A Life Eternal

by Richard Ayre

  XV

  In that January of 1945, a man with the unusual name of Herbert Pfumpf came into my life and proceeded to haunt and hurt me for years to come.

  It was Doctor Bennett who brought him to see me. Outside the hospital, a frost had covered the square. The war rumbled on without me. In Poland, Auschwitz was liberated and the horrors of the Holocaust began to be unveiled. The fighting went on day after day, and good men continued to die as the Germans were pushed to their inevitable defeat.

  One day, Bennett came into my room accompanied by a man of about forty-five years of age: a tall, cadaverous-looking man, with black-rimmed glasses and a waxed moustache. Pfumpf eyed me like a predator as the introductions were made.

  ‘I’m Head of Neuroscience at Carville University, Washington,’ explained Pfumpf. He was an American, and his voice was as slick as his moustache. ‘Doctor Bennett here alerted me of your remarkable recovery. I wanted to come and see you for myself.’ His mouth stretched into a brief grin, like he was testing an elastic band.

  ‘I thought an expert should be able to examine you,’ said Bennett. ‘You already know how unusual your case is. Professor Pfumpf is the leading scientist on brain damage and recovery. You should be honoured he’s so interested in you.’

  ‘Should I?’ I asked, smiling to take the sting out of my words. This man had flown across a Europe which was still a war zone, with all the dangers this entailed. I didn’t think I liked the implications of that.

  ‘I’d like to make you an offer,’ said Pfumpf, taking off his hat and revealing a domed pate.

  ‘What would that be?’

  ‘I’d like you to work with me. I’ve brought with me all the latest equipment available to check you out thoroughly. From top to bottom. Get to the nitty gritty, eh?’ He flexed his mouth again in his imitation smile.

  I looked back to Bennett for some real answers.

  ‘Professor Pfumpf wants to run some checks on you,’ he explained. ‘Your wounds were massive, as you know. You should have died. And yet you recovered in no time at all. If we can find out why, think of the possibilities. There are men lying around in hospitals all over Europe with head trauma, with no chance of ever living a normal life again. Think what we would have accomplished if we can find out why you recovered and help them do the same thing.’

  I remained silent, thinking. I knew that, whatever the reason was for my recovery, the ability to mend like I could did not exist in any other person I knew of.

  ‘I’m just lucky,’ I said, eventually. ‘You said it yourself, Doctor. I’ve been prodded and probed ever since I’ve been here. What good will more checks do?’

  ‘I have access to equipment which has never been used before,’ interjected Pfumpf. ‘New equipment. We could help so many men afflicted with head trauma, Sergeant Taylor. You could help the Allies win the war!’

  ‘I was trying to do that when I got shot,’ I said, flatly.

  Pfumpf seemed to get suddenly bored with the conversation and straightened. His face became expressionless. I realised later that this was the real man behind the smiling façade. He reached into his pocket, handing me an official-looking letter.

  ‘This is a reminder that, although you have been discharged from the army, you still have the duties of a British soldier and a member of the Allied Forces. It also has authority from both the British and American governments for you to be taken into my care. You will help me in my inquiries, Sergeant Taylor. It’s an order.’

  I read the letter and it seemed to be as he’d said, although I found out later it wasn’t. It looked like I didn’t have much choice, but still I hesitated.

  ‘You’ll be in a different part of the hospital,’ urged Bennett. ‘It’s just been set up. Nicer than this military wing. We could even have Nurse Besson moved there to help out. I’ve noticed you seem to have become friendly with her?’

  He leered at me knowingly, and I had to stop myself from standing up and belting him. Did he have even one inkling of what she’d been through? Did he care?

  Pfumpf seemed to take my silence as acquiescence. He turned to go.

  ‘We’ll start tomorrow,’ he said over his shoulder, and walked out the room without a backward glance.

  *

  I was taken to a part of the hospital far away from the raucous swearing and shouting of the GIs in the military section. Madeleine came with me.

