Life on the hook

Cal thought he'd misheard.

"What did you say?"

"They're all gifted," Liam clarified grimly, staring at one point in front of him.

"All-all the girls?" Cal couldn't believe it.

"Yeah."

"How is that possible? Maybe it's just a coincidence?" Cal tried to figure out how it happened that so many special people were gathered in one place at once.

"It was planned," Liam said confidently, which made Cal frown even more.

"In that case…"

"The Commandant is the force we're hiding from!"

Cal suspected something like that, but there were a lot of other dangerous people around besides the Commandant, so he didn't single him out.

"But, who is he?" Cal asked, thinking that maybe Liam had already found the answer.

"That's for you to find out," Liam finally shifted his gaze to Cal.

"I'll do anything, but I'm afraid he's got me on the hook now," Cal admitted honestly.

"Do you think he'll make you do something awful for him?" Liam suggested, worried about Cal.

"I don't know, but he's been threatening me in direct text…" Cal paused, figuring he shouldn't hold Liam responsible for his future actions.

"Be careful," Liam wrapped his arms around him and pressed himself against his chest, wanting to hear the beating of his beloved heart. He received a gentle and warm kiss from the man in return.

They sat cuddled together on the floor, each thinking about their issues. Liam was worried that someone with bad intentions had brought the gifted children together, and it was unclear what they had done with them.

Cal was worried about the orphanage, about Liam, and about what would happen next, without even realizing what the Commandant would want him to do.

A car horn sounded under his window and Cal looked out the window. The Commandant's other, more expensive and larger, six-seater carriage stopped next to his car.

"Of course he knows where to find me," the man raged, "what does he want?"

He said goodbye to Liam and, under his anxious gaze, left the room to meet his new boss.

The windows in the car were fogged up and Cal couldn't see who was sitting inside. The front door clicked open, and the chauffeur stood in front of Cal, opening the passenger door.

"Good evening," it sounded from the auto, "welcome."

Cal realized he would have to ride along with the commandant and joined him. The driver closed the door and took his seat and drove forward.

"How was your evening?" The man asked, relaxed.

"Fine, thank you," Cal replied dryly.

"Ah, there's no need to be embarrassed, your weaknesses are your strengths. At least your toy won't pregnant," the man's nasty laugh filled the surrounding space, and Cal cringed at the man's tactlessness.

They drove in silence for a while, but Cal could feel the atmosphere thickening and the air thickening. Even the commandant's insanely expensive perfume seemed to him like poison, penetrating every cell of his tense body.

"I want you to cooperate with the doctor," the commandant said suddenly, "he has complained that you are not showing any interest in his work."

"How can I show interest?" Cal asked tensely.

"He'll tell you himself," the man said, lighting a cigarette.

"Okay," Cal nodded.

"Well, that's all, goodbye," the car stopped abruptly, and Cal found himself alone on a cold, unfamiliar street.

He remembered roughly the direction they were traveling, so he turned the other way and wandered back. After about fifteen minutes, he returned to his car and looked up to see that Liam's room was dark.

Getting into his car, he drove to the factory and spent the night tossing and turning with worry. No viable plan to save Liam could come to mind. They couldn't leave town, and they couldn't use their powers because that would draw the commandant's attention even more, and who knows why he would want to know.

Early the next day, the doctor arrived at the factory. He strode confidently into the breakfasting Cal's house and, without taking off his shoes, sat down opposite him in the well-heated dining room.

Cal was unpleasantly startled by this attitude, but promised himself to restrain himself, and was polite.

"Please have breakfast with me, Doctor," he gestured for more cutlery.

"I will," the man replied enthusiastically.

"I've been told that you and I need to work more closely together," Cal began, "can you tell me how you see that happening?"

"Well, it's simple. The drug trials need to be completed as soon as possible, and the work done so far doesn't give a clear picture. I intend to change my approach," the man took the toast and poured strawberry jam thickly over it, sending it into his mouth.

"I intend to support you," Cal said quietly, feeling and thinking something else entirely.

"I knew we'd work together! You have the looks and manners of a true Aryan for a reason!" He hesitated. "Well, except for the color of your eyes…. You must understand better than anyone how important it is to protect our outstanding race and unlock its full potential!"

Cal listened politely to his guest, though inside he was seething with anger. They finished breakfast, and the doctor called the steward to join him in his work. Cal obediently followed, trusting that his obedience would get into the commandant's ears, and he would stop kidnapping and torturing Liam.

A new shift was just entering the gates – only men. Cal was surprised because normally most of the workers in the factory were seamstresses and only a few men for heavy labor. All the new arrivals were given a drug by the doctor, as always, and then they were made to put giant backpacks on their backs.

