Free Books by Walt: | Blood of Judas

| Blood of Judas

                             The Blood of Judas
                         Matthew 5:3-10 - The Beatitudes
               “Blessed are they that hunger and thirst after justice,
                          for they shall have their fill”

                                      Chapter 1


Elda walked down the dimly lit, narrow street through the mist
laden night air. She approached the several steps leading to a basement door
and slowly descended them. The only lighting was emitted from a dull red
bulb above the doorway. She knocked soundly and the door cracked open. A
man peered through the scant aperture straining to identify the shape before
“Elda, it’s you” he exclaimed and widened the opening.
“Come on in Honey” he continued as she entered.
“Hello Fritz.
Much of a crowd tonight?” she asked.
“About the usual. Pretty slow, like it’s been. People are just too
afraid to come. You know, there’re not fooling around any more. A lot of our
regulars have been picked up and been charged with antigovernment
activities” he replied.
“Antigovernment activities?” she repeated in an inquiring voice.
“Sure! You don’t think all the stuff that’s said here goes
unnoticed, do you?” he answered abruptly.
“What about you?” he continued, “Aren’t you a little nervous?”
She paused.
“Sure, but I just can’t pretend that there’s nothing wrong with
what’s going on. I guess coming here is my way of protesting. It’s all I can
do. It’s pretty much all anybody can do.”
“I’m not sure how long we can continue. It’s just a matter of
time before they come to shut us down or worse. Most of the other clubs are
gone and some of their people are gone too.
We’ll keep open as long as we can and hope for the best but to be
honest, I’m not sure there is a best.
Here, let me take your coat. I’ve got your table for you as usual.”
She removed her full length wrap revealing a tall, slim figure of
curvaceous beauty and followed him.
He led her down a long hallway which opened into a large, open area.
Clouds of bluish smoke hovered against the low ceiling. Three dozen or so
small tables each bearing a lighted candle were scattered about the room,
with a stage at the far end of the chamber.
Elda glanced about as Fritz ushered her to her table near the front,
right corner of the stage. She estimated, fifty people at most, all engaged in
conversations at whisper level. It seemed as if everyone was nervously
attempting to avoid being overheard. Their unease was further evidenced by
their constant glances about the room as they spoke.
“Are you expecting anyone else this evening?” asked Fritz.
“I don’t think so” she replied as she was seated.
“Adam, take Elda’s order please” he commanded the waiter.
“Absinthe, a double” she responded.
The waiter quickly arrived back at the table bearing a goblet containing
several ounces of the dark, green liquid and placed it before her. After she
had taken a few sips the red velvet stage curtains opened and the show
A trio, seated at the left side of stage began to play a slow, rhythmic,
sensual song.
Several seconds later, entering from the right came a tall, slim blonde
attired in a black sequined dress and donning a scarlet boa. She began to
sing in a high, dulcet voice. She, an obvious transvestite, moved slowly back
and forth across the floor handling the microphone as if a phallus.
As her song ended, applause rose from the audience and the curtain
closed only to reopen again moments later. At center stage stood a short,
mustachioed, stocky man of apparent Jewish decent and he began his act.
“Hitler visits a lunatic asylum. The patients give the Hitler salute. As he
passes down the line he comes across a man who isn’t saluting.
‘Why aren’t you saluting like the others?’ Hitler barks.
Mein Führer, I’m the nurse, comes the answer. ‘I’m not crazy!’ ’’
Laughter erupted and he continued.
“Two men meet. ‘Nice to see you’re free again. How was the
concentration camp?’
‘Great! Breakfast in bed, a choice of coffee or chocolate, and for lunch
we got soup, meat and dessert. And we played games in the afternoon before
getting coffee and cakes. Then a little snooze and we watched movies after
The man was astonished: ‘That’s great! I recently spoke to Meyer, who
was also locked up there. He told me a different story.’
The other man nods gravely and says: ‘Yes, well that’s why they’ve
picked him up again.’ ”
“The German army Headquarters receives news that Mussolini’s Italy
has joined the war.
‘We’ll have to put up ten divisions to counter him!’ says one general.
‘No, he’s on our side,’ says another.
‘Oh, in that case we’ll need twenty divisions.’ "
Again, the crowd laughed.
“Two Jews are about to be shot. Suddenly the order comes to hang
them instead. One says to the other ‘You see, good news, they’re running out
of bullets.’ ”
The crowd once again laughed but this time in a very muffled tone.
The show continued and Elda continued to sip her drink.
Fritz approached her table.
“Elda, do you see the man sitting over there?” and he faintly nodded
over his shoulder.
“The one wearing the dark jacket, smoking a cigarette, he said he
would like to meet you. Shall I tell him to come to your table?” he asked.
Elda looked in the direction to which Fritz had nodded.
His table was about twenty feet away from her and she could see him
clearly through the hazy atmosphere. He appeared to be in his mid thirties or
so, with dark curly hair and a neatly trimmed mustache. He was well dressed
and bore an elegant air. He looked straight at her with his eyes flashing and
took a long drag on his cigarette as she glanced in his direction.
She paused and then spoke.
“Sure, Fritz – ask him to come over” she replied.
With that Fritz walked over to the man and whispered to him. He
immediately reached into his pocket, withdrew some money, handed to Fritz
and rose from his chair.
He was about six feet tall and slim and walked with a confident stride
towards her.
“Good evening.
Thank you for allowing me to sit with you. My name is Anton Brusksa
and you are Elda, Fritz has told me.”
Elda extended her hand to him.
“Bruska, that’s a Russian name?” she queried.
“Yes it is. I’m originally from Russia but I have been in Berlin for some
time now” he replied.
“And you?” he continued, “I’m sure you are German, am I right?” he
“Yes, I was born here. My father owns a small shop about ten blocks
from here” she answered.
“And what brings you to the Katacombe?” he asked.
“I enjoy the shows. The entertainment and a few drinks and the real
world disappears for a few hours.
You know, things are not the best here in Berlin and I’m not so sure
that they will get any better, most likely it will get worse” she answered.
“I’m quite sure you’re right” he replied.
“Ever since the appointment of Heir Hilter as Chancellor and the
Reichstag fire, it has not been good. You know the government has accused
the Communists and has arrested four of them. President Von Hindenberg
has given emergency powers to Heir Hilter and his powers are now complete.
The Nazi Party now controls the parliament and they grant his every wish.
All the Communists have been rounded up. Who will be next after that,
nobody knows but I’d bet the Jews are next. What do you think?” he
“Yes – he has never attempted to disguise his for hatred of us” she
answered in a somber voice.
“So you’re Jewish?” he asked.
“Well, my mother was and according to the law, that means that I am
too” she replied.
“Have you been threatened by the authorities?”
“No, but I know some who have. There is talk of a boycott of Jewish
businesses to be instigated by Nazis next month. My father’s store will
certainly be effected” she said.
“I thought you said that your mother was Jewish. Is your father too?”
“No, but having a Jewish wife and a child by her surely puts him in the
Nazi’s crosshairs just as if he were a Jew himself.”
There was a brief silence and then he spoke.
