Save the Last Bullet for God

by J. T. Alblood

  Maria ended the exchange with another phony smile and moved on to converse with others. I realized that I still had my hand wrapped around Hellen’s waist and Hellen was staring at me with sparkling eyes.

  “What do you think? She’s very beautiful, isn’t she?”

  I was hurt and confused, but relieved for Hellen’s company. I decided to tell her what she wanted to hear.

  “Actually, she has a cold beauty, but she pales beside you,” I said as convincingly as I could.

  Hellen glowed and moved closer, but my mind was somewhere else.

  . . .

  The few lighted candles couldn’t pierce the darkness of the room. Everyone sat around the table, our hands linked. A glass sphere emitting flickering sparks of thin, blue lightning sat in the middle of the table, and I could smell the heavy incense. Maria was deep into a trance. Her body convulsed and her eyeballs turned upward. The look of the whites of her eyes shocked and frightened me. The woman I had loved wasn’t there anymore. Now, something else dwelt there, and it didn’t belong to this world. Her voice was wheezy and menacing, coming from deep inside her, and it filled the room with a foreboding that went beyond my deepest fears.

  My hands, and the hands they were holding, were sweaty. I felt that eyes were staring at my back and I was scared to look behind me. A young woman with an innocent face sitting behind Maria was rapidly writing down the otherworldly words she spoke. With the light squeaks of the pencil going across the paper, I saw some symbols, scratches, and meaningless letters appear. When I’d decided to come here, I had been in pursuit of some excitement, hoping to satisfy my curiosity. This situation, though, suggested the presence of things beyond my experience and consciousness, and it scared me. I was paralyzed, but strangely, I felt ready to believe.

  When Maria came back to us, she was worn out and weak. She was now the old, fragile Maria. Her eyes were blue again. Her face was as beautiful as before. But she was a bit pale, her voice was hoarse, and her trembling lips had turned slightly blue.

  To my surprise, she looked at me with the same desperate gaze of that young girl in the hospital. My heart leapt and sank at the same time. For a second, I thought of taking her away from there, saving her, giving her one more chance despite everything.

  Collecting herself, she straightened up in the chair, turned to one side and took the papers from the girl behind her. The papers trembled in her shaky hands. She stepped away from the circle and began to move toward the door before she turned to me.

  “Doctor, can I speak to you for a moment?”

  I looked at Hellen and the others before following, confused about what she might want to say. My heart began racing and I followed Maria into a smaller, darker room.

  She looked at me with the same energy I remember from the night of our escape. “Dear Doctor, they asked me to speak to you.” She sounded weak.

  I felt both disappointed and confused. Who was she talking about?

  “The Aldebarans. They spoke to me about tonight, about the differences between the living and the non-living, particularly an energy that gives life to living beings. Do you know something of this?”

  “I have read of such things in my research. Go on.”

  “Well, they spoke of a schema, of a device. A device that can cure patients by restoring them with the energy they’ve lost, like an energy collector. I apologize, but the terms the Aldebarans use do not have any meaning here on Earth. I am just describing the concept.”

  “Are you saying they talked to you about this because I was here? If I knew you’d suffer that much, I would have never come.”

  “No. It’s okay. It’s my job…or my curse. It cannot be escaped.”

  Suddenly an image of a child throwing a starfish into the sea came into my mind. Instinctively, I held her hand and placed a little kiss on it. I thought about her pain and who’d take responsibility for it.

  Maria gave me a slight crooked smile before going on. “It will take some time to make a clear copy of the Sumerian texts,” she said. “There are schemas that need to be translated into German. But they want me to give them to you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes. They believe you will know what to do with the information. If you stop by tomorrow or the next day, I think it will be ready. Now, I must ask you to excuse me, as I am very tired.”

  With a touch to my shoulder, she turned away. I saw Hellen standing in the doorway and Maria touched Hellen’s cheek as she passed and went back into the main room. Hellen smiled at me. “Are you ready to go?” she asked.

  . . .

  “Where are we going?” I asked. We were sitting in the back of a cab, and the driver was staring at us, waiting for the answer to his question.

  “Actually, it’s early,” Hellen said, “and I really don’t want to go to my cousin’s. Let’s go to your place and talk and have a few drinks.”

  There was a short, tense silence.

  “On one condition,” I said.

  She was getting ready to say seven or eight sentences one after another, but I touched her lips with my index finger. I felt a little kiss on that finger as her two blue eyes dove under her eyelids in an expression that simply said “yes”.

  . . .

  That night, I awoke with a start. The room was dark and I was covered in sweat. I turned to look next to me. Hellen was there. Her flowing hair blanketed her dry, soft shoulders. She was fast asleep. I quietly got out of bed to go get cool by the window. I shivered when I looked out and saw two men wearing brown shirts get out of a pitch-black car and approach the door of my house.

  I got dressed as their knocking persisted. Reluctantly, I finally opened the door. They pressed an envelope into my hand and went away without a word. I opened the envelope with hands shaking from a mix of fear and relief. Inside, was a letter addressed to me along with a few official, signed documents. The documents consisted of a single permission to leave the country, including the proper supporting papers. The letter addressed to me was a single page and topped by a letterhead featuring an eagle holding a swastika in its claws.

