by Brad Murray
He was astonished at spaciousness of the chopper. It appeared small from the outside but to his surprise, there was comfortable seating capacity for up to six passengers in the cabin, and in the cockpit a seat for the pilot plus an additional passenger. There were three seats on the back wall, with La’Roi in the center flanked by Stern on one side and the guard on the other. Facing La’Roi and Brumeux’s men were three empty seats. Jimmy took the one furthest from the door while Brumeux took the one closest. Brumeux pulled the door shut with a grunt, lifted the fedora from his head, and gracefully wiped the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief he had pulled from his coat pocket. La’Roi’s eyes drooped heavily, the waves of weariness getting the best of him.
Jimmy had never been in a helicopter before. In fact, before today the thought of flying in one had never even crossed his mind. Helicopters had always seemed unsafe; dangerous. He felt claustrophobic – as if encased in an ever-shrinking metal coffin. Not helping matters was the fact the pilot was a flurry of activity; flipping switches both high and low and talking animatedly into his mouthpiece. Jimmy wondered why there appeared to be so many items for the pilot to attend to prior to takeoff, and worried it meant their doom if he missed a step somewhere in the process.
The whine of the engine and the hum of the blades intensified. The chopper lifted smoothly into the sky. Jimmy exhaled and closed his eyes; hoping and praying. A gentle hand on his shoulder interrupted his reluctant silent prayer.
“Don’t worry, it gets better,” comforted Brumeux. “Your grandfather told me that once.”
13
April 24, 1945
Young Viktor Schwarz awoke to raised voices. He rose with a start and peeked out of his small bedroom window. The sun was just beginning to make its appearance; a pinkish hue colored the sky to the east. Viktor rubbed his bleary eyes; he hadn’t slept well. It had been a restless night of tossing and turning, of hostility-filled dreams, and his parents arguing. Dr. Wagner had been in those dreams too. And now, as he heard Dr. Wagner’s voice in the adjacent room, Viktor realized that perhaps he had not been dreaming at all.
“But Josef, our priority must be with the boy!” shouted Dr. Wagner.
“My priority is that of a father!” cried Josef. “My priority is getting my family safely out of Germany! His case is extraordinary, I agree. I want to believe he could bring about the revival of the Reich, I do. But, I do not know enough to risk our lives and the lives of my family in the mere hope that he might be something extraordinary.”
“But Josef,” countered Dr. Wagner, “what we’ve observed is nothing short of extraordinary. You have not spent thirty-four years as a medical professional as I have. I would not expect you to comprehend the potential magnitude of what we’re dealing with. You must trust me. The boy is unlike any I have encountered, and likely will ever encounter again. I need more time, I need a quality laboratory. We were able to isolate high levels of an enzyme that do not correlate with a normal human’s, but we simply don’t have the equipment here at Haasburg to make conclusive findings. Perhaps if we could get the blood to Berlin we’d be able to conduct a proper examination, but…”
“But that is impossible,” finished Josef. “We would not be able to get there safely.”
Viktor entered the family’s dining room and found his father sitting across the dining table from Dr. Wagner. His mother stood a few feet back from the table, pacing. Her eyes were puffy and streaks of mascara stained her cheeks. A bomb rattled in the distance, vibrating the foundation of the house. Ava shrieked and motioned for Viktor to come to her. She enveloped her son, his head held at her waist. Josef and Wagner ignored the blast and continued their passionate conversation.
“I appreciate your sentiments, Dr. Wagner, but it lacks in reason. If we are captured by the enemy, which will surely happen if we remain, and will just as assuredly happen if we traipse off to Berlin, all is lost,” said Josef calmly. He held up a small crimson vial to the light, studying it.
“We still have his blood,” continued Josef. “And if we are captured trying to reach Berlin, we will lose it forever. The only way we will be able to study this blood futher is to maintain our original plan.”
Josef sat the vial on the table. He bent over in his chair and grabbed a small brown leather suitcase that had been sitting on the floor beneath him. A green and white sticker with the word “Frommberg” adorned its face; an item Martha had been given during the annual summer celebration in the village the previous year. Josef carefully wrapped the vial in a pair of nylon stockings and placed it in the case.
“We will hide it - preserve it until the time is right,” said Josef. “There will come a time once this war is over that things will return to normal. When that day comes, we can resume our study of this boy. And, if it does turn out that he is as special as you believe, he will be critical to the formation of a Fourth Reich.”
Josef latched the case shut and reached for a large envelope on the dining room table. He pulled out a thick stack of papers and began thumbing through them.
“Until then,” said Josef, “we will continue with the plan. I confirmed last night that our passage remains secure. But the window is closing. We will leave this morning and be safely escorted via our contacts in ODESSA to Switzerland. Once we are settled, we will be nothing more than a French family from Lyon, who fled France to the safety of Zurich to avoid Nazi occupation.”