“This is an awful way to start a conversation with someone I’ve just
met. Let’s talk about something more pleasant. Tell me about yourself” he
said attempting to brighten the mood.
“Well, you know my name is Elda, Elda Draken. I’ve lived here in Berlin
all my life. I attended university and graduated five years ago. I studied art.
It was one of the few programs that accepted women at university.
I now work at the museum but I am sure that my job there will not be
much longer. The new government frowns on working women, especially
Jewish working women. I’m quite positive that I will be fired soon to make
way for a man and being considered Jewish makes it a certainty.”
“What will you do then?”
“I’ll work in my father’s shop as long as it stays open” she answered.
“You said your mother was Jewish. What happened to her?” he
“She died in the influenza epidemic when I was a child.”
“Yes I remember, the epidemic of 1918. People died by the thousands.
Several of my friends died during the contagion” he replied.
She paused and looked at him quizzically.
“Your childhood friends?” she replied.
“Oh, yes, childhood friends” he repeated.
“So you are Russian?” she asked.
“Yes, my family home is in Moscow. My father lived there for
He stopped and then interjected.
“My father’s family that is.”
“And where do you live now?” she asked.
He again hesitated.
“My livelihood requires me to travel frequently. I rarely go back to
Moscow but I guess you could call it my home” he answered.
“And what is your livelihood?” she continued.
“I am a businessman.”
“What kind of business?”
“I deal in wholesale meats” he answered in a rather unconvincing tone.
“And your family?” she questioned.
“My father and mother both died during the Revolution” he replied.
“And your brothers and sisters?”
“I have none. They too perished in the Revolution.”
“I guess I shouldn’t asked. I’m sure my questions opened old wounds.
I’m sorry” she replied and reached over and grasped his hand in
Upon touching him, “Your hand is cold”, she said.
He looked into her eyes.
“Cold hands, warm heart they say” he replied.
She smiled and the conversation continued.
The curtain closed on the final act, applause rang from the crowd and
the evening ended.
“May I escort you home?” he asked as they rose to leave.
“Yes, I would find that quite nice” she replied.
They left the Katakome together and he hailed a cab.
“May I see you again?” he asked as the driver pulled to the curb by her
She hesitated.
“Maybe we’ll meet at the club again. I certainly hope so. I go there
quite frequently, most often two or three times weekly.”
“How about this Friday night? Will you be there then?” he replied.
She paused and then answered.
“Yes, Friday for sure.”
Chapter 2
Horror and Revelation
Elda arrived at the Katakome on Friday night as promised. She was
seated at her usual table by Fritz. An hour passed and she fidgeted uneasily
as she waited with no sign of Anton.
Then, she finally espied him, walking through the bluish, smoky haze,
towards her.
“I’m sorry I’m a bit late but I had an urgent business meeting to attend
to” he apologized.
“That’s alright. I’ve been enjoying the show” she replied pretending to
be unconcerned by his lateness.
The evening wore on and as they spoke the warmth between them
Then, abruptly the trio stopped playing at mid song. The house lights
rose and three men emerged from the club entrance into the room.
Each wore the black uniform of the Schutzstaffel , complete with SS
armbands and lightning bolts. The one with two stripes on his armband
stepped forward and spoke in a loud commanding voice.
“As of this moment, this club is officially closed due to its
antigovernment activities. Everyone will leave now and present identification
at the door.”
With that, the two that accompanied him moved to the other exits and
stood before them.
Everyone rose in stunned silence and began to file towards the main
entrance in a trance-like state. Elda and Anton queued up with the rest. The
line moved ever so slowly. When they finally arrived at the exit the reason
for its slow movement became obvious.
At the doorway an SS officer sat behind a makeshift table, laboriously
copying the details of each identification that was presented.
Elda handed over her papers..
“I’m sure that we will meet again, Fraulein Elda” said the man in a
sarcastic, threatening voice as he handed her papers back to her.
She said nothing and left the building and waited outside for Anton to
be processed.
“What now?” she asked as they started to walk.
“I don’t know but I’m sure that it won’t be good” he replied.
“What should we do?”
“I don’t think there’s anything we can do, except wait” said Anton.
“I’ll come and see you here tomorrow evening. Will your father mind?”
he said as they approached her house.
“No, I’m sure he won’t. I’ll see you tomorrow then” and she nervously
unlocked the door and went inside.
The very next evening Anton arrived at Elda’s house. He walked up the
five, stone steps to the front door of the brownstone building and knocked.
No answer. He knocked again. No answer. He knocked again and this
time the door moved slightly ajar. It was unlocked!
He cautiously pushed it open wider and peered inside.
Then he called “Elda, are you there?”
No answer.
“Elda, are you here?” he again called.
No answer.
He quickly scanned the adjacent buildings before entering. He could
see two of the windows in the building across the street with the curtains
cracked aside and eyes staring out at him. He stared back at each and the
openings quickly closed in rapid succession.
He entered the house and walked down the long hall towards the
doorway at the far end continually calling out but this time is a low voice.
Still no response.
Everything was undisturbed but vacant. He left, perplexed but
suspecting the worst.
He walked down the stairs to the sidewalk. An old man with a cane
approached him as he stood pondering about what had just happened.
“Are you looking for Heir Dranken?” asked the old man.
“Yes and Elda” replied Anton.
“You won’t find them here. Not any more” came the reply.
“The SS came here early this morning and took both of them.”
“Took them where?” he exclaimed.
“I don’t know. A lot of people have been taken away lately and I don’t
think anybody knows for sure where” the man answered.
“If I were you I wouldn’t be eager to find out where, because you’ll
probably wind up in the same place and from what I’ve heard, it isn’t a good
place” he continued.
“What have you heard?” Anton asked.
“I’m not going to say. If I do, I might be next”, came the reply.
Anton could feel the fear in the man’s voice but he had to know. He
reached out with one hand, grabbed the old man by the front of his coat,
lifted him from the ground and dragged him into the alley between the
“Tell me what you know” he commanded, his eyes flashing with a
penetrating glow.
“All I know is that a friend of mine used to work for the railroad on the
night crew. He retired a year or so ago but he always goes down to the yard
every evening after supper to talk with his old pals. Now, he tells me, as of
late, all the workers are herded out of the yard two or three times every
night by the SS.
They bring in a whole bunch of people and load them onto the boxcars
and lock the doors and the train leaves. Then they let the workers back in. I
guess they don’t want anybody to see what they’re doing.
Where they go, he doesn’t know and neither do I. That’s all I know,
honest mister.”
“If this is all done in secret how does your friend know all this?”
“One of the train engineers is a pal of his. They’ve got to keep the
engineer otherwise there would be no one to drive the train” answered the
man in a stammer.
“Well didn’t your engineer friend tell you where he took them?”
“No, he said two SS man rode in the cab with him and they made him
stop the train in the woods a couple of hundred kilometers from here. They
unloaded everybody there, men, women and children. He didn’t really know
where it was. It was in the middle of nowhere.”
“When did he say they load these people onto the train?” Anton asked.
“Like I said two or three times a night” the man stammered.