  As Bennet had said, this part of the hospital seemed like a new addition. There were armed guards at a gate and the complex inside was packed with Nissen huts and tents where hard-faced American MP’s mooched around, staring suspiciously. It obviously belonged to the US army although, according to the sign over the door, it had once been a library.

  The car we were in went through the gates and stopped outside the main building. It wasn’t actually another wing, as Bennett had said, but was instead a completely separate building, a few blocks from the hospital where I’d spent so many months.

  ‘It’s an annex,’ said Bennett when I questioned him about it.

  We went inside and I was shown my room. It was a bit clinical but nice enough, with a normal bed, chair, and desk. However, I noticed that the glass of the windows had been wire-meshed and that there was a lock on the sturdy door.

  ‘We’ll leave you to get settled in,’ said Bennett. ‘Nurse Besson will be along soon with some food.’

  He left and I heard the lock click in the door. It all seemed rather melodramatic and needless.

  However, Bennett was as good as his word and Madeleine soon arrived with a meal far superior to any I’d had at the other hospital. She seemed uncomfortable.

  ‘I don’t like this place, Bill,’ she said. ‘The rest of the rooms are full of German soldiers. There’s about thirty of them as far as I can tell.’ She shuddered. ‘It feels more like a prison than a hospital. And I don’t like that man, Pfumpf. Why have they brought us here?’

  ‘They want to know why I survived that bullet wound,’ I said, soothingly, although I felt some of her disquiet. ‘I suppose it’s only natural.’

  Madeleine glanced at me then with a look I got to know very well. ‘There is nothing natural about your recovery, Bill. We both know that.’

  I was about to ask her what she meant, when the door opened and an MP came in.

  ‘They’re waiting for you, Sergeant.’

  I stood and smiled at Madeleine, who was collecting up the meal I hadn’t touched. ‘They just want to know why I survived,’ I told her. ‘I’d like to know too.’

  I followed the MP down the corridor until we got to a metal door without any markings. The MP knocked and then stood to one side so I could go in.

  It looked like it had once been some sort of stock room, but now looked like a normal doctor’s surgery: except for the metal gurney that stood in the middle of the room surrounded by ranks of all sorts of strange machinery. Sitting at a desk in the corner of the room was Pfumpf, now wearing a white lab coat. He stood as I entered and favoured me with one of his elastic smiles.

  ‘I hope your accommodation is good?’ he asked. I nodded.

  He indicated for me to sit on the edge of the gurney and pulled a chair up to face me.

  ‘Cigarette?’ he asked, offering me one. We smoked in silence for a while.

  ‘I’ve been going over your records, Sergeant Taylor.’

  I nodded again, saying nothing.

  He inhaled deeply on his cigarette, regarding me quietly before continuing.

  ‘Of course, what they don’t tell me is why you call yourself Taylor, when we both know your real name is Robert Deakin.’ He smiled a little at my reaction, waving away my protestations.

  ‘Don’t worry about anyone else finding out about you. It seems unlikely they will. You’ve been quite good at keeping your little secret.’

  I didn’t know what to say. I was dumbstruck. ‘Who are you,’ I finally managed.

  ‘You know my name, and you know my job. However, apart from my work at the university, I
also do occasional, erm, favours for the American Government.’

  ‘FBI?’

  He laughed. ‘I know the FBI is an organisation you tried to keep out of the way of during your brief stay in my country.’ He laughed again when he saw my face. ‘Oh, yes. I know you were in New York and I know what happened to Mickey Donovan. No. The people I sometimes work with are not the FBI. They are a little more shadowy, shall we say.’

  He leaned forward, suddenly earnest. ‘Don’t worry. No one knows about you except me. I used my influence with the government to come here with this equipment, but no one knows why. I only tell you of my connections to make you understand that I only want the best for my country. And for yours of course. We’re allies, after all.’ He sat back. ‘We have other allies, at the moment. Allies that may soon not be allies, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘What allies?’

  I was completely caught off-guard here. How did this man know so much about me?

