AbrakaPOW

by Isaiah Campbell

  Max and Shoji exchanged glances. Sweetwater was only forty miles away. “Why is that ridiculous?” Max asked.

  “Because of how they were going to get there,” Margaret said. “They were going to hop on a train.”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Max had been given very specific instructions that she and the Gremlins were to stay put at the house and keep her mother company while Major Larousse and Gil drove to Sweetwater to apprehend Felix and, hopefully, Blaz. It hadn’t mattered how much she had begged Gil, while he was loading rope into the back of the Jeep, to just let her ride along if she promised she’d be quiet. Nor did it matter how much she attempted to sweet-talk the major, while he was loading his pistol with bullets and counting out enough spare ammo to reload on the fly, by promising that she’d make his absolute favorite pie for an entire week if he would at least let them ride along with Mrs. Larousse in a car behind them. The entire exchange was quite infuriating for all of them, so much so that Gil snapped the rope at her behind like a whip and she swiped three of the major’s bullets out of spite.

  It was also why, when they were finally driving away from the house, the men were so relieved to be done with it all that they neglected to double-check the duffle bag in the backseat to make sure no pre-teen magicians had stowed away. Which, in case you hadn’t already leaped to this particular conclusion, she had.

  It wasn’t even so much that she wanted to be a part of the final capture, or that she wanted to see Judy’s face when they arrived guns blazing, or that she had to make sure for herself that Felix was safely taken back to Camp Barkeley. Rather, she was immensely concerned about Houdini, and she had a suspicion that in all the hubbub of catching Felix and Blaz, her poor little ferret’s safety would be the least of their concerns.

  She didn’t know if Madame Herrmann had any treatises on the safety of small animals, but she could only imagine the QUEEN OF MAGIC would do the exact same thing.

  The forty-five minute drive to Sweetwater was an interesting one, mainly because Max rarely got to listen to the major have a conversation with a GI when he didn’t know she was around. He was far more coarse and unrefined than she’d ever heard him be before. She actually quite liked it.

  “Why go to Sweetwater?” Gil asked. “If they’re trying to get to Mexico, why not fly south, you know?”

  “Straight shot to El Paso from Sweetwater, Private,” Major Larousse said. “From there, you can smell the beans and tortillas freshly made across the river.”

  Gil cleared his throat. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

  “Sure.”

  “Why were you hiding Felix in your basement?”

  The major regretted giving the requested permission, but he couldn’t take it back, so instead he proceeded to tell Gil the story of Felix and Josephine, and of the love that even a war couldn’t kill.

  Gil drove in silence for a few miles, thinking about what he’d just heard. Finally he spoke again. “Did you ever know Mrs. Mosen’s grandson? Abe Mosen?”

  “Briefly,” the major said. “He was heading out when I arrived. Mechanic, right?”

  “Yes, sir. Best in the motor club.” Another few miles passed. “Mechanics don’t die too often, do they, sir?”

  Major Larousse watched the road pass beneath them for a while. “Everybody dies, Private. Once you go over there, you learn that. Even those of us who make it back. The war kills us all, just some more than others.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “That’s why we fight so hard to keep ‘over there’ over there. Let this place still be the land of the living.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Even if it means letting a little girl put on a magic show for the enemy. We do it so we can maybe find a way to live again. Because that’s the only magic there is, and nobody can survive without it. ”

  Gil nodded without another word.

  Major Larousse reached over and patted his back. “Your mechanic will be fine, son. He’s got a lot to come home to.”

  Gil nodded. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

  “Gil?” Major Larousse said.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Until we get back to camp, call me Larry.”

  Max felt a tad overwhelmed by the emotional exchange between the two of them. It was unexpected that two men could be so sensitive and tender.

  “If I remember correctly,” the major said, “they train the women pilots out here at Sweetwater. The WASPs, I think they’re called.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. I wonder if the girls inside the planes will look anything like the ones on the outside, you know what I mean?”