ODESSA had been founded by numerous high-ranking members of the SS, including Josef and Dr. Wagner, months before. The objective of the clandestine organization was to avoid capture by the Allies and to avoid prosecution for war crimes. ODESSA members had foreseen the end of the Third Reich for quite some time. They had known Hitler and the Reich Leadership’s series of tactical errors would inevitably lead to its demise. The silent network created by ODESSA had grown remarkably, and the Schwarz family and Dr. Wagner would be amongst dozens of high ranking Nazi officials to use it to escape from Germany.
Josef looked across the table at the doctor. “You are henceforth Pierre-Louis. And you are my father. Though I must say you look old enough to be my grandfather,” he winked. He handed the falsified paperwork to Wagner. Wagner glanced at it and frowned.
“And here you are! My beautiful wife, Antoinette.” He ran his hand affectionately across her cheek. Ava held his hand in hers for a moment before letting go. Josef stooped to pat Viktor’s head.
“And you young man, have you been practicing your French?”
“Oui, père!” exclaimed Viktor.
“From this day forward, you will be known as Benoit!” he said playfully.
Viktor took the sheet of paper from his father. His parents had made him and his sister study French and English every day for nearly two years. Viktor soaked up the lessons like a sponge, and had become as fluent as an eight year old could be. It was exciting, like a game. Soon, as he had been taught, he would become a new person and would go to live in a new and exciting place. He studied his new name on the paper. He liked the name. It had a certain ring to it – “Benoit Brumeux”.
Wagner rose from his chair and gave the paper back to Josef. “Keep my papers with the others. It would be best not to lose them,” he said despondently.
Josef studied his expression. “I judge you are not satisfied with my point of view?” asked Josef.
Dr. Wagner sighed and returned to his chair at the table. He ran his thumb and forefinger through his greying mustache and met Josef’s eyes intently.
“It’s just that I cannot help but feel that we have been blessed with an opportunity, a one-time gift. This gift has been placed upon our doorstep, and it is ours for the taking. There cannot be coincidence in this, Josef. Surely you must see this gift was meant for us; intended for us; sent to us for the betterment of mankind. It is a gift from God himself! Running off to save our own skins and leaving behind something so… so precious seems…incomprehensible.”
“For mankind?” said Josef. “My singular interest in t
his endeavor is for the eventual creation of a Fourth Reich – to finally realize the …”
“This is so much more important than the Reich, Josef. This Reich will fall, as would a Fourth Reich. Kings are killed, kingdoms fall – and why? Because they are inherently human in nature – and all humans have a finite existence.”
Josef raised his eyebrows. “What exactly are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about transcending the limitations that make us human. I’m talking about opening our minds to an existence that we cannot possibly comprehend today. I’m talking about…immortality.”
“Immortality?” laughed Josef. “Like the Fountain of Youth? I didn’t take you as a believer in fairy tales or fool’s quests, my friend.”
“This is no fairy tale, Josef,” said Wagner sternly. “This is possible. Through science. Look at the developments and discoveries we’ve made right here at Haasburg - in this pitiful location with substandard equipment. We’ve learned so much about disease and disease prevention, the human biological response to exposure and other extreme physiological conditions. And most of all Josef, we’ve witnessed firsthand humanity’s innate, intrinsic will to survive - to endure.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand your point. If you’re saying…”
“What I’m saying is we can transform the human condition. Through science – through technology. We can become what we were meant to be. We can unbind ourselves from the limitations we unknowingly prescribe to.”
Wagner paused, letting the words sink in. “And Josef - the boy is the key. His discovery can expedite this transformation by a hundred – maybe a thousand fold.”
Josef returned to his chair at the table, never breaking eye contact with Wagner. “Alright, so cut to the chase. What is it you’re proposing we do?”
“The boy faces certain death if he remains, Wicker will see to that. You’ve already turned the camp over to him, yes?” asked Wagner. Josef nodded his head.
“And even if he does somehow avoid death, we will never find him again after the war,” said Wagner.
“And as I’ve said before, we won’t need to - we have his blood,” said Josef, patting the top of the case.
“What if this small amount is not enough? And what if we lose the vial in our travels? The vial could break or get confiscated. All would be lost.”
“What do you suggest then?” said Josef frustratingly, his hands extended, palms to the ceiling.
“There is only one solution – we need to possess the source. We must take him with us.”
A hush came over the room. The gravity of Dr. Wagner’s words made them seem to linger heavily in the air. Ava scoffed and shook her head.
“You cannot be serious!” said Ava. “Take a Jew with us? Are you mad?”
But Wagner sat still, unblinking. His gaze was affixed to Josef, the two communicating without words. Ava looked to the heavens and put her hands on her hips. Josef spun his cigarette lighter in his hand, weaving it between his fingers as he did when he was deep in thought.
“We have no papers for the boy,” said Josef. “To bring him along without papers would endanger us all.”
“You know that ODESSA can have them drawn up in the matter of hours,” remarked Dr. Wagner.
“The boy doesn’t speak French, what if he is confronted? What if he talks?” asked Josef.
“We will keep him detained once we settle in Zurich. He will be virtually invisible to the outside world. I will be the one conducting experiments and analysis; therefore, I will take full responsibility. Bear in mind this arrangement will only be temporary. Once the world settles after the war, we can begin a full scale laboratory analysis.”