  Pfumpf grimaced, a look of distaste on his lips. ‘The Soviets. They are the real enemy. Oh yes, we’re all buddies at the moment. But, when Hitler’s gone, do you think that friendship will last? We are talking about enemies of capitalism, Sergeant. The Soviets, they are our real adversaries. Once the Nazis are gone, they will show their true colours, believe me. We have to be one step in front of them.’

  I shook my head, in a complete daze. This man knew about me. He knew about me!

  He seemed to read my mind. ‘When I heard about your case, I had Bennett send me photos of you. It didn’t take much to check out your past.’

  Much later, I discovered exactly how he had checked out my past and it was nothing to do with secret government organisations; but just then I had no clue.

  He leaned forward again, his eyes glinting behind his glasses. ‘How long have you walked this planet, Sergeant? How long have you been alive?’

  There was something in his eyes now that I didn’t like at all. Something strange. I remembered Ducos’ words about a quiet madness. I saw that madness in Pfumpf’s eyes. I tried to stall him longer. ‘Why do you want to know?’

  If he was disappointed in my answer, he didn’t show it. ‘Think of the edge we would have,’ he enthused, continuing on his previous train of conversation. ‘Think! American soldiers who were immune to injury. Immune to death! The Communists would never dare to do anything against us!’

  I frowned at him. ‘So that’s why you want to know why I survived? You think I’m immune to death? And what’s the problem with the Russians, anyway? They seem like they’ve played their part in this war as much as anyone. More than anyone actually.’

  He sat back in his chair, looking at me shrewdly. ‘You’re not the only one, you know. There have been others. Others with the same gift you have. Francois Valin, for example.’

  My heart leapt into my mouth. Pfumpf grinned when he saw the reaction. He nodded.

  ‘If you help me, we can rid the world of our enemies,’ he whispered. ‘You and me. We can make the world a better, brighter place.’ He paused for a long time. ‘If you help me, I have the power to set you up somewhere safe. And I’ll help you find Valin. We will find out together about the magic that runs through your veins.’

  ‘He’s still alive?’

  Pfumpf smiled his elastic smile one more but said nothing.

  I found out quite soon that he didn’t have a clue about Valin. He had just heard the name when he was delving through my past and had put the pieces together in a lucky guess.

  But the thought of finally getting some answers was too much for me. If the Medic was indeed like me, I needed to meet him. To ask him why we were different.

  Whatever Pfumpf wanted, if it was in my power, I would give it to him. Because if helping him meant I would find the Medic, I was willing to go through hell.

  And before Pfumpf had finished with me, I did.

  XVI

  At first, the work Pfumpf did was fairly non-invasive. He took blood samples, x-rays, that sort of thing. But these examinations didn’t seem to give him any answers and it wasn’t long before he moved onto more direct procedures.

  As he worked on me, the war ended. April and May came and went with the news of Hitler’s suicide and the signing of the German surrender. Only Japan fought on but, on my forty-ninth birthday, Hiroshima was blown apart in an explosion that changed the world. After Nagasaki was sent to hell three days later, the planet finally heaved itself out of warfare and millions around the globe began to look forward to a future brighter than the blasted past of the previous twenty years.

  It didn’t quite work out like that for them. And it certainly wasn’t like that for me.

  Day after day the experiments got worse. I was now being strapped down to the gurney to keep me still as Pfumpf cut into various parts of my body and timed how long it took for me to heal. He broke my bones to see what would happen. He used scalpels and probes to delve beneath my flesh. I began to beg him for an anaesthetic as he did these things, but he said it might jeopardise his findings and so the pain relief was denied. Night after night I would be dragged to my room and flung onto my bed, only to be dragged out of it the next day for the torture to start again.

  Nobody else knew anything about it. Madeleine fussed over me, knowing that whatever was going on inside that steel room was causing me agony. But I kept silent, simply telling her that the work was tiring. She begged me to end it, to tell Pfumpf I’d had enough of his experiments, but the professor had promised that he would help me find the Medic, so I continued with his work in the vain hope this would happen. I needed to find out what was so different about me.