Anton arrived at the railroad yard. He took up a hidden position, in the
shadows, where he could keep a night vigil. He waited. Police vans pulled up
periodically and discharged their passengers who were prodded through the
doorway of the large station house by several SS troopers. After several
dozen vans had been unloaded, those in the station house were marched to
the waiting box cars into which they were packed. Those who were too
feeble or too young were lifted by the others and shoved into the car at the
shouted commands of the guards. The door was slammed shut and locked.
Anton strained to see if Elda was anywhere amongst the herded
masses. He scanned every face with an uncanny vision as they were
clustered towards the waiting train.
The night wore on and two train loads had gone on their way. Vans
continued to pull up and unload. A third train would be filled before dawn, of
that he felt sure.
A whistle with its long, low tone, sounded in the distance and within
minutes the final train arrived. The boxcar doors were flung open by the
guards and its passengers began to file from the stationhouse.
Once again, Anton examined each face as it passed by his gaze.
There she was!
He quickly left his hiding place and stealthily approached to the
doorway of the stationhouse. He paused behind the attending guard’s back
and waited.
A call came from the SS guard at the door of the boxcar to hold up the
line for a moment. Anton then slipped by the distracted guard and into the
line of frightened passengers.
After a moment’s pause, the line again began to move with Anton in it.
When he reached the open boxcar door, he like the others before him, was
crammed through its entrance into a sea of humanity. All stood shoulder to
shoulder with not so much as a hair’s breath between them. Most all were
crying, cursing or praying. Many of the old people and child were all but
crushed by the compression.
He stood on tiptoe and peered over the throng, searching for Elda.
There she was in the far corner of the car. He immediately began to
push and shove his way towards her. As he arrived at her side, the car box
closed with a thunderous crash and everything became pitch black. For
several seconds, no one in the human herd made a sound and then suddenly,
the car lurched forward and the fateful journey began.
“Elda” he whispered in the darken, “It’s me, Anton.”
There was no immediate response. He knew it was she in spite of the
darkness. He could see her clearly and she made no reply. She merely stood
motionless and mute staring into the blackness.
“Elda” he again whispered a bit more loudly.
This time she turned towards the sound of his voice.
“Anton, it really is you” she replied in bewilderment.
“When I first heard your voice I thought it was an hallucination. How
could it be you?”
“It is me” he replied, “It is me and I’ll be here for you come what may”
and he reached out and held her against himself.
She pressed her head closely to his chest attempting to saturate
herself with his comforting embrace. As she lay in his arms his apparent
tranquility made her feel more secure than before. He held her tightly with a
confident grasp. Not so much as the slightest quiver or any pounding of his
heart divulged any fear to her.
The train continued throughout the rest of the night and into the dawn
well passed the two hundred kilometer mark described by the old man. Tiny
shafts of light streamed through the cracks in the walls providing a dim
illumination. Hours passed on the seemly unending journey. The foul odor of
urine drifted through the air as people could no longer restrain themselves.
An old woman sandwiched next to Anton pressed against him as she
collapsed but was unable to fall due to the wedge of the crowd.
The noisy banter of the passengers had long since subsided and an
eerie silence prevailed only occasionally broken by moans and whimpers.
At long last the train came to a halt. The silence continued and even
the sporadic outcries ceased. The only sounds heard by the passengers were
the furious pounding of their own hearts as they waited.
Then, the sound of the car doors being unchained, one after another,
filled the air.
Soon, Elda and Anton’s car door was flung open allowing a blinding
light, reflected from the glistening snowfall, to enter.
“Out! Get out!” came the shouted command of the SS man as he pulled
the weak through the doorway. Several landed prone on the concrete
platform while some of the others stepped on them in their eagerness to exit
the torment of the boxcar.
Elda and Anton moved with the thrust of the crowd into the line which
was marched down an icy path leading towards a large array of buildings in
the distance. Many of the marchers, having been wrested from their home in
haste, wore no winter clothing. Elda was one of them, clad only in a light
dress. She began to shiver violently in the cold, damp breeze that flowed
over the frozen earth.
Anton removed his coat and placed it around her and her quivering
She reached over and grasped his arm to express her gratitude. He felt
as cold as the snow itself.
“Let me tear out the lining and we can share it” she said pointing to the
He looked at her and smiled.
“No need. I’m not the least bit cold. Just make sure that you are warm
enough” he replied.
They continued on, she wrapped in the coat and he seemingly unfazed
by the biting cold. After several hundred yards, the images of gray, tattered
buildings encircled by a tall metal fence, came into clear view. Rows of
windowless barracks ran side by side down the muddy road between them.
The air was laden with the repulsive aroma of sewerage, smoke and stench,
all in a vile mix. It filled the nostrils and sickened the stomach.
A mud spattered jeep roared down the road and stopped by the SS man
leading the march. The passenger in the jeep shouted an order to him and
the line was separated into men, women and children. Each was then hustled
to a different set of barracks.
Anton gazed back over his shoulder, helplessly watching Elda and the
other women being herded away as he and the men were spurred in the
opposite direction.
He and thirty others entered the assigned quarters. It was a long, dark,
hall-like building with no windows and but two dimly glowing light bulbs
hanging from rafters. Strewn over the floor were squalid, canvas sacks
stuffed with rags and hay. Foul odors oozed from every crack and crevice of
every part of the room. The smells hung in the air, seemingly unmoved by the
stiff drafts that raced through the dismal chamber.
“This is home sweet home” came the sarcastic shout of the trooper
who had led them there.
“I’ll be back to give your instructions” and he slammed and chained the
door behind him as he left.
Each man moved to claim one of the wretched cots and fell, exhausted
onto its filthy surface. Anton walked to the rear corner and sat, propping
himself against the wall.
An hour passed and rattling of the chain being loosened sounded
through the door. It opened and a voice echoed.
“AufstehenBeeilen Sie Abschaum.
(Get up! Hurry you scum!)”
Everyone rose, except two, near comatose old men, , who remained
huddled in fetal positions. The others, including Anton, immediately arose
and lined up in front of the barracks. Two of the troopers entered the
building and unsuccessfully prodded the prone men, with their rifle barrels.
Failing to be aroused, they were dragged from the building and thrown into
the snow along side the entrance.
The others were marched off, single file towards the forest at the rear
of the camp.
When they arrived at their destination, each was given a tool and the
work began with several guards surrounding them, each brandishing a
readied machine gun. The work of clearing the forest was backbreaking and
unceasing. It continued until nightfall.
Twice during the day, one of the workers fell in exhaustion. Each time,
the man was kicked and beaten. When one was finally unable to continue his
work, he was dragged into the woods by two of the SS men and the sound of
a gun shot resounded from direction in which he had been taken. Shortly
after the shot was heard, the guards returned unaccompanied and resumed
their sinister supervision.
As darkness spread over the area, the laborers were filed back to the
barrack where several small loaves of stale, moldy bread and a large vat of
cold liquid containing floating potato peels were waiting. Again, the door was
chained as many fell with almost lifeless fatigue onto their filthy bedding.
Most huddled around the repugnant meal voraciously dipping their bread
scraps into the coarse soup as they ate.
