"Someone should tell him the nail-file is for his nails and not his cakehole,” whispered Rohleder to nobody in particular.
Rasch studied it unashamedly, trying to place it on the tree of humanity. "Amazing," he whispered to himself. "Are all your, err, soldiers so formed?" In his eagerness to study the beast he had forgotten his usual obsequious demeanour.
"Yes, Herr Doctor. When they become one of mine, the change is complete and lasting. Only on my death will they revert to their former selves. The metamorphosis is painful but quick. About an hour all told.”
"Fascinating … ” Rasch trailed off.
"I see that you find them as beautiful as I do, Herr Doctor." It was Maria. She had kept to the back the whole time but now came forward to where they stood. "The perfect soldier,” she crooned while caressing its shoulder, "and the perfect predator. Strong, fit, fearless and, above all, loyal.” She turned to Von Struck, "Isn’t that the quality the Waffen SS admire most Standartenführer, Loyalty?” She half smiled, ”Meine Ehre heißt Treue … ”
"That is our motto, yes, but I prefer competence to loyalty. It aids in survival." He smiled coolly but his insides squirmed like a bag of maggots.
"It truly is awe-inspiring. You say that he is one hundred per cent committed?”
Rasch wanted to discuss the specimen in depth but the Count cut him off. "Herr Doctor, sunrise nears and I wish to see the fruits of your labours.” The Count ushered him on. Rasch nodded and they followed the Count to a door at the other end of the hall.
As they walked the length of the hall, Von Struck’s squad raised their weapons again. Their steps echoed on the tiled floor and the volume of the echo only served to disturb them even more.
"What the hell is all this?" Henning whispered to Rohleder.
"I don’t know, but right now I’d sooner be in the East facing Ivan than here with our ‘allies’.”
"Me too," echoed Muschinski.
"What’s gotten into Markus?" Henning hissed, "I don’t like this at all.”
"Me neither. He’s drooling over that bloody woman like a damn rapist. I hope he doesn’t fuck this up for the sake of his dick,” Rohleder lamented.
They muttered their discontent until they came to a set of double doors at the other end of the hall. The Count swung them open and led them into a large courtyard of about three hundred meters square. It was surrounded on all sides by ten meter high walls and had another double door at the opposite end to where they now stood.
"We’ll conduct the test here, Herr Doctor,” said the Count. "I’ll wait inside for the results which I’m sure will be positive." He was straight-faced and businesslike. "Report to me when it’s finished.”
"Of course, Your Excellency," and then to Von Struck, "Standartenführer, would you form the men up somewhere out of the way?”
They moved off in a rabble to the wall on the left, flapping their arms and stamping their feet against the pre-dawn chill. Von Struck wanted to go with them but he knew that Rasch would see it as a sign of weakness, so he stayed where he was.
Rasch opened up his modest doctor’s case and set about preparing the syringe. Von Struck stared at the vampire who seemed oblivious of the men. It was staring straight ahead at the halo of red that hung above the wall, the soft glow on the clouds signifying the coming of the new dawn and possibly his death.
Rasch injected him and stood back. "No need to worry. All will be over soon." He smiled at the vampire. "Nothing will happen. Just stand there, there’s a good fellow.”
He sounded almost kindly and Von Struck was shocked at the compassionate tone from the normally sterile doctor.
Rasch noticed his expression and quietly explained. "As I conducted my experiments in the camps, I found the test subjects easier to deal with if I affected a soothing tone of voice. Inane platitudes breed hope in even the most tragic of the lost, Markus."
Von Struck nodded as if that explained everything and turned away from Rasch in loathing to observe the creature. It was agitated and although it stood stock-still and silent, they could both make out the turmoil of fear in its eyes. Slowly, as unhurried as the blooming of a flower, the sun’s rays crept ever outwards. The vampire now looked around as if searching for some form of cover, but the snow-decked courtyard had only the shadows of the walls for protection. And yet, despite its’ growing panic, it didn’t move from its place. Rasch examined it as its fear of the sun and its fear of the Count inwardly fought for control. "Fascinating .... " he muttered.
