Blue Gender DVD Boxset Winner - Vengeance Incorporated
Vengeance, Incorporated:
22 Years in the Future and 81 Years in the Past
The air was putrid; the lighting, minimal. It was hazy, dark, and hot. I tried to shift my body into a more comfortable position but failed. I was currently stuffed in a box five feet high and four feet wide. To say that I was extremely uncomfortable would be an understatement. The soles of my shoes were pressed against hardened iron bars. Beyond those bars I could hardly see a thing. I knew that Fritz, the guardsman, was out there but I couldn't see him. The only thing that made me aware of his presence was the foul odor of the cheap cigarettes he smoked. My legs and butt were stiff and my back throbbed. I had been in this cramped cage for the past nineteen hours and I needed to get out. I had no idea how the other prisoners dealt with this sort of treatment. Well, most of them didn't deal with it for very long . . . usually only for a couple of months.
“Fritz,” I rasped. “You there, Fritz?”
“Yeah, whaddaya want?” he called back through the darkness.
“Could you,” I tried to swallow but found my throat was dry. “Get me some water?”
There was a slight pause and then he replied, “Sure.”
About a minute later a small tin cup was thrust through the bars of my cell. Without giving a word of thanks to Fritz I snatched up the cup and gulped down its contents. I strained with my tongue to retrieve every last drop. When all the water was gone I simply rolled the cup back out through the bars.
I hung my head low, tired and in pain, but thankful for Fritz. He had been the best guard anyone could have. He actually cared about my well being, or at least he did a good job of pretending. For this, I thought I would do him a favor. “Fritz. You're a good guy. You've got a family. I want to help you out.”
“Oh really? How you gonna help me?” he said, again amidst the darkened jail.
“I'm going to do you a favor. I'm going to tell you about,” I paused and chuckled inwardly at myself. “About the future.”
“Oh really? What about it?”
“I'm going to tell you how to survive. And if you live long enough, what stocks to invest in. If you listen to everything I say you'll survive the war. And be a very rich man.”
“Huh. And why am I so lucky?”
“Because you're the only one here who has ever been nice to me.”
“Well, we've been sittin' here forever. Sure, I could use a good laugh. Fill me in.”
And so I began my tale. I gave Fritz the intimate details of my life. I told him everything from my birth in 1978 to my days in 2025 to my trip back to 1944.
By the time I finished graduate school I was 25 years old. That was in 2003. I had my master's degree in German and I intended to teach high school language classes. I picked German because my grandfather had been teaching me the language since I was three years old. Sixth months before I had graduated, CryoCorp., announced their patent on cryogenic technology. According to their advertisements, for only a flat fee of $5,000 a person could freeze themselves for up to twenty two years. I, like my friends, thought it was a novel idea but never dreamed of trying out something so far fetched. My biggest concern was this: what happens to your frozen body when CryoCorp. goes out of business? I shrugged off the idea, intending to never think of it again.
In October of the same year the United States had escalated its war on terrorism. Unfortunately, we were fighting a losing battle. Our military was simultaneously engaged against three different Middle Eastern countries. We were sticking to more traditional combat measures while they were using guerilla tactics. By November the death toll was up to 5000 men and women. The press had already dubbed this offensive measure, “Vietnam II.” To make matters worse, the government was going to start up a draft. People were quite unhappy with the president, to say the least. On December 2nd, I received confirmation of my draft in the mail. I hated the thought of war. I hated the fact that my grandfather had been tortured in an Austrian concentration camp during World War II. He survived, but he never forgave the Germans. Neither did I. If I had the opportunity I would probably get revenge on all of those bastards. And now I couldn't believe my own government was picking fights, trying to shape the world in its own image, just like the Germans had done.
It was at this time, engulfed in past and present hatreds, that I remembered CryoCorp. I went to their main office and inquired about being cryogenically frozen. They told me that once the cryogenics process had started, it could not be stopped without killing the subject. So, if I had myself frozen, the government couldn't unfreeze me to get its hands on one more soldier. I liked the idea. I gave CryoCorp $5000, my life savings, and promptly had myself frozen. I was about to become to most famous draft dodger of all time. Perhaps even more famous that Bill Clinton. I don't remember much about the freezing process other than that it was very cold and very dark. I was inanimate but I still dreamed. I dreamed about my family.