Anton retired to his usual spot at the rear of the room against the far
wall and sat. He made no effort to enter the congregation of the ravenous.
He was hungry but his hunger was not for that bit of swill. He sat stone still,
his thoughts of Elda racing through his mind. Even the tortures of the day’s
experiences could not diminish his thoughts of her.
Within minutes of consuming the loathsome meal, the room fell silent.
The only sound was that of the scurrying of rats, vainly seeking the tiniest
discarded crumb of nourishment.
Anton gazed about the room through the blackness searching for those
who appeared to be mortally weakened. He spied several teetering at the
edge of death. He was sure that none would survive the next day’s toil.
He crawled on all fours over to the weakest, carefully pulled his head
aside, sunk his teeth firmly into the man’s neck and drained what little life he
had left from him. Once satisfied he left the lifeless body and crawled back to
the corner to resume his thoughts.
For a brief moment, a pang of remorse flashed within him. He
instantaneously dismissed it. His act had not only satiated his hunger, it had
saved the man from the horrors of the death that surely awaited him in the
morning. In spite of its monstrosity, his act was above all, an act of kindness,
not depravity, he thought. Throughout his macabre existence, he had always
carefully selected those who would surely welcome death. He was sure to
never extinguish any honest, vital being, no matter how overwhelming his
urges might be. Anton felt himself to be as moral as one of his kind could be.
He knew that his initiation into this ghastly reality had arisen from an
unwitting act of benevolence and with that thought he found complete
release from self-reproach.
As he sat, he felt waves of strength erupt within him. After a time, he
stood and walked to the doorway and paused before it. He breathed deeply
and stepped effortlessly through the chained door out into the night air. He
stopped and drew the frigid atmosphere into to his nostrils seeking her
scent. Once sensed, he turned and surged towards her building at the far end
of the camp. He approached the building and once again stood silently before
its chained entrance. As before he breathed deeply and stepped into the
The housing was similar to his in every respect, windowless, cold and
squalid. The acrid odors of sweat, urine and excrement filled the air.
He saw her, there she was, curled tightly, lying on the floor at the back
of the room. He approached, crawled next to her in the darkness, grasped
her shoulder and gentled awakened her.
She opened her eyes and struggled to sit up, straining to see through
the blackness.
“Edla, it is Anton” he whispered.
The sound of his voice sent an instantaneous rush of exhilaration
through her.
“This must be a dream, a hallucination, a prelude to madness” she
thought. She remained silent.
“Elda, it’s Anton” again came from the darkness.
She reached feebly in the direction of the voice and touched him.
“Anton, it is you!” she then answered in an astonished tone.
“You are here! It is really you! How is this possible?”
“You are so weak, barely alive” he answered.
“I’ve had nothing to eat since we were arrested” came her reply with
an intermittent, deep cough.
“You are ill?” he asked in a raised voice.
“Yes, I think you are right.”
“Speak softly so as not to awaken anyone or alert the guards” she
whispered fearfully.
“Fear not.
In the hours of the night, only you can hear my voice. Only you can feel
my presence. For others I appear as simply shadows of the dark unless I will
to make myself known. All these powers flow freely as dusk arrives.
When the sun rises, my powers diminish and I am revealed as all other
men. Until that time my appearance remains hidden at my command.”
Then he continued.
“Elda, I can save you but the decision will be yours. It will be one for
which there will be no retreat. It will be a decision for all eternity. Regret will
never be an option for you, only acceptance.”
Anton knew full well that he could easily force his will upon her and he
knew he would if she were to refuse him. It would be his only choice. His
love for her would never allow him to let her just die in this squalor and leave
him forever. He also knew that forcing her against her will, could easily scar
the timeless relationship with her that he sought.
“What decision?” she asked.
“Hold my hand” he replied.
She did.
“Touch my face.”
She placed her hand on his cheek.
“Press your ear to my chest.”
Again, she complied.
She drew away and spoke.
“Your hands are as cold as the snow as is your cheek and your heart is
silent” she said with an air of bewilderment.
“Yes” he replied.
“How can this be?”
“I am one of those of whom you have heard much and know little. You
like most, have refused to believe I am sure” he answered slowly.
“I am a phantasm perpetually existing on the precipice between life
and death. I need no earthly nourishment, save one. I experience no
torment, no illness, no barriers to my wanderings and no pain of death.
The only suffering that I endure is the thought of your loss and if
you will come with me, that suffering will then also be relieved.
Let me share my gifts with you so we may leave this wretched
place together.”
“I don’t understand Anton. I trust you but I don’t understand.
How could this all happen?” came her uncertain reply.
There was a long pause and then he began.
“I am Russian, that you know. I was born into my first life,
in Moscow in 1890. My father was a butcher with a small shop in
the city until the great famine of 1892 caused him to close his
business. There was no food to be sold and thousands died.
We too, were cast into poverty and after several years my
mother and father both perished from malnutrition and disease.
Their sacrifices allowed me to survive and after their deaths I
was taken to an orphanage at the outskirts of the city. The
headmaster was a sadistic priest who enjoyed the company of
young boys and was particularly fond of me and so I survived
too, while many others did not. It was a horrible existence but
none the less an existence.
I lived there until I was fifteen. Then, I decided that I could
no longer live in the abusive clutches of the headmaster. The
famine had subsided and I felt that I could endure on my own.
How? I was unsure but I was sure that I had to free
myself. I can still remember as if it were yesterday, I was
packing the few possessions that I owned into a cloth sack when
he entered.
‘Anton, where do you think you are going?’ he shouted
I didn’t reply.
‘I said where are you going?’ he again shouted and once
again I didn’t reply.
‘You’re going nowhere’ and with that he removed his gold
watch from his pocket and placed it on the cot next to my sack.
‘So you are stealing my watch and that is why you are
leaving. Let me call Borya. I am sure that he can handle this’ and
he turned towards the doorway.
Borya was the headmaster’s brutal taskmaster well known
for his violence assaults on those committing even the slightest
infractions. I knew of several that had returned from his
punishment chamber in almost unrecognizable condition.
As he turned away from me I instinctively threw my arm
around his throat and pulled him backwards towards the floor.
His head struck with a solid thud and he went limp. He appeared
lifeless. I pressed my ear against his chest and heard nothing.
I pulled the ragged sheet from the cot, wrapped his
motionless body in it and slid him under an adjacent bed.
It was a cold spring day when I left. Life was hard on the
streets of the city. Despite the hardship, I was forever free of the
old man and his sordid ways and that solace sustained me. I took
refuge in abandoned buildings, under bridges and in any shelter
that could be found. Begging and stealing became a way of life,
the only way of life available.
After several years of wandering, I was befriended by
vagabond monk, Grigori, who invited me to stay with him in his
shabby apartment. Recalling my experiences at the orphanage, I
was immediately suspicious of his intentions but I soon
discovered my fears to be unfounded. Although kindly towards
me, I saw his ways as strange.
He almost never left the apartment in the daylight. When
he did he returned quickly in a state of great weakness and
fatigue. He frequently visited a Doctor Ivanovicha, who he said
had been a protégé of the great neuroscientist Doctor Santiago
Ramon y Cajal in Madrid but he never disclosed the nature of his
illness to me.
