On an island in the South Pacific, deserted except for a missile silo, rabid Party supporter, Ernst Janning was unable to carry out his final orders when Wagner Schultz, clutching a picture of his only daughter, shot his superior officer as he attempted to launch the missiles.
In a place once called China, workers in the Party-operated nuclear plant overpowered their “employers” and ran to liberate the nearby prison camp, which they found already in the throes of an uprising.
On a mountaintop in South America, a deadly airborne toxin was not released, after three low level technicians engaged in a firefight with those who would have carried out their orders to release it. One of them was the brother of a man mentioned in Adolf’s speech. The other two identified themselves simply as Jews.
In a cellar in the south of France, two partisan leaders shot each other in a dispute over what Adolf’s message actually meant. In the chaos that followed, the remaining members of their cells finally just took to the streets, where they found the local townspeople already lynching Party representatives.
At a base in Greenland, no one died when the Commandant himself refused to carry out the Führer’s final orders, saying only, “I always knew the bastard was crazy.”
And in Unconquered Russia, where most of the sixty-five remaining freedom fighters were still busy working on their leaky atomic warhead, Rabbi Sasha heard the broadcast on his homemade radio. After a heated debate, the Free Russians decided to defuse their bomb, and head south to see what was going on in the outside world.
And then Adolf was back in his own body, in a cheaply decorated booth in a broadcasting studio. But now he knew: his message had been received. And except for a lot of death and destruction, the revolution was, as Ilsa had said, already won.
Adolf relaxed, recalling the last chapter of the book of Deuteronomy: “And the lord said unto Moses, This is the land which I swore unto Abraham, unto Isaac, and unto Jacob. I will give it unto thy seed: I have caused thee to see it with thine eyes, but thou shalt not go over thither.” Moses had led the people to promised land, but that was as far as he could go. Others would lead the people from then on.
Adolf looked heavenward and smiled. “That’s all right by me, God,” he said aloud. “You’ve given me the greatest gift I could have asked for. I’ve sown the seeds, and others will reap the harvest. I can die happy now, because You let me see what my words have done.”
“How convenient!” snapped a familiar voice, this time choking with bitterness and rage, “Since your god can’t save you from me!”
Josef Heydrich stood in the doorway. With his rumpled uniform, bloodshot eyes and uncombed hair, he hardly looked like a victorious Aryan Superman. Even the gun he had trained on Adolf did little to spoil Adolf’s enjoyment of the picture.
“So soon?” Adolf raised an eyebrow in mockery. “Can’t we raise just one toast to the victory of God’s Chosen People over Aryan Supremacy?”
The gun shook in Heydrich’s hand. “The only victory that’s going to matter to either of us is me living just long enough to see you die! Sure you don’t want to pray to your Jew-God first? Ask him for a miracle?”
Adolf laughed. “As if He’d ever let you be the instrument of my death!” Adolf had been leaning far back in the chair when Heydrich entered. It was a simple matter to slide the rest of the way under the desk, and into Josef’s knees.
Heydrich went down with a grunt. A kick from Adolf sent the gun flying across the booth.
Both men were up in an instant, facing each other with no weapon other than raw hatred.
Then Heydrich glanced at the wall behind the desk. “Perfect!” he cried, leaping for the crossed sabers.
Adolf followed and a moment later both men were armed. The weapons were ceremonial and showed signs of rust, but as was typical in the Reich, perfectly able to kill. The steel edges were sharp and the blood grooves on both showed use.
There was a loud clang as blade met blade. “I should have killed you back in college when I had the chance,” said Heydrich.
“Funny, I thought I was the one who should have killed you,” said Adolf. “It wasn’t my throat that was exposed that moment at the end.”
“But you couldn’t do it, could you?”
Adolf laughed, parried and caught his breath. “Do you remember what you said to me, after I spared your life?”
Heydrich parried and replied, “I told you that you’d never be one of us; that the Reich had no room for cowards. It’s still true!”