Thereafter, twenty-five men began running in a circle. Cal pressed his lips together and crossed his arms over his chest. The doctor turned to him and explained that each backpack corresponded in weight to a typical Third Reich soldier's uniform and weighed fifteen kilograms.

With this experiment, the limit of endurance would be set. Cal nodded and didn't ask any questions.

"You should think about where to place about two hundred people for permanent residence," the doctor suddenly said thoughtfully, watching the people running around.

"What's that for?" Cal suddenly stopped observing etiquette.

"Soon you will be brought a special staff by order of the commandant. These people cannot be kept in the camp."

These words made Cal alarmed. "Who are these people? And what does the commandant have to do with them, what is this special staff?"  he pondered, trying to warm his hands.

"First we will meet Mr. Himmler with an inspection this Thursday, and then we will continue our dialogue," the doctor clarified and Cal remembered that it was necessary to hand over the letter.

"Mr. Himmler?" he asked interested, "I have always wanted to meet this man."

"You'll have the opportunity," the man laughed, "he'll be here for at least two days."

"Good," Cal smiled, "I have to go check on the production, if you'll excuse me."

"Go ahead," the doctor replied snidely, enjoying the handyman.

After lunch, Cal found an opportunity and visited Liam. He briefly told him about the arrival of the high official, and they agreed that Cal would pick up the letter and try to deliver it to the addressee.

The men in the formation in front of the workshops ran non-stop for rest for several days. During that time, Cal converted the second and fourth warehouses into living quarters. He was given two hundred mattresses and meager food rations.

An additional guard of fifty men had also arrived at the factory, and the manager was busy finding housing equipment for them as well.

The doctor continued his experiment without meeting Cal's objections. By the end of the third day, several men had dropped dead from the constant use of Pervitin and the continuous running and were replaced by other "runners."

Thursday came and Cal went to the commandant's property. Besides them, there was quite a large company gathered there, not counting the fact that the chief checker of the camp's work, Mr. Himmler, arrived with his entourage.

Cal was introduced to him, and then he met a large, heavy-set man who was the personal doctor of the Reichsführer SS. This was the man he needed to try to turn the tide of history, so Cal had been looking for an excuse to cross paths with him the entire time after their introduction.

The group of observers circled the campgrounds and gathered in the hospital block. The doctor reported on his work, extolling the effects of Pervitin and giving summaries of his experiments. His report interested the dignitaries, whereupon he was given orders to study the question of hypothermia and the possibility of overcoming it.

The management authorized the use of prisoners for any inhuman experiments, without limiting the doctor's imagination. Listening to the cynical way someone argued about human life, Cal could barely contain himself from exploding.

He stood gloomier than a cloud, anticipating rivers of blood and a sea of tears, but he couldn't imagine how far he was from the truth.

At the luncheon held in honor of the SS Reichsführer's arrival, the commandant served the best wine and treats, trying to placate the already satisfied chief.

"The number of prisoners will increase," said a man with glasses and a short mustache over thin lips, "we will poison the SS guards to supervise these scum."

"Thank you," replied the commandant.

"Mr. Eicke, who was once the commandant here, has done an impressive job in organizing the camps. We have erected thousands of others according to the design of this place. You should follow his policy and appoint prisoners as wardens. These pigs will tear their kind to pieces to survive."

"I'll take your advice," smiled the commandant.

"And, besides, it is time you built cremation ovens, as they have done elsewhere," the man said and pressed his lips together.

"Mr. Himmler, construction is already underway. Although we are far away from the Reichstag, but all fashionable trends are immediately realized in our humble locality," the commandant answered defiantly.

"Good, excellent," commented the Reichsführer and took a sip of wine.

His doctor immediately leaned over to him and said quietly:

"Sir, you have no need to follow etiquette and drink wine, think about your stomach."

"Why should I think of him when there is you!" Himmler objected and continued.

After these words, the man no longer pestered his superior and continued his meal. Cal sat apart from them and could hardly hear their conversation, but the obese doctor cast a testing glance at him, and after lunch he whispered to Cal about the meeting on the second floor in the restroom. After making sure no one noticed him, the manager went upstairs and found the right room. Felix came in a couple of minutes later.

"Give it to me," the man said in a commanding tone, and Cal was even a little confused.

"The letter, I know you have it," the man demanded, holding out his hand.

Cal had no choice but to pull out the slightly crumpled envelope and hold it out to the doctor, hoping everything would be okay. He got over the initial shock that the doctor was aware of the letter and waited for him to read the crooked lines of text.

The doctor hastily opened the envelope and walked over to the small window to, properly, examine what his much-loved teacher had written to him. His hands trembled slightly, and his eyebrows furrowed in a frown, and Cal froze in anticipation.

"Ha! He's the same as always!" flashed the doctor and folded the sheet carefully, "Do you know what this says?"