I can’t remember ever seeing him eat, yet he always
appeared fully nourished and healthy in spite of his constant
visits to the doctor. He had a loathing fear of physical contact
and recoiled at the mere attempt at a handshake. His sleep was
silent and trance like and entered into most often during daylight
hours. I never noticed any rise and fall of his chest as he slept
only stillness.
Despite all of these oddities, he treated me well. He
provided a warm place for me to stay and gave me money each
day to buy food and my necessitates of life and asked for nothing
but friendship in return.
One evening, an elated Grigori returned home claiming that
his treatments by Doctor Ivanovicha had finally succeeded in
alleviating some of the symptoms of his mysterious disease. He
remained awake throughout the entire night eagerly awaiting
the sunrise. As the light rays spread over the landscape, he tore
open the door and stepped into their brilliance. He basked there
for several moments, with eyes closed and arms outstretched.
Then, he turned and reentered the apartment bearing a
broad grin the likes of which I had never seen of him before.
‘It is done’ he announced.
‘My great friend Ivanovicha has, after centuries of
darkness, brought me back into the light of the world. The gift I
have promised him will surely be granted this very day’ and with
that he left the apartment without further explanation.
The very next day, Grigori again arose early and left the
Filled with curiosity, I too arose immediately after his
departure and followed him down the winding streets and alleys.
He arrived at a large house at the center of the city. The door
was answered by a servant who admitted him without hesitation.
When he arrived home that evening his excitement was
‘We will soon be packing our bags my young friend’ he
My immediate fear that we were being evicted, was allayed
by the tone in his voice.
‘Packing for where?’ I asked anxiously.
He hesitated and then replied with a wide, tooth bearing
‘The Palace of the Tsar.
Did you hear me?
The Palace of the Tsar’ he repeated.
I thought surely he had gone insane. Most likely the
clandestine treatments that he had received from Doctor
Ivanovicha had driven him mad. What other explanation could
there be for his maniacal ranting?
‘When will we go?’ I replied disguising my thoughts of his
apparent madness.
‘Tomorrow!’ he answered gleefully.
‘And what will we do there?’ I continued, curiously.
‘You and I will save the young Prince and claim the great
favor of the Tsar and the Tsarina’ he replied with sudden
All were aware of the Prince’s malady. It burdened all of
Russia. The slightest laceration or bruise yielded nearly
unstoppable bleeding. The disease had driven the Tsarina to near
hysteria. She had appealed far and wide seeking anyone who
might cure his affliction. All had failed and the Prince continued
to live at the edge, with the threat of death occurring from the
slightest injury.
Grigori had been a great friend and benefactor and I
hesitated to question the absurdity of his answer lest I offend
‘And what part must I play in his cure?’ I asked.
With that came a flood of astonishing answers, each one
more unbelievable than the previous.
‘I was summoned to Moscow by Anna Vyrubov as a great
friend of the Tsarina’ he began.
‘All the men of medicine and healers have tried to save the
young Prince from his tortures and none have succeeded.
Fortune and power awaits those who succeed and you and I will.
I have already been rewarded greatly by the Tsar for the
mere willingness of my efforts. He has allowed me to consult
with his friend and physician, Doctor Ivanovicha, and paid him
handsomely so that he might seek to remedy the unending
plague which I have endured.’
‘And what affliction might that be?’ I replied.
‘The weakness and certain demise impressed upon me by
the rays of the rising sun’ he answered.
‘And Doctor Ivanovicha mended this infirmity?’ I asked.
‘With knowledge gained from his great mentor, Doctor
Santiago Ramon y Cajal, he has succeeded in ameliorating the
condition. Now only modest weakness prevails in the daylight
hours, not the complete ebb of strength and approach of death
that formerly persisted ‘ he hesitated.
‘I am not as I appear to be.
Place your hand in mine” he commanded.
I reached and grasped him. I touched him for the first time.
‘What do you feel?’ he asked.
‘Coldness!’ I answered.
‘The coldness of death?’ he replied.
‘Yes’ I answered shocked by his question.
He opened his shirt and bade me place my palm on his
‘What do you feel?’ he again asked.
‘Nothing! Again coldness’ I answered in an awestruck,
trance-like voice.
‘No beat of life?’ he continued.
‘None!’ I replied.
‘I am dead but I am not dead. I am alive but I am not alive,
I exist. Thus I have been for many centuries and thus I will be for
many more centuries. I am the second generation of the undead
who have risen in glory with the sanction of the Divine.
I walk with the blood of Judas Iscariot in my veins. It was
he that was given the true blood of the Divine in the cup from
which he drank at the last repast while the others drank but
It was the reward given by the Savior for his faithfulness,
love and willing obedience. It was he Judas, who was asked by
the Christ to deliver him to the Romans so he could become the
sacrifice for all mankind. In doing, he selflessly surrendered his
name to infamy for all eternity by carrying out the will of the
It was he, Judas who was my resurrector and granted me
the gift of his resurrector, the first risen one.’
‘But why you?’ I asked.
‘I had saved many during the Great Plaque by healing
powers given to me by the Lord. How those were obtained and
how they acted I know not, but act they did and I was able to
spare many.
My reputation as a great healer spread and eventually
reached the ears of the king. When his daughter took ill he
summoned me to administer to her. My efforts failed and she
died. I believe that king’s soul was so stained by his sinister acts
that my powers were made void.
I was about to be executed for my failure. As I was lying in
my cell awaiting my certain end Judas appeared and saved me by
granting me this life and these powers which I now possess.’
‘And if he was granted eternal existence, where is he now?’
I inquired incredulously.
‘I continue by the life fluid of those who are living. My
being is sustained not by consuming any of a fully vital nature
but instead by those who seek relief of life’s sufferings or those
of evil purpose. I carry only mercy or revenge in my still heart
when I seek nourishment.
He too, was of like kind. He sought only those of the nature
which I have described. His searches for beings of this
circumstance, often led him to the battle fields of old, were the
dying wounded cried out for a hastened end. One such of these
places was that of the conflict of Sultan Mehmed II and the
Prince of Wallachia, Vlad Tepes on the battlefields of Romania.
Upon his capture by the forces of the Prince just at the hour of
sunrise, he was impaled by a wooden stake as were the others.
Little did his capturers know that this would be the only means
by which his essence would end. And so he did and he perished.’
He paused with eyes cast downward.
‘This now is my cursed blessing’ he continued.
‘And what purpose will I serve?’ I again asked, increasingly
fearful as to what he might say.
‘When first Anna Vyrubovas summoned me I was unsure as
to whether I might be able to serve the needs of the young
Prince. I told her that to be sure I required a bandage from his
wounds. Upon receiving it, its scent announced the rare nature of
his vital fluid. It was then for me to find someone of a similar
nature. After a long, fruitless search I finally found someone of
like nature.
It is you!
The character of your blood was fully described to me
when we first met by the aroma of your very breath. It was you
whom I sought and it is you whom I have found! We together
will save the young man and we together will incur the eternal
gratitude and reward of the Tsar.’
‘And how will this be done?’ I asked.
