The Darling of Dachau

They say

Vision without action is a daydream and action without vision is a nightmare. [Japanese Proverb.]

They said it all.

I heard him before I saw him. A muffled sound at first and then as the scene grew, so did his cry.

His face was pale, curly hair stained with mud and dirt. His body was naked, curled against the cold ash piles. The place where his star should have been, the bare flesh suffered pink burns and was oozing white.

I backed away in terror for this young boy and his body. He couldn't have been more than five, an infant without his mother, stranded and alone. As my mind raced to find a way to save him and myself, to near him without frightening him, to comfort and protect him, time got the better of me.

A fire was lit and burned bright- as bright as day- licking the ground floor and hissing as it devoured those lost in the foreground. It was a barrier between me and the boy- me and the boy and all of those bodies. I squinted through the light, eyes barely seeing past the point where the heat was too much to bear. I saw shadows, though. Shadows of men.

One was tall and muscular and the other short and stocky. My heart beat faster. Someone would save the infant boy. He was going to be okay.

“Ici, Ici!” I called for help in French, “Aide!” They didn’t respond. I bit my lip mind trying to separate which language was which. I called in them all, “Hilfe! Vertletzes!” And agonized when they didn’t respond, “Please!”

Nothing. Time elapsed; seconds felt like hours, every pulse I felt in my neck, making me agitated and frustrated. What was happening on the other side? Was the infant still alive?

And then one spoke.

“Das ist der Letzte.”

The shorter shook his head, wet brow shrinking to his hound dog eyes. A cigarette butt fell from his hand. “Dank-Güte. Verdammte Juden.”

I couldn’t hear the rest, not think past their thick German accents, but my mind felt that they were gone now. My mind was locked on that baby and his cries and without thinking I ran to the flame.

I ran to it, arms flung up only to find it was cool against my skin. I was soon racing, sprinting as fast as my legs would take me, drawn to the crippled child. The faster I ran, the farther away he seemed. When I finally reached, I saw in his eyes what those men had done to him.

His curly blond hair was matted and covered in ash, pale skin burnt with dark pink scars. His light brown eyes locked on mine and for a second I think he knew who I was, that I was there to save him. His dry lips spread and closed in time with his eyes.

“Please.” I echoed, this time more terrorized than before. He was only a child. Please…

But by the time someone tapped me on the shoulder to awake, he was gone.

My fingers felt for the ringing alarm clock, but Gleeson’s thick hands reached it first. My face burned when he drew the sheet away from my body. The covers were now piled on my tense feet. It took a moment to realize I was shaking.

“What is it, Gleeson?” I demanded, face flustered and pink.

“You told me to wake you if anyone came.” his shoulder shrugged up and down, “Someone came.”

My eyes shut for half a second, mind trying to filter what had happened and what was a dream.

“Hanna? He came.”

My eyes bulged a little as I straightened to lean against the headboard. My head shook back and forth, stringy hair falling over my eyes. I had expected him to come, just not this quickly.

“Okay, umm, just tell him that I’ll be there… momentarily.” I mumbled and slid off the side of the tall mattress. Gleeson nodded. “I’ll prepare some tea.”

I held back whatever thought had been on my tongue and remained stationary. “Yes. That should be fine.”

As I switched on the table light and a soft yellow glow filled the room, my arms folded on top of one another. He was gone before I knew if he had heard me or not, leaving myself to prepare for unexpected company.

When I walked down the polished staircase, Robert Antelem was there, smiling as if it he hadn’t woken me up at dawn. For the record, he was not at all what I’d thought him to be.

His skin was fair and toned with hues of light pink and his hair, bright like the yellow like the tulips he was holding behind his back. A bright blue jacket blinded me for a second before he held out the bouquet.

“For you.” he said with a small smile. I didn’t move under his gaze. Instead, Gleeson swept between us and took the tulips out to find a vase. My eyes followed him yearningly as if to say “Don’t leave me!” But he did.

It was strange. I felt so frozen, so stiff and solid, but then again like melting under the heat he was creating. My forehead prickled when my memory was drawn back to the day I had met Dirk. I had been frozen there as well, but cold- ice cold. And numb, like I was stuck. Here I was aware of every pinprick, every thumping pulse in my body. I couldn’t move for fear of rising and flying to the ceiling. And it genuinely scared me.

I cleared my throat. “Uh, Hanna. Hanna Leven.”

He grinned. “As you know, Robert Antelem.” He said his name with a humorous tone, as if there was something I wasn’t picking up on. Trying to think of what it could be, I smiled and replied.

“Nice to meet you.” I said. Genuinely.

“Shall we sit down?” he asked, hand motioning to the table in the center of the room.

“Uh, yes. Of course.”

I didn’t know why that struck me as odd. After all, most visitors shouldn’t want to overstay their welcome. They should want to get to the bottom of the visit, but in my case, I had no idea what it was about. I sat opposite him, feeling slightly better as Gleeson slid two cups of tea on the center of the table. When I sat, he bent down to my level and murmured, “If you kept me waiting another half hour, I’d have to reheat your tea for the third time.”

I gave an apologetic look, smiling to myself as I reached out to carelessly grab a mug. Our hands brushed. I drew mine back to smooth my bun while he sipped at the tea, casual and smiling.

