Nazi Gold (Order of the Black Sun Book 5)

by P. W. Child

  The others stood mute for a moment, passing glances like schoolchildren before an oral presentation, none of them wanting to go first for fear of displeasing the teacher.

  “Sam and I, when we disappeared,” Nina finally started, “walked into another…god, I don’t even know how to put it…I’ll just come out and say it, Petra. We walked into the mid of night. Here. Right here, but not right then.”

  “You walked into midnight,” Petra repeated. Stunned, she turned to Mihail and Stefan, her mouth agape in disbelief. “A time lapse? No, a time jump and then a lapse back to now?” she asked. “How is that even possible?”

  “This is Hoia Baciu, Professor,” Mihail attested with a raised voice that reeked with an ‘I told you so’ of note. “It is the Bermuda Triangle of Romania.”

  “We think the area is charged with electro-magnetic forces, Petra. Maybe it’s a part of the earth’s strange grid where physics clash with logic,” Nina speculated.

  “It is like a worm hole in space, I think,” Sam joined in, still sounding frighteningly drained. Nina nodded, “Somehow, this place is a portal or a convergence of magnetic fields that causes a collapse or a tear in our dimension, allowing people to wander right into another time-space continuum! Jesus, this is amazing, people! Do you know what we could explore here on a scientific level?”

  Nina was suddenly more in admiration of the forest than the terror she cowered from in a different time. Sam leaned against a tree to support his lethargic body.

  “Don’t.” Mihail had his arms folded. He lurched toward the foreign camera man and thought to give some sound advice from his very recent experience. “Don’t lean against the tree, my friend. Bad sheet happens when you do that.”

  ‘Bad sheet?’ Sam wondered as he endeavored to stand up again. He recalled Mihail’s arm vanishing when he leaned on the trunk. ‘Oh! Bad shit. Of course!’

  “And the devil’s eyes,” Sam reminded Nina. “We saw floating orbs of fire, I shit you not,” he told the others. “I think they are the devil’s eyes those locals were talking about, Mihail.”

  Mihail nodded in agreement after he took a moment to mull it over in his head.

  “Alright,” Petra said. “How do you explain those, then?”

  Nina shrugged. Sam shook his head. Stefan and Mihail had no scientific knowledge whatsoever. They just looked absent minded.

  “All I know is that they are expected to be seen here tonight, and we saw them,” Nina explained, “so Sam and I must have stepped into the future, right?”

  “I still don’t know where to find the cards, apart from a German woman called Greta,” Petra Kulich whined. “Great. A German called Greta. That narrows it down,” she scoffed with immense frustration.

  Petra decided to take Stefan up on his offer of them all spending the night with his family just on the outside boundary of Mera, one of the villages in Baciu.

  She reported Igor missing at what served as the local police station, where none of the untidy officers looked particularly surprised. She was appalled at their uncaring and casual way of obtaining information from her, as if they had done it a million times before. One by one the desk sergeant - this would be his proper title, had he not been a greasy and unhygienic man in a loose shirt with his uniform pants – mumbled questions to her, while Stefan translated.

  In the vehicle, Sam and Nina sat waiting. Both were positively worn out and they sat slumped against each other, listening to the radio Stefan left on for them, even though they did not understand a word and the music sucked more than the bad reception. Other than the crackle of the AM frequency, it was dead quiet. The two of them did not need to converse. Both of them were still in shock from the strange and terrifying ordeal they had suffered, each knowing what the other was feeling.

  Suddenly Nina said, “Do you reckon we stepped into another time loop because of the weird forest being some worm hole or do you…” she sighed and shoved Sam to see if he was awake. He looked at her in anticipation, so she continued. “Could it have been that deck, perhaps?”

  “What do you mean?” he asked. He shifted so that he could face her properly.

  “If that deck of cards can really rearrange events by throwing the world into a déjà vu, into a time lapse, time loop, whatever,” she said, “don’t you think maybe that was what happened with us? Could it be that someone, the same someone who has been causing our reliving before we came here, was doing it again? Maybe they were using the cards and that was why we ended up….god, I can’t believe what I am saying here…in the future before coming back through the hole into the short time we were gone here on this side.”