  Dear Lieutenant,

  You asked me to pay you what I owed. As I have erased everything that belonged to my previous life, I would love to include you in this. You might have already realized how rapidly I moved on to do what I said I would after the war. Gathering information in order to build my strength, I have followed your life after the war quite closely, and I have learned much about your past, including your childhood. Of course, your old tutor, who now works for me, contributed a lot. I am sorry for what happened to your mother, and I assure you, after the process of taking advantage of him is over, your tutor will be punished as a little favor from me.

  I politely insist that you leave the country so that you will not be affected by what is coming nor risk conflict with me over your political views. Please note that this request, and the concession, are one-time offers only. The necessary documents and permission are attached.

  Signature: The Nationalist Socialist German Workers Party and the Chancellor of Germany,

  Adolf Hitler

  When I turned the page over with my still-shaking hands, I found a pencil drawing. An old tree; in its trunk, a tiny, open cavity; a lake beside the tree; and a pitch-black forest encircling them all.The memory returned of a blind soldier drawing—using my eyes.

  “Who is it, dear?”

  Shuddering, I turned to see Hellen emerging from the bedroom. She was barefoot and held my sheet over her naked body with one hand. With the other hand, she touched my shoulder and looked with curiosity at the papers in my hand.

  “It’s not important,” I said. “Official things.”

  “But you seem shaken, and the document says…”

  “What about our agreement? Long talks are forbidden, and we won’t say everything that comes into our minds, right?”

  “But I said nothing in bed, and you don’t know how difficult that is…,” Hellen purred as she embraced me.

  �
�Let’s go out a little,” I murmured into her ear. “We can eat something and walk around.”

  “Can’t we stay here?”

  “For tonight, I thought we could go somewhere full of music, dancing, and alcohol. What do you think?”

  “Okay,” she said, her face lighting up.

  . . .

  On the way to the nightclub, I asked the driver to take us back to the old stone building. Hellen and I entered the Vril headquarters and passed rapidly through the hall with the archeological photographs before entering the living room.

  Maria was there with another girl and a tall military officer with a well-tailored uniform. Hellen whispered in my ear, “That man is Otto Reinhardt. He is married to one of the Vril girls. He is a soldier to the core. Be careful.”

  Their faces turned to us, and Hellen, warmly greeted Maria and the other girl.

  I was introduced to the officer, and we chatted formally. I caught Maria’s eyes and she smiled.

  “You look very well,” I said to her. “You really scared me yesterday.”

  “In the session? Or afterward?” Maria laughed.

  “Hmmm . . .” I said with a wink.

  “We have already finished the translation. We have it here for you.”

  “Thank you,” I smiled. “And no. You never scared me,” I added with a smile before Maria laughed.

  I felt a pinch on the back of my arm and a sarcastic cough from Hellen. She was jealous, and her jealousy made me realize how obviously I was flirting.

  “Here it is, Dr. Reich,” Maria said and handed a thin file to me.

  “Thank you for doing this so soon. I don’t know how to pay back the favor. Actually, we’re going somewhere for some music and dancing. Would you like to join us?”

  “Aww, that would be great, really. How considerate you are, darling?” Hellen said enthusiastically before giving me another pinch.

  “Thank you,” Maria answered, “but there is no need, and Berton is not here yet. I wonder what’s keeping him,” she said before moving toward the door.

  I turned to Hellen with a questioning look.

  “Maria’s boyfriend, Robert Johann Koldewey. He’s the son of the famous Sumeriologist. They met a long time ago when she was receiving lessons in the Sumerian language from his father. Now they’re just crazy love birds.”

  “Welcome, darling! We’ve been talking about you,” Maria said.

  “About me?” I turned around at the familiar rough, confident sound of the man’s voice, and I began to fill up with rage.

  When you come across a man with the potential to get the women in your life, such rage isn’t far behind.

  He was past middle age, with sharp facial lines, abundant black hair carefully combed back, and a small wound pulling his eyebrow up slightly. I must confess, he was really handsome and had a unique aura. If we’d met somewhere else in other circumstances…No, I would have still hated him.

  “Are you okay?” Hellen whispered.

  I realized I was holding her hand a bit too tightly in my anger. Taking a deep breath and trying to count to ten, I whispered to her, “Yes, I’m fine,” before speaking louder to address the group.

  “Yes, we were talking about you. I owe Maria a favor, and I was just offering to take you all out to a nightclub. If you agree, we can go now.”

  Berton smiled.

  “Drinks, music, and a night out: it sounds good, so why not?” he said.

  Maria caught sight of my eyes, fiery with desire. Before she could object, Berton silenced her with a kiss.

  . . .

  The underground pub was crowded. The sounds of jazz and the swirl of heavy cigarette smoke filled the room. The women wore fancy, exaggerated outfits, while the men as the night wore on loosened their ties.

