I picked the pieces of myself up and threw them into a pile on the couch. It would be a waste to start being cooperative now. I mean, if I gave up anything now, it would have made the whole beating pointless.
My world was ringing and I couldn’t understand the Nazi bastard. Excuse me, the thin Nazi bastard. I could understand the large one just fine. He was using sign language. I tried to wave him off. I pulled back a sprained, all but broken finger.
The thin one threw me my pants and I pulled them on. Not because he said so, but for my own reasons.
They spoke in German. I don’t know German but I think they said “Let’s take him out back and show him our nice trunk.” I know this because I was now in their very spacious trunk. I tried to count the turns, to figure out where they were taking me. It felt like we took 17 consecutive right turns. That couldn’t have been right.
Everything came apart so fast. The first few days were chaos. Even the people that fancied themselves prepared had trouble holding on to their lives. Some of us were lucky; we were not in a big city. We had been camping, what began as the worst weekend of my life, turned into the end of the world. My name is Sam Russell. I haven’t seen another living soul in twenty-two days. I don’t know what today is. It is twenty-two days since Grace died. I didn’t know her. I had been cornered inside a deli; it was stupid of me to go in there. I was hungry. We are always starving these days, but I was just hungry. I didn’t need to eat. But I went in there anyway. My senses left me and I went into a building I didn’t know, in the dark, without knowing, without thinking. There were so many, as if they were in the walls. She told me it’s the smell, the rotting cuts of meat. They are drawn to the smell. She said that when she saw me go in, she figured I was just tired of living. When she heard me scream, she knew she had been wrong. She was so fast. Literally three-to-one. I was, I am able to handle myself, but she was a natural savior. She was graceful in it. Eight of them were finished before she pulled me out of that coffin.
She didn’t die that day. It was later that I lost her. It was later after I knew her. And it wasn’t them, it was us. A living man killed her.
It is so much quieter than it use to be. It is like when you wake up just before dawn and you feel like you are the only person in the world. It is like that all of the time now. I don’t know how, but we did it to ourselves. It’s been twenty-two days since I have heard more than the sound of my feet.
I woke up on the sofa with my papers stuck to my face. I was still fully dressed minus a shoe. There was hot coffee and piece of toast on the coffee table.I guessed it was from her, but for all I knew it was a breakfast fairy.
I wiped the cold sweat off my neck and took off my pant as I went into the bathroom. My Pants slung over one arm and the coffee and newspaper in my hands. Equipped as I was, there was no way to close the door. So fighting my manners I left the door open.
It was loud. It crashed and sent splinters across the floor past the bathroom doorway. I wiped, pulled back on my boxer and stumbled at running pace through the door. The pins and needles struck my nerves like being hit in the funny bone. I lost my balance and went face first into the wall. Burglars beware occupants of this apartment may self-destruct.
I woke up on the sofa with a very large man very close to my face. I was fully dressed minus my pants and a shoe. The man backed up and took my piece of toast from the coffee table. He sat down. Another man came into view as I sat up. He was sitting at the little bar attached to the kitchen. He told me to not look at him; to keep my eyes on his friend.
They were both blonde, and both wearing suits. Their heads didn’t look like the sort of hears that would be sticking out of a suit. They looked like the sort of head that would be popping out of an orange jumpsuit.
Guys, I am a student, and my… roommate is just a nurse. We don’t have much. Just take what you want, I won’t call the cops. I laid it on a little thick. I wasn’t afraid, but like dealing with a wild animal err on the side of caution when dealing with large men that lack the ability to knock. Maybe that had been a knock.
“Right, thank you for getting right to it. If you remain cooperative he might not have to hit you.” He hit me, hard, in the face. “Again.” He wound up for a second strike. “NO!” the man at the bar yelled, “I meant he might not have to hit you again.”
It was a twisted version of mice and men going on in here. I wanted to leave them to each other.
“Hitler’s gold. Where is it?” Although this was actually said I neglected to mention it to the UIO man when I later retold the story. “We know it was discovered in your research, so tell us.”
I really wish I could help you. I was going to get hit again. The big one was taking off his suit coat. I wish I could tell you exactly where it is, I just don’t have that information yet.
“I think you are lying.” He nods upward, “Hit him once, and not in the face, he needs to talk.”
My vision began to fail, like an old movie where the iris closes in. I breathed, and as I got more oxygen my vision came back. I slumped over, and chanced a look towards the door.
“There is no escape for you. No rescue.” He slithered off the stool, his feet hit the ground and he stood up straight.
I gave him the bird, call me a liar, fuck you then. I caught part of a punch to the back of my head. I couldn’t see right again, this time it was stars. So, it was a bad idea to tell them off. I got hit again in the lower back; I spun around and got another one in the ribs. My ribs crashed and sent splinters across the floor past the bathroom doorway. Someone must be at the door.
…And then I woke up in the hospital. I finished, my story told. I explained everything, and he wrote exactly none of if in his little book.
“Ok then.” He stood up and moved for the door.
That wasn’t good enough for you? Should I have lied to make it more interesting? None of it good enough for your little book?
He sighed, I had obviously stuck a cord. It sounded like he felt he owed me an explanation. He came back and sat down.
I am wearing women’s clothing. The ceiling fan slowly whooping, constantly moving but never going any distance, and he opens his little book to the first page.
“So the war ended.” He sounded unsure. He flipped ahead a few pages, and then back a few. He might have been looking for a particular note. “The war ended.” This time he seemed sure. He paused again. It was becoming obvious that he had not intended to share this information. He flipped ahead a few pages, and looked up from the book. “I track Nazi.” He closed the book.
That was-I began, but he interrupted, “That was, as useful to you as your story was to me?” He moved to the door again. Come on! No way! I was in a bit of shock. I told him all kinds of useful things about what had happened. I felt like what the Indians must have felt when they realized they sold New York for small pocks.
“You shouldn’t stay here.” He said this as the door fell off the bottom hinge and hung bent and crooked from the top. He was a jerk.
