a pistol from his belt and smashed the driver's side window with the butt.   He reached in, opened the door, and yanked an inert Wilkins out and onto the ground.   A second man smashed the rear side window and opened that door.   He grabbed Alicia's arm and threw her down beside Wilkins.   She screamed and tried to get up, but he punched her to the ground and kicked her in the face, increasing her agony.   She tasted blood in her mouth and rolled over on her back with the pouch underneath her.
    "Look at this, guys," the man yelled to his companions.   "Pussy."   Through her pain she was outraged.   Her skirt was well up her thighs and this strange man was mocking her.
    He stuck the gun back in his belt and ripped open her jacket and began pawing her breasts.  
    "Goddammit, Paul, get the fucking pouch!" hollered another masked man.   "We don't have time for this shit."
    Paul straightened and was about to respond when a gunshot barked out.   He grabbed his gut and looked stunned.   Second and third shots were fired and one bullet blew out the side of Paul's head, spraying Alicia with blood and brains.   Alicia turned and saw a bloodied Corporal Henry on his knees, his pistol in his hands.   The two other men ran up to Henry and shot him repeatedly.   He fell over and lay still.
    Sickened, Alicia lurched to her feet, grabbed the pouch, and ran into the bushes.   She spun the pouch around and hurled it as far as she could throw it.   The effort disoriented her and she felt her world turning and growing dark.   In the fading distance, she heard