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Of all the things that confused the 173rd about Klaus Hargreeves, it was the briefcase that nobody could find an explanation for. While Klaus appearing from thin air into camp should have been the strangest thing about him, plenty of the troupe had made up their own theories on the matter. Each becoming wilder than the last. The current leading theory involved Klaus being thrown off the back of a pirate ship somewhere in the Pacific for thievery. Klaus appearing from thin air to camp was strange, but could be written off along with his general eccentricity. Klaus, caring for a briefcase like it was his precious thing, could not. The 173rd had grown long used to Klaus, many agreed that he made the whole situation more bearable. They were willing to overlook most of what made him confusing. And what made him well, him in the first place.
Klaus was a character to say the least. Though he was surprisingly one of the older members of the troupe, he got along with all. Though most knew he was devoted to Dave, he had a certain charm with everyone. After a hard day many of the younger members and even some of the older could be found gathered to listen to Klaus’s tales.
Seamus was one of the younger members of the 173rd division, drafted like most but he was close in age to the majority in the service. Klaus was actually nearing the older side of the men. It was a shock to many to learn of Klaus’s age given his, well everything. Still Seamus often found himself in Klaus’s company after the meager rations were handed out for dinner. If it weren't for the circumstances, Seamus thought Klaus would have been an excellent author. He had a certain way with words that left many of their group surrounding him as the night drew to a close.
He spun stories so ridiculous it sometimes became difficult for Seamus to remember where he was. The murky tents they habited turned into the halls of a manor. Tales of the adventures of ghosts in a futuristic city turned attention away from the screams that plagued the minds of the 173rd. Ghost stories were a classic with Klaus, few understood his obsessions with them. He told everyone he saw them of course but nobody believed them. Putting up with Klaus was one thing. Believing a word that came out of his mouth was another. Still, his stories were entertaining. Klaus had earned the nickname Spook because of his ghost stories and his habit of appearing out of nowhere.
Klaus wore the same regimental garb as the rest of them, but on their days out he turned into the image of who Seamus’s mother had told him to avoid at all cost. With long hair and colourful clothes flitting around the dance floor. The first time they had been allowed out with Klaus, they hadn't expected him to turn up so flamboyant. He spun around the dance floor in neon, a stark contrast to the rest of the troop who were happy to sit back and watch him make a fool of himself. Over time, Klaus managed to draw a few into his festivities, allowing the soldiers to enjoy the short time they had away from the battlefield. Their numbers started to dwindle, and those who were left grew closer. Those who were wary of Klaus at the start became tolerant, those who were interested became friends with him. Over time Klaus grew to be the center of the group who would make their way to the pubs of Vietnam. Nobody really knew how he got to camp, not knowing one end of a rifle from another but everyone was somewhat glad he did. He brought a bit of joy into camp, even if it was laughing at his pure stupidity.
Which is why the briefcase was simply unexplainable. It sat at the bottom of Klaus’s bunk, not a speck of dirt on it. Compared to the rest of Klaus’s bunk, the briefcase was spotless as though he cleaned it regularly. It didn't make any sense. Seamus had asked Klaus about it before and was told it was a time traveling briefcase that he stole from the future. Figures.
Still, it was odd. Klaus had few possessions, like the rest of them. Their kit was mandatory naturally, and anything extra came at the expense of what one could carry. Nobody had ever seen Klaus use the briefcase for its intended purpose, never seen it open or close. It simply sat at the bottom of the bunks.
So it was strange that one day Klaus attempted to bring the case onto the field. Seamus had seen him with it that very morning. Klaus had staggered out of his tent clutching it as though he had seen death. Seamus sat next to Dave in the mess later for breakfast and asked him about it. Apparently Klaus just had a feeling that he needed it and Dave had been too tired to argue about how impractical it would be in the camp let alone on the field. Either way, Klaus seemed pretty insistent on holding onto it. The whole morning he held onto as they prepared to go out. Surprisingly, nobody made too much effort to take the thing off of him. Klaus had such a weird look in his eyes, that nobody wanted to upset him that day. God only knows why he wanted the bloody thing, but it was coming out on the field that day regardless.
It wasn’t going well from the start. They’d lost too many numbers in the past few months, and while a few new members had been drafted, they didn’t blend seamlessly with the group to know what needed to be done. Before, the 173rd worked as a team, few words were needed to know who needed backup when, and where everyone needed to be. That teamwork was the only reason the troupe had survived for half as long as they did. But nearly half of that original troupe were gone now.