Twenty two years later I was unfrozen. The entire process took about a week. Once I had been acclimated, CryoCorp., miraculously still in business, pushed me out through the front doors in the same clothes I had been wearing when I first walked in. I immediately forgot about the war and dodging the draft. My eyes shot wide open, immeasurably excited about being able to see the future. I salivated, hoping to see flying cars, meals in pill form, and robot butlers. Just then a reeking, rusty dump truck rattled by along the street. My stomach sank and I knew that none of these great things had come to pass.
I was right. The year 2025 looked pretty much the same as the year 2003. Most houses still had big green lawns bordered by white picket fences. People still drove cars that ran on unleaded gasoline (although prices were now about $4.00 per gallon). Pill food hadn't shown up yet. Housewives still had no robot butlers to delegate work to. And crime, poverty, and illnesses were all at the same rates as they were 22 years ago. Basically, nothing had changed.
Living with my sister I began to inquire more about the events of the past 22 years. She said that we finally gave up on the war on terrorism. She also told me that the ozone layer was thinning, the rainforest was dwindling, and movie tickets were up to $20 for a matinee. It seemed as if all of my hard work had been for nothing. I hadn't missed much other than the possibility of getting shot on a sand dune, so I became depressed. My sister tried to cheer me up by telling me about one amazing innovation of the future: time travel.
In the year 2020, Future/Past Inc. perfected time travel. And being a U.S. company, they decided to market it. They sold trips back in time for the middle to upper class tourist. You could go whenever and wherever you wanted as long as you could pay the fee of $10,000 for five days. The government, upon hearing of this invention, quickly decided to regulate it. It became mandatory for specially trained government employees to accompany the tourist back in time to be certain they didn't interfere with any important past events. Even if you went back to prevent Lincoln's assassination, it could have potentially disastrous results. Although the government publicly acknowledged Future/Past Inc. as the only time travel business, rumor had it that there was an underground company known as Vengeance Inc. According to my sister Vengeance Inc. would allow you to go back in time, without a chaperone, to do whatever you want and potentially kill whoever you want.
When I first heard the name “Vengeance Inc.” I immediately thought of my grandfather and of all the pain he had been put through. I clenched my fists angrily and wanted revenge. I wanted to go back in time and help him escape from his concentration camp, Mauthausen, so he could have a happy, trauma-free childhood. That evening, when I lay in bed, helping him escape (and maybe even killing some of those murdering Germans) was all I could think about. The thoughts filled my head so much I soon became blinded by rage. I had to do it. I had to save him. I had to make things right.
Now, my family had never believed in using banks. I don't know why, but it certainly made things convenient for me. So the next day, when my sister was out at work, I searched the house for her savings. I found her stash of money, swiped it all without bothering to count it, and went to the streets. I began to ask about Vengeance Inc. Fortunately, I didn't have to inquire for very long. I stumbled upon an employee of the company after only an hour of searching. He immediately took me back to his place of work and set me up for my trip back in time.
“How much is this going to cost?” I asked.
“Empty your wallet and your pockets,” he said.
I slapped all of my sister's money on the counter and he counted it. “Fifteen thousand, huh? That should be more than enough. Now, where is it you would like to go?”
“Mauthausen, 1944.”
“Mau-? Wait, wasn't that a concentration camp?”
“That's right,” I scowled.
“Why the hell would you want to go there?”
“You are Vengeance Inc. aren't you?”
The man gave me a slanted grin and said, “Right, Mauthausen, 1944.”
The process took another week to prepare. During that time Vengeance Inc.'s historians instructed me on how to behave like a proper German SS-Officer. They also familiarized me with the layout of the camp. They offered to give me lessons in German, but I declined, informing them of my previous experience with the language. Also during that week they sent their own operative back in time. It was his job to find a person they labeled, “The LZ,” which means “landing zone.” You see, Vengeance Inc. owned a piece of technology that Future/Past Inc. only dreamed of. Instead of sending back an entire person (as Future/Past Inc. does) they only sent back that person's mind. Vengeance Inc. could tag any person in the past, and download my consciousness into them. And when it was time to return, they pulled the data out. When it ends, no harm has come to the person or to me. During the entire time that I am in the past, it is only my mind, not my body. So, to everyone else in 1944, I will simply look like someone else. I shook my head, failing to understand it. To me, the whole thing sounded a little too much like “Quantum Leap.” Regardless, I had paid the money and a week finally passed. At last it was time for me to travel back in time. The Vengeance Inc. staff had me lay down on an operating table, and they gave me anesthetic. I went under before they began to time travel procedure.