‘Your blood and mine must intermingle that I might
possess the necessity to administer to the boy. When that has
been accomplished a slight infusion of our serum from my veins
into his will diminish the ravages of his affliction until the next
My prayers to Saint Judas, who has been already ascended
to our divine resurrector, have been answered with these
instructions. I am therefore assured that by this implementation,
the child will be saved.’
And so it began. I willingly participated, unaware that
Grigori had not told me completely of the consequences of my
cooperation. Our first amalgamation occurred that evening.
The lamp light flickered casting eerie, elongated shadows
against the walls of the room as he and I sat at the table with
arms outstretched upon it. He held the knife to his wrist and with
a rapid slice opened his vein. He showed no wince of pain or
recoil. His heavy fluid oozed forth, flowing down over his palm.
Then he moved the knife to my arm. I instinctively felt the
urge to draw back but instead held myself still. He sliced it and
my blood pulsed forth. Immediately, he grasped my arm and
pressed it tightly next to his. As the two liquids mixed his eyes
rolled back and his head fell forward all the while keeping our
arms in vise like contact. After several minutes, he regained
consciousness and it was done.
The very next day, he and I moved into the palace. From
that time on, he attended the boy regularly and achieved the
greatest confidence and gratitude of the royal family. The child’s
health improved exceedingly.
As for me, my vigor began to change. I first noticed it
shortly after my conjunction with Grigori. I began to feel
lethargic during the daylight hours and overwhelmingly robust
throughout the night. My appetite waned and my meals were
sparse. Soon all desire for normal sustenance was lost.
My interest in the slightest sight of blood, whether human
or animal, was peeked. I felt a compellation to take daily trips to
the local slaughter houses so as to observe the butchering of the
animals. The sights, sounds and smells I found to become more
and more delightful. I soon began a regular collection of the
blood of the slain animals claiming that I was using it as garden
fertilizer. In reality it had become my sole source of subsistence.
My unnatural urges continued to rise and I confronted
Grigori. It was only then that I learned of my unalterable fate.
I too was, by my cooperation with him, was becoming such
as he, existing on the precipice between life and death from that
time forward. After time, my desire for human blood rose and my
cravings could no longer be satisfied by that of animals.
It was then that he told to me the nature of the victims
whom I should seek to satiate my thirst.
‘Those suffering the torments of extremely poor health,
longing for death are acceptable. Persons of a suicidal character
who actually seek death will also be desired. The consumption of
these shall be of a gentle, compassionate nature.
Also available to you are the malevolent evil doers, those
who have proved their ways by malicious and diabolical acts. For
them, the consumption shall be of the most violent and sadistic
manner possible and the nourishment most invigorating.
This is the code by which you shall exist for all of eternity.
Under no conditions shall you stray from these
commandments else you shall cease to exist. Damnation and its
tortures will be yours to endure forever.’
Thus I was entered into the existence I now claim.
As the young Prince’s condition bettered under Grigori’s
care, resentment and envy of those at the palace rose. Constant
accusations of witchcraft, sorcery and nefarious activities of all
sorts continually flowed from the lips of all.
The Tsar and Tsarina cared little about the suggested
source of Grigori’s palliatives. Only the extraordinary results
were of their concern and they continued to lavish praise and
benefits upon him.
As time went on and he proceeded to work his magic,
resentment grew. Finally, it rose to a level at which the wishes of
the royal family and the health of the prince were no longer
considered and a small group of covetous schemers decided to
act. That decision portended the demise of Grigori.
Late one evening, he was invited to meet with the
conspirators under the guise of social congeniality. Little did he
know the real intent was his murder. Unknowing of Grigori’s true
breed, the attempt was to poison him using wine adulterated
with arsenic. To their surprise, the effort failed, in spite of his
consumption of huge quantities of the lethal mixture.
Upon seeing his being unaffected, they resorted to
shooting him. He fell into the snow at the doorway of the
building as he attempted escape. Believing him to be dead they
began dragging him towards the river for the final disposal.
Suddenly, he revived from the stunning impact of the
bullets which had temporarily stilled him and began to struggle
with his overwhelming strength. Again surprised, his assailants
continued their vain attempts to subdue him. One grabbed an
axe which they had brought to open a hole in the ice. Upon
swinging it at him, the handle broke on impact. Its splintered end
was then plunged into Grigori’s chest thus impaling him. They
had unwittingly and with great luck sealed his fate. His death
was immediate and his body was cast into the icy waters of the
Moskva River.
Without the healing acts of Grigori, the young boy again
became ill. The royal family fell back into chaotic depression and
I left the city. I traveled day and night. Luckily, I inherited from
Grigori the tolerance of light he had acquired from Doctor
Ivanovicha. The purpose of my travel was to find a nourishment
of which I could readily partake.
To continuously seek the ill or the evil to satisfy my needs
required great effort. Every day necessitated a frenzied search.
Being new to this way of existence and without the counsel of
Grigori, made the task next to impossible. Grigori, over the
centuries had developed his senses so that he could immediately
identify those whom he might consume. I knew I must find a
way to survive until I, too, could perfect my skills.
And so it was that I decided to travel to Prussia where the
Great War had just begun. I was there to search for those
mortally wounded souls strewn about the battle field just as
Judas had done in Romania.
I portrayed myself as a medic and combed the battle field
each evening. Upon finding those whom I sought, I consumed
them thereby easing their passing and filling my vital need.
When the war ended, my abilities had been honed to a
keen edge and my lust for the blood of vengeance rather than the
blood of mercy, grew within me. I came to Germany knowing
that my search for malevolent victims would easily be
accomplished. The rise of the National Socialist Party would
provide me with a lengthy menu. So it was that I arrived in Berlin
and began my indulgence.
Several vain attempts at devouring SS thugs failed. It was
as if each was enveloped in an invisible, protective shield
sheltered from my advances. Each time I was thwarted and each
time I was made to seek out nourishment amongst the weak and
suffering. After about the fourth such incident, I began to recall
the lessons of Grigori. He had told me of one great obstacle that
could be encountered when preying on the purveyors of evil and
their confederates.
The power to repel my quest for vengeance is granted to
the one who touches the Spear of Destiny, that instrument which
pierced the side of the Christ as he died on the cross. The power
it bestows upon its possessor is superior.
If held over ones heart at the midnight hour and the sacred
words of protection are recited threefold, it ensures safety and
victory for he who then harbors it and for all those who perform
this same rite in his presence. The true Spear was obtained by
the Fuhrer from the Imperial Treasury at Vienna by surreptitious
means and replaced with a forgery before he rose to power. The
secrecy of its theft prevented the Austrians from realizing his
bellicose intent. Had they discovered its loss, they surely would
have been alarmed and prepared for attack. Without knowledge
of its disappearance, they remained ill prepared and easy prey.
It is now in the custody of the Fuhrer and it endows him
with authority over me and all others who oppose him.”
He paused and continued.
“Elda, let me save you from the certain death that awaits. Join
with me in the gift of eternal life and the search for the way to destroy
this evil that has enveloped the land.
All I need is your consent to make it so” he whispered as he
gently brushed her hair from her forehead.
