Highway To Armageddon (35 page)

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Authors: Harold Bloemer

BOOK: Highway To Armageddon
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The Grand Wizard finally quits spouting his hate-filled rhetoric and gestures
toward the back. “Bring out the undesirables!”

           
By now the crowd has built up behind us. I have to stand on my tip-toes just to
see. Way off in the distance there’s a dark and forbidding three-story prison
surrounded by barbed-wire fencing. There are other buildings, too, but the
prison is the center of the camp. A sign hanging over the camp reads
Auschwitz
Zwei.
I know enough German to know
zwei
means two.

           
“I’d wager $25 million that’s where Machete’s being held,” Lance says.

           
“Congratulations, you’re $25 million richer,” I reply grimly.

           
The gates to Auschwitz 2 swing open and a horse-drawn cart emerges. At first
the cart is too far away for me to see who’s in it. I do make out three people,
though. I activate the zoom-in function on my goggles. I’m relieved to discover
Machete isn’t in the cart, but my heart sinks when I see who is.

           
There’s a 20-something Hispanic woman who looks beside herself with grief.
Tears stream down her ashen cheeks. Behind the woman is a balding, middle-aged
Jewish man. I know he’s Jewish because the Neo-Nazi bastards put a yellow Star
of David on his torn and tattered shirt. He seems to be a bit more in control
of his emotions, but his trembling bottom lip does indicate some fear.

           
Most heart-wrenching of all is the dark-skinned teen boy behind the Jewish man.
The boy’s eyes are wide with fear, and his entire body is trembling. I start
for the cart, but Arrow grabs my arm.

           
“No, Red,” he whispers. “I know how you feel. I want to help, too, but we’re
hopelessly outnumbered. It’s best to stand down… for now, at least.”

           
I wrench my arm from Arrow’s grasp. “You wouldn’t be so passive if Machete was
in that cart.”

           
Arrow doesn’t respond because he knows I’m right. But I know he’s right, too.
If we try to rescue these poor souls, we will be lynched right along with them.
Then we won’t be able to save Machete or go after Mikhail. As much as it breaks
my heart, our only option is to stand down and watch three brutal murders. I
already feel my soul beginning to crumble.

           
The horse-drawn cart eventually makes its way toward us. The crowd parts in the
middle, making a path for the doomed so-called ‘undesirables’. It’s as if Moses
himself were parting the Red Sea… a sea full of blood. Arrow, Lance and I have
to scoot back to make room for the people backing into us. It takes everything
I have not to shoot the obnoxious jerk in front of me shouting racial slurs.

           
The crowd begins to hurl objects at the shackled prisoners. Tomatoes splatter
the unfortunate souls from head to toe. They also get bombarded with heads of
cabbage. A few particularly sadistic Neo-Nazis chuck jagged rocks. One of the
rocks hits the Jewish man in the mouth. He falls to his knees and spits out
blood.

           
The boy tries to jump out of the cart, but before he can make the fateful leap
the collar around his neck glows electric blue and makes a zapping sound. The
boy shrieks and falls to the floor of the cart.

           
I blink back hot tears as the prisoners continue their odyssey of torment
through the crowd. Soon they’re so covered in red goo that I can’t tell if it’s
from the tomatoes or blood. Maybe it’s best I don’t know.

           
Once they reach the stage the prisoners are yanked from the cart and dragged
onto the platform. The woman and boy struggle, but they’re so beat up from
their captivity that they’re no match for the guards. The Jewish man does not
struggle at all. I am in awe of his poise and air of calmness. If I was in his
shoes I’d be totally freaking out.

           
My body tenses as the Klansmen tie the noses around the prisoners’ necks. By
now the woman and teen are crying uncontrollably, begging for mercy. The Jewish
man remains stoically calm. He doesn’t want to give his hated tormenters the
satisfaction of seeing him beg for a mercy he knows will never come.

           
The Grand Wizard takes center stage and grins like the psychotic lunatic he is.
“Let the countdown begin!”

           
The holographic clock over the stage restarts and begins counting down from 20.
The crowd counts along with it, as if they were counting down to New Year’s Eve
or something. This time my heart overpowers my mind. I reach for my gun. Before
I can grab it, Arrow grips my wrist. I try to break free, but he’s too strong.

           
“Arrow, this isn’t right.”

           
“I know, Red, but we can’t take on this crowd all by ourselves.” His voice is
shaky. He’s having trouble standing here, too.

           
If Arrow wasn’t clutching my arm and talking sense into me, I would be barging
up to the stage right now with guns blazing. But the reality of our situation
has come crashing back down on me. To do the right thing would result in our
deaths.

           
Lance starts getting antsy. I follow Arrow’s lead and give Lance’s hand a
gentle squeeze. He looks over at me and tilts his head ever-so-slightly. I
don’t need to peek under his hood to know he’s overcome with grief.

           
“Boom Boom, we can’t…”

           
I tighten my squeeze. “I know, but we
must
. Blade and Harpoon are
counting on us coming home in one piece.”

           
This calms him down. A lot of times it’s the only play I have when I need to
prevent Lance from doing something reckless. His devotion to those kids is
astonishing.
            “Ten… nine…
eight…”

           
Sweat pours from all my pores, soaking my robe. This is one of the most
horrible things I’ve ever had to endure. I’d rather be tossed through a window
than watch this.

           
“…five… four…”

           
Lance steps forward. I squeeze his hand so tight I’m sure I’ve cut off his
circulation.

           
“…three… two…”

           
The woman continues crying. The boy wails, “Please have mercy! My little sister
needs me, I’m all she has!”

           
The Jewish man remains calm. He is the strongest man I’ve ever seen.