“And coming from you, Josef, I can’t think of a higher compliment! Just remember that the New World the rest of us have built has no room for incompetent, oath-breaking rapists!” With each epithet Adolf beat his opponent’s blade back. Heydrich was forced to retreat until his back was against the wall of the small booth.
Heydrich fought well from his new position, though he was clearly tiring. “So kill me—if you’ve somehow developed the stomach, which I doubt.”
“Watch me,” said Adolf.
“Forget it, Adolf.” The voice came from across the room. “This guy’s all mine.”
Both men froze as Ilsa walked calmly into the room. She was wearing the same gray prison uniform she had worn when Adolf had last seen her. It was lightly splattered with blood—not her own—and she carried no weapon.
“How did you get out?” Adolf asked, realizing this wasn’t the time for discussion, as he glanced at Heydrich’s gun on the floor, just a few feet behind him.
Heydrich dove for the gun in the same moment as Ilsa. There was a blur of motion as they struggled for the weapon, while Adolf stood frozen. His heart stopped when he saw the gun in Heydrich’s hand, but at that same moment, Ilsa plowed her foot into Josef’s crotch. Heydrich dropped the gun with a screech, a half formed curse dying in his throat.
Then, the thunder of a gun firing, the smell of powder and the faint flash in the dimly lit room.
Heydrich lay sprawled on his back, bright red spurting from his stomach, and to the smell of powder was added the stench of voided bowels. Adolf ran to Ilsa who stood over the body.
“Gut shot,” said Adolf as shock wore off and Heydrich began to scream.
“I was aiming a bit lower,” said Ilsa staring down impassively at her fallen foe. “But I can’t say I’m sorry.” She turned to Adolf. “Come on, we’ve got to hurry. All hell’s breaking loose and our people need their leader.”
Finally accepting that she was unhurt, Adolf nodded. But as Ilsa turned to the door and Heydrich continued to scream, Adolf called out loudly, “Ilsa!”
“What?” she sounded annoyed. “Adolf, come on, hurry!”
“You got him in the liver! For God’s sake, finish him off! At this rate, it could take him hours to die, all of it in agony.”
“And you think I have a problem with that?” snapped Ilsa. Then their eyes locked. “Oh, all right!” Ilsa sounded like a petulant child, but she fired the gun a second time. The bullet struck Heydrich between the eyes and the screaming stopped.
In the sudden silence, Ilsa once again turned to go. Then the cold distance was washed from her face in a flood of emotion. “I wanted him to suffer!” she cried as Adolf put his arms around her. “In my cell, I dreamed of ways to kill him; and all the things I wanted to say to him. I thought I’d feel something amazing when I took his life. But all I am right now is tired. Is this what victory is supposed to feel like?”
“I wish I knew,” said Adolf. “Maybe sometimes you just have to settle for being the last one standing.”
“I agree,” said a new voice. “Which is why so many of us have been turning this place upside down, searching for the both of you!”
They turned to find an unarmed old man standing in the doorway. A very familiar old man.
“Professor Hoffman?” Adolf asked in disbelief.
CHAPTER 35
“It’s good to see you too, Adolf,” the elderly academician said.
“But what are you doing here? How did you—“
“I should be up there with them,” said Adolf.
“We already have enough dead heroes, son,” said Hoffman. “We’re short on live ones with the brainpower and charisma to lead us out of this mess once the shooting’s done.” They went down several more flights of stairs and came at last to a door, which Hoffman opened with an old fashioned key.
“What is this place?” Adolf asked.
“A bunker, built during the War. Legend has it that the First Führer himself had it constructed, in the event of Germany’s loss. Of course, he never needed it, but it will suit our purposes well enough. Some of your friends are already here.”
“Any of them planning to shoot me?”
