Primrose and Brimstone

by Jason Mueller

  She was thankful for each mission and for the cause. The hunting of Nazi war criminals gave her a focus, something to live for which was important since she couldn’t figure out a way to die. She got drafted because a member of the new Israeli government was there in the camp as a prisoner the day she single, handedly overthrew it. It took some work for them to find her. She had hesitantly accepted their offer to work with them, she had only wished it had brought peace to her life.

  The government was not happy with the prospect of Anna killing such a high-profile target instead of bringing him in for a public trial. But this had been a part of the deal since the beginning. Mengele was hers and hers alone. Government officials had tried to renege on the deal but Anna with a mouth full of fangs assured them what she would do to anyone who got in her way. Frustrated and more than a little scared the officials had stalked out of the conference room. Edu her constant companion had sat listening to the exchange chuckling to himself the whole time. He’d been with Anna for years and knew what she was capable of. They sanctioned the hit.

  Anna felt the car slowing down, she felt her mouth go dry. She wasn’t afraid of the man, but she was nervous. The man had been a monster and yet had been her savior. Joseph had always treated her better than the others, sometimes bringing her treats, a new dress or ordering extra food for her. He was never mean, or spoke harshly, nor raised his voice to her. He was always nice, always acted concerned and interested in how she was, he was almost fatherly and she had in a way grown to love him. She was scared, alone and treated brutally by everyone around her except this man. In a place where death stained the soul he had been her world in a strange way and yet he had been the one to order the experiments, the chemicals, diseases injected into her and the needless surgeries. He had been the one to order her baby taken and dissected to satisfy his curiosity. He could have stopped the rapes, but he didn’t, could have set her free but he didn’t; she hated him most for stopping the sergeant with the gun the day she arrived at the camp. He could have allowed him to pull the trigger and save her from all this but he didn’t. To say she was conflicted would be an understatement.

  She got out of the car without a word. Edu and the driver would wait. Anna had demanded that she do this alone when Edu offered to come. Anna walked down an alley in a rundown residential area. The small back yards all had block walls with heavy wooden gates for security and privacy. She knew where she was. Edu had made her study maps of the area and meticulously laid out the plan for her. They had also driven by last week scoping the area out in anticipation of today.

  Anna slowed her pace as she neared the house. She looked around, it was clear and leapt to the top of the wall. There he was, sitting with his back to her reading a book, a wine glass on a small table next to him. He reached for the glass taking care of the dark red liquid that resembled the blood she planned to spill.

  “Hello, Anna I’ve been expecting you for some time.”

  How did he know she was there?

  Anna hopped down from the wall.

  “Dr. Mengele…” She spat and choked on her words. She had gone over so many times what she would say to the man and yet when the time came she choked.

  “Come here child let me see you.” He spoke softly yet the power he had wielded was still with him. She hated him more because she felt like she had to do as she was told but mostly because there was still a piece of the young girl left that wanted to please him. That no one else in this world cared if she lived or died. The circumstances of the camp had brainwashed her she thought.

  She stood in front of him, his eyes roaming every inch of her body. Not in a sexual way but studying her.

  “You look the same!” He beamed proudly like a father whose child had just achieved a great accomplishment. She recoiled at the thought of making him happy.

  “You look like an old man.” Anna hoped to ruffle his feathers as he was always vain about his appearances.

  He smiled his teeth white against his tan face from the South American sun. “I am an old man child! Please sit-down Frau.” He waved at a chair as if they were old friends. Anna wanted to just kill him and be done with it but she also needed answers. Would he give them? Did he know the answers?

  “So, tell me everything?” He sat the book down on the small table and looked her directly in the eyes. Those cold blue eyes unnerved her still.

  “I freed the prisoners at your beloved concentration camp.” She smirked hoping again to irritate him.

  “Ah yes, I heard you were amazing when you decided you’d had enough. I heard how you manhandled Hess. He was a large man, very brutish. I didn’t like the way he treated the prisoners.” He shook his head in disgust.

  “How can you sit in judgment of him when you did all those experiments on people and killed them!” Venom dripped from her words.

  He looked shocked at her words. How could she say this after all he had done for her?

  “Child, it was about the science for me. Hitler was a fool, some Fuhrer he turned out to be. I believe some people are inferior to others but the whole master race thing was preposterous. The bloodlines were so convoluted hundreds of years before how could you change that? You could spend generations trying to breed out the bad qualities of this group or that group but it would all be for not. There is nothing pure in this world but science.” He smiled smugly at her as if he had convinced her of his righteousness.

  “I’ve captured many of your fellow Nazi’s.” She continued. “We took them back, we tried them and many were executed. I was there for most of the hangings. There aren’t many of you left these days.”

  He shook his head at her attempts to bait him. “You have done a remarkable job child. Now, what is it I can do for you? I’m sure this isn’t a social call.”

  “I’m going to kill you.” She responded without emotion.

  “Ah, I see. Well, I always knew the time would come, but the question remains. Will that bring you peace child?” He interrogated.