She hesitated and then replied.
“I trust you Anton and I believe your words, but you are giving
me a choice between the certainty of death and the certainty of a gray,
eternal life, living in the shadows and darkness. I am not sure if an
existence filled with encounters of those racked with terminal
torments and those of abhorrent evil is a price worth paying for eluding
mortal death. I must be sure of my choice before I allow this to
He held silent and then spoke again.
“I will return tomorrow night” and with that disappeared into the
Anton returned night after night as he had promised each time finding
her in a more weakened state. Life was slowing within her as the days moved
on. He, by contrast, remained vital and strong owing to his continual
nourishment taken from the many surrounding him who where lying at
death’s edge.
On the fifth night he arrived to find a squalid, slumped mass, a gaunt
shell of Elda barely clinging to life. Her once beautiful form had withered into
a skin clad skeleton and her well quaffed locks had been reduced to a
snarled, tangled mat. She drew in slow, labored breaths as she lay
motionless and mute on the cold, dirt floor of the barrack.
Panic filled him as he whispered.
“Elda, Elda speak to me!”
Her reply was silence.
“Elda” he repeated once again more loudly.
Again, no response, only a guttural whimper.
Although, she had never agreed, she too had never fully rejected his
offers, he thought to himself as he knelt beside her near lifeless form. Should
he surrender her to eternal death and lose her forever or give her eternal life
and risk her scorn for his act? He was torn by inner turmoil. He clasped both
hands over his face and closed his eyes. Minutes passed.
Then, he opened his eyes and slid his hands slowly down his cheeks.
Her loss would surely lead to his own demise, of that he was certain.
The unending remorse that would consume him would be impossible to bear.
The thought of letting her slide into the abyss of death when he possessed
the power to save her would haunt him for eternity, of that he was
Her breathing was becoming shallower and her unintelligible
utterances less frequent as he anguished by her side. If he were to save her,
it must be soon before the finality of death took hold. The compulsion to act
grew within him and soon overwhelmed him. He moved in a trance like state
guided by swelling emotion.
He reached down, lifted her wrist and punctured it with a quick thrust
of the small knife he had bought with him. He could see her blood glistening
in the dim light as it slowly pulsed from the incision. Then, in like manner, he
plunged the knife into his own flesh and pressed his open wound tightly
against hers.
He felt his life force flowing into her and a rush of warm passion
rippled over him as the fluids mingled. Within moments, Elda began to stir,
her breathing became less labored and her mumbled groans became more
coherent. Then, her eyes flickered open and her lips began to move. A faint
smile spread over her face as she looked up at Anton sitting beside her.
“Am I alive?” she whispered and again closed her eyes.
He paused and then answered.
“You are more alive than you have ever been.”
She reopened her eyes and spoke.
“You mean” she began and stopped.
“Yes” he interrupted.
“I had no choice. The only other choice I had was to lose you forever
and that was a choice I couldn’t bear to accept. You must understand that to
lose you would be to lose myself”, he continued apologetically.
A brief silence prevailed.
“I understand” she answered.
“I too, feared your loss but I couldn’t find the courage to join you. This
way of life that is now ours is an anathema to my religion but your
assurances as to its purpose makes me confident that the path is just” she
continued and then paused.
An improved glow of vitality continued to ebb over her as looked up at
“Thank you Anton for saving me” she said meekly.
Anton reached into his pocket and took out a small, cloth bag. He used
the knife to scrap soil loose from the hardened dirt floor and placed several
handfuls in the bag. He pulled the drawstring of the bag tightly closed and
handed it to Elda.
“Guard this carefully” he instructed her.
“This is the soil of your grave, the place in which you have died and
been reborn. It is your protection when you rest. Without its presence your
very soul is in peril as you sleep.”
She sat up, took the bag from him and secured it in the waistband of
her dress.
“What has happened to my father? Is he still alive?” she asked.
“I don’t know. We were separated when we left the train” he
“We must find him” she continued in a frenzied voice.
“We will. We will” he consoled her.
“First, you must gain the strength to escape this wretched place with
me and for that you must eat.”
“What do you mean?” she asked knowing full well the answer she was
about to hear.
“You know the nature of our existence from my own stories that I have
told you. We must find someone here that will welcome your embrace” he
She paused, attempting to allow the full reality of her new being to
enter her consciousness. After a moment or two and with a long, hard
swallow, she replied in a weak voice.
“I have worked next to Stella since I arrived. She is steadily weakened
and continually mumbles prayers asking for her own death. Today, I had to
help her back here. She stumbled and fell several times and each time I
struggled to bring her back to her feet. When we arrived she was too
weakened to even eat the scant morsels we were given. I am sure she might
welcome me as the answer to her prayer.”
“Where does she lie?” he asked.
She pointed towards the front of the room and together they moved in
that direction.
With that, he helped her to her feet, grasped her hand tightly, and
together they walked towards Stella. He turned and spoke to her.
“Act now as your new nature requires” he commanded.
With that, she knelt down beside Stella’s skeleton-like frame, gently
moved her head aside and exposed her thin, ashen throat. She hesitated
momentarily and then the instincts of her newly acquired being consumed
her and she began to draw nourishment from Stella’s near lifeless form. As
she consumed the salty fluid she could feel a rush of strength and well being
flow into to her. It filled her every artery and vein. It poured over her every
nerve and muscle imparting a euphoria and potency which she had never
She arose and stood erect, her once gaunt figure replaced by one of
fullness and vitality.
Anton reached out and grasped her by her waist and pulled her close
and kissed her blood covered lips in a long passionate embrace. As they held
tightly in each other’s arms, they were filled with the knowledge that they
were now bound for all eternity .
“More about your new life I shall reveal to you later but for now we
must leave” said Anton.
“Follow me” he commanded and he stepped with ease through the
barrack’s wall, just as night breeze might rush through an open window. She
“This gift is that of the Archangel Raphael. We can move as he, passing
through the walls, as he did when he spoke with Enoch.”
Then she felt his gentle tug and then she too stepped forward and
passed with equal ease behind him.
“It is now we will search for your father.”
“Where?” she replied.
“You said that you haven’t seen him since we arrived?”
“I think the camp commandant will know” answered Anton
“I am sure he would, but how will you get him to tell us?”
“I think we can. Come with me” he replied assuredly.
With that they started walking towards the headquarters at the far
side of the camp. As they walked, a small contingent of three guards loomed
in the distance, coming in the opposite direction.
Elda upon seeing them immediately rushed into the shadows of a small
alleyway separating the barracks. Anton stopped and awaited the
approaching guards. One carried a large flashlight whose light he continually
swept back and forth over the rutted street. Aton stood stone still at the
edge of the muddy roadway awaiting their arrival.
The oscillating beam cast over him time and time again as they neared.
Elda continued to cower in the darkness and stared with alarm as they came
closer and closer to the motionless Anton. Each time the light struck him it
failed to reflect but rather appeared to pass straight through him lighting the
objects behind him.
When the guards came to about ten feet before him, they stopped
abruptly. Elda crouched, frozen with fear as she watched.
