My Beloved, Whom I Desire to Kill - 317

—Th-thank, thank you, hic…

As he started up the stairs, the private first class on his back forced out a weak greeting, which quickly turned into a sob. Thank you for what? Not abandoning a comrade was a soldier’s basic duty.

—Don’t bother with the thanks. You can just be quiet. Especially outside.

Up and up they climbed the spiral staircase, which created an optical illusion of moving in circles. His back was soon drenched. I hope it’s sweat. He hoped the private had gone quiet because he was being obedient, not because the movement had worsened his bleeding and he’d lost consciousness.

He could no longer feel the heartbeat against his back. It was because Edwin’s own heart had started to pound so wildly.

Will luck be on my side this time, too?

He’d just have to wait and see. They would worry about the outside after they got out.

—Here.

He was watching only his footing to avoid tripping on the stairs when a whisper drifted down from above. He looked up to see one of the scouts he’d sent ahead to secure the escape route waiting by the door. They had already made it onto the top of the dam.

He stepped outside. The path along the dam was structured to pass through the middle of the tower like a tunnel, so even stepping out, they were relatively safe, shielded by the wall in front of them. Edwin gently set the wounded man down in a corner and took cover behind the wall on the other side of the arch leading outside.

—No obstacles on the path. However…….

He listened to the scout’s report, looking out at the path leading to the forest. The weak moonlight was a small advantage; it was not so dark that he couldn’t see his own hands, yet their movements would not be easily noticed.

He scanned left and right. The lake, reflecting the moonlight and the searchlights, was brighter than the path they needed to take. A seaplane was anchored at the dock on the far side of the lake. It hadn’t been there when they entered the dam.

—It’s an enemy aircraft. The only one aboard seems to be the pilot.

—They’re here to extract the paratroopers, then.

—No surrounding movement observed so far.

Given the occasional bursts of gunfire and artillery from deep within the forest, it seemed the enemy had not yet received the order to retreat.

—The pilot is moving. Should we take him out?

The scout commander, worried the pilot might spot them walking across the dam, asked, but Edwin shook his head. The seaplane pilot wouldn’t snipe at them. Drawing attention by shooting first would only expose their own position.

—We’ll eliminate the pilot after the escape.

His gaze shifted to the lake. Countless shafts of light streaked across the sky, which was scattered with clouds. He could see the fighters from both sides tangled in the beams of the searchlights.

BOOM!

An anti-aircraft shell tore through and ripped apart the air just as the two formations split apart like a flock of birds. The enemy aircraft scattered in a panic.

From above the clouds, the chilling descent siren of a bomber was occasionally heard faintly, then suddenly cut out. The source of the sound was quite distant.

Thanks to the air force and anti-aircraft artillery doing their job, they had bought themselves time to escape.

Edwin moved his gaze back to the front. If the enemy couldn’t see them, they also couldn’t see the enemy hidden in the forest. He sent the scouts ahead first. A moment later, a small red light flashed twice from the forest. It was the signal that the area was secure.

Edwin was about to have the soldiers help the wounded man retreat when he froze, a horrifying sensation prickling his scalp. The siren of death wailed across the sky.

A bomber was coming.

No sooner had he sensed it than a sleek nose with furiously rotating propellers burst from the curtain of clouds. As the bomber rushed headlong toward them, tracing a steep curve, Edwin was consumed by another premonition.

I am going to break my promise to return safely, too.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

—Direction three-one-zero, elevation up five degrees!

It was the very instant Patricia, who was tracking the bomber through binoculars against the faintly illuminated sky, shouted the aiming point.

BANG! WHIIIRRR!

Something exploded in the inky black forest, and a whistling sound sliced through the air above their heads. An infantryman on guard duty shouted what Giselle already knew and dropped to the ground.

—Mortars!

Giselle leapt from the anti-aircraft gun platform into the trench, pressing her body against the dirt. Just as she was about to crawl toward the shelter…

CRASH!

Dirt and shattered pieces of wood flew over her head. It happened twice more in quick succession. Since all three rounds landed in the woods outside their position, the enemy likely didn’t have their exact coordinates.

