My first attempt at dieselpunk, an alternate WW II entry written years ago for the Dirty Goggles Blog Hop. Hope you enjoy.
Love at the End of the World
The operation was ‘go’ and I’d already silenced the five lucky Jerries in the control tower. I’m a real lady sometimes, giving them a clean death in the face of what was coming. The hangar was full of planes, silent and dark except for the eerie glow emanating from the nose of the biggest Messerschmitt ever made, the Amerika Bomber. I wondered if it was my team on board, or the Fremdblut. I shivered. I’d rather dance with Gestapo than meet one of the Others. Drawing my Steyr from its thigh-holster, I climbed in the half-open bomb bay door. Amerika was empty, except for a voice.
“Ilday jayso. Ayeshi ahdeeltahi nanijih.” Navajo by the sound of it. I lowered my piece and walked up behind the man in the borrowed blood-stained flightsuit working the radio.
“Nanijih, netah,” it sputtered back.
He clicked it off. “Fuckin’ banzai, my ass.”
“You seem to be missing a few folk.” My voice split the silence like a bomb blast. I was equally shell-shocked as he whirled to face me, a Mauser in each hand aimed at my heart. The heart he’d already broken once. Cagney himself had nothing on Maj. Jack Richards.
“Emily?” Disbelief washed across his face. I felt like Scrooge when Marley’d come a-haunting. Continue reading “Love at the End of the World”