by J. Bryan
Esmeralda sat on her bed with her legs folded and concentrated. If she had been here before, she was going to learn all she could about it. She was determined to escape, but so far, she didn’t have any idea how it would be possible. From the past, she could at least learn about the layout of the complex, though things might have changed considerably. The place had clearly been reconstructed since then. She might also learn why they’d been drawn back into the same situation again, and how to stop it for good.
* * *
“On your feet, you’re moving,” Alise announced as she walked into Evelina’s room. The room had two beds, but no one was assigned to bunk with the Slavic girl who claimed to speak with the spirits of the dead.
“Where?” Evelina asked as she put on her shoes.
“Downstairs.” Alise smirked. She was wearing an unusually heavy amount of makeup today, as if covering up acne.
“Again? What did I do this time? Why am I being punished?”
“You can probably think of a reason,” Alise said.
Evelina gaped and shook her head. “No, I’ve done everything Kranzler and Wichtmann have wanted...”
“You’re not being punished,” Niklaus said, in a rare display of his power of speech. His voice was surprisingly soft. “Party officials are coming to tour the facility soon.”
“What does that have to do with me?” Evelina asked.
“Nobody wants to try and explain why there’s a racially inferior Slav mixed in with our program,” Alise said. “We’re supposed to be at the high end of eugenics, the front edge of human evolution. Which means no Slavs.”
“This isn’t fair!”
“If my cousin hadn’t opened his clumsy mouth, you wouldn’t be so upset,” Alise said. “Now, come along with us. We have other things to do today.”
Niklaus and Alise escorted her down two long flights of steps and through a thick door Niklaus had to open with a key and lock again behind them. He unlocked another corridor lined with dim concrete cells visible through narrow barred windows in the doors. Through one of these, Evelina glimpsed Juliana, the American girl with the plague touch. She wondered why they’d moved her down here. Alise scowled when she saw Juliana’s window panel open, and she slammed and latched it.
“Here’s your new room.” Alise smiled as Niklaus pulled open the heavy door to one of the raw concrete cells.
“If they didn’t want Bosnians, why did they bring me here at all?” Evelina asked. “I didn’t want to come. Why couldn’t they just leave me alone?”
“Priorities change,” Alise said. “All we can do is follow orders. That’s how a civilized society works. In you go, or I’ll have my cousin throw you in there and fill your head with dreadful nightmares.” She never stopped smiling.
Evelina looked to Niklaus, whose light gray eyes were fixed on her. For some reason, he gave her a small, sad-looking smile, which she found creepier than any violent threat. He closed the cell door behind her, but kept gazing at her through the barred window.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Do you need anything?”
“Don’t ask her if she needs anything, Niklaus!” Alise snorted. “You’re not the concierge. Let’s go.”
His eyes lingered on her a moment longer before Alise called him away. Evelina sat on the cot, trembling, and listened to them walk away. None of it made sense. She’d done nothing wrong.
“What happened?” an echoing voice asked behind her. Evelina jumped and turned, but no one was there. She whispered a prayer in a low voice. “Can you hear me?” the voice asked.
“What are you?” Evelina whispered.
“Juliana. In the next cell.”
Evelina approached the ventilation grate low on the wall. “How long have you been here?”
“They just put me here. I don’t think they’re going to let me out.”
“Because of the visitors coming to tour the base?” Evelina asked.
“No, I don’t know about that. You know I have this...diseased touch. I learned how to breathe it out through the air. And I...sort of accidentally spat it into Alise’s face. Covered her with disease, with dripping sores...it was awful.”
“Is that why she wore such heavy makeup today?” Evelina asked. “She looked like a clown.”
Juliana laughed through the vent, and then Evelina laughed with her, and she felt a little better.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Ward found himself in the small morgue near the underground facility’s clinic. It was three in the morning, but he hadn’t been able to sleep, so he’d gotten up and paced through the silent, dim hallways, letting his feet take him where they would.