Seamus had a feeling today was the day he was going to die. Only a few of his troupe were within view, Dave and Klaus were the only ones close enough to get a good look at. Klaus was bleeding steadily from a wound in his leg, and Dave wasn’t looking all that much better. Seamus had caught a nasty bullet in the shoulder, which he could already tell was going to cause him problems in the future. Might be enough to get him honorably discharged if he could swing it.
They were only coming in stronger as the hours went on. Seamus’s ammunition and sanity were both running low at this point and all he could do was pray for an end to this madness. Dave and Klaus swung in and out of his vision every so often, always with that damn briefcase at Klaus’s feet. They knew as well as anyone that they shouldn’t be sticking so close together, as big a target as they were. Seamus had shouted over and reminded them the few times they came within earshot, but on their backs be it.
Close enough as they were now, Seamus saw the exact moment the bullets shot through the field and Dave and Klaus went down. His vision whited out for a second. Everyone knew the day was coming that them two would go down, but witnessing it in person, hearing Klaus’s deranged screams as he cried over Dave’s limp body was another thing altogether. Seamus was far enough away that he couldn’t see any specific wounds but judging by the pool of blood seeping out from under their feet, the two of them would be dead soon if Dave wasn’t already. Seamus sent a quick prayer to the heavens for the both of them and tried to comfort himself by remembering the two of them would be going down together, hopefully reuniting soon.
As sad as it was, Seamus couldn’t mope for long, bullets were flying in all directions, the stench of blood and sweat and rot seeping through the trenches. There were screams of agony and fear surrounding him, the bullet in his shoulder was throbbing like anything and all he ever wanted to do in that moment was to go home.
For a second it seemed as though the world had come to a sudden stop. There was a flash, then a shockwave, and then silence. Seamus opened his eyes, without realising they’d ever been closed at all, and saw a world of bright blue. The light seemed almost fluorescent, a wash of colour over the landscape and bringing a tinge of blue across everything. It had to have been only a millisecond of silence, but it was the first true silence he had heard in a while. Naturally, Seamus thought he must be dead.
Because death was all that could explain what he was seeing at this moment. Ignoring the way his heart pounded he looked up to the skies. The world had exploded in a sheet of colour. And there were people. So many people, having appeared from thin air, all silent. They stood, almost as if they were waiting for command, littering the field in all directions, regimental garb perfectly pressed, not a speck of dirt or blood on any of them. They glowed, basking the field in a soft blue light, flickering between realities. Spectral soldiers littered the field, flicking between realities, converging on the epicenter that was Klaus.
His heart pounded, his shoulder throbbed, his eyes burned and Seamus realised that what he was seeing was not death. He was very much alive.
Klaus floated a few feet off the ground, Dave cradled in his arms. His hands were glowing the same bright blue as the ghostly specters surrounding the field. He looked ethereal, like something sent from the heavens. Suddenly Seamus had a feeling there may have been some semblance of truth in Klaus’s stories. Because when he looked to his right, a figure stood beside him, at arms, wearing the face of Archie who had died only a month prior. They made eye contact, and Seamus realised that his cheeks were full with baby fat. His face was whole again, no sign of the shrapnel that had ripped through him. Archie smiled at Seamus, and out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Klaus lifted a shaking hand towards the other side of the field. Archie and the other spectral soldiers lifted their guns and the silence fell.
What had to have only been seconds seemed like so long ago as Seamus heard the fight resume. The sound was deafening, other members of the 173rd Airborne were screaming and rejoicing, as their fallen comrades joined them again. Over the sound of the bullets firing, the screaming, the praying, Klaus’s sobs could still be heard.
He’d raised an army from the dead but his eyes were only on Dave, cradled in his arms, hovering meters off the ground. The briefcase was dangling from one hand and Seamus saw the moment it sprung open, engulfing the two in a bright flash of light, before they were gone, taking the ghosts with them. He only hoped they made it to the future.
Seamus glanced over to where Archie had been only seconds from before. The blue was gone, but the spent bullet casings littering the field showed they had been here. The 173rd Airborne together once more.
Looking across to the other end of the field, to the fallen soldiers on the other side, Seamus knew the day wasn’t over yet. Knowing now that others were watching over him, that should he fall he would not be alone, he loaded his gun and charged past where Klaus and Dave had been moments before, a roar making its way out of his throat.
He only hoped they made it to the future.