When I awoke I found myself standing in a cool, dark room. There was a naked young man kneeling down with his back to me. A gun was in my hand. The gun was pressed to the back of the young man's head. Realizing what was going on I suddenly began to shake. The metal of the heavy gun rattled and sweat rolled down my forehead. A drop fell into my left eye and stung. “Come on Schneider, what are you waiting for?” asked a gruff voice behind me.
I looked back and saw an SS-Officer with his hands on his hips, staring at me with fiery eyes. “Do it already,” he shouted impatiently. I turned back and looked at the young man before me. He was paper thin, scarred, and shivering uncontrollably. He knew that I was about to kill him and he shook in anticipation. Not quite understanding what was going on I tried to steady my gun, but was unable.
Suddenly, I was pushed off to the side. The SS-Officer had shoved me out of the way. In a single fluid motion he drew his own pistol, fired a single shot into the back of the young man's head, and holstered his weapon. My eyes immediately went to the corpse. I bit my lip to keep myself from screaming. The SS-Officer shoved me back again and shouted, “That's how you do it, Schneider. What the hell is your problem? Come on, let's move.”
I put my gun away and tried to follow him outside of the room. I took another look at the body and felt my knees go week. The SS-Officer stopped and turned. Angrily he grabbed me by the arm and pulled me out of the room.
He yanked me out of the dark room and outside into blinding sunlight. He threw me to the snow-covered ground and kicked me hard in the ribs. My chest exploded like fire. I gasped in pain. Then, as I was inhaling the man delivered another hard kick to my chest. I heard a sickening snap, as one of my ribs collapsed. I gasped again. “Get up, you piece of trash!” the man shouted in my ear.
Dumbstruck, I tried to move, but apparently I was too slow. The man swatted the hat off my head, curled his fingers in my hair, and pulled me up hard. Now, I screamed out in pain. The man would give me no quarter. Once I was on my feet he began to shout in my ear, “In five months you haven't learned how to kill a single person! You've got to do it. Do it for the Fuhrer, for the Fatherland. For the good of the human race! Now, show me that you can kill someone!”
Still disoriented, I mumbled something incoherent. “Do it like this!” the man beside me shouted. He removed his gun once more and shot a random prisoner in the face. They dropped to the ground, spilling blood onto my clothes. “That's how you do it!” he screamed and laughed maniacally. He turned away from me for a moment and began to shoot the body once every second until he had unloaded his gun's magazine.
While he was busy I looked around desperately for a way out. There. A snow shovel had been propped up against the building we had just exited. I dashed forward and grabbed it firmly in both hands. Then I turned and rushed back toward the crazed SS-Officer. He didn't see me coming as he was busy reloading his gun. I started to swing hard with the shovel. He looked up an instant before I hit him.
The shovel slapped him hard across the face with a metallic clang! He whirled around and dropped to the snowy ground. Before he could get up or use his weapon I rained further blows upon his body. Thinking only of my hatred for people like him, and for the desire to set my grandfather free, I hit him more times than I can remember. The snow turned red with blood.
I barely remember being dragged away a few minutes later by two other SS-Officers.
“There you go, Fritz, that's the whole story,” I said.
“So that's why you killed Bruchner? 'Cause you're from the future?”
“That right,” I said desperately.
Fritz began to laugh. Somehow I knew he wouldn't believe me. I decided not to divulge any more information. Why waste my breath on him? I wouldn't tell him about how the allies would win the war, about how Austria would come under the control of the Soviet Union, and about how he should invest in Microsoft's stock in the early 1990s. I shook my head and began to cry. I had to wait. If I could somehow manage to stay alive for the remainder of my five day trip I would be pulled back. If my consciousness died, I was told by the time travel staff, I would die as well.
Just then Fritz excitedly said, “Hey, Schneider! It's time for your court date!”