“Not anymore. The ones who actually believed you’d switched sides are feeling rather embarrassed right now. You know, after years of study, I’ve come to the conclusion that in most wars, the winners are the ones who can get all their weapons pointed in the same direction first.”
They reached another door, this one guarded by two young women. At a second glance, Adolf realized one of them was Emilie, the young woman he’d first met volunteering for a suicide mission in his first underground. Before he could speak to her, the professor exchanged a Hebrew code word with them, and the door flew open.
About thirty people were gathered inside, many of them around a radio. Others lay in a makeshift infirmary, being tended by a medic. Emilie’s face wasn’t the only one from his past, Adolf realized. Alina was there, and Markus, the fortune-teller who had once been a Judenmuseum curator.
“It’s Rabbi Adolf!” shouted someone with a vaguely familiar face, and a hush fell over the room. Everyone was staring at Adolf.
“Isn’t there someplace else you can stash me?” he whispered to Hoffman.
“The people in this room were chosen for their absolute devotion to you, Adolf,” said Hoffman. “It may be uncomfortable, but at least it’s safe.”
Then someone shouted, “Elijah!” That’s when Adolf noticed that some in the crowd were more interested in the old man than in him.
“Rabbi Adolf,” said a white-faced boy in his late teens. “I saw that man last Passover! He came into our room and—“
“Drank from Elijah’s cup!” shouted a woman. There were more murmurs and whispers.
Adolf stepped between his beloved old teacher and the crowd that he feared might give the poor man a heart attack. “Really, people,” he said. “You must do something about this need to create heroes. This man is a hero because he saved my life, and probably for other reasons as well. But I assure you, he’s simply a history teacher named…” Adolf stopped and stared at his old teacher. “Elias Hoffman? Elias? Elijah? Professor, are you…?”
“I’m an old man who is getting tired of all these questions! Right now, we’ve got a lot of work to do, and whether you know it or not, the odds are still against us.
“Adolf, as soon as it’s safe, we’ve got to get you back on the air. Once the rebels realize they’ve won, they’re going to be drunk on their victory. If anyone’s got half a chance of leading them down a road of healing and rebuilding, it’s you. Are you ready to try?”
“Of course,” said Adolf. “But I still want to know who you are.”
“Only who I am. If you’re expecting a message from the Almighty, you’ll have to get it directly from Him. I quit playing messenger long ago."
“Then just answer a question, if you can. Why did God break his covenant with the Jews?”
Elias smiled. “Who says He did?”
“He stood back and did nothing while every last one of them was murdered. I’d call that breaking the covenant.”
“So did a group of rabbis in a place called Auschwitz,” said the old man. “In 1943, they put God on trial. It was a very serious affair; lasted for three days. In the end, God was found guilty in a unanimous verdict.”
“So then what did they do?” asked Ilsa.
“They prayed.”
Ilsa gave a bark of laughter, but Adolf only shook his head. “They prayed?” he said. “After finding God guilty, they prayed to Him?”
“Yes, prayed. And then later, they died. So maybe now, they have their answers. The rest of us still have to struggle for ours. Very soon, Adolf, you will be the leader of a new world government, and your title will be ‘Rabbi’. And a lot of people will want to know the answer to the question you yourself just asked. Maybe someday, you’ll be able to tell them.”
“Wait!” said Adolf, as the professor turned away to answer a question from an anxious guard. “What about the men who were supposed to be guarding me! At least tell me how so many people got past them!”
Elias shook his head, busy with the guard.
“You really sure you want to know?” Ilsa asked.
“Maybe not.” This whole thing was starting to feel like a movie. Adolf only hoped it wasn’t one of his grandfather’s.
The next several hours were some of the longest of Adolf’s life. After years of being in the middle of things, he now had nothing to do but hide, wait, and let countless men, women and children die for him.
He tried to lead a Torah study, but no one could concentrate on anything but the radio and the incoming messages. The fighting was desperate and bloody, but so far, there was no indication of any use of biological of nuclear weapons. In that, at least, it seemed Adolf had succeeded.
