“I have to free Renfield,” Harker added.
“The monster also?” Anka asked.
“He fought with us,” Lucille told her. “For us.”
“Not for me,” Anka said.
“We were hoping you would assist us,” Van Helsing told Anka. “With men, weapons.”
“Not for the vampire. As for the rest, it is hopeless.” Anka was adamant.
“What about Pavel, Farkas? They’re your people,” Harker confronted the woman.
“They knew the risks.” Anka turned away, not able to look them in the eye.
“Well, Sergeant Renfield is my responsibility, and I intend to remove him from that prison.” Young Harker set his jaw, not appearing so boyish anymore.
The old farmer drove his wagon into the barn and unhitched the ancient nag.
Anka led Lucille, her father, and Harker into the adjacent house. It was a tiny stone cottage that seemed to be only one room, the iron stove squatting on one side, the bed against the other wall. Through the murky window Lucille could see the privy in the backyard.
Her father confronted Anka. “I know you have a personal antipathy toward Prince Dracula,” he began. “But can you not put that aside long enough to fight a greater enemy? Use him like you would a rifle. You hold no animus toward any bullet that kills a German.”
“Don’t try to befuddle me with your philosophies,” Anka told him. “He is an abomination to man and God. Let him rot in the castle he built.”
“Then we will get help somewhere else,” Lucille said. But where that help was, she had no clue. She felt hope leave her like water down a drain.
“Where?” Harker, ever the master of the obvious, asked.
“I have an idea on that,” Van Helsing said. Lucille and Harker both turned to him with hope in their eyes.
DATED: 10 JUNE 1941
TO: CSS REINHARD HEYDRICH, RSHA, REICHSFUHRER-SS
FROM: SS MAJOR WALTRAUD REIKEL
CC: HEINRICH HIMMLER, REICHSFUHRER-SS
MOST SECRET
INTERVIEW CONDUCTED BY MAJOR W. REIKEL, INTERVIEW SPECIALIST CORPORAL SCHRECK, & LIEUTENANT GUTH. Also present is your Company scribe. A military cinematographer with 35mm camera records the proceedings.
INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT:
The Subject is secured to the wall of his cell with large railroad spikes driven through the palm of each hand, thus suspending him off the floor. As a further precaution, his feet are shackled together and secured by a chain to a ring bolted to the floor.
This was done while the Subject was unconscious, presumed a result of his exposure to the sun.
A small wooden platform forty-five centimetres high has been constructed and set in front of the Subject. This allows access to the hanging body and close study of the Subject. Burnt skin hangs from the Subject’s face and the parts of the body not covered by clothing. Strips of this epidermis have been removed, along with an equal sample of living tissue. These samples have been forwarded to Berlin for analysis.
The Subject regained consciousness during this last procedure.
MAJOR R.: It is difficult for me to believe that you are what they say you are. Perhaps a test?
CORPORAL S. is cued by the Major and leaves the interrogation room.
Major R. makes an attempt to pry open the Subject’s mouth to examine the teeth using the handle of his SS dagger. The Subject resists--successfully.
MAJOR R.: I see no fangs. Are you able to transform yourself into a bat? I have so many questions. And we will have them all answered. Eventually.
The questions are from a list sent from Berlin.
MAJOR R.: But first the test.
Corporal S. enters, dragging one of the captured local insurrectionists behind him. This prisoner identifies himself only by the appellation “Pavel.” This man has undergone intensive interrogation and is physically debilitated, losing one eye in the process of his interview. That aperture appears to have been cauterized. Despite this, he still maintains a veneer of defiance.
MAJOR R.: (addressing the Subject) Legend has it that you have a taste for blood.
The Subject does not respond. Major R. passes his SS dagger to Corporal S.
The Subject struggles against his restraints, cries out in protest. Non-verbal grunts.
Corporal S. takes in one hand the hair of the man calling himself “Pavel” and stretches the man’s head back, baring the throat.
