An/ Hey guys! So I posted this yesterday and I do believe I've already gotten a bit of positive feed back! Yay! I just want to say thank you to the people who reviewed, followed, and favorited the story, it means a lot! So, I decided to add a new chapter today, I'm going to try to make this one longer. Thank you so much, enjoy!
Chapter Two
I always wondered what my own death would feel like..and now..I've experienced it. Nothing. Its nothing at all. Pitch black. Darkness.
I open my eyes to a blur. I'm alive? They haven't killed me?..At yet that is.. Once my vision clears, I see a handful of sorrowful eyes peering right at me. I stare back at them in disbelief.
"Where am I?" I begin the stand up. They seem to follow my every move, examining me like I'm some sort of piece in a museum. Their expressions are filled with grief. I look around to see we are all boxed in a, well, a box car, "Where are they taking us?" This was a stupid question. After the words spill out of my mouth, they all lower their heads, some even start crying and holding each other. That's how I know where they are taking us. Well, not exactly at least. They are either taking us to the camps, or just to our own deaths immediately.
"Sorry.." I lower my head and walk away to the corner of the car. I lean against the uncomfortable steel walls of the box and slide down, collect my head in my hands. I wish I was home. I hope my mom, dad, and brother are okay. I wonder where they are. I start thinking about home. How I'd wake up every morning to the same bowl of cereal. I'd thrown on the same raggedy green cap. I miss Stan. I miss Kenny. But to hell, I don't miss Cartman. Cartman...I wonder where he's even at right now. The last I saw him, his face was in between my knuckles. That sick bastard is probably at home playing video games with a snarky little triumphant smirk on his befouled face. God I hate him.
We're all well into over 10 hours of this car ride, no one moving an inch.
"Hey..kid.." I hear a faint voice over my shoulder. I lift my head a bit and look to the right to see a boy, about my age maybe a little older, looking directly at me. "Hi.." he chirps out. His voice is ragged. He's wearing what looks like cloth for clothing. I can tell he's not from Europe. He has shaggy, dusty, brown hair, and dark green eyes. As he shifts a little, I notice his rib cage is completely visible. He's thin as a twig. My jaw drops without command. "Oh..I'm sorry..I didn't mean to frighten you..Although..where we're going, you better get use to see people, even yourself, in this state of condition."
"I'm sorry..I didn't mean to gawk. How did you get so..thin..though?" I stare at him in disbelief.
"Two years." he pulls a tiny smile.
"Two years?" I question.
"I've survived four camps in two years. Still waiting for liberation..I remember the first year I was taken away, hardy anybody knew about the way the Jews were being discriminated, but now they do. And now, we will be saved," he says with a glint of hope in his eye. He's been in the camps before? How can someone who has survived for that long still be filled with hope and enthusiasm? "I suggest you stick around me. You don't look like your up for this sort of thing, but me, I'll keep you alive."
"How do I know I can trust you?" the words come out of my mouth before I can even process them.
"You can't. I have no proof that I'm not a spy," that glint of hope is still in his eyes. I cave in. I mean, he seems trustworthy.
"Alright..I'll trust you.." I sigh. I trail my eyes down to notice black scribbles on his wrist. He notices my wandering eyes and protrudes his wrist out for availability. "J10432?"
"That's my code. See, when you get to the camps, the officers are going to shave your head..well, if you have lice that is..anyways, then you have to take one of your last showers, then your "clothes" which are really just..well.." he grabs his rag of clothing, "finally, you have to get a tattoo. They give everyone their own tattoo such as mine. The J stands for Jew. Then they just put random code numbers. From there out, its hell. You either die, or get moved to a different camp eventually. But this camp...I just have that gut feeling that this camp..we will be liberated!" he beams with joy.
We both lay there on the floor. He rants nonstop about what he went through at his previous camps. I just let it go through one ear and out the other, unless a key word catches my attention, then I'll listen for a little bit. But I begin to think about my family again. Eventually, I doze off.
