The building appeared to be an old Gothic manor from the outside, with a series of buildings around it that must have been built in the time when this entire piece of land had been a plantation. The years had taken their toll on it. What had once been a gorgeous old house had fallen into complete disrepair. The wooden front doors hung loosely from their hinges. One side of the porch had rotted to the extent that the entire side sagged. Many of the shuttered windows on the upper floors were cracked.
Alfred leaned against the side of his truck and looked up at his new project. His boss had called him this morning and told him that they had a job for a private contractor. Matthew got out of the other side of the truck and went over to stand next to his brother. He looked at Alfred and said, "A gem of a clean up Arthur got us this time. This place gives me the creeps." Alfred took a handful of sunflower seeds from the bag that was sitting on the hood of his truck. He put one of the salty seeds in his mouth before saying, "Don't be a baby, Mattie. Old asylums give everyone the creeps, something to do with crazy people." When he finished speaking he spit the casing of the sunflower seed out.
Behind them, an old van pulled up. Arthur, their terse boss, opened the door and stepped out. He spoke as soon as he was out of the van, "Don't stand there gawking. We have a lot of work to do and not a lot of time to do it. We have someone paying a lot of money for us to make this place livable again." Matthew made a small whining noise in the back of his throat and said, "Are we really this desperate?" Arthur sighed and walked around so that he was in front of the brothers. He put one hand on Alfred's shoulder and the other on Matthew's. He spoke in a clear measured voice, "I know this isn't where we would like to be working, but the economy is in a slump and we need to work. This is for a very visible client, so if we do a good job here, we will get a lot more work and we can be picky."
Alfred responded, "You worry too much. We'll get work as long as Mattie here doesn't freak out about this one." Arthur nodded and turned back to his work. He walked over to the van and pulled out a bag. From the bag he produced three ventilators and threw one to Alfred and one to Matthew. It was a precaution in case some of the building materials were off gassing. In a house this old, it was hard to say what they might find and how toxic it may be. All three of them pulled the ventilators over their faces. Arthur said, he voice muffled by the ventilator, "Alright, boys, let's go assess the damage."
They walked up the rotting steps in the front of the building, which creaked eerily as they walked up. Matthew's breath was sharp and quick. He was obviously terrified, which was actually quite unusual for him. Alfred also felt a strange heaviness in the air, as they got closer to the front door. He put it down to mustiness and dust. As Arthur pushed open one of the front doors, they were able to see inside the building.
The inside was a complete disaster zone; the stairs on the inside were broken in places. The metal bannisters were twisted and distorted. What was most shocking was a red stain down several of the stairs, which looked a bit too much like blood. Alfred shook off the idea that there was something wrong with this place. It had been an asylum, naturally strange things had happened. He turned around and saw the words over the door, "Abandon hope all ye who enter here." Alfred said under his breath, "What the Hell happened here?"
The doctor looked up at the asylum with a sense of apprehension and ran one hand nervously over the front of his shirt. The taxi driver cleared his throat and said, "Twenty dollars. Even doctors don't get free rides here." Gilbert didn't bother to be upset by the obvious ignorance, he had seen far worse. He fished out his wallet and produced a few bills. When he pulled them out, a single coin also fell out and clattered on the floor of the taxi. After handing over the fare, Gilbert leaned over and collected the wayward coin. It glimmered in the light, revealing that the coin was emblazoned with an eagle holding a swastika. The man quickly tucked it back inside his wallet, fearing that someone would see it.
He quickly grabbed his plain black briefcase, a hat and a thick overcoat. He had expected it to be colder here than it actually was, so he was carrying the coat over his arm. A half-covered sign at the front read "Autumn Hill Sanatorium", which was apparently the name of the establishment. Gilbert had been told this would be the perfect place for someone with his skills, so he had taken the job. More importantly, it would keep him out of the public eye until being noticed was safe. He took a deep breath and said to himself, "Alles ist gut. Alles werd gut sein."
His footsteps echoed off the steps as he walked up them. He met no one until he reached the front door, where he almost ran directly into an orderly. The boy looked young, his Mediterranean complexion was alight with a pure joy, "I was told you would be coming today; I hoped I would be the first to welcome you." Gilbert was taken aback by the sudden sweeping enthusiasm; he had not seen anyone with such lust for life in a long time. He had recently become accustomed to people being complacent, almost docile. The boy extended a single tanned hand, "My name is Feliciano. You can call me Feli."