He thought most of the project was moving ahead fairly well. He was lucky to have Mariella so cheerfully on his side, though he remained cautious about trusting her. He still believed she would gain Seth’s affection in time. Not only was she attractive, and European enough to seem exotic to Seth, but she was wealthy, her family worth even more than the Barretts. Rich people could smell it on each other, he thought. Jenny Morton had grown up in a shack in the woods. Ward believed that breaking the bond between Seth and Jenny was key to breaking their resistance. If Jenny felt isolated and alone, it would be easier to reprogram her mind as he needed. Already, Seth was starting to give in and cooperate with them in the lab.
Esmeralda was cooperating, but making no secret of her unhappiness at being here. She’d stay in the cellblock for now, until Ward sorted out a better means of controlling her. He was sure that would involve Tommy, who still seemed sincere in his loyalty, but Ward wanted to stage things just right.
Trying to focus on work couldn’t distract his mind from the real reason he was awake and wandering—Kranzler. He’d become convinced that the dead Nazi officer was haunting him. Everywhere, but especially when he was alone, he could feel the ghost of Kranzler hovering close to him. He’d even had flashes of Kranzler’s memories. Maybe that meant Kranzler was trying to possess him, take control of his former base, but Ward wasn’t quite ready to call in the priests for an exorcism. Esmeralda could speak with the dead. Maybe he could present the situation to her, in a very limited fashion, and she could find out some things for him. He didn’t have Kranzler’s corpse handy, but she might sense the presence of the ghost, Ward thought.
He shivered, wondering why the hell he was down in the morgue. Most of the bodies here were for testing Esmeralda, people who’d been killed in war zones. Interrogating people after they were dead could prove useful, Ward thought, if only he could convince the intelligence bastards to send him the bodies of higher-level operators.
He heard Kranzler’s voice, speaking in English, which was unusual. Kranzler usually spoke in German, but somehow Ward had no trouble understanding German when he was caught up in one of Ward’s memories.
“Get out of here,” Ward ordered the ghost. “Go away! In God’s name!”
The voice of Kranzler only grew louder, and Ward found himself in another of the dead man’s memories. He was accompanied by the gray-eyed girl called Alise, who’d been quite prominent in the other memories, and another man, tall and dark-eyed, dressed in a finely tailored suit that probably cost a year of Kranzler’s pay.
The other man’s name was Barrett, and he’d come with the visiting group of high Party officials from Berlin, an event for which Kranzler had been nervously preparing for weeks. The officials had brought a handful of foreign dignitaries, mostly wealthy and aristocratic types from Austria, France, or England, all of them bound by a common interest in eugenics. Barrett seemed extremely comfortable among such people—he wasn’t the loutish self-made American that Kranzler might have expected.
Kranzler, Barrett, and Alise had broken away from the main event in the wooden-paneled officers’ dining room, where Alise had given a talk about the National Socialist vision for improving humanity and breeding desirable traits, with a lofty vision for breeding supernormal Aryans, the most evolved humans of all, as the future leaders and warriors of the Reich
. Kranzler had followed this up with a shorter talk about the base’s need for additional funding, and now their guests enjoyed wine and cigars. The sound of a Wagner record echoed through the underground corridors.
When Barrett had made his request, Kranzler had asked him to step outside the room, worried about how best to refuse this clearly well-connected guest without arousing conflict. He’d motioned for Alise to follow. Barrett had asked whether there was a morgue, and then insisted they go there.
“What I am about to show you is confidential,” Barrett said. “It is for you only, Herr Kranzler.”
“Alise is our human breeding specialist,” Kranzler told him.
Barrett looked over the pretty German girl. “I can see why.”
“I would like very much to stay, if you don’t mind, sir.” Alise touched Barrett’s hand, and a powerful smile filled his face. His eyes seemed to grow even darker as he regarded her.