The prisoner “Pavel” has his throat cut. Exsanguination proceeds. Corporal S. holds the prisoner upright by the hair on his head. The blood is caught in a tin receptacle by Lieutenant G. The prisoner’s blood more than fills the cup. The bleeding continues for a brief moment until the cessation of life. The corpse is dropped. The receptacle is passed to the Major.
Major R. steps onto the wooden platform and holds the receptacle of blood in front of the Subject’s face. Major R. orders the cinematographer to come closer. The cinematographer suggests switching lenses instead. This is agreed upon.
The Subject rears away from the container of blood. But it does demonstrate an involuntary reaction. The Subject’s eyes become bloodshot, caused by a sudden swelling of the eyeball capillaries. The Subject’s eyeteeth--cuspids, or upper canines--lengthen into fangs by three to five centimetres; a proper measurement was not possible at the moment. This seems to be an extrusion from the alveolar and not a growth.
The Subject tries to rear away from the goblet, struggles against his restraints, loosening one of the spikes holding him to the wall. The left.
MAJOR R.: Well, mirabile dictu, a true vampire. The Fuhrer will be pleased.
Major R. steps off the platform. Corporal S. is ordered to reset the loosened spike. Corporal S. ascends the wooden platform with hammer in hand.
With a loud, somewhat animalistic outcry, the Subject wrenches the left-hand spike out of the wall, brings it around in a backhanded manner, and inserts selfsame spike into the right eye socket of Corporal S.
Corporal S. reacts with his own very loud cry, covers the wound with his hands, and drops his hammer in the process.
The Subject shakes loose the spike and uses the now-free hand to pull at the other restraint holding his right hand to the wall.
Your Transcriber observed what follows from a viewing point outside the cell.
Major R. steps to the opposite wall of the interrogation room and opens the shutters recently constructed for just this eventuality.
Sunlight floods the room. The Subject is bathed in the glare. The Subject recoils, cries out in what appears to be pain, covers his eyes with his free arm.
Major R. picks up the discarded hammer, retrieves the loose spike. With the assistance of Lieutenant G. and much exertion, he tears the Subject’s free arm from his face and pins it to the wall. The cinematographer is also called to assist, and after repeated orders from Major R., he does as ordered. Major R. proceeds to impale the Subject’s hand with the spike and secure it once again. With vigor.
Once the Subject is immobilised, the shutters are closed.
The Subject’s skin is charred; smoke is observed.
Corporal S., still screaming, is removed from the room. The cinematographer, who abandoned his camera, returns to his filming position. Major R. orders the filming to cease.
MAJOR R.: (addressing the cinematographer) Develop that film as quickly as possible. Do it personally. No one else is to know of this. No one. Anyone who breaches security will suffer the fate of that one.
The corpse of the one calling himself “Pavel” is indicated.
MAJOR R.: (addressing the transcriber) Have the film sent to Berlin immediately: the negative and one copy of the transcription. One copy will be given to me. And your notes are to be destroyed in my presence. Understood? Do your job well. Remember, the Fuhrer will see this. Hitler himself.
The corpse is withdrawn. The room is locked.
FROM THE WAR JOURNAL OF J. HARKER
(transcribed from shorthand)
JUNE 11, 1941
<
br /> The beldam Anka relaxed her rigid opposition to our mission enough to help us obtain transportation. This time we travelled by tractor and wagon. As comfort comes, it was a step up—we weren’t buried under a pile of potatoes, and the tractor was much faster than the farmer’s glue pot candidate. Van Helsing would not tell us our destination, but having no plan myself, I went along.
We came to a stop at the base of the looming Carpathians, where another stone cottage huddled under a bluff, the back half of the house residing inside the mountain. There, we were provided with hiking packs, sturdy boots, and the proper clothing for mountaineering. Also provided was extra ammunition for Lucy’s Luger and a new Thompson for me to replace the one I abandoned in Sfantu Gheorghe.
A meal was supplied by a round little woman with apple cheeks and a nimbus of white-blond hair, her age an indeterminate place between twenty and forty. I had forgotten how long it had been since I had eaten, and I ate more than my share of lamb stew and consumed most of a bottle of sour wine. We were shown blankets on the floor next to an iron stove that emanated a comforting heat. Sleep fell upon me like the flicking of a switch.