"No," Cal answered honestly.

"It's about everything! His gift of foresight is always at its best, and he described in the letter the outcome of the war."

"May I ask what you mean by that?"

"Of course not, are we playing in a sandbox? These are serious matters of life and death, and I don't know you, though I sense you are not an easy man. This conversation never happened, is that clear?"

The doctor turned and grabbed the doorknob. Cal reacted instantly and knocked the man unconscious in one precise movement. He picked up the heavy body and lowered it to the floor.

Closing the door, Cal quickly connected his palms with the stranger's, and entered the doctor's mind. It was a desperate, risky act, but he couldn't just let him go without realizing what he would be doing and whose side he was on.

Delving into his recent memories, Cal first saw the safe, from which the Reichsführer took out a secret folder and handed it to the man. When he opened it, the man was astonished to read on the first line that the document was the medical history of the Führer himself!

Himmler highly valued his doctor and secretly acquainted him with the nuances of Hitler's illness. Unfortunately, the diagnosis was so serious that the man admitted his inability to help and returned the folder to his superior.

Cal then saw the trembling letter in the man's hands, but disregarded the fact that it was written in Tibetan and was quite disappointed. However, using his memory, he captured the text of the letter to show it to Liam later.

By pulling off the whole adventure in twenty seconds, Cal had gone over the top, and used a technique he had once learned from Seventh's scrolls and turned back time.

…

"These are serious matters of life and death and I do not know you, though I sense you are not an easy man. This conversation never happened, is that clear to you?" The doctor turned and grabbed the doorknob.

Cal gave a sigh of relief and let the doctor go, realizing that he had learned enough, except that the trace of spiritual force would surely be obvious. So he hurried away from the scene, hoping he wouldn't be noticed.

The commandant was busy entertaining the guests, and Cal went to Liam to show him his find as soon as possible. The mysterious letter managed to be read, and Liam translated it for Cal.

"My dear Felix!

This is the last thing I can do for you before I die, for I know my hour is near. I leave you as you are, and trust that the good fame I foresee for you will come to you as a reward for the sincere intentions of your heart to help men.

Fear nothing, you will be right, and your labor will not be in vain. Take advantage of your position, believe in yourself and you will see good fruits. The war will end in disappointment for your masters, so think how you will live on.

The man who hands you this letter will read your memory, but he is not your enemy, so let him go and move on. I'll be back soon. Co."

Liam and Cal glanced over to each other. Cold goosebumps crawled along their bodies.

"Teacher Ko is actually a great man! He foresaw everything!" Liam said admiringly after translating the whole message for Cal.

"It scares me a bit," Cal admitted, "I haven't encountered such an ability in the Academy, have you?"

"No," Liam shrugged, "but the teacher has lived on earth for a long time and his School is different from ours, and so are the abilities. It's different," the man said.

"So we have nothing to rely on this man for help?"

"I guess so," Liam sighed.

"I'm worried about your children," Cal admitted, "and I want to get them into the Aether as soon as possible."

Liam thought about it, and then, unbeknownst to himself, he was biting his lip. Cal had often noticed his habit, and he was painfully aware of the torture. He did not interrupt his musings, however, and waited.

"I can't think of anything good to do," Liam rose to his feet, "let's go out. It's times like this when I need a distraction and something else to do."

"Okay, let's do it," Cal agreed, and stood up, too, stretching out his stiff legs.

Downstairs, they asked Frau Helmitz to fill a thermos with hot tea and to wrap up some meat pies for them. Once outside, they wrapped themselves more tightly in their bulky scarves, hiding from the brisk winter wind that threw snow in their faces, and walked leisurely to clear their heads.

Moving along the icy cobblestone street that curved gently to the right, they looked at the pointed houses that huddled closely together. When they reached a small river, they stopped, watching a column of buses slowly turn toward the camp on the other side.

Cal never for a moment forgot the assignment he had received from the commandant, and his premonition told him that something bad was ahead. But he pushed his thoughts aside and opened the thermos and poured hot tea for Liam.

"Here, warm yourself up," he said, handing him the steaming drink.

"Thanks, it's so cold today," Liam smiled, his teeth chattering. "I guess we shouldn't have gone out in this weather."

"It's okay, it's good for you," Cal checked that the scarf was protecting Liam's neck and handed him a pie.

"I wonder where all these buses are going," Liam chewed thoughtfully, "It is to camp. Have you heard something, Cal?"

"I don't know much, but I guess it's best for everyone," Cal answered, staring off into the distance.

"Did you know that the area inside the camp can hold fifty thousand people?" Liam continued, "They say it's one of the biggest camps in the country. I never realized there were so many criminals in this place…"

Cal turned sharply to look at Liam and mentally covered his eyes with his hand.