Von Struck turned in disgust.
"Don’t you want to watch, Herr Standartenführer?" The lilt of mockery in Rasch’s voice almost turned him but he carried on walking towards where the men now lined the wall.
"What’s happening, Boss?" It was Henning who put voice to their expectant faces.
"An abomination, that’s what’s happening. Rasch has made a serum to protect the Count’s vampires from the sun’s rays. This is his first test. This is why we’re here, to watch that sick bastard do his experiments."
No-one said a word. They had all seen the Count’s soldiers. They knew with what they were dealing but until now no-one had used the word ‘Vampire’ to describe what they were seeing.
"Holy Mother of God," whispered Muntner.
"The Undead,” echoed Grand.
Henning shook his head in amazement, "Soldiers of the night … ”
"Exactly. Soldiers of the night," Von Struck confirmed for them.
"What if it doesn’t work?" asked Muschinski. "What then?”
"We’ll soon find out, Muschi," Rohleder answered him. "The sun’s up.”
He was right. The shadows behind the wall were slowly draining away as the sun’s rays solidly advanced on the test subject. Though still decked in shadow, it radiated terror like a lighthouse beacon, and despite the fact that it was a vampire, the squad now found a waxing pity for it. Rooted to the spot, it pathetically held up its arms to protect itself from the dazzle.
Reflected off the snow, the light was blinding, and like a cleansing sword it swathed its brilliant curtain into the square. With almost a glint it struck the vampire’s head and moved down its face and tunic. They all held their breath as the night was beaten back. No one knew what would happen. Finally, it was completely bathed in the brilliant dawn of the winter daybreak. They still held their breath as it slowly let its arms drop and turned to look at them.
Any compassion that they may have felt for it now fell like a cannonball as it turned and, like a gloating python, smiled at them. All inwardly shied away in horror from that reptilian sneer. It looked around to find Rasch and deliberately nodded its head to him.
Von Struck looked on as it opened its arms to greet the now fully-formed sun.
"My God, what have you done, Rasch?” Von Struck whispered to himself.
Rasch was ecstatic. "Look, Von Struck. Look at him. I’ve done it, I’ve done … " But his words fell dead in his throat. Von Struck looked at Rasch who had suddenly stopped raving. Rasch’s face had dropped and he stood there gaping, half-pointing at the Count’s man.
The tunic of the vampire was smouldering, but from the inside. The vampire stood motionless, looking at its hands that were turning black and starting to peel. Blisters appeared on its face and it threw back its head to scream. Rasch flinched at the unholy shriek that was let loose. It was the scream of rage and agony, of panic and confusion. Rasch turned white and sprayed vomit onto his highly polished boots. The men lined up against the wall stood numb and silent at the sight of the immolation. Although they were used to death in all its many forms, they were still traumatised by what had happened.
Its once white head was now burnt black and then it burst into flame. It made no sound or movement after the first scream and stood immobile and burning like a Celtic Wickerman. Its eyes burst with an audible pop and slowly it started to crumble and break up. The legs snapped first and, as it hit the ground, the charred and still flaming head came off. The light given off from the fire was n
ow so intense that it was impossible to discern what was burning.
Rasch chanted to himself, "Oh my God, oh my God," over and over again.
The fire now raged around the body and the heat forced Rasch to take a step back. It took about ten minutes to burn out, and in those ten minutes only Rasch made a sound.
Finally, it was over. All that was left of the Count’s soldier was a carpet of ash. Rasch, wild eyed and hysterical, looked to Von Struck, "What do we do now?”
Von Struck had no answer. He shrugged and turned to the men. "Put a round in the chamber. It could get uncomfortable now.”
Rifles were unslung and cocked.
"Rasch, I think you’d better go tell the Count.”
The doctor stiffened with indignation and, resigned to the facts, dropped his shoulders and nodded." Yes, you’re right. Will you … ” he hesitated to ask but forged on, "will you accompany me, please, Markus?”
There was a pause as Von Struck looked at the doctor and then to the charcoal patch in the snow. He nodded and said, "Of course, Herr Doctor, that’s why we’re here," and then to the men, "Let’s go.”