  But, as the months wore on and he discovered nothing unique about me except my amazing ability to heal, he began to become more and more unhinged.

  Whenever I complained or threatened to stop the work, he made it clear that, if I did, Madeleine may have been at risk. He never said it explicitly, but I was under no illusion that he would hurt her if I resisted. He said secrecy was vital in the new war against the Soviets and he used the threats towards Madeleine against me, knowing that my feelings for her were beginning to run deep.

  I was as surprised by this as he was.

  I realised I had never really loved a woman. I had been fond of Molly, yes, and I had craved Grace like a drug, but love had been alien to me until I saw the serious, blonde-haired, rather ordinary face of Madeleine Besson.

  She was no beauty like those other women. She had dark blue eyes and her hair was thick and golden, but those eyes were set rather too far apart in her face and her nose was a tad too long. She was plain, truth be told.

  But Madeleine had such a smile. When she smiled at me, I felt something I had never felt in almost fifty years of existence. She brought me a peace I had never known, even with what I was being subjected to every day. I was besotted with her, and that was because goodness ebbed out from her like a warm wave. Whatever the darkness was that flowed through my veins, it had no chance against that goodness. It was swamped and silenced by her. Even after all she had been through, Madeleine did what was right, whatever the consequences. Her goodness found the guttering flame of humanity within my frozen heart and blew the sparks back into life.

  As Pfumpf hurt me, Madeleine healed me and I realised, as she came to me each night and stroked my face after my days in the medical room, that I loved her. I loved her totally and absolutely, and her presence became my reward for the pain I endured.

  Another reason I allowed Pfumpf to continue with his work was that, as the months went on, it seemed that he had been right about the USSR.

  After the initial handshakes between Soviet and American troops in Berlin, relations between the two countries quickly soured, and that was the main reason why I let the experiments go on so long.

  As well as being a way to find the Medic and answer the questions about me, I thought I was helping to do something good for the world Madeleine lived in. The Soviets seemed to be craving a power they had not had before the war
, and the countries of Eastern Europe they had “liberated” from the Nazi jackboot soon found themselves with new masters to answer to. The Soviets did not go home.

  However, I couldn’t keep going on forever with the experiments and I certainly couldn’t hide the truth from Madeleine. She was an incredibly clever woman. Although I lied to her, and told her everything was fine, she knew Pfumpf was engaging in things that could by then only really be described as torture.

  And, being Madeleine, it was her who came up with a plan to get me out of there.

  *

  It was, I think, early October 1945 when Pfumpf finally cracked.

  He had been getting more and more agitated as his blood tests and his photographs and his skin samples and his filming of my body healing itself continued to show him nothing. There was nothing about me out of the ordinary. I was, to all intents and purposes, a normal man in his early twenties.

  Except we both knew I wasn’t that age.

  When he found out I was only forty-nine he actually seemed a little disappointed. I think he wanted me to tell him about Tudor England or the Wars of Independence or something. He wanted to think I had lived a lot longer than I had.

  I tried to explain to him that I didn’t believe anyone could live that long and still function as a human. God knows, I had started to look upon humanity as a sort of sub-species and at that point I’d only been in my thirties. To live two, three, four hundred years? That would be impossible. It would surely drive anyone mad. Nobody could live that long.

  Pfumpf ignored my protestations. He just cut into me again and again.

  Finally, as his work became more and more frantic and the pain he caused me became too much to endure any longer, I told him I was finished. I knew by then he had no more interest in finding the Medic for me than he had in creating a serum for making American soldiers indestructible.

  What Herbert Pfumpf really craved was the power inside of me. He craved immortality. Not for the good of humanity; only for himself. He really thought he wanted to live forever, and he was simply using the money which his links with the government gave him to try and fulfil that wish. He was a madman, was Pfumpf. As mad as Hitler and Stalin. As mad as Valin.