  “Yes, sir,” Gil said, and they laughed.

  Ah, they had returned to the finer points of manhood. Superb.

  After another twenty minutes or so, they arrived in Sweetwater and made their way over to the train depot. Once they’d parked, they agreed to split and canvas the area in search of the elusive escapees and, of course, Judy. No mention was made of Houdini, which Max felt validated her uninvited attendance.

  Once the major and the private were out of sight, she hopped out of the Jeep herself and went in the only direction they hadn’t gone, which was directly into the depot building.

  She walked gingerly across the old wooden slats that creaked when she placed even an ounce of weight on them. The depot was a platform, really, with a center wooden structure that provided several nooks and crannies to hide in. This would come in handy if she needed to hide from anyone. Which, considering she probably needed to hide from everyone, made it the perfect spot for her to be.

  She stood against the wall and inched around the building, wondering where on earth she would be if she were attempting to catch the train to El Paso. Probably on the train to El Paso, she decided, because she wasn’t the sort to put those kinds of things off until the last minute. But if she was the sort to do so, where might she have tucked in for a nap or whatever escapees did in their spare time?

  She had little chance to contemplate this puzzle, because she suddenly felt something tugging at her sock. It was gentle, yet persistent, and would have been unnoticeable if it hadn’t been the very experience she’d been hoping for.

  Somehow, her precious ferret had found her in the middle of nowhere.

  She scooped him up, and he proceeded to shower her nose and chin with kisses upon kisses. He’d been just as worried about her out in this rabbit-infested wasteland as she had been about him.

  And then their reunion was interrupted by the least welcome of people.

  Judy came running around the corner, whispering, “Here ferret, ferret, ferret. Where the heck are you?”

  She locked eyes with Max, let out an expletive, and turned and ran for her life.

  Max uttered a similar expletive, tucked Houdini into a pocket sewn inside her shirt, and took off after her.

  They raced across the platform and down onto the train tracks. Judy ducked behind one of the trains and then crawled under another. It was the crawling that slowed her down enough for Max to catch her. When Max got to her she tripped her, and Judy fell and a rock scraped her face.

  It was then that Max realized a train just a few yards away had started moving.

  “Let me go!” Judy said. “I have to get over there.”

  “Why? So you can ride off into the sunset with your Nazi boyfriend?”

  Judy kicked Max’s hand off her ankle and bolted toward the moving train.

  Max gave hot pursuit.

  She arrived at the moving train in time to see Judy jumping into an open freight car. Max took a deep breath and decided to try to make it on herself.

  But then a hand grabbed her by the throat, spun her around, and slammed her little body into a metal wall behind her.

  “Why do you continue to show up where you aren’t wanted?” Blaz growled at her as he held her three feet in the air by her neck.

  Max kicked at his legs and his torso, but he dodged each impending blow.

  She
clawed at his hand, which was beginning to tighten and cut off her air supply. She began to realize just how much we take breathing for granted on a daily basis.

  “Hey, I see one of them!” Gil’s voice, faint from distance, called down the line of trains. “And I think he’s got that girl.”

  Blaz grunted, slung Max over his shoulder, and ran to catch up with the train Judy had jumped on.

  Max gasped for air and looked up to see the major and Gil running. It didn’t look like they would make it.

  Major Larousse stopped and pointed his gun at them.

  “Daddy!” she yelled.

  He froze.

  “Max?”

  Blaz leaped onto the train, which switched into a faster gear, and they left Gil and Major Larousse in the dust.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Cowering in the corner of an empty train car is not a particularly pleasant way to recover from being almost-choked by a Nazi. Unfortunately, it was the only option Max had, and so that was exactly what she did.

  Thankfully, the Nazi was a bit too preoccupied tending to the tiny little scratch on Judy’s face to pay any further attention to the girl he generally found so annoying it caused him physical pain.