Surrounded by his bodyguard, Rasch went forward and timidly knocked. The door opened and once again they entered the darkened lair.
Once inside, the large doors slammed behind them. The instant darkness acted like a trigger and the vampires pounced en masse. Quicker than the human eye, they seized the weapons and held the men fast. Two vampires to each man, the squad was helpless. The Count moved forward and into their sight.
"You have failed me Doctor." He was calm. He stood in front of Rasch who audibly whimpered his fear. Rasch’s legs had given way and two vampires were supporting him at his side.
"I, I, this is, I don’t know … " he stuttered.
As Rasch mewled and pleaded, the Count started to swell in size, in height as well as breadth. He was growing startlingly fast. His face contorted with the effort but he made no sound until he seemed to be eight feet tall and just as broad. His normally billowing lacy shirt and black trousers were stretched dangerously but they didn’t give or rip. His head had swollen with the rest of his body and his features were now longer and sharper so that he resembled one of his own troops. Von Struck’s squad, horror-struck and frozen by the metamorphosis, collectively jumped as the Count gave vent to his anger.
"Failure was not an option," he bellowed. "Failure will only be rewarded by death.”
Like a child taking a doll, he grabbed Rasch. Rasch was by no means a small man - he was easily the tallest of them all - and yet the Count now dwarfed him. Slowly, as if to prolong the act, he turned Rasch’s head and drew his neck to be bitten. Rasch squirmed and flailed in his grip but the Count ignored his feeble protestations and easily manoeuvred him into position. His mouth stretched open to an impossible degree and teeth, like spring loaded daggers in slow motion, gradually extended from their sockets. A dark patch blossomed at Rasch’s crotch as he pissed himself and a fetid stench filled the air as his bowels voided audibly in sheer terror.
All watched, helpless and silent, as Rasch’s end played out. The vampire on Muntner’s left released his grip slightly to get a better view. Muntner saw his chance and shrugged him off. With a shout he slipped his SS dagger out of its sheath and swung it round to stab the vampire to his right in the neck. But the vampire soldier’s reactions were quicker; the blade was knocked to the ground and Muntner was once again helpless.
"You bastards!" he screamed, "We’re on the same side. We came to help and you treat us like this?”
The Count dropped Rasch, who fell in a faint to the floor, and strode over to where Muntner stood. Muntner was undeterred and screamed his defiance at the Count. The squad, taking their lead from their bold compatriot, started to struggle with their captors. It was all to no avail but their efforts unsettled the Count who was only used to sheep-like submissiveness.
"What are you doing? Who do you think you are to look down on us? What are you, some kind of damned freak show ringmaster? You fucking Gypo bastards. Let me go, fucking let me go, you!”
"Enough!" the Count roared in a voice that shook the very foundations of the building they were in.
Muntner fell silent. Then in a low growl that rumbled through the hall, “And who are you to shout at me as if I am a nothing?”
They all stopped their struggling as the Count, with a speed that belied his size, seized Jurgen. He held him up with one hand so that his legs left the floor and dangled under him. With the other, he turned Muntner’s head to present his jugular. He slowly stretched his mouth again as he pulled him ever nearer. His jaws opened to that incredible angle and the white points of his teeth achingly reached out to Muntner’s exposed flesh.
From nowhere, Von Struck found his voice, stirring the insensible Rasch. "No!" he screamed. But it was too late. With a sickening crunch, the Count bit into Muntner’s neck. Snarling, he greedily worried at the wound he’d made, slurping the blood noisily. It all happened in a flash and as quickly as the Count had pounced, it was over. The Dracyl threw Muntner’s used body to the ground and stepped back. Jurgen lay motionless on the tiles. The sudden violence of the attack had stunned them all and once again no-one moved or spoke.
Rasch, as if asking the time, broke the hush. "Is he dead, er dead…?”