My dreams were of a man’s face twisted with rage as he tried to strangle me. I awoke repeatedly, sweating, but not because of the stove. After every nightmare I slipped back into a deep sleep again and repeated the grisly cycle over and over until the morning glare of sunlight stabbing through a window rescued me from myself.
A cold breakfast was given to us by the cherubic woman, and we set upon preparing for the journey ahead. As we left, the matron of the house trotted outside and foisted onto each of us a small flour sack filled with victuals for our hike.
“There is some dried fruit, some cake, a cheese,” she told us.
“Thank you so much,” Lucy said. “I don’t know how to repay you.”
“Just stop this war before they kill my son.” The vehemence from that angelic face surprised me. “God bless you,” she added without irony.
And she planted a kiss on each of our cheeks. Then we were off, following a path that curled around one side of the cottage and up into the talus that skirted the towering mountains.
DATED: 13 JUNE 1941
TO: CSS REINHARD HEYDRICH, RSHA, REICHSFUHRER-SS
FROM: SS MAJOR WALTRAUD REIKEL
CC: HEINRICH HIMMLER, REICHSFUHRER-SS
(BY COURIER)
MOST SECRET
SECOND INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT
INTERVIEW CONDUCTED BY MAJOR W. REIKEL, INTERVIEW SPECIALIST CORPORAL SCHRECK. Also present is your Company scribe. A military cinematographer with 35mm camera records the proceedings.
The Subject’s restraints have been upgraded. A chain across his chest bolted to the wall at each side. A shackle on each wrist, also chained and bolted to the wall. Like a fly in a web of linked steel. In answer to your question about security: Access to the Subject’s cell is limited, and most of this unit is not even aware of the existence or presence of the Subject.
MAJOR R.: Corporal, you may be excused from this one. I know that you are still recuperating. And the infringement on your sight from the loss of your eye is reason enough for you to take a respite.
The Corporal has taken to wearing a grey swath of cloth over his wound.
CORPORAL S.: I only need one eye to do my job, Sir. And I am eager to help. Very eager.
The last is addressed to the Subject, who appears haggard but defiant. Since the Subject’s last exposure to sunlight, the Subject has acquired a white streak in his hair, like a lightning bolt in a night sky. The Subject does not respond to the Corporal’s taunt/threat. Only his eyes following our every movement give credence to his cognizance.
MAJOR R.: (addressing the Subject) Higher authority has requested more tests. I hope you don’t mind. That was a lie. Actually I hope you do mind, for the Corporal’s sake if nothing else.
From a satchel Major R. withdraws a garland of garlic. The garland is thrust into the Subject’s face. The Subject does not respond.
MAJOR R.: Garlic does not have any effect on you?
SUBJECT: A peasant superstition. Save it for your goulash.
Major R. discards the garlic. From the same satchel he extracts a wooden crucifix, a crude hand carving of the Jesus of a light-coloured wood, affixed by brass nails to a cross of darker wood, approximately twelve centimetres by thirty.
This object is also put within a hand’s breadth of the Subject’s face. The Subject calmly examines the object.
SUBJECT: Would it be blasphemous to suggest that I, in my current circumstances, have a wealth of empathy with the poor fellow?
MAJOR R: So the Cross of Our Saviour does not strike you with fear and revulsion.
SUBJECT: Only the bearer of such. Another superstition disproved, I’m afraid. Created by a church attempting to demonstrate a power over something which they have absolutely no control. Their usual modus operandi. Anything to salve the fears of the multitude they cannot help.
MAJOR R.: Then I assume holy water would also produce none of the expected results.
With this statement Major R. tosses water from a vial into the Subject’s face.
SUBJECT: Refreshing, but nothing more. If you could gather enough to indulge me in a bath I would appreciate it.
MAJOR R.: Interesting . . .
The Major studies the Subject for approximately three and one half minutes.
MAJOR R.: All these legends . . . tell me, can you turn yourself into a mist, seep under doors, and through the slightest crack of a window in that state? Transform into a bat and fly away? I suppose not. Otherwise you would have surely done so by now and escaped.