  Anna hesitated giving him the go-ahead to proceed. “You want to know how to end it don’t you?” His ability to perceive her thoughts angered her, but she needed to know. “You want to know how to make the nightmares stop don’t you my pretty?”

  She nodded her head yes not trusting her voice.

  “Do you still eat regular food?” Again, she nodded her yes.

  “Good come into the house with me it’s time for dinner. I have a stew on. Its meager but I will gladly share it with you. I don’t want to die on an empty stomach.” He got up stiffly, his age showing as he shuffled inside the house.

  The small house was furnished much more comfortable than the outside would lead you to believe. It was clean but cluttered with stacks of books and files. Many of them looked to be from the war. She wondered if her file was among them?

  “It’s not in that stack dear.” He called as if he could read her mind as he busied himself setting the table. He walked to the small wine rack and studied the bottles before picking one and blowing the dust off of it. “I’ve been saving this one for a special occasion might as well be tonight.” He muttered reaching for the corkscrew.

  “So, I’m not immortal?” She asked even more curious.

  “Nearly immortal, but no you can die and you are aging just slowly. Much more slowly than the rest of us. I would say it would take you two to three hundred years to age enough to equal a forty-year-old woman.” He ladled stew into two bowls and set them on the table. “Come sit down I will tell you all about it.”

  Anna sat with Dr. Mengele listening to how he created her. His excitement in his achievements sickened her, but she respected his genius as much as she despised his insanity. As they finished eating Mengele wrapped up his story about how she came to be what she was. He was unrepentant for what he had done as she expected him to be.

  She was shocked at how easy it would be for her to die. She didn’t understand it all but a cocktail of simple chemicals would slow down her synaptic impulses and thus her c
ell rejuvenation which would allow her to die while it was in effect. If she waited too long, then she would go back to being invulnerable.

  The dishes cleared Mengele stood to face her. There was no fear in his eyes-only acceptance of what was to come. She could see him struggle with something internally but she could only guess.

  “Anna…” He’d never used her first name before. It struck her like a hammer. His demeanor and tone had changed from mad doctor to an old man who could no longer run from the actions that haunted him when he allowed himself to acknowledge them. “I can help you. No strings attached. I’m old and I’ve done things I’d like to forget, and it’s only fitting you would be the one. But I can finally do for you what I should have done all those years ago. I can set you free from all this. I have everything I need here I’ve still been practicing medicine and have access to what I need. The truth is I’ve always been expecting you and wanted to have them ready for them if you wanted.”

  A thousand thoughts went through her brain as she processed the words spoken and the offer of release. No more dreams, no more images, no more hearing the cries of those around her, and no more reliving those things that had happened to her.

  Anna lowered Mengele’s body to the floor. She’d broken his neck instead of feeding on him and draining him. She couldn’t imagine taking in that much evil that much madness inside of herself. It was too personal for her. Anna picked up the gas can he had brought in from the shed and doused the house with all that was in the can. She walked into the living room and sat in his chair everything she needed was on the table next to her. She picked up a large syringe and plunged it into her heart and pushed the plunger. Anna could feel the chemicals burning inside of her. Her heart pounded as if it would burst. She counted to one hundred like she was instructed to before she struck a match and watched the flame race across the floor to spread and engulf the house and their bodies. She sat watching the flames, fascinated as they licked up the wall catching curtains on fire, and the old books and files exploded as they caught fire.

  With a sigh and a slight smile Anna picked up the small revolver next to her and placed the barrel to her temple. There was no hesitation she pulled the trigger.

  The last thing that Anna saw before she died was the sergeant at the camp staring down at her with his gun pointed at her head.

  BLOOD TOME

  Darkness fell over the snow dusted prairie while coyotes howled mournfully at the full moon from their perches on the hills. Locked away in their cabin against the evils of the night, the family went about their evening routine without much thought or care. Mother and sister busied about the kitchen cleaning up the remains of rabbit stew and pone while father sat in his chair after a long day of trying to keep them all alive for the day to come. Brother headed to the barn to do the evening milking. Life was hard, but the family was thankful and content for what they did have.

  Or so everyone thought.

  The milking done, brother quietly checked out to make sure that no one was coming. Relieved to truly be alone, he dug into a box of rags and pulled out the old leather-bound book he had found in an abandoned cabin while out hunting earlier in the day. Brother didn’t read well, but he could slowly make out some of the words in the handwritten tome.

  He carried his prize over to the dim light of the lantern. He set the wick higher, coaxing more light from the feeble flame. His breath hung in the air as he opened the book, sitting on an old crate from the granary in town. His hands aching from the cold, he carefully turned the old brittle pages between his hard, calloused fingers.

  Being a slow reader, he began to mumble the words he found next to a picture of a cabin that looked remarkably like the one he shared with his family. He carefully sounded out the words but they still didn’t make sense to him. Then, it dawned on him that the words were in some other language. He turned the page, finding several symbols and drawings of the moon, sun, and stars along with two crosses; one upright and normal to his way of thinking, the other one upside down.

