Chapter Seven: The Defense of Kerberos

The wolves. right? Well, they were wolf-like at least, as he said. The shaggy things that came out of the mountain because of what fuckery them Nazis were fooling with he was always saying. Then he'd follow it with something like goddamn Nazis and their Greensleeves and how it wasn't for the Retuschieren, we'd all be dead. That was what the giants were called, he said, though he also used Rets, which they didn't seem to mind  he said. They didn't seem bothered much about anything, Lucas would always say. They were there to do their business and not much else apparently, and he admired and respected that. He said they showed up when the demons did and fought them off, thank the lord,  which he loved to say, despite his being a pagan heathen. That was my joke with him, but it was true. He's been a heathen ever since since the war, though he was an atheist before that. 

Anyhow, Lucas said he'd never in a million years believe that any of it was real, and that the only thing to explain it he figured was that it was all because of something the Nazis might have probably been doing to him, the conniving sadistic fucks, he'd say. But there they were, in that place, and what was in his head seemed real enough, he'd say. And then he'd point out how in the end, we did survive, we did win the war here. And when he'd say that, he would always tap the floor where he was with his cane, which didn't suss out because of where we were.

Now, I don't ever believe a thing Lucas ever says, okay? Because it's most always peculiar, he did have the stroke, and also for a haul of other reasons I'll probably get into another time; but I did always listen, because it is always a good experience though. Am I right? Yeah, of course I am. But no, I could never believe a thing he says. But there is always one thing that always got me WIRED was how he never changed the way he told it. Not a detail. Not a thing. Not never. I know this for sure because I test him sometimes.  A month later or something. About one detail or two that I'll think on and save for the purpose. And every time, he'd get it right. Every time, right on the money.

Anyway, he said the Retuschieren had powers. Make things in the air or out of thin air. With light or fire, he'd tell me. They'd draw shapes- pictures in the air with light, he says- I know, right- but they were some kind of weapon or something. They had a name for it, but he could never remember it. He thought it maybe sounded something like HORNETS, and because of how it sounded when they were made, and how they stung those beasts, or bounced them off straightaway, he thought that was good enough. Lucas said the Rets taught some of them, himself included, to make them and recharge them, because I guess the things ran out of fire from time to time and they needed help in the upkeep. Like that time just then, as a matter of fact, seeing as to how many of them shaggy wraiths as there were attacking right then. That hellatious ruckus snapped him right out of it, he said, and a good thing, he said because down the catwalk and at the far wall from where he was, he saw a hornet was flickering. So he ran. 

Shee it there were a lot of them that time, he'd say. It was like this was the battle. They were hitting hard, he said, hammering on the walls to try to get through. Driven by hell it seemed and he said the whole thing had him rattled. Terrified, even. And that was saying something. But he recharged that hornet anyway, he said, and saw that most everyone else were on the walls and battlements trying to kill the sumbitches, he'd say, and with some of them being killed themselves. So he went to running around from power spot to power spot, recharging one after another. There was one hornet across the fort, he said, that looked like it was about to go out and that wall was being hit hard. But it was a little too far away. He was right tired, he said, with his lungs bursting and stitches around his middle. But he ran like hell to get over there anyway. Thinking he was going to die in the trying, he said and it seemed like the things were gonna beat him to the punch. That whole huge log wall rattled and shivered in every blow. They were all dead, he said he was thinking. But snap quick, a Ret flew in from out of nowhere to get it in time and looked at him like he shouldn't worry. Then, he said, it was over. Just like that, he said. The walls were strong and the outpost was safe. For a spell, at least. And he'd say how after that he was plum tuckered for sure, and so figured he'd go on back to his hammock in the lean-to to catch is breath.