  Sam looked at her. He said nothing, his face remained unchanged, and for a long pause he just stared at her.

  “For fuck’s sake, Sam!” she shouted suddenly, shoving him again just to see him move from his static state. He smiled.

  “Sorry, I was caught in time for a second.”

  Nina was not amused. Her dark eyes glimmered with passionate annoyance and he welcomed her familiar look of threat.

  “Look, it sounds ludicrous at best, but if such a thing was at all possible, then how the hell would what they did influence just us; just you and I, lassie? How would that person isolate us, and why? I really think that is a stretch, Nina,” he answered.

  She gave it some thought. Sam was right. Scientifically, or even by the reaches of remotely possible physics it remained absurd. No matter how she rolled it, whatever cosmic components the world had not yet unlocked, could still not explain how a deck of cards could accelerate or lapse time. It made her head hurt, this odd superstition founded in the closets of antiquity and esoteric calculations.

  “Aye, suppose you’re right,” she sighed. “Why are we so damn tired?”

  “We moved forward in time by a few hours. In essence we have lived an extra few hours in this day’s quota. Christ, what am I saying?” he frowned, still caught between what he knew happened for real and what his logic rebuked as fallacious at the same time. He could not believe his own words, his own thoughts, but there was no other perception.

  “I know. And I thought I was nuts when all this lapse shit started happening to me. I thought it was the toxins in my body wreaking havoc with my senses…and my sanity. Some of the side effects could very well have been all this warped perceptive shit, you know?” she mumbled as she rummaged through the junk on the minivan’s floor and door pockets.

  “What are you looking for?” he asked.

  Nina stopped delving and busied herself with something in the shelter of her chest. Sam heard a flicking sound and then, when she turned to him, he cried out in elation. Between Nina’s lips she had a joint pinched.

  “One of Mihail’s?” he asked, and she nodded as she pulled a deep tuft of smoke and satisfaction into her throat.

  “Bless you, Mihail the Eye!” Sam shouted out in his best evangelist rendition. Nina smiled and passed the skewed joint to him. “So, how are you feeling? I mean, with the arsenic treatment bullying you and such while you are still tough and hard headed enough to go out and put yourself at risk,” Sam asked Nina.

  It reminded her that she had not felt any weakness or burning like she normally did. As a matter of fact, she had totally forgotten about her scarred arm and the deadly compound that sat stubborn in her flesh.

  “Wait a minute!” she exclaimed. She sat up and hitched up her sleeve, where the makeshift bandage still secured the herbs Mihail’s wife had applied for her. Under the ribbing of her long sleeve the handkerchief peeked and with careful excitement Nina pulled it back until the awful circular scar appeared. But it was less inflamed when she wiped off the last of the crushed herbs and the maroon scarring had turned to a healthy pink inside the bruising that surrounded the rough stitching lacerations. Nina’s mouth fell open as she slowly lifted her eyes to Sam. His big dark eyes narrowed with warmth as his lips curled into a smile.

  “No way,” she gasped. “That chick is a genius! I have to know what this stuff is!�
�

  “What chick?” he asked.

  “Mihail’s wife. She put this on…with spit,” she pulled up her nose and Sam chuckled at how cute Nina looked when she was grossed out. “This is awesome, Sam. Do you realize that with this stuff I’d never have to be subjected to the clinic’s torture chamber and Dr. Death again!” Nina yelled like a schoolgirl and lunged forward to wrap her arms around Sam. She did not care what he thought, what he made of it, because he would probably be right anyway. Having no pain and seeing her arm healing after thinking it was going to have to be amputated, Nina was truly elated.