  “We must find bandages,” he said to Judy.

  “I’m fine,” Judy said, and then she gave him a hug. “Honestly, I’ve been hurt worse.”

  “But not while I was protecting you, little sister. How could I have been so careless?” he started.

  “No, now, you can’t think like that,” Judy said. “You just can’t.”

  He nodded but still had the scowl of a man filled with guilt. To be clear, not guilt over being a Nazi. Heavens, no, that was Blaz’s favorite thing. Rather, guilt over causing a little Aryan girl a minor discomfort.

  Judy patted him on the back. “Okay, now, you promised me that when we got on the train, you’d finally lie down and get some rest. We have almost five hours before we get to El Paso, and you’ll need your sleep.”

  He took a deep breath, let it out, and finally relaxed. He went over to the wall opposite of where Max was still quaking and sprawled out on the floor. Within minutes, he was snoring louder than Major Larousse after a day of pulling weeds.

  Judy came to Max’s side and sat next to her.

  “I can’t believe you were that stupid,” Judy said.

  Max finally stopped shaking. Righteous indignation has that effect on most people. “I’m stupid? You’re the one who decided to get adopted by a Nazi.”

  Judy gave her a look of complete surprise. “Wait, did you not read the letter I left for you? I told Natalie not to give it to you, and I figured that was the surest way for it to be in your hands by the next day. Did she actually listen for once in her life?”

  Max looked at her as though she was crazy. “The letter? The one from Blaz?”

  “That wasn’t from Blaz, you idiot,” Judy said. “That’s just what I told Natalie. That letter was from me to you. I spent all night looking up German words in my mom’s dictionary to make sure my message got across. Did you read it?”

  “I’m not fluent in German,” Max said. “But I did read some parts that were all loving and tender and stuff. That was for me?”

  “No, that was me telling you some of the stuff Blaz has said to me. The letter was me telling you what I’m doing.”

  Max was still completely flabbergasted. So Judy, with the patience of Mrs. Conrad, proceeded to clue Max in on what had really been going on behind the scenes between Judy and Blaz.

  It was, of course, the irony of the universe that Judy just so happened to be an almost identical replica of Blaz’s sister, Myna. However, it was the insanity of an estranged soldier that made Blaz transfer his feelings of family affection to the one girl in his vicinity who hated Nazis more than General Eisenhower. In fact, she so wanted all the Nazis in the world to be tormented that she decided to play Blaz for a fool. She would fawn on him, she would coddle him, she would make him believe that she saw him as the brother he wanted to be.

  “It was gross, really,” she said.

  “And twisted. Sick and twisted. Especially for an eleven-year-old.”

  “Twelve. I turned twelve today.”

  “Oh, happy birthday.”

  It was in this manner that she had let him become more and more obsessed with protecting her and caring for her, because watching him fret over her, always fearing she might be in danger, checking every five minutes if she had everything she needed—it was to her the truest justice she could enact on the Nazi her mother had so foolishly employed. Besides, she could use lines from all her favorite movies on him. And the more he believed her, the better an actress she was becoming.

  “But then you told me he escaped,” Judy said. “And I remembered something he’d said to me. He had said that, if he ever could get away from the walls of Camp Barkeley, he would run away to a place where the trains would take him to Mexico. Then last week he told me he knew of the place. Sweetwater.”

  “So that’s when you knew?”

  “No, that’s when I got mad at you,” she said. “So I went to your house that night to mess with you some more. And then I met—”

  “Felix,” Max said.

  Felix had been as surprised as Judy was when she had come down the stairs of the storm cellar. Thankfully, she was learning how to act under pressure. So she told him the same lie that she was letting Blaz believe. And Felix told her he had an idea. They could, together, go to Sweetwater and meet Blaz, then all go to El Paso and make it into Mexico. Then, in Mexico, she and Blaz could find a place where he could care for her and raise her like the good German girl he believed she wanted to be.