Liam, stay as naive as you are. You're better off not knowing the truth, not even a thousandth of the truth that I know.

That same evening, people began arriving at the factory. The manager did not interfere with the SS guards, he just made sure that there were enough places for the people and that they were given some food.

He was summoned to his office by the commandant. He accompanied him to the station, where the prisoners arrived in trains sealed with barbed wire.

Men, women, children, and old men crowded into the wagons one hundred at a time, no worse than herrings in a jar. When the wagon was opened, the people were taken to the platform and sorted.

The snow still swirled, and the wind blew in the light of the lanterns. Frightened, exhausted people timidly held suitcases in their hands, parents clutched their children to them. The commandant stepped down from the wooden platform from the height of which he had been watching the unloading and moved slowly along the line of people.

Many had a yellow piece of cloth sewn on their chests to symbolize that they were Jews. Cal had to accompany the commandant, and he watched him warily.

The man would walk by the frightened passengers and, keeping his hand in the warmth of his coat, would point with a single finger at some of those who had been immediately marked. They were immediately led away, whether they were men, women, or children.

Thereafter, the selected people were taken to the buses, and the commandant retreated, giving way to his subordinates. The soldiers asked the crowd if there were any shoemakers, seamstresses, furniture makers and other craftsmen among them.

These, too, were taken aside, and the rest were dealt with in the following manner: women, children, and the sick were taken to the castle, where the gas chambers were located.

The whole sorting took no more than twenty minutes, and the soldiers unsealed the next wagon. Everything was repeated, first the commandant went between the rows and selected who he wanted, then the soldiers took away the able-bodied, and the rest were prescribed a painful death.

Cal felt as if he'd been stunned with a butt stock to the head. The world turned red, everything swam before his eyes. He saw for himself, but he could not believe that before his eyes, hundreds of people were seeing this cruel world for the last time…

That night, the camp's crematoria went into full gear, hurrying to get rid of the corpses ahead of the arrival of a new train of prisoners.

Cal could see from afar the columns of smoke that rose over the camp four hours later, when they themselves had already finished their odd jobs at the station.

He delegated the buses with the men the commandant had personally selected to the factory manager. Following them went cars with food and medical supplies. It looked extremely strange, and Cal couldn't help feeling some kind of danger.

Gradually, the warehouses that had been cleared for the new arrivals were filled with people, and Cal went to see the commandant to find out what to do with the guests.

He had been unable to see Liam all this time because he had to accompany his superior and fulfill his wishes.

Not finding the commandant in the house, he learned that the master had gone to the hospital block and, after passing a few barracks, found himself in front of it.

Inside, as always, there was a persistent odor of chemicals. Cal wanted to enter the laboratory, but the soldiers stopped him.

"You can't go in, Dr. Pletner is conducting an experiment."

"I'm looking for the commandant," the superintendent replied.

"He is in the observation booth," answered the soldier, and Cal, knowing where the place was, went there. The man was keenly watching what was happening on the other side of the glass and greeted Cal with a quick movement of his hand. They looked into the lab together. Cal, however, did not understand anything of what he saw.

"It's malaria," the commandant explained, "the doctor is testing possible cures by infecting a control group with malaria mosquito bites. Well, isn't that a great idea?"

"I don't know," Cal replied.

"The more experiments we do," the man said, "the better upper management thinks of us."

"I see."

"With such wonderful and unlimited material for experiments, how can we lose a war?" said the commandant smugly, rubbing his chin.

"Of course," Cal replied in a squeeze, realizing perfectly well what kind of "material" this man was talking about.

"By the way, the hypothermia experiments resulted in improved uniforms for German soldiers. Are you interested in the details?"

"Yes."

"So, the doctor took healthy strong men, put on their uniforms of Luftwaffe and dipped them in water with ice to simulate the situation in the war during the crossing of rivers in winter. It turned out that those whose backs of their heads were also in the water could not be resuscitated. Later, the soldiers were provided with proper uniforms, if I'm not mistaken, your factory started making them too."

"Yes."

"You want to hear the funniest one?"

Cal nodded.

"The doctor was a joker. You know how he used to resurrect those frozen corpses?"

"Uh, no."

"You're going to laugh," the man clutched his stomach, actually thinking he was telling a harmless joke.

…

"He was putting a man's body between two naked women from the camp, isn't that funny?"

Tears streamed down the commandant's face, and Cal thought in his mind whether he could get away with it if he finished him off right here with his bare hands. 

"But it didn't help! Women are overrated! Don't you agree with me?"

"I guess so," Cal answered, sensing that behind that laugh there was another hint and threat.

"The experiment showed that immersing the body in warm water was more effective. Mr. Himmler personally inspected the experiment and was very pleased."

"I see."

"So, why did you come at all?"

The commandant narrowed his eyes and became serious instantly.