Fritz unlocked my cramped cell and a burly SS-Officer yanked me out. Quietly he pulled me out of the building and back outside. The burly man reeked of whiskey and somehow I figured he wasn't the official court prosecutor. In fact, this entire visit was doubtfully sanctioned. The Germans wouldn't be doing this to their own people. The burly man glared down at me and sternly said, “I don't like you, Schneider. I never did. Neither did Bruchner. You know what? I haven't seen you kill a single person since you got here. Now, you've got your court appointment tomorrow. But I'm here to test you today. If you can kill one single person out here, then I'll let you live long enough to go to trial. Sound fair?”
“Bruchner was a maniac,” I said.
The burly man grinned and breathed on me. I winced back, disgusted by stale stench of whiskey. Ignoring my comment, the man began to look around the area for a candidate. After a few seconds the burly man grabbed a small boy randomly out of a line of prisoners transporting materials from the quarry. He shoved the young boy to his knees just before me. He pulled out a pistol and slapped it in my hand. “There. Now you kill this boy and you'll live to see tomorrow. Maybe you can still convince me that you're a real German officer.”
I dug deep into my soul and decided I could do it. For my grandfather I could kill one other prisoner. It would save both of our lives. I mustered up the courage, prepared to do it. I trained the pistol on the boy. I narrowed my eyes and began to squeeze the trigger. But then I noticed something. The serial number branded on his arm. It was the same as my grandfather's! My eyes opened widely and my hand went so slack I nearly dropped the pistol. I shook uncontrollably as the boy at my feet began to cry. I could not believe it. Here, before me, was the one person closest to me in the world. I could not kill him. The whole point of my journey was to save him. What could I do?
Suddenly I heard the cocking of a pistol, followed my hard steel being pressed against my temple. The burly man, holding the gun to my head, growled, “Either you kill this kid right now or I kill you? I'm gonna give you five seconds. What's it gonna be Schneider?”
I felt tears well up in my eyes. I had two options. I could take a bullet in the head and die now, or kill my grandfather and never be born. If I were to die, my grandfather would live and eventually I would be born again. However, I would have no memory of this situation, and by act of destiny, I would end up in this exact same spot. I was damned. Fate was indeed cruel. The cyclical nature of time, no, rather my own hatred had sent me reeling to my doom. I squeezed my eyes shut and felt fat tears run down my cheeks. I thought for another moment and decided what I would do.
A gunshot rang out.
22 Years in the Future and 81 Years in the Past
The air was putrid; the lighting, minimal. It was hazy, dark, and hot. I tried to shift my body into a more comfortable position but failed. I was currently stuffed in a box five feet high and four feet wide. To say that I was extremely uncomfortable would be an understatement. The soles of my shoes were pressed against hardened iron bars. Beyond those bars I could hardly see a thing. I knew that Fritz, the guardsman, was out there but I couldn't see him. The only thing that made me aware of his presence was the foul odor of the cheap cigarettes he smoked. My legs and butt were stiff and my back throbbed. I had been in this cramped cage for the past nineteen hours and I needed to get out. I had no idea how the other prisoners dealt with this sort of treatment. Well, most of them didn't deal with it for very long . . . usually only for a couple of months.
“Fritz,” I rasped. “You there, Fritz?”
“Yeah, whaddaya want?” he called back through the darkness.
“Could you,” I tried to swallow but found my throat was dry. “Get me some water?”
There was a slight pause and then he replied, “Sure.”
About a minute later a small tin cup was thrust through the bars of my cell. Without giving a word of thanks to Fritz I snatched up the cup and gulped down its contents. I strained with my tongue to retrieve every last drop. When all the water was gone I simply rolled the cup back out through the bars.
I hung my head low, tired and in pain, but thankful for Fritz. He had been the best guard anyone could have. He actually cared about my well being, or at least he did a good job of pretending. For this, I thought I would do him a favor. “Fritz. You're a good guy. You've got a family. I want to help you out.”
“Oh really? How you gonna help me?” he said, again amidst the darkened jail.
“I'm going to do you a favor. I'm going to tell you about,” I paused and chuckled inwardly at myself. “About the future.”
“Oh really? What about it?”
“I'm going to tell you how to survive. And if you live long enough, what stocks to invest in. If you listen to everything I say you'll survive the war. And be a very rich man.”
“Huh. And why am I so lucky?”
“Because you're the only one here who has ever been nice to me.”
“Well, we've been sittin' here forever. Sure, I could use a good laugh. Fill me in.”