Josef spun the cigarette lighter a few more times, looked at Ava, and then to Wagner.
“We must get to the camp at once,” said Josef, rising up from his chair. “Knowing Wicker, he has probably already begun fulfilling his orders most zealously.”
Ava started to protest but Josef cut her off. “Make the final arrangements, Ava. Have everything ready for us to depart. We will be back to get you and the children within the hour.”
Josef and Wagner abruptly departed, banging the front door behind them in their haste. Ava cursed under her breath and put her chocolate brown locks up into a bun. As she left the dining room to check on Martha, Viktor scurried to his room and hurriedly threw on his pants. The handle of his birthday present gleamed in the morning sunlight on the nightstand next to his bed. He pulled the blade from its scabbard and inspected it briefly. The knife was glorious. He slid it into his pocket and quietly snuck out the front door.
***
Wicker came in blazing, teeth grinding, nostrils flaring. The dark clouds in his eyes were swirling and the fury pent up inside him was about to be unleashed in a torrent. He kicked in the entrance to the medical building with five guards in tow.
“On your feet! On your feet!” he shouted as he passed through the first room - the room containing the twins. Most of them were too weak to move, too inundated with tubes and intoxicated by experimental drugs to even hear Wicker’s orders, much less carry them out. As he passed each bed, his Walther pistol discharged its ire upon those who hadn’t stirred.
Each blast a headshot; each shot a life terminated.
Benjamin was already awake, helping other prisoners as usual. The explosion of gunshots inside the building sent shivers down his spine - it was that same horrible sound as the day his father and sister were murdered in the snow. He was momentarily frozen with fear, unsure of where to go or what to do. Finally, after what must have been the sixth shot, he scampered from the adjacent room and jumped back into his bed. Just as Benjamin’s backside hit the mattress, the door to his room burst open.
“On your feet! Out of your beds!” the man screamed. Wicker. He had that same crazed look in his eyes; the same face Benjamin could not erase from his nightmares. Benjamin jumped out of his bed as Wicker commanded and stood shaking. Wicker stopped at Benjamin’s feet and snarled.
“You are the one they call ‘Superjunge’. The guards of this shithole camp think you a miracle and Dr. Wagner believes you to be extraordinary. Somehow you’ve even managed to make the Commander believe you’re the key to the future of the Reich. You! A boy!”
Wicker laughed a guttural laugh; the laugh of an insane man.
“What do you think, Superjunge?” asked Wicker. “Do you think you’re special?”
Benjamin said nothing. His heart was pounding and he was shaking uncontrollably.
“You know what I think?” said Wicker. “I think there is nothing special about you at all. You have somehow been able to manipulate Schwarz and Wagner. They of all people should know better. After all, that’s what you Jews do. You manipulate. You mystify. And then you take. But you do not mystify me at all, no. I think you’re just another disgusting Jew rat who deserves to be drowned. I think you’ll die as meekly as your father. I think you’ll go out screaming like a little girl - like your sister.”
He raised his pistol, its barrel inches from Benjamin’s forehead. “Let’s see now if you’re as special as they say, Superjunge.”
***
Josef and Dr. Wagner rushed into the medical building. Blood splashed beneath their feet as they entered. The bodies of six sets of twins lie scattered throughout the room. Some remained lifeless in their beds, while others were strewn in crumpled, twisted shapes, blood oozing in pools on the wooden floor beneath them.
“Oh no,” said Wagner. “We’re too late.”
Josef ran to the room that had housed the boy and stopped at the doorway. His eyes darted wildly about, processing the panorama of carnage, desperately trying to identify which of the motionless bodies belonged to the boy. Wagner caught up to him and shouldered his way through the threshold past Josef. The old doctor panted and surveyed the room. He saw it immediately; the child’s body lying face down on the floor beside his bed. “No,” whispered the doctor, putting both hands atop his balding head in ang
uish. And then Josef saw the boy too. He locked forlorn eyes with Wagner before moving slowly to the body. They were too late. Wicker had begun the cleansing of the camp, and he had started here first.
Josef kneeled over the body. Dr. Wagner moved dejectedly to Josef, unable to look at his dead ‘Superjunge’.
“It’s not him. It’s a girl,” said Josef.
Wagner’s eyes lit up. “Where could he be?” asked Wagner.
Both thought for a second. Then, both men at once - “the chamber.”
***
Just outside the fence line of Haasburg concentration camp sat a small red brick building. Tucked away discretely amongst the pines at the foot of the Bavarian Alps, its secluded location and inconspicuous facade made it appear anything but remarkable.
Wicker and the five guards marched fifteen prisoners from the medical center to the little brick building. Fifteen were all that had been able to rise from their beds before Wicker had indiscriminately pulled the trigger. They were a diverse group; a mixture of men and women, young and old. But they were also a hardened group; grown accustomed to the unspeakable atrocities that occurred on a daily basis to family, friends, and fellow prisoners. They had learned to weep in silence, as they did now on their path to the building.