Damn it! I don’t have time for this…

If Edwin’s fate changed during the brief moment they had to wait for the barrage to stop, she would grab any weapon she could and charge into the enemy lines. Instead of listening to the shells that might drop on her head, Giselle strained her ears toward the bomber’s noise, which was faint in the distance.

Once the attack ceased, the infantrymen in charge of defending the position swiftly set up their own mortars. Someone had seen a flash when the enemy fired their first round, so they poured five rounds into that location. The whistling sound never returned, suggesting a direct hit on the enemy’s position.

Meanwhile, the anti-aircraft crew stood back at their posts, nervously watching the chase between enemy and friendly aircraft. Giselle and Patricia’s eyes obsessively followed the single bomber that repeatedly emerged from and vanished into the clouds.

While everyone’s eyes were fixed on the bomber, a black seaplane bearing enemy insignia flew in from the far west and gracefully landed on the lake like a black swan. Its relaxed glide across the water before anchoring at the dock seemed to mock them and was an irritating sight, but Giselle paid it no mind. Once it landed, it was another unit’s concern. Giselle had a different target right now.

Once again, as the bomber dipped below the clouds, this time its nose sharply tilted down. As it began its descent toward the dam, the siren of death wailed across the night sky, rattling Giselle’s eardrums. Beneath it, her own rough heartbeat thumped.

The friendly fighter that had been following quickly veered upward. The bomber had entered the anti-aircraft battery’s firing altitude. Simultaneously, Patricia, having finished her path prediction and calculations, shouted:

—Direction three-four-zero, elevation up eight degrees!

The gunners responsible for direction and elevation spun their wheels in a flash, aimed the barrel, and repeated the command.

—Loaded!

An infantry private, acting as the loader in place of a wounded gunner, shoved a shell thicker than Giselle’s calf into the breech and closed it. All of this happened in mere seconds.

—Fire!

Giselle, who had been waiting only for Patricia’s command, immediately pulled the trigger.

CRASH!

The anti-aircraft gun shook violently as the barrel spat fire and thunder. As soon as the initial recoil stopped, the shell exploded in the air above the lake. The bomber plunged down like a harpoon beneath the shrapnel net that burst open like fireworks. It had dodged the shot.

There was nothing more she could do. All she could do was pray for a miracle—that the bomber would drop its payload in the wrong place, or that the bombs carried inside would be duds.

It should have been a little lower, no, if I’d just adjusted the direction a little more.

Giselle was lost in useless regret, wishing she’d grabbed something other than the firing trigger, when she nearly jumped and cheered on the platform. The bomber had flown right past the dam.

Was there a problem with the aiming? Whatever the reason, thanks to this, Giselle had been given one more chance to save Edwin.

I won’t miss this time.

The bomber soared up and vanished above the clouds. Now that they didn’t know which direction it would attack from, Patricia moved backward to take in a wider view of the sky, bringing her closer. Giselle took the opportunity to speak.

—Lieutenant Warren, how about lowering the elevation a bit this time?

Interfering with another unit’s commander was forbidden. But surely a life was more important than a regulation? Naturally, the first attempt was phrased as a suggestion, as arguing with Patricia would be counterproductive right now.

While they discussed, one of Giselle’s ears was completely tuned to the sky. The siren sometimes seemed to sound within the clouds, then cut off. Patricia didn’t seem to hear it, scanning the wrong spot with her eyes. That was to be expected. Her sensitive hearing for bomber noise was a side effect of the struggle for survival.

—It’s coming! Ten o’clock!

The moment the siren started to grow louder without interruption, Giselle pointed to the clouds across the lake. A moment later, the bomber’s nose popped out from that exact spot.

—Direction three-three-zero, elevation down two degrees!

The moment Patricia set the target point and started to give the command, Giselle urgently shouted:

—Drop it down two more degrees!

—Who’s the commanding officer?

Patricia spun around to face her, her expression clearly stating her displeasure at the overreach. She was in no mood to humbly accept the confession that, —After working with you here a few times, I can see your margin of error.