  “Now why would anyone draw a cross upside down?” his ignorant mind wondered aloud. Having never been out of the North Dakota plains, or to any town bigger than James Town—which only had a thousand people—his simple mind could not grasp what manner of writing this was.

  Never one to give up, even when he would have been better served, brother bulled his way through the rest of the page—happy with his progress but frustrated about his lack of understanding. He turned the page and found a strange black figure drawn on the page and one sentence written underneath.

  Fascinated by the picture and wondering what kind of story this peculiar book was telling, he read the lone sentence. Happy with his progress, brother turned the page. Only one word lay scrawled in large letters a crossed the page:

  D-E-A-T-H

  He sat stunned. Why would that one word be in English?

  As he sat there on the old crate in the dusty, freezing barn, holding a book he should never have touched, the lantern flickered out. Cussing, but not worried, he stumbled around in the dark to the box to hide the book again. Mother and Father were very devoted and superstitious and would make him get rid of it.

  Stashing the book back in the box, he made his way to the door. Suddenly, the mournful howl of the coyotes sounded as if they were right outside. Indeed, they were just out of sight watching, their glowing eyes shining brightly in the moon light.

  Increasingly unnerved, brother started the long trek to the house. The already brutal wind picked up into a demonic fury, forcing him to pull his lamb’s wool jacket tighter. From out on the prairie, a shriek shattered the night. The coyotes let loose with more howls and growls. Brother could tell by a lifetime of hearing them that whatever spooked them was approaching them from out on the plains.

  Panicked, brother ran for the safety of the house. He could see his father coming out onto the porch gun in hand alerted by the coyotes howls so close to the house, a black silhouette against the bright backdrop of the house.

  The shrieking intensified as it grew closer. A black, misty shape stood out as it barreled over the plains standing out against the moonlight and white backdrop of snow.

  Brother ran faster. Father stood covering him with the gun, urging him to make the safety of cabin and family. The black creature slammed into the barn, causing it to explode. It sent parts of milk cows flying with a sickening thud and painted the white canvas of snow with blood and offal; a macabre masterpiece in the moonlight.

  The creature continued toward the house. The blackness bore down on brother as he neared the house. The creature engulfed him and left in its wake a skinless mess that continued to stagger toward the cabin.

  Unable to speak without skin for cheeks and lips, brother groaned for help, but his words came out as wails of agony and the clacking of yellowed teeth. Blood poured from him as he continued to stagger toward the porch.

  “Stay back, brother!” Father begged his monster of a son. But still the bloody nightmare staggered forward.

  From the darkness, the shriek let loose again as the creature returned. Speeding over the remains of the barn, it headed toward brother and the cabin again. The shrieking shook the cabin. Fear and instinct took over Father and he pulled the trigger. Brother dropped to the ground with a gaping wound in his already bloody chest. The banshee, satisfied, shrieked off into the darkness.

  Mother and Sister rushed from the cabin to see what they could do for Brother. Father stepped off the porch, tears blinding him and freezing on his cheeks from the bitter North Dakota cold. His legs gave out and he sank to his knees, still clutching the rifle.

  The women knelt around Brother, unsure what they could do for him as he gasped for air. How he was still alive was beyond anyone’s guess but all knew he wouldn’t be for long.

  Mother’s mind broke as she sat on the snowy ground and cradled her son in her arms, his blood turning her into a nightmare of her own creation. Her wails of grief shocked Father out of his trance, causing f
ear to flood his mind. He brought the gun up; he couldn’t bear the thought of losing another one of his precious family members to the banshee.

  In his fear, his mind reacted to the sight of his wife covered in their son’s blood. The slug took her through the chest and both her and Sister fell to the ground. In his horror, Father realized what he had done. He had shot his wife and the slug had passed through and hit his daughter as well. Now both lay bleeding out, leaving a growing slush of crimson on the frosty ground.

  “NO, NO!” he screamed into the night, only the distant sound of the coyotes answered him as if they too were mourning the loss of his family.

  Father sat in his chair by the fire, warming up from being outside. Mother sat in her chair, while sister and brother both lay in their beds. Drunk with whiskey and grief, Father gathered the tin of lamp oil, sloshing it throughout the cabin while humming a hymn as he went about his task.

  When all was done, he sat back in his chair by the fire. Using the coal shovel, he scooped red-hot coals from the fireplace, flinging them across the floor. The lamp oil ignited easily on the wood floors and the flames raced through the cabin, quickly engulfing it.

  Father sat rocking by the fireplace, humming the old hymn.

  REMEMBER ME?

  The blood slowly formed into a puddle onto the floor with a steady drip.

  Drip, drip, drip.

  The only other discernible sound was the ragged breathing from the pitiful excuse for a man that was tied to the chair. Benjamin Andrews was in serious trouble and he knew it.

  As a sociopath, Ben had never felt fear before. He had preyed on countless women in his thirty-eight years as a rapist and burglar, and never once thought what it felt like to be the victim. He had always been in control—always been the one in power—and now, he was at the mercy of his assailant.