“Nothing could please me more,” Barrett told her, and she laughed and leaned against him, as if utterly charmed by his presence. Kranzler knew the opposite was true, that she was the one casting her magic over him. An extremely useful girl, Alise.
“What does the morgue have to do with our breeding project?” Alise asked. “If you don’t mind a simple country girl asking a simple question, Herr Barrett.”
“Mr. Barrett has made a very specific request,” Kranzler told her. “He wishes that we breed him with Juliana.”
“I see...” Alise thought it over in a flash—Kranzler could see her mind working, looking at all the angles. They didn’t want to displease, but there were obvious complications. Juliana was already pregnant with Sebastian’s baby, for one. For another, Kranzler didn’t like the idea of anyone interfering with their research, and he was sure Dr. Wichtmann would agree. “Sir, I hope you understand, but we are only crossing those with extreme supernormal traits, signs of evolutionary advance. We have scoured the world and found only a few. This is the main purpose of our entire project.”
“I understand completely,” Barrett said. “That’s why we’re here.” He walked along the refrigerated cabinet, opening one steel door after another and sliding out the cadavers. He touched each body for a long moment before moving on to the next. “Have you heard of vodou, General Kranzler? It’s a form of sorcery brought from Africa by slaves. It flourishes in the West Indies and in parts of the American South.”
Kranzler shook his head, wondering what Barrett was rambling about.
“A sorcerer, or bokor, can have the power to trap a dead man’s soul in his body, and thereby reanimate the flesh. The bokor is the master of those he brings back to life.” Barrett turned at the end of the morgue and walked back toward them, past the dozen bodies he’d left out on their rolling trays. “The dead that he commands are called zonbi.” Barrett raised his hand, and every cadaver he’d touched sat up on their trays as if alive.
Kranzler jumped, and Alise took his hand, looking pale.
“The zonbi are slaves to the bokor,” Barrett continued. The undead bodies twisted and rolled off their trays, some of them falling to the floor before gaining their feet. They shambled and lurched in a loose mob behind Barrett as he continued approaching Kranzler and Alise, letting out an occasional moan or a noise like a quiet sob. “I even traveled to Haiti to learn more, but the priests and sorcerers refused to speak to a white man about such things.”
Barrett stopped in front of them, while the gang of zonbi trailed behind him, their dead eyes blank, mouths gaping, cold limbs moving stiffly.
“I was born with the power of bokor, the power to make zonbi,” Barrett said. “Like Juliana and Sebastian, it transfers through touch. You understand now my long interest in human genetics and evolution, trying to understand my own power scientifically. My long support of the Human Evolution Congress.”
Ward nodded. He was doing the same thing with this project, testing other humans with supernormal abilities as a way to understand his own. He watched the approaching zonbi mob warily, but they finally fell into a ragged line behind Barrett.
“Herr Barrett,” Alise said, “You are clearly gifted with a large, impressive power. I’m sure we would love to test and experiment, to find out more...”
“I am not here as a lab rat,” Barrett said. “I only want Juliana.”
“There are more complications with that girl specifically,” Kranzler told him. “No one can touch her without dying, except for Sebastian...as the man who recruited them for us, you must know this.”
“She can touch me,” Barrett said. “We’ve already discovered that.”
“Truly?” Alise seemed particularly interested now. “A second person resistant to her plague? She never told us.”
“You must let me see her,” Barrett insisted.
Alise looked to Kranzler, curiosity in her gray eyes.
“Perhaps we could arrange a meeting, but there must be security precautions,” Kranzler said. “And we guarantee nothing. Don’t you agree, Alise?”
“Of course we can guarantee nothing,” Alise said. “We cannot force people to feel attraction for each other. For best results, both should be at least somewhat willing. None of us can control the desires we feel.” She looked Barrett in the eyes for a long moment. “Can we?”
“She’s willing,” Barrett said. “Even more than she knows. Just leave me alone with her.”
Kranzler looked at Alise for her opinion.