SUBJECT: Might the case be that I linger to enjoy your exalted company?
MAJOR R.: There are other stories. That you are immortal. Immune to bullet and blade.
MAJOR R. draws his dagger from the sheath. With his other hand he draws his pistol, a Mauser Schnellfeuer M712.
MAJOR R.: Which shall we test first?
CORPORAL S.: Let me! Sir, let me. Please, Sir, I beg of you this boon.
MAJOR R.: I suppose it would only be fair. All right. But do not become too enthusiastic. It may be another romantic fable, and our orders are to keep him alive.
CORPORAL S.: Pain only, Sir. Pain only, I swear.
Major R. turns the blade and pistol over to the Corporal. Corporal S. approaches the Subject, steps onto the wooden platform, raises the dagger to the Subject’s eye. The Subject involuntarily draws away until the Subject’s head strikes the wall.
MAJOR R.: Not the eyes, Corporal. I understand your urge to even the score but . . . the limbs, if you will.
Two gunshots. In quick order. Two stabs with the dagger. Equally distributed among the limbs. Right arm--stab wound in biceps area between shoulder and elbow. Left arm--bullet wound across forearm. Right leg--stab wound, upper thigh. Left leg--bullet wound, into calf.
Subject responds with a stifled cry.
Major R. studies the Subject’s face.
MAJOR R.: It suffers pain. Good to know.
Inserting a finger into the wound holes made in the Subject’s clothing, Major R. rips the fabric around the injured flesh.
Major R. motions the cinematographer to come in for a close recording of the affected areas.
The wounds do not bleed as such. A slight issue of a dark red, almost black, viscous fluid seeps from the holes. The wounds quickly close and seem to heal immediately. This takes approximately forty-seven minutes. Another twenty-three minutes for the scar tissue to form and disappear. The cinematographer is heard murmuring a prayer as he changes magazines.
MAJOR R.: Are you getting this? Are you? The Fuhrer will be very happy. Very happy, indeed.
The Subject glares at the Major with what could only be described as fury.
NOTE FROM MAJOR REIKEL:
In answer to your question in your last missive about the Creature’s transformative powers: I think if the vampire could turn itself into a bat it would have done so and flo
wn away by now, the windows and even the bars of the cell proving no impedance to such a creature.
Also, as per your query, continuous observation has found no instance of any alimentary processes, urine or otherwise. But time may tell.
FROM THE WAR JOURNAL OF J. HARKER
(transcribed from shorthand)
JUNE 13, 1941
This journey through the mountains was a mite more manageable than my hike with Renfield and that cumbersome transmitter case after our calamitous parachute drop into Rumania. Van Helsing was a superlative guide, having explored the Carpathians for his research into the alpine flora used in various folk remedies. Every few yards on the mountain slopes, he managed to discover a plant worth mention. Above what he called the juniper belt, he pointed out the rose bay, lilies of the valley, pigeon chins, bird’s eye, and something called pursuance.
He might have been fifty or sixty years older than I, but his eyes were as perspicacious as any youth. Spotting one bird after another, having to point them out because my own eyes had not noticed the creatures. And Lucy proved to be quite the ornithologist, recognising and naming every fowl. Thusly I became acquainted with the local titmouse, woodpecker, plover, lark, and possibly a majestic mountain eagle that sailed the air currents far over our heads.
The Professor craned his neck to marvel at the gliding birds of prey. “In the days when I was young and spry,” he told me, “it was my habit to wander these mountains for amusement and edification.”
“If the pace you set when you are old and infirm is any indication, I would not have lasted a mile with you back then,” I commented and I meant it. My ankle was still paining me from my stumble in the Brasov alley, but I did not voice my discomfort. It would be unseemly for a young man to complain while a woman and an old man stoically pushed on.
We rarely paused for rest, ate and quenched our thirst on the trot. But the higher we climbed, the thinner the air became, and soon even the hardy old man began to seek out a spot to shelter for the night.
Dracula vs. Hitler Page 40