And so I began my tale. I gave Fritz the intimate details of my life. I told him everything from my birth in 1978 to my days in 2025 to my trip back to 1944.
By the time I finished graduate school I was 25 years old. That was in 2003. I had my master's degree in German and I intended to teach high school language classes. I picked German because my grandfather had been teaching me the language since I was three years old. Sixth months before I had graduated, CryoCorp., announced their patent on cryogenic technology. According to their advertisements, for only a flat fee of $5,000 a person could freeze themselves for up to twenty two years. I, like my friends, thought it was a novel idea but never dreamed of trying out something so far fetched. My biggest concern was this: what happens to your frozen body when CryoCorp. goes out of business? I shrugged off the idea, intending to never think of it again.
In October of the same year the United States had escalated its war on terrorism. Unfortunately, we were fighting a losing battle. Our military was simultaneously engaged against three different Middle Eastern countries. We were sticking to more traditional combat measures while they were using guerilla tactics. By November the death toll was up to 5000 men and women. The press had already dubbed this offensive measure, “Vietnam II.” To make matters worse, the government was going to start up a draft. People were quite unhappy with the president, to say the least. On December 2nd, I received confirmation of my draft in the mail. I hated the thought of war. I hated the fact that my grandfather had been tortured in an Austrian concentration camp during World War II. He survived, but he never forgave the Germans. Neither did I. If I had the opportunity I would probably get revenge on all of those bastards. And now I couldn't believe my own government was picking fights, trying to shape the world in its own image, just like the Germans had done.
It was at this time, engulfed in past and present hatreds, that I remembered CryoCorp. I went to their main office and inquired about being cryogenically frozen. They told me that once the cryogenics process had started, it could not be stopped without killing the subject. So, if I had myself frozen, the government couldn't unfreeze me to get its hands on one more soldier. I liked the idea. I gave CryoCorp $5000, my life savings, and promptly had myself frozen. I was about to become to most famous draft dodger of all time. Perhaps even more famous that Bill Clinton. I don't remember much about the freezing process other than that it was very cold and very dark. I was inanimate but I still dreamed. I dreamed about my family.
Twenty two years later I was unfrozen. The entire process took about a week. Once I had been acclimated, CryoCorp., miraculously still in business, pushed me out through the front doors in the same clothes I had been wearing when I first walked in. I immediately forgot about the war and dodging the draft. My eyes shot wide open, immeasurably excited about being able to see the future. I salivated, hoping to see flying cars, meals in pill form, and robot butlers. Just then a reeking, rusty dump truck rattled by along the street. My stomach sank and I knew that none of these great things had come to pass.
I was right. The year 2025 looked pretty much the same as the year 2003. Most houses still had big green lawns bordered by white picket fences. People still drove cars that ran on unleaded gasoline (although prices were now about $4.00 per gallon). Pill food hadn't shown up yet. Housewives still had no robot butlers to delegate work to. And crime, poverty, and illnesses were all at the same rates as they were 22 years ago. Basically, nothing had changed.
Living with my sister I began to inquire more about the events of the past 22 years. She said that we finally gave up on the war on terrorism. She also told me that the ozone layer was thinning, the rainforest was dwindling, and movie tickets were up to $20 for a matinee. It seemed as if all of my hard work had been for nothing. I hadn't missed much other than the possibility of getting shot on a sand dune, so I became depressed. My sister tried to cheer me up by telling me about one amazing innovation of the future: time travel.
In the year 2020, Future/Past Inc. perfected time travel. And being a U.S. company, they decided to market it. They sold trips back in time for the middle to upper class tourist. You could go whenever and wherever you wanted as long as you could pay the fee of $10,000 for five days. The government, upon hearing of this invention, quickly decided to regulate it. It became mandatory for specially trained government employees to accompany the tourist back in time to be certain they didn't interfere with any important past events. Even if you went back to prevent Lincoln's assassination, it could have potentially disastrous results. Although the government publicly acknowledged Future/Past Inc. as the only time travel business, rumor had it that there was an underground company known as Vengeance Inc. According to my sister Vengeance Inc. would allow you to go back in time, without a chaperone, to do whatever you want and potentially kill whoever you want.
