“Not yet… but soon Church… very soon.”
“What do you mean, very soon?” Church asked.
Granny Pearl and Grandpa Jack faded, still sniggering.
“What do you mean by, very soon?” Church repeated.
Pinky basked in her euphoric state, as Church shouted at the now empty portal,
“Granny Pearl!”
Silence.
“Granny Pearl!”
“Bloody woman’s done her disappearing act again,” said Church sounding frustrated.
Pinky stood and sniffed the air.
“When I first came in, I could smell Brussels sprouts and tulips, but it’s gone now,” said Pinky.
“Don’t get accustomed to the tulip smell, that was your auntie Heidi,” grumbled Church, now in a foul mood.
The Paranormal Assisted Treasure Hunter was now Hunters.
PNK183: Apprentice and family: 2009 : Case Closed.
7
If you’re going through hell, keep going.
On a crisp spring morning in the Kinzigtal alpine valley, puffs of white smoke billowed out of the stone chimney of an isolated white Nordic stone cottage. A pleasant aroma from the cottage drifted on the breeze as Twigg Hansen and his pregnant wife, Freda, prepared their meals for the day. Bread baking in the wood-fired oven gave the cottage and surroundings a homely smell. Twigg and Freda, a young married German couple, lived at the cottage. Twigg worked his land and took care of livestock while Freda took care of the household chores. She visited the nearby town of Schenkenzell on occasions if a resident who lived there had a problem that Freda could help with. Their secluded, simple life was idyllic and far different from the rest of their country, with its previously decadent features now war-ravaged and rubble. Twigg and Freda knew nothing about the Second World War and the stupidity that had been devastating the mortal world for many years. This homestead and the Hansen Clan had survived untouched and unhindered for millennia… until now.
* * *
Twigg and Freda had finished eating breakfast when an invisible force shocked the couple, sending an icy chill through them both. Twigg was a tall, well-built, German man with long blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. It seemed hard to imagine that anything could put fear into this individual, but something had. He went outside and heard a distant rumble coming from within the dense Black Forest. Feeling a sense of foreboding, he heard a drone of engines above him and looked up. He saw large round parachutes with men and equipment, drifting down from an aeroplane and heading towards the cottage.
Twigg watched as they neared the ground. One, in particular, caught his attention. He gasped and rushed inside to Freda.
Hans Kruger and his crack commandos landed on the soft earth in the clearing surrounding the cottage and removed their parachutes and other items they carried with them. Kruger waited for the last man to land and helped the clumsy man remove his parachute. The shell-shocked Jewish man took his spectacles from his pocket and nodded at Kruger as he put on and adjusted his glasses.
Kruger looked down and smirked at Erik, “Wait here,” he ordered.
After checking his men were armed and prepared, Kruger and his six commandos’ ran toward the small cottage and stopped at the door.
Kruger gave hand signals and a soldier barged the door, which splintered and fell. The first soldier crashed through the doorway and a look of horror came across his face as he received a blow on his head from a large sledgehammer wielded by Twigg. A second soldier charged in receiving the same greeting. Both soldiers with their heads and faces covered in blood splayed out on the floor. Twigg stood back with rage in his eyes and waited.
Hans Kruger, seeing the demise of his men, looked inside the cottage at Twigg, who smiled as if beckoning him to enter. His remaining commandos had their weapons trained on Twigg, but they had strict orders not to shoot, with him needed alive.
Kruger walked through the doorway and the two giant men stood facing each other.
“What do you want,” snarled Twigg, glaring at Kruger.
“Put the hammer down, now!” said Kruger pointing his weapon at Twigg’s head.
Twigg, afraid for his and Freda’s lives, swung his large hammer at Hans, who moved out of the way and smashed the stock of his MP40 submachine gun into Twigg’s jaw, stunning him. Twigg stood back and shook his head to regain his faculties. Hans then fired the machine gun into the air as a warning and again pointed the gun at Twigg.
“Drop the hammer,” ordered Hans.
Hans’s remaining commandos came in. Still pointing their weapons at Twigg, they looked at their fallen comrades now groaning on the floor.
Twigg looked at the commandos, and with a steely glare charged at them, wielding his hammer like the mighty god Thor. He swung at Kruger, who again dodged the blow and they all attempted to subdue this tiger of a man with hand-to-hand techniques, ramming their weapons hard into his body, which proved ineffective. Twigg and his hammer wreaked havoc amongst the tough battle-hardened warriors.
The skirmish went on for several moments until the last member of the assault team stumbled through the door. Suddenly, the fighting ceased. Twigg’s body appeared to go limp. His hammer fell to his side as he stared at the newcomer. The bruised and bloodied commandos again pointed their weapons at the shaking, and now subdued Twigg.
“I told you to wait outside,” snapped Kruger.
Erik smiled at Kruger and then looked at Twigg, “Where is your Guide?” he asked.
Hans’s commandos looked amazed and felt confused about how Twigg had no fear of them, yet appeared terrified by an insignificant, puny Jew.
Twigg said nothing and gasped for air as Erik repeated, “Where is your Guide?”
A commando pushed Twigg onto a chair as Erik looked around.
“Come with me,” ordered Erik. He and Kruger went upstairs and Erik went over to a large pine cupboard in the bedroom and opened the door.
Freda sat trembling in the cupboard and glared at Erik as Kruger motioned her with his gun to come out.
They took her downstairs and directed her to a stool to sit beside her husband. The commandos went outside to fetch in the equipment that parachuted down with them, while Erik Jan Hanussen sat on a stool in front of the Hansen’s, grinning like the Cheshire cat.
“What do you want demon?” asked Twigg.
Erik said nothing. He kept looking at the cellar door and smiling.
Over the next hour, men took equipment into the cottage cellar. Twigg and Freda sat and held hands, comforting each other while trying to figure out what was happening at their portal. “We must let my father know, the spirit world will know what to do,” whispered Twigg, who also felt concerned about the rumbling outside getting louder.
Once they had installed the equipment to Erik’s satisfaction, Hans came up from the cellar holding a Luger pistol and motioned for Twigg and Freda to go with him into the cellar.
Erik waited at the bottom of the steps and grinned when he saw the shocked expressions on the faces of the couple when they saw what now lay in their portal room. Twigg gasped when he saw the pentagram and symbols that surrounded their portal and had protected their family for generations, stripped off the wooden floor and replaced with other symbols that he knew and feared.
The couple turned around and saw an empty glass room resembling a large aquarium with a door. The Hansen’s looked inside the room at what looked like