“I could only hope that you were just as pleasant as Nicholas mentioned, Hanna.” he set the mug down and leaned on his elbows, eyes boring into mine. I was still. “And I am really happy to see you in person.”

“Thank you. I, it’s great to see you too. You said you saw grand-mère? My grandmother?”

“Yes.” he paused, “It was mid July- one of the hottest summers ever- and I must have been only sixteen, seventeen, visiting France to tutor your grandmother’s neighbor. We had a quick brunch before I was finished and travelled back home. She was a very funny character.”

“I remember,” I nodded, laughing a little at the memory. “I was there too. I was twelve and as white as could be. She wouldn’t let me out of the house for fear of burning my skin and yet she was like an alligator.” I shook my head, grinning, “There was a makeshift fan in the attic that she’d turned on and dust blew everywhere. And then she told me I had to stay up there and read until the weather got colder. While she went outside to soak up the sun.” I stopped, swallowing a sip of tea. The sugar remained a residue on my tongue. “I never understood why she did that. Whether it was to make me seem like an albino or she really cared for me.”

“The latter, I think.” Robert smiled. And I had to smile back. He was charming. He leaned in closer, light brown eyes darting back and forth before circling back to me.

“Mr. Bartlet mentioned you were involved in the French Revolution?” I asked, eyes wide, mind wanting to know more. Wouldn’t that make him the common enemy?

“Yes.” he said simply. “Yes, I am a writer and I reported for a newspaper that supported the whole thing.” his brow scrunched quizzically. “Have you taken a side?”

I pointed to myself and shook my head. “No! I can’t keep up with Germany’s politics let alone France.”

“Huh.” his eyes looked sad.

“Something wrong?” I asked. He drew the cup of tea to his lips and sipped slowly. His voice was low.

“I’ve heard rumors, only rumors about what is going on a few miles south-west. And I worry for you and those who live close by.”

“Down the river? You mean Dachau?”

“Yes.” he said gravely.

“It’s been there forever.” I said, shoulders moving fractionally, “It’s a prisoner’s camp.”

“For prisoners of war.” he said it as if there was something more. When my expression didn’t change, he sighed.

“You really don’t follow politics, do you?”

“Maybe not.” I allowed, teeth biting tongue, “But I read the paper.”

His brow rose.

“The sections on art.” I smiled a little. He was still.

“So you have no clue what is happening… Hanna, what your people are going through?”

“We were charged with a huge war debt, Robert.” I said, “It’s a depression, not the end of the world.”

“At least not yet.” he said.

“What are you talking about?”

He shook his head as his eyes circled around the room and stopped on the window. “Can you hear the train from here?”

My eyes circled the room for the large back window. “Yes, b-”

“Has there been anything unusual about it lately?”

“What are you infer-”

“The train, Hanna! Have you noticed how many trains have come in? How many people must be on those trains? The fact that the tracks only go one way!”

“The tracks loop around to go back north-”

“And if I could bet anything, I’d know the ones north never hear a train anymore.”

“So where are they going?” I asked lamely.

“Take a wild guess, Hanna.” his voice was soft although I could sense the tension being held back. My mind did what he asked. I thought of an underground society, something to hide Germany’s weaker links. I couldn’t help but shiver, knowing it wasn’t right.

“Maybe… maybe it’s for their own good.” It seemed somewhat possible as I said it. Maybe.

“Maybe .” he said gruffly. His voice was laced with mocking attitude. I crossed my legs and leaned back in my seat.

“Well, you’re into the art section of the paper. Is there anything else?”

I considered that and said quietly, “I read. And I write a little. Letters and sometimes,” I sighed, “Sometimes stories.”

“About what?” he asked. He took a bite of a scone and steam hid his eyes for a second. I took my chance then.

“The world and what’s going to happen…” I stopped in seeing his smile. He swallowed and laughed.

“You’re writing about the future and you don’t even know what’s going on now?”

I bit my lip. “Is it that horrible?”

“Well, there are certainly a lot of new things you’ll need to take into consideration.”

“Well… like what?” I asked. His eyes twinkled.

“I’ll sign you up for the whole paper. You’ll see.”

“Thanks.” I said half-heartedly. My mind was elsewhere. “You know, I think my husband is working down by the tracks. By Dachau.”

I couldn’t help but notice his shoulders muscles seize. He seemed to struggle for words.

“The next time you see him… a-ask him why.”

“Robert?” I questioned.

“Ask him why.” Each word was a struggle for him- a struggle to not scream. I saw it in his eyes and could empathize. I had felt that way too many times before. But this time I was causing it- and how exactly had I?

The look his eyes gave remained embedded in my sight. “Just ask him why.” he mumbled. His hand reached for his jacket which seemed to slide on his shoulders by magic. I stood slowly while he gathered his things. A stack of papers came from his briefcase and landed on the table.

“For you.” he said quickly, eyes lowered to check his wrist-watch.

“Robert.” I mumbled as he pushed in his chair.

“The next train leaves here soon. I have to go.”

I knew that was a lie, but watched him leave, sadly. Gleeson picked up a few of the papers that had fallen to the floor. I had only seen one line, but knew what was happening now.

The newspaper’s headline:

GERMANY’S REIGN: FIRST POLAND, NOW THE WORLD