When I first heard the name “Vengeance Inc.” I immediately thought of my grandfather and of all the pain he had been put through. I clenched my fists angrily and wanted revenge. I wanted to go back in time and help him escape from his concentration camp, Mauthausen, so he could have a happy, trauma-free childhood. That evening, when I lay in bed, helping him escape (and maybe even killing some of those murdering Germans) was all I could think about. The thoughts filled my head so much I soon became blinded by rage. I had to do it. I had to save him. I had to make things right.
Now, my family had never believed in using banks. I don't know why, but it certainly made things convenient for me. So the next day, when my sister was out at work, I searched the house for her savings. I found her stash of money, swiped it all without bothering to count it, and went to the streets. I began to ask about Vengeance Inc. Fortunately, I didn't have to inquire for very long. I stumbled upon an employee of the company after only an hour of searching. He immediately took me back to his place of work and set me up for my trip back in time.
“How much is this going to cost?” I asked.
“Empty your wallet and your pockets,” he said.
I slapped all of my sister's money on the counter and he counted it. “Fifteen thousand, huh? That should be more than enough. Now, where is it you would like to go?”
“Mauthausen, 1944.”
“Mau-? Wait, wasn't that a concentration camp?”
“That's right,” I scowled.
“Why the hell would you want to go there?”
“You are Vengeance Inc. aren't you?”
The man gave me a slanted grin and said, “Right, Mauthausen, 1944.”
The process took another week to prepare. During that time Vengeance Inc.'s historians instructed me on how to behave like a proper German SS-Officer. They also familiarized me with the layout of the camp. They offered to give me lessons in German, but I declined, informing them of my previous experience with the language. Also during that week they sent their own operative back in time. It was his job to find a person they labeled, “The LZ,” which means “landing zone.” You see, Vengeance Inc. owned a piece of technology that Future/Past Inc. only dreamed of. Instead of sending back an entire person (as Future/Past Inc. does) they only sent back that person's mind. Vengeance Inc. could tag any person in the past, and download my consciousness into them. And when it was time to return, they pulled the data out. When it ends, no harm has come to the person or to me. During the entire time that I am in the past, it is only my mind, not my body. So, to everyone else in 1944, I will simply look like someone else. I shook my head, failing to understand it. To me, the whole thing sounded a little too much like “Quantum Leap.” Regardless, I had paid the money and a week finally passed. At last it was time for me to travel back in time. The Vengeance Inc. staff had me lay down on an operating table, and they gave me anesthetic. I went under before they began to time travel procedure.
* * *
When I awoke I found myself standing in a cool, dark room. There was a naked young man kneeling down with his back to me. A gun was in my hand. The gun was pressed to the back of the young man's head. Realizing what was going on I suddenly began to shake. The metal of the heavy gun rattled and sweat rolled down my forehead. A drop fell into my left eye and stung. “Come on Schneider, what are you waiting for?” asked a gruff voice behind me.
I looked back and saw an SS-Officer with his hands on his hips, staring at me with fiery eyes. “Do it already,” he shouted impatiently. I turned back and looked at the young man before me. He was paper thin, scarred, and shivering uncontrollably. He knew that I was about to kill him and he shook in anticipation. Not quite understanding what was going on I tried to steady my gun, but was unable.
Suddenly, I was pushed off to the side. The SS-Officer had shoved me out of the way. In a single fluid motion he drew his own pistol, fired a single shot into the back of the young man's head, and holstered his weapon. My eyes immediately went to the corpse. I bit my lip to keep myself from screaming. The SS-Officer shoved me back again and shouted, “That's how you do it, Schneider. What the hell is your problem? Come on, let's move.”
I put my gun away and tried to follow him outside of the room. I took another look at the body and felt my knees go week. The SS-Officer stopped and turned. Angrily he grabbed me by the arm and pulled me out of the room.
He yanked me out of the dark room and outside into blinding sunlight. He threw me to the snow-covered ground and kicked me hard in the ribs. My chest exploded like fire. I gasped in pain. Then, as I was inhaling the man delivered another hard kick to my chest. I heard a sickening snap, as one of my ribs collapsed. I gasped again. “Get up, you piece of trash!” the man shouted in my ear.
Dumbstruck, I tried to move, but apparently I was too slow. The man swatted the hat off my head, curled his fingers in my hair, and pulled me up hard. Now, I screamed out in pain. The man would give me no quarter. Once I was on my feet he began to shout in my ear, “In five months you haven't learned how to kill a single person! You've got to do it. Do it for the Fuhrer, for the Fatherland. For the good of the human race! Now, show me that you can kill someone!”