  Beyond the din of enthusiastic conversations and laughter, we found a quiet back table. There, we caught up with the crowd, and before we knew it, we were sipping our third drinks. Burying myself in the leather sofa, I shook the ice cubes in my whisky glass and snuggled up with Hellen.

  With her head on Berton’s shoulder, Maria seemed lost in the sultry voice of the black girl on stage. I was completely distracted, thinking about whether this would be the last or best day of my life. I was drunk with Maria’s presence and anxious from the expectations of so many long years.

  The young officer asked the girl to dance and Berton stood up as well and tried to convince Maria to go out on the floor. Maria said she didn’t feel like dancing, so, feeling disappointed, Berton did what was expected of him and asked the woman by my side to dance. Hellen went with him, though reluctantly.

  Maria and I were now alone for the first time in years. She leaned back slightly and moved closer to me, with her eyes on the stage. I had a lot to say, and I was in a big hurry, doubtful I’d have another chance to talk like this again.

  “The old caregiver?” This was her first question.

  “He died. They pumped his stomach, but they couldn’t save him. More than thirty pills were removed—”

  “We couldn’t get out of that place without the keys,” she muttered angrily.

  I looked at her. I could tell by her face that she felt some regret for the old man’s death.

  “What about your fiancé?”

  “My fiancé? Oh, Peter, you mean. It would not have worked anyway. We broke up in Munich shortly after.”

  “So he wasn’t the reason you left me?”

  “He was a tool, and, when he lost his function, I was done with him.”

  “You mean like me?”

  “As for you... well…I did not even know you, and I was stuck in a very bad situation. To be honest, I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “I went to Munich a few times looking for you. I wandered around the city hoping to see you again.”

  “It would not have changed anything.”

  “Back then I thought it would. Fate, chance, and so on.”

  “I would call it fate that you told me about the Sumerians. That allowed me to find the source of my delusions and the language of those who were in touch with me. And, of course, that’s how I met Berton,” she said looking straight at me.

  “So I was used.”

  “It is no use to dramatize what happened. If I was with you, you would have gotten worn out. You are a successful doctor, and you have a very nice girl with you.”

  “It doesn’t matter. It’s my last night in this country, and I think I won’t be able to come back.”

  “Why?”

  “Your dear Hitler doesn’t want me here.”

  “Is there something I can do for you?”

  “Love me.”

  “Something else?” she smiled.

  “I wish I could change the past,” I said, looking intently into her eyes.

  “You can,” she said mysteriously.

  I smiled, “How?”

  “Easily. Stop Doomsday from happening and, then, kill God,” she said. She paused for a moment and stared at me. Her gaze was something that I had really missed. Changing her mysterious attitude and tone of voice, she continued cheerfully, “But first, you need to accept the mission and sign it with blood. Only then can I be yours.”

  “You must understand something,” I replied. “For me to accept this mission, you must not only be mine. You must also love me.”

  “You want something that’s impossible. Can we offer you something else?” she asked, staring at me.

  “As I’ve said, I can only accept this mission in return for something very precious. I can only accept your love for me.”

  “Hmmm…you drive a hard bargain, and you have me cornered now…I guess that I must accept,” she said.

  I felt elated for a moment. But I also knew what she was asking of me. I looked her in the eye and we both felt sad, then, remembering the things we would miss.

  …

  The music grew faster, and those on the dance floor came back to their tables, exhausted. Taking a big sip from her wine and sitting by
my side, Hellen kissed me. “Did you miss me?” she asked.

  “You were always by my side,” I said, slyly hiding my feelings.

  Following Berton’s lead, we raised our glasses in a toast and continued drinking.

  Otto Reinhardt leaned forward, lit his cigarette in the candle, and blew out a thick cloud of smoke. “You’re a psychiatrist, right, Dr. Reich?”

  “In a sense, yes,” I said in a bid to sound self-deprecating.

  “I don’t know if it’s your field, but I’d like to ask you something.”

  “Of course.”

  “Sometimes, we remember past events very well, but other times, we don’t. Why is this? Is it because the memories are buried in our subconscious and we can’t dig them out?”

  “Sometimes, yes. The brain connects memories to each other with triggers, and we can access the memories, most of the time, by accessing those triggers. But, if it’s a seldom-used memory, then its trigger might be rusty. Sometimes, we must associate the memories with something else.”

  “How?” the young officer asked excitedly.

  “For instance, if I say ‘1969’ to you, you would recall nothing because the date isn’t a trigger,” I said.

  “The first man stepped onto the moon,” Maria said. We all looked at her in astonishment. But, when we noticed the smile on her otherwise blank face, we all laughed, joining in the joke.

  I continued, “Anyway, that’s a bad example. Let’s say, ‘1912.’ If we ask our Führer about this date, he would probably remember Vienna, the period when he was an artist and had to go back to Munich, giving up painting as he ran out of money and hope.”

  I turned to Maria and asked, “1912?”

  “I was in Zagreb. I received my first message, got very excited, and tried to tell others.”

  The table burst into playful laughter.

  Maria took my cue, turned to Berton, and repeated “1912?”