Towards morning, when the tide was clearly turning in the favor of the rebels, they heard the loud thumping of booted feet rushing down the many flights of stairs above the bunker. Guards tensed, and Adolf found himself whisked into a heavily guarded corner.
The sounds grew louder: a large crowd. And the discordant sound of someone taking the stairs with his entire body.
Ouch, thought Adolf. That’s a lot of stairs.
The door flew open, and fortunately, since the proper codes were exchanged, no one was shot.
An excited group of men and women beamed at the sight of Adolf. “We got the last of them!” shouted their spokesman, a large, dark haired man in his early thirties, whom Adolf recognized from a mission in Belgium two years ago. Rolf, that was his name.
“The last of what?” asked Adolf.
“Would-be assassins,” said Rolf. “There were three attempts before the broadcast, and two more afterwards. Two are dead, two got away, but this one,” he indicated a body being dragged forward, “we got alive, and decided to bring him to you!”
Adolf looked down, and found he was staring into Karl’s battered and bleeding face.
While Adolf stood speechless, Karl’s eyes swam into focus, and he realized who he was seeing. He groaned.
“I couldn’t even get this right!” It was more of a sob. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“And I thought you and I were finally starting to get along!” said Adolf.
“Me too,” said Karl. “Which is why I went charging across Europe after you—minus the luxury transport you got!” Karl spat out a bloody tooth. “When I heard you were going to denounce the revolution I thought I'd finally be a hero and kill you before you could destroy everything you lived for. I thought it was what you would have wanted. But like I said, I couldn’t even get that right.”
One of arresting crowd kicked Karl in the ribs. He groaned again, but made no effort to move.
“Stop that!” cried Adolf.
Karl’s assailant looked puzzled. “But Rabbi, you heard him: he thought you’d sell us out!”
“Anyone who could think that deserves to die!” shouted the girl who stood next to Alina.
“If losing faith was a capital offense,” said Adolf. “I wo
uld have been executed long ago! Stop torturing this man and tell me why you brought him here like this!”
The rowdiness began to ebb out of the group. “We just wanted to prove our loyalty to you, Rabbi,” said Rolf. “Look here—“ he yanked an already torn sleeve clear of Karl’s arm. “We branded him with the mark of a traitor.”
On Karl’s left shoulder was an ugly burn in the shape of a sideways “Y”. It was the Hebrew letter Ayin, Adolf realized, as his empty stomach heaved and he tasted bile.
“The first letter in the word ‘Amalekite,” Ilsa said quietly.
The man showing off the brand nodded. “Enemies of the Jews,” he said. “God commanded His people to kill them all—unto the tenth generation. So? You going to kill him, Rabbi? Or do you want us to?”
Adolf looked down at Karl. The bleak resignation he saw in Karl’s face made him want to hit someone—but not Karl.
Adolf met the eyes of the pack’s leader. “Haven’t you had enough killing?” he asked. One by one, he met the eyes of everyone in the bunker. “Haven’t all of you? This man is my friend. And it may come as a news flash for some of you, but when I got in front of those cameras, I thought I was going to betray you all too! Would anyone care to brand me with an Ayin?”
No one said a word, though several mouths dropped open. Adolf was pleased that Ilsa’s was not one of them. “Please help this man into a cot,” he said to the room at large. “And get the medic! Now!”
While Karl’s injuries were being treated, Adolf addressed the assembled crowd. “If anyone expects me to begin leadership of the new free world with witch hunts and purges, then you’d better find yourselves a new leader! I’ve had all the bloodshed I can stomach—and then some! If you won’t join me in shaking hands with those of our enemies who survive, then please--just go home.”
“Shake hands with them?” shouted Alina. “The Gestapo or the SS or the Führer and his minions? It’s for you and our future that my friends are out there killing them!”
From the Ashes Page 32