Still disoriented, I mumbled something incoherent. “Do it like this!” the man beside me shouted. He removed his gun once more and shot a random prisoner in the face. They dropped to the ground, spilling blood onto my clothes. “That's how you do it!” he screamed and laughed maniacally. He turned away from me for a moment and began to shoot the body once every second until he had unloaded his gun's magazine.
While he was busy I looked around desperately for a way out. There. A snow shovel had been propped up against the building we had just exited. I dashed forward and grabbed it firmly in both hands. Then I turned and rushed back toward the crazed SS-Officer. He didn't see me coming as he was busy reloading his gun. I started to swing hard with the shovel. He looked up an instant before I hit him.
The shovel slapped him hard across the face with a metallic clang! He whirled around and dropped to the snowy ground. Before he could get up or use his weapon I rained further blows upon his body. Thinking only of my hatred for people like him, and for the desire to set my grandfather free, I hit him more times than I can remember. The snow turned red with blood.
I barely remember being dragged away a few minutes later by two other SS-Officers.
“There you go, Fritz, that's the whole story,” I said.
“So that's why you killed Bruchner? 'Cause you're from the future?”
“That right,” I said desperately.
Fritz began to laugh. Somehow I knew he wouldn't believe me. I decided not to divulge any more information. Why waste my breath on him? I wouldn't tell him about how the allies would win the war, about how Austria would come under the control of the Soviet Union, and about how he should invest in Microsoft's stock in the early 1990s. I shook my head and began to cry. I had to wait. If I could somehow manage to stay alive for the remainder of my five day trip I would be pulled back. If my consciousness died, I was told by the time travel staff, I would die as well.
Just then Fritz excitedly said, “Hey, Schneider! It's time for your court date!”
Fritz unlocked my cramped cell and a burly SS-Officer yanked me out. Quietly he pulled me out of the building and back outside. The burly man reeked of whiskey and somehow I figured he wasn't the official court prosecutor. In fact, this entire visit was doubtfully sanctioned. The Germans wouldn't be doing this to their own people. The burly man glared down at me and sternly said, “I don't like you, Schneider. I never did. Neither did Bruchner. You know what? I haven't seen you kill a single person since you got here. Now, you've got your court appointment tomorrow. But I'm here to test you today. If you can kill one single person out here, then I'll let you live long enough to go to trial. Sound fair?”
“Bruchner was a maniac,” I said.
The burly man grinned and breathed on me. I winced back, disgusted by stale stench of whiskey. Ignoring my comment, the man began to look around the area for a candidate. After a few seconds the burly man grabbed a small boy randomly out of a line of prisoners transporting materials from the quarry. He shoved the young boy to his knees just before me. He pulled out a pistol and slapped it in my hand. “There. Now you kill this boy and you'll live to see tomorrow. Maybe you can still convince me that you're a real German officer.”
I dug deep into my soul and decided I could do it. For my grandfather I could kill one other prisoner. It would save both of our lives. I mustered up the courage, prepared to do it. I trained the pistol on the boy. I narrowed my eyes and began to squeeze the trigger. But then I noticed something. The serial number branded on his arm. It was the same as my grandfather's! My eyes opened widely and my hand went so slack I nearly dropped the pistol. I shook uncontrollably as the boy at my feet began to cry. I could not believe it. Here, before me, was the one person closest to me in the world. I could not kill him. The whole point of my journey was to save him. What could I do?
Suddenly I heard the cocking of a pistol, followed my hard steel being pressed against my temple. The burly man, holding the gun to my head, growled, “Either you kill this kid right now or I kill you? I'm gonna give you five seconds. What's it gonna be Schneider?”
I felt tears well up in my eyes. I had two options. I could take a bullet in the head and die now, or kill my grandfather and never be born. If I were to die, my grandfather would live and eventually I would be born again. However, I would have no memory of this situation, and by act of destiny, I would end up in this exact same spot. I was damned. Fate was indeed cruel. The cyclical nature of time, no, rather my own hatred had sent me reeling to my doom. I squeezed my eyes shut and felt fat tears run down my cheeks. I thought for another moment and decided what I would do.
A gunshot rang out.
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