“I don’t see why not,” Alise said.
“We’ll keep guards outside the room,” Kranzler said. “The girl is dangerous.”
“She’s no danger to me.” Barrett smiled. “Thank you, Herr Kranzler.”
“I’m very glad we could accommodate,” Kranzler told him. “We only ask that you not give the girl any serious physical harm—she is a valuable test subject.”
“I do not intend to give her pain,” Barrett said.
“Do you intend to give her pleasure instead, sir?” Alise touched his hand, and he laughed.
“We should rejoin the party,” Kranzler said. “Eugen Fischer from the Kaiser Wilhelm Institute is here, and I’m eager to hear his opinion on our approach to racial progress. Even the Fuehrer listens to him on matters of eugenics.”
* * *
Ward stood alone in the morgue again, the strains of Die Walküre still fading in his ears. The ghost of Kranzler was gone again, for now, but he couldn’t help imagining the steel doors around him opening, the trays quietly sliding out, the dead rising from their slumber...
He hurried out, leaving the lights on behind him.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Jenny tossed and turned, trying to sleep while terrified screams blasted at full volume into her cell. For days, they’d kept the volume of the screams maxed out, on and on without a break, while all Jenny could see were the huge glowing images of people she had killed. The light from the screen illuminated only the furniture from her old room.
She was sick and shivering, sweaty and unable to eat. The baby felt agitated inside her, day and night, probably because of the screaming and the lack of sleep.
She was desperate to see Seth, desperate to escape this place, desperate for just a few minutes of silence....She’d been studying her situation carefully, and she didn’t see how she could escape, especially when she couldn’t use the pox without harming the baby. She could easily get herself jolted or shot dead by a guard. If she was going to try anything, it would have to be after the baby was born.
Jenny lay on her side and pressed the thin hospital-style pillow down over her ear, trying to shut out the recorded screams.
* * *
Guards in gas masks came for Juliana in her cell, all of them faceless and anonymous behind their big glass eyes. They gagged her and fitted a leather noose around her throat, and then another one at each wrist. The leather loops were affixed to the ends of long poles so the guards could move her head and arms from a distance, as though she were a marionette puppet.
Strangely, they d
idn’t take her to the lab, but up a level to the residential halls near her old room. They carried her through a locked pair of double doors, into a corridor she’d never seen, and into a room that was neither a prison cell nor a dormitory room. It was lavish, like a suite at a grand hotel, with deeply cushioned furniture, art on the walls, candles, a rug so thick her feet sank into it. Juliana looked more than a little out of place here. Since they’d moved her down to the cell, her only clothes were prison wear—a drab gray dress with no buttons, zippers or ties, no underwear at all, and only thin, cheap slippers that hardly insulated her feet from the cold concrete floor.
“Whose room is this?” she asked, but none of the guards offered an answer. They departed, locking her inside. She wondered if this had to do with her being pregnant. Nobody had spoken to her about it since—there had only been guards, shoveling her food under her door twice a day. Evelina was her only real contact with other people, and they kept their conversations through the vents short and whispered, uncertain whether the guards could hear them.
Juliana stood in the middle of the room, crossed her arms, and waited. She summoned the plague inside her, preparing to lash out if attacked.
In time, the door opened again, and she gaped as Jonathan Barrett entered the room, grinning at her, his dark eyes already drawing her in. She froze where she was, wrapping her arms more tightly against herself, not sure why he was here or what he wanted.
“Juliana,” he said. “You’re even more beautiful than last time I saw you. How is that possible?”
Juliana doubted it. Her long hair was stringy and greasy, because the guards hadn’t hosed her down in a few days, which was the closest she got to a bath. Her breasts hung loose and floppy inside her shapeless dress, and her belly was starting get larger, though her pregnancy wasn’t obvious yet.
Juliana looked past him to the gas-masked guards, trying to figure out what was happening. Barrett gave them a nod and they closed the door, locking the two of them inside together.