  Sam held her tightly as she shrieked with glee. But he did not let her go once the initial thrill had passed; and she did not mind. Their laughter died down and the only sound left over the static of the radio was their breathing. Sam wanted so desperately to kiss her. He felt Nina’s elegant fingers sink gently deeper onto his skin as she lifted her chin to find his lips. Sam’s heart jumped violently as Nina breath graced the skin under his stubble and warmed his mouth. Without thinking, as if by instinct, Sam’s lips parted to receive Nina’s. His hand cradled her jaw as their lips locked for a moment before the driver’s side door of the car clacked open and jolted them from their sweet delirium.

  Petra climbed in on the passenger side as the vehicle roared into life, while Stefan looked at Sam and Nina in the rear view mirror.

  “You two need a bed!” he remarked.

  “What?” Nina frowned, while Sam simultaneously exclaimed, “Excuse me?”

  Clearly they were still in a different state of mind.

  “You are completely…pooped!” Stefan said. “You both need to get to bed and sleep off the bad things of the forest, eh?”

  Sam and Nina looked relieved at his clarification and agreed overzealously with their guide’s advice as the vehicle pulled away from the small crooked police shack. It was well into the evening already and they switched off the dirty roof light of the van as it started to navigate the bumpy road towards the commune where Stefan’s family lived.

  Chapter 29 – Full Circle

  When Greta’s jet landed in Cluj, she had prepared her journey into the Baciu forest already. Half an hour before reaching their destination, the crew had served a small meal too her and her adopted son. The boy looked better than the day before but the cabin crew had their reservations about the boy’s continuing health, especially after they learned that his mother did not intend to get him to the doctor, but instead asked for a rental car to drive directly towards the Baciu communes to meet her other son there.

  However grave their concerns, they were paid to shut up and serve. The boy was not as pale as the day before and he had even grown some appetite today. Greta woke him as they crossed the border and told him to dress warmly. She had a splitting headache from the slivovitz and cognac she drowned herself in during the more quiet part of the flight and it only worsened her medical condition. The exhilaration of finally reaching the last stretch of her long drawing plan urged her onward regardless of the devastating pain she was in constantly.

  “Come, sweetheart,” she told Radu as he tied his shoes clumsily, “we can have some breakfast in town and then we are going to explore the pretty places around your city.”

  Radu smiled, although he still looked awfully weak to her.

  “I told you I would bring you to come and visit your country,” she smiled, but he could see the hysterical rush behind her barren look.

  Radu was smart enough to play along. After all, he had a plan of his own and he was not nearly as timid as he pretended to be. He did not survive on the streets by himself for this long by being gullible and naïve. Greta always allowed him to dress himself, which was fortunate for the cunning child. Radu took care of what he clothed himself in. Instead of his more formal new clothing, he chose to wear his more sturdy track shoes and loose jeans. A windbreaker and scarf finished off his ensemble nicely, and although his German stepmother thought he was dressed a tad too warm, she blamed it to his sickly condition he had been in and his familiarity with the cold weather in Romania this time of year.

  When they stepped off the aircraft, Radu felt as if a new life swept over him. In his own childlike way, he knew that his time with the Hellers was not more than an adventure. The time he spent there, the things he picked up and the friends he made were all components of what his real mama used to tell him about. She would always give him sermons about seeing the signs that fate sent him, but he never understood all that stuff until two minutes ago when he stepped off that jet. His mother had said it time and time again, even when he overheard her speaking to other adults.

  ‘If you keep your eyes closed, you will never stay on the path of your destiny. A blind man does not see beacons.’

  Just like that, she always said it. At the time he thought it was just some fancy quote she was impressed by and hoped to sound more than wise by throwing it around in conversation, but now it became clear to him. Standing on the threshold of the steps, he looked about the airport and breathed in the sight of his motherland. His lungs filled with his heritage and his purpose. It was a blade that instantly severed the strings of his enslavement and once more he felt his freedom calling. His mother’s quote lingered in his excited little heart and he knew then that he could see the beacons.

  He had had to endure all these incidents, claim victory over all these trials. Only by this chain of events that initially derailed his daily existence could he learn what he was meant to do, meant to be, in his own country of birth. It was all relevant and served to educate him in just the right matters and subjects he needed to arm him for what was to come.