The Count gave no answer and stared at them as his body began to shrink back to its normal size. He smiled and started to wipe away the blood from his mouth. Taking in their anxious expressions, he shook his head in amusement and unhurriedly smoothed his slightly askew garments before answering. "No, my dear Doctor, your brave comrade is not dead, well not in the true sense of the word.” He let that hang in the air, enjoying the moment. "You took one of mine, so I have taken one of yours as a replacement .... " Gloating, he smiled once again.
Henning cut his preening short. Taken off guard, his captors lost their grip as he lunged. He threw a punch as he moved, hoping to connect with his whole bodyweight behind it. But with supernatural speed the vampire moved at the last minute and Henning followed his arm into space. He landed hard, rolled and turned, but he was too slow. The Count stood above him and Wolfgang found his throat in the Count’s talon-like hand.
"Don’t anger me, mortal. I can snap you like a twig. Your friend is now one of mine but he is not dead, not yet. You owed me a soldier so I took one. Be thankful you are on my side because if I thought you would want to start getting tiresome, then I could get angry.” He stood back and allowed Henning to get up. He turned to Rasch, "Was that a complete failure, Herr Doctor, or do you think you can succeed?”
Rasch woke up from his stupor and shook his head. "It worked, your Excellency, it worked but then the effects seemed to wear off. I don’t know yet and I won’t know until I’ve done more tests. I’ll probably just need to increase the dosage or decrease the dilution, I just don’t ... "
The Count cut him short. "Yes, yes, I don’t want any more mistakes, do you hear me, or I’ll have to take another soul in recompense." He looked meaningfully at Rasch and stormed off into the darkness of the hall behind him. Maria, who had remained in the background the entire time, followed him.
Like arrows, the Count’s soldiers took to the rafters and suddenly they were alone with Muntner’s broken body.
Rubbing his bruised arms Rohleder walked up to where Muntner lay. "Poor bastard. I can’t believe he gave his life for you, you arrogant fuck!"
"Herr Rottenführer, please I am an officer and he was one of my bodyguards. He was doing his job.” Rasch was taken aback by the outburst and pleaded with Von Struck, "Please explain to the men …”
However Rohleder wasn’t finished, "I can’t believe it because he hated you. He hated you and all that you stand for. He hated you but he still tried to help you, to save you even though you’d shat your pants.” He turned back to Muntner again. "Poor bastard.”
"Now isn’t the time for this," Henning broke in, seemingly unruffled after his skirmish with the Count.
; "Henning’s right. We’ve got to regroup on this and get a plan together," agreed Von Struck. "Herr Doctor, what is it you have to do? If I loose any more men because of your mistakes … " he thought of the worse threat he could possibly make to Rasch, "I’ll be forced to write a very strongly worded letter of complaint to the Reichsführer SS himself indicating how well you handled the situation.” Standing with his hands on his hips, his eyes wandered from Rasch’s face down to his soiled trousers and dared him to be arrogant.
The haughtiness that had kept him afloat nearly all of his working life was all but used up and Rasch could only look down and shake his head. With tears in his eyes, he said, "I can’t believe it went wrong. I was so sure and …” He stopped and dropped his gaze to his feet again.
Standing in a circle around Jurgen Muntner’s now twitching body, they all wordlessly looked at Rasch as he wept the tears of his humiliation.
Rohleder made the first move to dispel their inertia. "Boss, let’s get back. This place gives me the creeps. Perhaps that bastard can think of something later on." He indicated the crying Rasch with his thumb and, with a disgusted look on his face, shook his head.
"Right, but we’ll have to leave Jurgen here. He’s one of them now.” They all nodded and mumbled their agreement.
Henning took control of the marching order. "Michael, Thorsten and Matze, take the front, the Doctor and the boss in the middle, and the rest of us follow on. Any questions?”
There were no questions for they knew the drill, and they moved out with arms at the ready. Without looking once at the vampires above them, they passed through the hall and out into the brilliant morning sun. The dawn’s blinding rays helped burn off the residue of the nightmare they had just endured, but the memory of Jurgen Muntner’s body, drained and already transforming, was in the forefront of all their minds. They flinched in unison when he screamed in agony as the metamorphosis began in earnest.
The Division of the Damned Page 11