I open my eyes to the sound of screams rippling through my ears. The boxcar is on fire. The back doors open and everyone begins toppling out, forcing me onto the floor of the ground outside. I pick myself up quickly and look around as people run, caught on fire, guns being shot directly into other's hearts, but then I see the boy from the boxcar crawling towards me, it looks as if both his legs have been shot.
"Hell has come.." there's that term again..I remember my dad saying it. I still don't quite know what it means, but after those words, I see an officer point a rifle at his head, firing, and spilling his brains all over the floor. I stare in horror and begin screaming. Fall onto my knees and begin sobbing uncontrollably. "MOM! DAD! STAN! KENNY! ANYBODY!" I choke. Just then, I see a figure emerge from smoke. Cartman.
He advanced towards me and grips a chunk of my hair. I holler out in pain. He grins and pulls my head back. He takes his tongue and traces it up my neck and cheek up to my cheek bone. Cartman stares dead into my eyes, his smile haunting me in every way possible. He leans in and clashes our lips together.
I wake up and gasp loudly. I'm back in the boxcar. Everybody is dead asleep, and the strange boy from earlier is sleeping right next to me, brain still in his skull. I sigh with relief and wipe the sweat off my forehead. What the hell is up with all these crazy dreams about Cartman?! I really have gone insane! I lay back down and try to sleep the rest of the night off.
Everyone is woken up but a large jult of the boxcar. I stand up in a panic, as do the others. Then, we're all blinded by light as the doors open. Freedom? No. Hell. I see it with my very eyes. The concentration camp. A formation of Nazi officers begin throwing us out of the car and forcing us to a center stage podium. There stands a tall, buff man, at least 200 pounds in muscle. We are all lined up, facing the chiseled man. He taps the mic a few times to test it before speaking.
"Hello, and welcome, Jews. I am Commandant Albrecht. You will follow our rules, and you have a greater chance of living. Although don't get your hopes up. Because we do have our annual "choosing" where we will randomly select three of you Jews to be shot, and killed. And you all will participate. And don't try to run from the camps either, you will never make it, and you will be killed. Immediately." I hear a few gulps behind me. "Now, in a short while, you will have to remove all of your clothes and accessories. You will then be escorted to the showers where you will have 10 minutes to bathe. You will receive your new clothes and then wait in line for you labeling. In this, you will be given an inked tattoo by our men. This tattoo is your new name. From this point, your name doesn't even exist anymore."
"That's not fair! Let us go! I have a family!" a stranger yells from the crowd. BAM.A gunshot is fired. We turn around to see the man fall to the ground in a bloody heap. Everyone has a mortified look on their face. A few woman begin to scream and cry. They drag the body away to what I'm guessing is the cremation room.
"Any more interruptions?" the Commandant peers across the crowd. Dead silence. "Good. Now, as I was saying, after you are given your code, you will be given your cabin number, and shall immediately begin your labor. Any questions?" More silence.
"Do we get to eat?" a weak, old woman pleads. The Commandant grins.
"Hungry are we? Guards, why don't you take this kind lady to the..dinning..room?" his grin grows dangerously. A few officers arrive and gently walk her away. This is a little too suspicious.
"Oh thank you. Thank you!" the old lady chants with glee. They open a door and quickly throw her inside, trapping her in and locking the door. I look closing at the building to see GAS CHAMBER written on it. Oh no.. We all cringe at the sound of her screams and chokes. Then again, silence. What kind of fucked up place is this? Two people killed and we've only been here for maybe ten minutes? The doors open with a load clank and they drag the now paler old lady to the cremation room.
"That is the gas chamber ladies and gentleman. Act up, and that will also be your death bed," he smiles brightly. What a sick fuck. "Now, I'd like to introduce you to one of our newest Commandants, also one of our youngest at only 16 years old. We do believe he will be a great addition though. I welcome you, Commandant...Cartman!" Eric wallops onto stage, blowing kisses to the crowd of clapping Nazis, smiling bright and twisted as ever.
The words cause my body to freeze and get this explainable, hollow feeling. I feel my entire body get cold and chills cascade over every inch of me. I quint my eyes and open them quickly. This isn't a dream.
Eric Cartman is going to kill me.