           
“…one!”

           
The floor slides out from under the prisoners and their bodies drop. The ropes
go taut, and the prisoners jerk violently.

           
It’s done. A quick, clean death. At least they didn’t suffer.

           
The crowd roars its approval. I stagger back, light-headed from the barbarism I
just witnessed. Arrow hangs on to my arm to keep me steady.

           
“It’s okay, Red. I’ve got you.”

           
Arrow’s words are of no solace to me.

           
As the cheers of over 10,000 genocidal lunatics reaches a mighty crescendo, I
feel my heart and soul crumble.

           
This is the world we’re fighting to save? A world that turns a blind eye to
ethnic cleansing? That passively endorses it to keep a fragile peace?

           
A horrifying thought enters my mind.

           
Maybe a nuclear holocaust wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen.

           
Maybe the world deserves to burn.

           

 

Chapter
Thirteen: Lance

 

           
I don’t know how long I’ve sat on this fountain bench with my head in my hands,
struggling to keep vomit from gushing up my throat, but it must have been a
while because Krystal pops up on my goggles and shouts, “Are you okay? Do
Dorothy and I need to open up a can of whoop ass on some Neo-Nazi scumbags?”

           
Dorothy pops up next to Krystal, cocking a gun. “You can count on us, Lance! We
know what we’re doing!”

           
As sickened as I am at what I just saw, I do have to laugh when Dorothy
inadvertently points her gun in Krystal’s face.

           
Krystal backs away and hollers, “Don’t point that thing at me!”

           
“Oops, sorry!” Dorothy says sheepishly, yanking the gun out of sight.

           
I nod my head. “We’re fine, guys. We just… uh… got held up. We’re going to go
get Machete shortly.”

           
“Alright,” Krystal says, still glaring at Dorothy over the top of her shades.
“Give us a holler if you need anything.”

           
Krystal and Dorothy fizzle out of view. I adjust my lopsided hood and stand up
from the stone bench encircling the fountain.

           
Boom Boom is on the other side with her hooded head in between her knees.
Tool-bag is beside her, rubbing her back.

           
I glance over at the gallows. The prisoners are still dangling from their
nooses. What are the Neo-Nazis going to do, leave them there all night? Sick
bastards.

           
The faces of the executed will haunt my dreams for years to come, especially
the woman and kid. I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself for not
intervening.

           
Thankfully the massive crowd has started to disperse. We can’t very well break
into Auschwitz with thousands of onlookers hanging around.

           
I make my way over to Boom Boom. Speaking quietly so no passing Klansmen can
hear me, I say, “So what do we do now?”

           
Boom Boom finally lifts her head. In a weary, defeated voice she says, “Machete
is undoubtedly being held in Auschwitz. I’m going to bet the fence is
electrified, so we can’t climb over it. There is a guard shack over on the
side, though.

           
“So we take out the guard and use his keys to break in?” Arrow asks.

           
“Not exactly,” Boom Boom says, stretching her back and neck. Spending several
nights on the cold forest floor has left us all with aches and pains. “I’ve
been doing a little research on Dresden while we’ve been sitting here.”

           
And here I thought Boom Boom was over here grieving. In reality she was
figuring out a plan to save Machete. She never ceases to amaze me.

           
“Apparently the entire town gets trashed on ‘Racial Purity Night’,” Boom Boom
says. “Pretty soon everyone will be holed up in bars and parties. We should be
able to break into Auschwitz with no problem.”

           
“What about the guards?” I ask.

           
“From what I read, Auschwitz doesn’t have a lot of guards. The prisoners are
too weak and fatigued from forced labor to fight back.”

           
Boom Boom’s being a little too hopeful. We
always
have problems, even
for things that we think are going to be a piece of cake.

           
The three of us walk around town, doing our best not to come across as
suspicious. About an hour later the streets are pretty much deserted. Everyone
is crammed into Dresden’s many bars. Shortly after 1:00am we make our way over
to Auschwitz.

           
Boom Boom marches up to the guard and knocks on his bulletproof glass booth.
She must frighten him because he spills his beer and jumps out of his chair.

           
“What the blazes are you doing here?” he shouts, stepping out of the booth and
swinging his gun at us.

           
Boom Boom raises her hands. “Sorry to disturb you, we just wanted to take a
tour of the camp.”

           
The guard blinks several times as his beer-flooded brain tries to figure out what
Boom Boom’s saying. He finally says, “There are no tours for Auschwitz at this
hour, you crazy drunks!”

           
Talk about the sky calling the ocean blue.

           
“We weren’t
asking
for a tour,” Arrow says. “We’re
telling
you we
want one.”

           
The guard jabs his gun in Arrow’s face. “Ah, tough guy, huh? We’ll see how
tough you are when—ARRGH!”

           
Arrow swats the gun out of the guard’s hand and kicks him in the gut. He then
grabs the guard’s head and slams it against the bullet-proof glass. The guard
slumps to the ground.

           
Arrow and Boom Boom tear off their Ku Klux Klan disguises, as do I. Boom Boom
places her dagger against the guard’s neck.

           
“Now listen, you Neo-Nazi scum-bucket. You’re going to deactivate this fence
and help us find a prisoner. If you try anything funny, like call for backup,
we will kill you. Do you understand?”

           
The guard feverishly nods his head.

           
We help the guard to his feet and carry him back to the booth. The guard types
away on his holographic computer. I watch the screen to make sure he doesn’t
try and call for help. I breathe a sigh of relief when he pulls up an image of
the fence and presses the ‘deactivate’ button. The guard leads us over to the
gate, trembling in fear as Boom Boom continues to prod him with her dagger.

           
“Open it up,” Boom Boom barks.

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