Gilbert cautiously shook the hand, but didn't offer his name in exchange. He had learned to be wary of it recently since his name had such obvious Germanic origins. The Italian boy didn't seem to mind at all. He pulled out an ornate antique looking key and unlocked the front door. He seemed to have a narrative planned out and just kept speaking, "We will have a skeleton key made for you, too. The director says that we have to keep as many doors locked as possible. This place is full of the criminally insane, you have to keep your wits about you."
Inside was a kind of Bedlam, people in faded blue clothing were moving about aimlessly, guided by people dressed in white. But the numbers were low. Gilbert asked, keeping his voice quiet to hide his accent, "Where are the rest of them?" Feli responded, "They are keeping each other busy in the common room. We only keep them in their rooms all day if they misbehave." Gilbert nodded, but didn't add anything. The fewer questions he asked, the less likely it was that anyone would start asking questions about him.
He followed the Italian boy to a huge staircase on the other side of the room. On the upper floor, they reached a door that looked in much better condition than all the rest. Feli turned the knob and the door swung inwards. A smartly dressed man was sitting at the desk signing papers by hand with a fountain pen. He looked up at the two as they entered the room. The man, who looked to be in his very early 30s, had thick locks of light brown hair, which were brushed into something that resembled order. His olive complexion was tanned, as though he spent a healthy amount of time in the sun each day, and only slight grooves were appearing in his skin from age. He stood and gestured to the chair on the other side of the desk, "Please sit. I would like for us to get better acquainted. Feli, please go find your brother. I want him to come see me later." The Italian boy nodded and turned to leave.
Gilbert paid him no more attention to him; instead he walked to the chair and resolutely sat down. He fixed his eyes on the older doctor across the table. The older of the two extended his hand, "My name is Antonio Carriedo. You will be reporting directly to me during your time here. But, I like to know the men that I employ." Gilbert shook the extended hand firmly and, sensing that this time he was required to open himself up, said, "My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt." The name got the reaction that he had learned to expect; the man immediately recoiled, "Please tell me you're German-American."
The albino looked up at the other and finally spoke at full volume, which allowed his accent to be heard, "I'm afraid not. I was born in Berlin." The doctor with the Spanish surname leaned back in his chair and let out a long breath, "Do you know how people would react if they knew I employed a Nazi? I run a respectable establishment. The boy you met on the way in, he and his twin come from one of the most influential Italian-American families in New York." Gilbert snapped back with a response he had prepared, "I'm 24 years old. Do the math; I was 15 years old when the war ended. There is no blood on my hands, I assure you."
The other looked around, as if searching for a solution, which would apparently appear out of the air. When he failed to find one, he said, "You do come highly recommended, so I suppose I can work to keep word out of the papers. We are a small asylum, word will get around. Did you have relatives in the Nazi party?" Gilbert scoffed and said, trying to put as much contempt possible in his voice, "I had a father, didn't I?" Antonio sighed again, this time with apparently more frustration.
He reached into the pocket of his suit and pulled out a pack of cigarettes in an immaculately shiny blue wrapper. He reached across the desk and offered Gilbert a cigarette. The German took one; it would do him some good. Finally, the older man spoke again, "I don't mean to be indelicate; I'm just trying to figure out what kind of situation I am dealing with." Gilbert took out his own lighter, which was plain silver, and lit the cigarette. He took a long pull on it before responding, exhaling smoke with each word, "If it's my Nazi father you're worried about, I can put your mind to rest. He put a gun between his teeth at the end of the war. I guess the idea of a war crimes trial was too much for him. I couldn't stay there, so I left. My little brother doesn't know where I am. He's living with his uncle." The other man now looked uncomfortable, and he struggled to find his next question.
In the silence that stretched on in the perfect sunlit room, Gilbert took another long pull from the cigarette. After seeming to struggle with himself for a while, Antonio said, "Why did you leave your brother? Surely family matters to you." Gilbert sighed and answered, "I didn't want to have to explain what happened to my father. I didn't think I was the right person to tell him. I needed to get away from it all." Antonio nodded and took a cigarette from the pack for himself.
As he lit it, the white phone on the desk started to ring. Gilbert glanced at it questioningly for the moment before Antonio finally picked up the phone. He listened with some interest as the brunette said, "What do you mean you're moving him today. We aren't prepared for it! What do you mean he's already on his way? Fine, I will do what I can." He slammed down the phone and sighed deeply, "Well, Doctor Beilschmidt, it seems that your arrival here today is ordained by some higher power. We are taking custody of a serial killer today, and I will be needing assistance."