  “His idea was loco, but I was beginning to sense that if I didn’t go along with them, then two Nazis would escape. And there was no way I was going to let that happen. So that’s why I went and wrote you the letter.”

  Max closed her eyes. “And I let Felix read the letter.”

  “Felix read it?” Judy said with newfound terror in her eyes. “He knows I was faking the whole time?”

  “Which is probably why he isn’t on this train.” Max shook her head and let out a sigh. She eyed Judy up and down. “So you’re not a traitor.”

  “Me? Heck no. There’s no bigger patriot than Nicole Judy Flood.”

  “Nicole? You go by your middle name?”

  “Yeah, Hollywood likes Judys better.” Judy reached into the pocket of her skirt and pulled out some spearmint gum. “Want a stick?”

  Max took one and began to chew it slowly. “We’re not friends now, are we?”

  “No. But we’re on the same side.”

  Max nodded. “One question. Why did you do the blood, and the burned chair, and the words on the wall?”

  “Oh, that?” Judy said with a grin. “I really wanted to mess with you one last time. I got the words from a movie. Did you freak out?”

  “Not even a little,” Max lied. “And why did you steal my ferret.”

  “I dunno. Seemed like the thing to do. Besides, you need to train him better. I’ll bet I could get him to fetch or something.”

  Max rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

  They sat in silence for a few minutes.

  “So now what?” Max asked.

  “I guess we wait until we get to El Paso.”

  And wait they did. For the next four hours, they waited, spending most of the time playing with Houdini, adding more gum to the piece in their mouths, and in general not talking to each other for fear that they might create a deeper bond. Occasionally, Blaz would twitch in his sleep, and in those moments Max would feel in the pocket of her shirt for the three bullets she had stolen from Major Larousse. Somehow, touching the bullets made it seem as though the major was sitting right next to her. With his gun trained at the Nazi’s head.

  Judy eventually drifted off to sleep herself, but Max couldn’t do it. She stayed awake for every bump, every lurch, and every bend and turn the rails took beneath them. Even though she
was sitting still on the floor, she felt every mile they tread as it wore on her body. And, because it was so long and so very, very terrifying a ride, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander. Not in a daydream, though, for there was no place for such pleasantries. Rather, she let her mind travel miles farther away.

  She went to the front lines of battle, where the men who had once delivered milk or fixed trucks were facing bullets and dodging bombs, all to make changes in governments to which they would never pledge allegiance. All to help people they’d never know find peace from tyrants who would never see the faces of the men and women they were hurting.

  And yet, there Blaz slept, fifteen feet away.

  She also thought about the place Gil had mentioned to his friend: Auschwitz. Where men just like Blaz were killing people just like Grandma Schauder and Mrs. Mosen. Not just killing them. Desecrating them. Torturing them. Taking every little piece of real live magic they had in their bones and grinding it into the dust. And they did it all without a second thought.

  When she thought of it that way, it was hard to not see those men as monsters.

  And yet, there Blaz slept, and it was hard to not see those monsters as men.

  Humanity is the most distressing of illusions.

  Finally the train slowed and Blaz woke, and Max was able to return to her previous activity of fearing for her life, which was the much more pleasant alternative. Judy woke as well, and Blaz spent the time until the train came to a stop checking yet again on that confounded scratch on her cheek. Even a great actress like Judy was finding it difficult to not show her frustration with him. Thankfully, the train did indeed stop, and Blaz was forced to refocus his attention.

  He slid the door open and the sunlight poured in, stinging all their eyes as they fought to adjust. The fresh air hit their noses, too, and then Blaz began to laugh.

  “I can see it,” he said. “I can see the mountains of Mexico from here. I can see freedom.”

  Judy took a deep. “Well then we’d better get to it, hadn’t we? Come on, let’s go.”

  Blaz jumped from the car and then helped Judy down. When Max came to the opening, he had already started walking away.