  Of course the boy did not know why Greta was so adamant that he learned to tell stories with picture cards, but something about the practice felt wrong. Everything about it left a bad taste in his mouth. It was not the wrong of stealing food. It was not the transgression of taking clothes from unattended washing lines when the cold had him desperate for an overcoat or a sweater. This was even past sin, he thought. Nothing had ever made him feel this close to the devil than when he was making stories with the cards, when the hand of dread gripped his brain and twisted his feelings into wickedness.

  His late mother would never have permitted such dark things to upset him or make him sick, no. She would have blatantly shunned them and chased them off. He knew for sure his real mother would have protected him against things that were wrong, and therefore he could surmise that what Greta allowed was a sign that she was not a good mother.

  In fact, not only did she not protect him against the black bile that made him ill in his soul when he drew each card, but she polluted him with it, deliberately. That was not the love of a mother and he wanted none of it – she would kill him before he was a teenager. No, Radu knew this woman was using him for some sinister cause to benefit herself and that it was too dangerous to be involved in, not even for all the perks the Hellers offered.

  Avram Ianko Airport was noisy under the grey sky of the morning and Radu breathed in the familiar air as he walked hand-in-hand with his German stepmother. It was wonderful to be back in the place he knew so well, where he knew far more than Greta and could easily escape her if need be. She was particularly quiet this morning, but he decided not to throw her off her train of thought and draw unnecessary attention to the fact that he was not as ill as he wanted her to believe. His frailty bought him more time and by her reaction every time he coughed or looked like he was going to throw up, he could tell that she needed him healthy for whatever she had planned. In one instance Radu wondered if Greta was perhaps planning to sell him, but then he could not figure out where it would fit in with making card stories.

  Her leather gloved fingers seemed to clutch tighter at his hand than usual, as if she was agitated or nervous at something. Why was she in such a hurry?

  “Hurry up darling,” she said in a light tone that relieved him somewhat, as they entered the baggage delivery section in a rush.

  “Frau Heller,” he said
mildly, “why are you in such a hurry? I am not feeling well and it hurts when I have to walk so fast.”

  Radu was well versed in psychological manipulation utilizing his age for optimal success. From the streets he learned early on that playing on pain or injury often got him far more than begging or pity ever would.

  “Oh, sweetheart, I just want to get to the guest house as soon as possible so that we can leave our luggage there to go and explore the woods! I heard they are very beautiful,” she smiled, trying to sound as enthusiastic as she could. “I know you feel a bit sick, but hey, as soon as we have had breakfast you will feel so much better, I promise.”

  The child smiled under the guise of his sorry façade. The stage was set that she would think he was still frail and that would give him more time to figure out how to get away from her. Greta got a rental car at the airport and they drove along the E576 to Cluj in dead silence. He looked at her. She was miles away in thought and did not even notice his stare with her eyes fixed straight ahead of her. Greta kept her eye on the speedometer every now and then to make sure she did not exceed the speed limit, running the risk of being noticed. Nobody could know that she and Radu were here. Nobody at all!

  When they entered the old town of Cluj, she winked at Radu, “Time for some good breakfast!”

  “And desert?” he smiled.

  “Absolutely,” she said, but he noticed how tightly her black leather gloves strained over her knuckles as she choked the steering wheel.

  Radu had mixed feelings when he looked out the car window at the familiar buildings, even though he hardly ever visited the old town before. It was still the same city, the same buildings and people than when he left. Now he was sitting safely in a car, no less, with everything he desired at his fingertips. But just before he wished he could gloat in their faces, the indifferent vermin who treated him like pond scum, he realized that for all the privileges he had, the most important privilege of all was wanting – freedom. At once he was shoved back to his plan to run away and a feeling of excited panic coursed through the boy. He was about to abandon so much for good, but he would be out of harm’s way from a very callous lady who presented a lot more ill will than she thought she could conceal.