Gilbert nodded; glad to finally be free to do something other than talk about his family. The pair of them reached out, almost at the same time and put out their hands and extinguished their cigarettes in an ashtray that was sitting on the desk. Antonio sighed as he stood up, "It will only be a matter of minutes before he gets here. Leave your things here and I will have them moved to your room later." Gilbert stood up. He thrived on having clear orders and directives, and he was glad that his superior was finally giving him orders. He left his coat and briefcase on the chair. He simply nodded to show that he understood the direction and stepped out of the way, folding his arms behind his back as he did so. Antonio took a couple steps around his desk and led the way out of the room.
As the pair of them descended the stairs, the sounds of a struggle began to rise from the road outside. Gilbert felt a sense of calm sweep over him, and it was the kind that only came with duty. He was ready to do whatever was required of him. At the bottom of the stairs, an orderly appeared holding a silver tray with a syringe sitting on it, shining against the metal like a newly polished weapon. Antonio picked it up and suddenly decided to hand it to Gilbert, "I think I can trust you to use a sedative. I want him unconscious and tied down as quickly as possible. He killed ten people with a metal pipe, I don't trust him out of restraints."
The albino nodded and took the syringe from the other and pressed lightly on the plunger to get out the air bubbles at the top of the syringe. Just outside the front door, the sound of a struggle got louder. Quite suddenly, the wooden front doors were thrown open by a pair of police officers dressed in dark uniforms. Between them they were holding a tall man, dressed in a white shirt that was speckled with what appeared to be blood. The prisoner's wrists were bound but he was able to use his very broad shoulders to make it hard for the police officers to hold onto him. The man's head was bent so far forward that his unkempt ash-blonde hair fell over his face and made it impossible to see his features.
The orderly dropped the tray he was holding and ran over to one side to assist the police officer. Gilbert subconsciously made the decision that now was the ideal time to make his move. He took a couple quick steps, completely calm and in control. He walked over to the side of the prisoner that was being restrained by a single police officer. He put the hand on the man's shoulder to steady himself. The touch seemed to trigger something in the prisoner, even though it was a relatively light touch compared to the grips of the police officers and the orderly.
Suddenly, the bound man jerked his head up and turned it towards Gilbert. The sight of violet eyes and a very distinctive jawline suddenly turned Gilbert's blood icy. A sneer curled over the prisoners lips and he said, "It's been a while, hasn't it, Herr Doctor?" The albino felt the blood drain out of his face, making him feel lightheaded. Sheer panic overwhelmed his sense of reason, and he acted quickly. He slammed the needle of the syringe, none too gently into the man's arm. His thumb simultaneously pressed in the plunger, injecting the sedative. Normally he would have carefully checked that he was injected into a vein before making the final movement. But at the moment, he did not care. All he wanted was to since that voice and close those haunting eyes.
He watched at the violet eyes fluttered shut. The man went completely limp as the sedative took effect. Antonio finally spoke, "Put him in a solitary cell and bind him." Gilbert took a step back and took a deep steadying breath. He hadn't noticed how hard he had been breathing until he finally calmed himself. Antonio walked over so that he was standing right next to the albino. He spoke directly to Gilbert, "What did he say to you? I didn't catch it." Gilbert swiftly responded, clenching his hand over the now empty syringe, "Nothing. Just insane gibberish." He suddenly felt incredibly uncomfortable with this conversation and looked for any way out of it.
He said, "Do you mind if I go and check that he is properly restrained?" It was not a request that the other could reasonably deny and Gilbert knew that as he asked. As he expected, Antonio responded, "Go ahead." The albino turned and walked after the police, who had dragged the unconscious prisoner away. He finally reached the cell where orderlies had just finished binding the man to a bed.
The room was now completely empty save the albino and the tall man on the bed. He closed the door behind him when he walked into the room. Something about this man was unnerving and Gilbert needed to address it. He walked over to the head of the bed and put his hand under the unconscious man's chin. It was very possible that the quick glimpse he had gotten, the one that had so shocked him, was inaccurate. He could have imagined that he recognized it. But now, under the bright light of an exposed bulb, Gilbert knew he could not be mistaken. It was hardly possible that this could happen. The face he recognized belonged to a dead man. He had seen that man die. But this face was an exact replica of that one. There was no mistaking it; Gilbert had seen that face on a rainy night in a place called Auschwitz-Berkenau.