The Trench Rats, Part 1 (standard:drama, 1712 words)
Author: trenchrat	Added: Aug 23 2001	Views/Reads: 3413/2391	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A furry story with rats fighting Nazis in WWII. A young woman and her father try to flee attacking soldiers.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

"I'm trying!"  She kept tight hold of the leather reins on the dog,
hands also digging into its fur.  They moved so fast she could barely 
see where they were going.  Pine needles stung her face.  Another shot 
rang out, slamming into her arm; she cried out and clasped onto it, 
feeling the blood running between her fingers. 

*"Little Mir!"* 

"Go, Papa, go!  I'm fine!" 

*"Halt!"* someone behind them yelled. 

*Small chance now,* she thought to herself, grating her teeth and
whipping the reins, trying to get the dog to go faster.  An old German 
shepherd, it foamed and heaved, looking ready to collapse at any 
moment, feet moving too fast for it to keep up with itself. 

She glanced over her shoulder.  Their pursuers had moved much closer. 
One lifted a gun, one eye squinting, aiming it-- 

*BANG*--another one tore through the air, only at first she thought it
had missed her because she felt no sting.  Only to see her father lurch 
forward, eyes going wide, before blood ran from his mouth and his hands 
let go of the dog's reins, body going limp, sliding from its back and 
falling hard to the ground, the dog leaving him behind as it continued 
running-- 

*"Papa!"* she screamed, reaching out one arm as if to catch him.  He
rapidly disappeared from her sight, the dog running off in some other 
direction.  Tears stung her eyes, making it impossible to see; she 
turned forward again, gasping for breath, the pain in her throat 
hurting more than her wounded arm. 

One down...only herself to go.  And there was nowhere left to run.  An
ambush--they'd been waiting for them to come through here.  There 
should be more ahead, once she exited the woods.  *If* she exited the 
woods.  Why would they not be able to finish her off, then? 

She wouldn't let them.  She knew she would die, but perhaps, if she did
it *her* way, she could take a few of them with her. 

*For you, Papa.* 

She reached down to her side, fumbled around for the gun she knew should
be there.  Found it, grasped the handle, pulling it out and twisting 
around, doing her best to aim at the one who'd shot her father.  The 
tears blinded her; she pulled the trigger and fired blindly.  He 
ducked, but wasn't hit; he only spurred the dog on faster. 

She screamed furiously and pulled the trigger again, only to
hear--nothing.  The gun jammed, useless as a hunk of metal in her hand. 
 She stared at it in disbelief--how could this happen, *now* of all 
times?  Did God want her to simply die, then? 

She tossed it at him, missing, of course, and turned to face ahead of
her again.  Just in time.  The woods ended ahead, and instead of more 
soldiers, she saw a steep dropoff down toward the riverbed below.  With 
a gasp she grabbed the reins and pulled back as hard as she could.  The 
dog yelped and dug its feet into the ground, skidding, trying to stop; 
it managed to do so just before plunging over the edge, back feet 
slipping in crumbling earth.  She lifted her head and looked up.  Her 
pursuers had slowed, seeing her helpless situation; one of them smiled, 
eyes cruel, gun aimed casually at the sky.  It wasn't necessary 
anymore; she wouldn't be able to fight them all off.  It didn't mean 
she was going to give in without a fight, but she knew she would soon 
be dead. 

Her lips curled back and she snarled at them as if she were a dog
herself, fingers digging into her palms, an unspoken threat that they 
just try. 

The dropoff was just behind her.  Not a cliff, but steep and far enough,
and she knew she wouldn't be able to make it to the bottom alive, not 
with the jagged rocks awaiting below.  Just one backflip and off she 
would go.  Leaving them emptyhanded and without an amusing little 
plaything to entertain themselves.  All of this went through her head 
as she watched them laugh at her expression and come forward.  *I'm 
coming, Papa,* she thought, steeling herself and slowly standing up.  
*Your little Mirela will be with you soon.* 

Seeing her standing up defiantly, the first one laughed even louder. 
"Look," he yelled to his companions in German.  "She doesn't want to be 
friends, she wants to play target practice.  Doesn't she make a lovely 
target?" 

"Come on," a second one retorted.  "I thought we were going to have some
fun." 

"And this isn't fun?  You need to get out more.  I'm saving you the
trouble of bothering with the trashy little thing.  This'll be a lot 
more fun, I promise.  Then we can all go out on the town, mission 
accomplished, what do you say?" 

The second one muttered to himself but offered no argument.  The others
hooted and catcalled when the first smiled again and aimed the gun 
between her eyes. 

She stood up as straight as she could and shook her fists at the air in
a defiant gesture.  "You want to shoot?  Go ahead, big man, show me 
that your gun's really got some bullets in it after all!" 

A burst of laughter from the others.  A surprised, then furious look
crossed the soldier's face.  "Mouthy little whore," he hissed, cocking 
the gun, finger pulling back the trigger. 

Something suddenly slammed into the back of his head, sending him flying
from the dog, headfirst into the ground.  The others gasped and glanced 
upward.  Whatever had happened to him happened to another one as well, 
and then a third and a fourth gasped a second time as bullets blasted 
through them.  Mirela had enough time to open her eyes before something 
had grabbed onto her arms, yanking her up into the sky.  She let out a 
short scream; bird talons dug into her skin--the ground grew further 
away beneath her, but she could see another large bird emerge from the 
trees, caped figure on its back armed with a machine gun, spraying the 
others below.  She looked above her to see the underbelly of the bird 
that had caught her, wings pounding the air as it rose higher.  The 
breath left her, just for a moment. 

She knew she'd been rescued. 

Still, she flailed her legs and screamed again just the same, furious. 
*She* wanted to have been the one to cheat that bastard out of his 
final prize! 

Her scream only echoed uselessly through the air as her rescuers flew
off for someplace safer. 

(This is the first part of an ongoing story of mine.  I'm not certain
how good it is as I've never written furry before and it's a rather 
strange story.  I would appreciate any feedback anyone may give me!   
:) ) 


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