One of the guards reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of
matches and lit the cigarettes of the other two. Then, they continued their
march passed Anton without any acknowledgement of his presence.
He turned in Elda’s direction and called her forward. She timidly
emerged from her hiding place.
“As I told you before, to be seen or unseen as you wish is within your
power. You can appear as a mere shadow of the night to those whom your
presence is to be obscured. All that is required is your desire to make it so.
Remember however, these powers are only a blessing of the night.
At sunrise, we are afflicted with all the vulnerabilities of mortals. It is
the price paid for our freedom during the hours of dawn to dusk.
It is important to be most careful during these times since injury and
even death are possible. True and complete healings are possible only after
darkness falls. At that time even the most severe of injuries can be remedied,
even from the edge of death, so long as one’s body has not been destroyed.
They continued the march towards the camp headquarters with Anton
leading the way. They soon approached the commandant’s barracks. Two SS
men stood stoically before its entrance. Upon seeing them, Elda instinctively
slowed her pace and stopped.
Anton turned towards her.
“Fear not, I have clouded their minds and they cannot see us” he
She then timidly began to move slowly forward but still cautiously
lagging behind him. Once reaching the entrance of the building they entered
freely, without the slightest acknowledgement of their presence by the
guards. At the far end of the long hallway was the commandant’s office, its
door open wide revealing a huge, stocky man seated behind a large desk. A
lamp glowed brightly behind him as he poured over the papers before him.
They entered the room unobserved and stood before the desk. Anton
closed his eyes and furled his forehead as he concentrated. After a second or
two, the commandant looked up with a start.
“Who are you? Where did you come from?” he announced with startled
“Beeile dich!
(Guards! Guards!)” he yelled.
Elda glanced down the hallway to see the two guards that had been at
the front door, racing towards the office.
Anton stood motionless, unconcerned about the approaching guards.
Elda closed her eyes and forced herself to remain still as he did.
They rushed through the doorway with guns drawn.
“Shoot them! Shoot them both!” shouted the commandant as he
pointed at Anton and Elda.
Both men froze in astonishment and looked perplexedly in the direction
to which he pointed.
“Why do you hesitate? I said shoot them! Both of them!” he repeated
They remained in their frozen pose and stared at each other in
bewilderment. Then, one spoke in an unsure tone.
“Who should we shoot, Heir Commandant?”
“Those two, you fools!” he exclaimed and again motioned towards
Anton and Elda.
The continued to hesitate and then again spoke.
“We see none, Heir Commandant.”
“See none? Are you blind?” he screamed.
Hearing intensity of his command, they blindly shot several volleys in
the direction to which he had pointed. Several bullets struck both Anton and
Elda but neither responded. The punctures made by the penetrating
projectiles closed within seconds leaving no evidence of their entry and they
both continued to stand silently before the Commandant.
Upon seeing the ineffectiveness of the firing, he ordered the guards
from the room and sank back into his chair in disbelief. He looked up at them
and spoke.
“Am I mad?” he asked himself meekly.
“Who are you and what are you and what do you want of me?” he
continued in a low, stuttering voice.
“Who and what we are is of no concern to you. What we want is the
fate of Fredrick Draken. He was brought here to your camp several days ago
from Berlin” replied Anton.
“Thousands have been brought here. How could I know about one
individual?” he answered.
“You have records, records of everyone and their every move. Find that
of Fredrick Draken” Aton commanded as he motioned towards the several
large file cabinets at far end of the room.
“I have no such records” replied the Commandant.
A raging scowl crept over Anton’s face. He stepped towards him,
grasping him by his hair pulling his head backward with a sharp thrust and
with his other hand held his chin with a crushing grip. He bent over, inches
from his face, with eyes gleaming and repeated his command.
“Find me those records, now!” he yelled and with that he lifted the
Commandant from his chair and threw him headlong towards the file
The commandant slowly rose to his knees from the spot where he had
landed and timidly opened one of the cabinet drawers. After several minutes
of shuffling through the papers he withdrew several sheets of paper and
began to peruse them.
“You’ve found it!” announced Anton.
“Give it to me!”
“I haven’t located his name yet” replied the Commandant.
“That’s a lie. You are looking at his name right now. I can see it in your
mind” Anton answered sternly and ripped the paper from his trembling hand
and read it silently to himself.
"Fredrick Draken nach Auschwitz geschickt auf Antrag des Doctor Hirt"
it read.
"What does it say?" asked Elda eagerly.
“It says your father was taken to Auschwitz the day after we arrived
here” answered Anton.
“Auschwitz! Why?”
“It says he was sent at the request of a doctor at Auschwitz, a Doctor
Augusta Hirt.”
Anton looked up at the Commandant.
“Why does a doctor at Auschwitz want him?” he asked.
The Commandant swallowed hard and replied.
“I don’t know. Every once in a while he sends for a specific person to
be sent to him. I think it is because they have some special characteristics
that suit his experimentation.
That’s all I know. I am required to conform to his requests by orders
from Berlin.”
Elda turned to Anton.
“That true?” she asked.
“Yes, he tells what is in his mind” Anton replied.
“When we arrived here I noticed that not all of the box cars were
emptied. Many left still filled with passengers. Where were they taken?”
“To other camps. Each of the cars is marked as to which camp they are
to go” replied the Commandant.
“Do any go to Auschwitz?”
“Yes” he answered.
His questions answered, Anton closed his eyes. A statue like expression
covered his face. He stood frozen; not a muscle moved.
Elda watched as the Commandant rose and slowly walked to his desk.
He opened the desk drawer and withdrew a Luger. He then raised it to his
head in a robotic motion.
Then he spoke.
“I was only following orders” he exclaimed.
There was a brief silence.
“So am I” replied Anton and with that the silence was broken by the
report of the gun shot that ripped through his temple. The gun flew from his
hand as he slumped to the floor.
Anton immediately stepped to him, pulled back his head and sank his
teeth into the neck of the lifeless body. After he had filled himself he arose
and looked at Elda.
“Mother always told me it is a sin to waste good food” he spoke with a
sly grin as he reached for the Commandant’s towel which was lying on a
washstand in the corner of the room. He wiped the blood from his mouth and
chin and then extended his hand to her.
“We must go to Auschwitz and find your father.”
“How shall we go?” Elda asked.
“Aboard the train” he replied.
“We must leave now for the station before the sun rises. Once the light
of day arrives all our powers are forsaken. We can no longer hide from the
sight of others, we can no longer traverse physical boundaries at will or see
the thoughts of others and worse of all we become subject to death itself. If
we sustain mortal injury and can survive until sundown, we will then be
healed as the sun sets. If survival until that time is not possible then a final
death is our fate. We will cease to exist and our bodies will return to the
elements. This is the risk we must endure so as to be able to walk in the light
as other mortals do.
When night falls our powers are again restored and we walk again with
the gifts of the Christ, given to us through Saint Judas.
Let us go now and hide near the train station until darkness and then
we will enter the car marked Auschwitz and seek your father.”
With that they passed out of the office in the same manner as which
they had entered, leaving the Commandant’s corpse to be found by the

Read the entire story at: AMAZON  &  SMASHWORDS

Leave a Reply