Before we get started here, the lawyers need to have their fun:
As usual, I don't own jack scratch. When it comes to money, I'm flat busted, so don't even bother trying to sue me. The characters belong to Disney, the software belongs to Bill Gates, my kidneys belong to my bookie, and all your base belong to us!
Chapter Three
The two teens, (and one naked mole rat), were standing in front of Kim's locker, staring at an image of Wade on Kim's built-in personal computer. The results from the mission the night before had been somewhat less than spectacular, and they were trying to plot their next move.
"The Positronic Power Modulator, or PPM, is an ultra-new device, developed in utmost secrecy." Wade explained.
"Well not quite secret enough, if Dementor was able to find out about it." Kim remarked dryly.
"Ummm, yeah." Wade said in return. "The lab's security could use a few upgrades."
"Like hiding the key pads!" Ron interjected.
Kim shot Ron a look, and then pressed on. "So Wade, what does this PPM-thingy do anyway?"
"Well, it's still a little sketchy, but I was able to pick-up some info by hacking into the lab's computers."
"You hacked into their computers?"
"Heh-heh… Like I said, their security needs some upgrades."
"Oh-Kaaaay… Over-looking that for the time being."
"Yeah, anyway, it looks like the PPM is designed to allow transmission of a data stream at extremely high amplitude."
"Yeeeeeah… Let's pretend for a moment that I don't know what that means." Ron interjected once again.
"It means that you can broadcast something at a scary-high power level without distorting the signal you're broadcasting." Wade replied.
"Ohhhhh… Kinda like cranking the stereo up all the way and not having that rumbly-thing crack the glass in the china cabinet."
"Uhhhhhh… Yeah. If that helps."
Sooooo…" Kim broke in, turning the conversation back to the topic at hand. "What does Dementor want with a high-power radio transmitter?"
"Dunno yet." Wade replied. "Maybe we should review everything that's happened up until now?"
"Well, let's see…" Ron pondered aloud. "First, the earth cooled. Then the dinosaurs came, but they got too big and fat 'n stuff, so they all died and turned into oil."
"Ron…" Kim moaned.
"And then the Arabs came, and they drove Mercedes-Benzes."
"Rooooooooon…."
"And then Prince Charles started wearing all of Lady Di's clothes. I mean, I couldn't believe it! He just put on her best summer dress and walked straight into town…"
"RON!!!"
"Huh, what?"
"FOCUS!!!"
Ron's only reply to this was a sheepish grin.
"So, Wade, you were saying." Kim continued.
"Just that we should review what we know."
"Which is?"
"That he's stolen the PPM, and that he's been shopping on-line lately."
"Huh?"
"That's where he got the Synthodrones, Kim… Remember."
"Oh, yeah, right."
Kim stood motionless for several seconds, her hand on her chin in thoughtful repose. Suddenly, an idea struck her.
"Wade, if Dementor got the drones off the internet, then maybe he's been getting other stuff on-line as well."
"You think running a trace of his purchases will show what he's up to?" Wade inquired.
"Please and thank-you!"
"Allright, I'm on it! Wade out!" and with that, the screen went blank.
"So, Ron…" Kim said, turning her attention to her best friend. "What's new on the project front?"
"Well, you're probably not gonna like this, KP."
"Oh-kaaaaay, why is that?"
"Uhhhh… I sorta discovered that Bonnie is related to Marie Antoinette."
"WHAT?!" Kim nearly shrieked. "That self-obsessed social-climber is actually descended from royalty?" She said the last part in a near whisper. She didn't want any of this getting back to Bonnie if she could help it. The brunette cheerleader was enough of a handful already. The image of what she would be when armed with knowledge of royal blood running through her veins was enough to send cold shivers down Kim's spine.
"Incredible, but true." Ron replied in an equally subdued voice. "The sources I dug up are pretty concrete."
"How concrete?" Kim asked. Ron wasn't exactly known for his research skills. There was a faint hope that he was somehow mistaken. Perhaps he had misread the evidence, or had been dealing with unreliable sources. There was also the distinct possibility that he was just making the whole thing up.
"Genealogy dot com, the national archives, the University of Paris…" Ron recited the list of websites he had used.
So much for hope…"Well, I could always emphasize what ultimately happened to 'Miss Let-Them-Eat-Cakestress'." Ron brainstormed out loud.
"You mean the whole 'off with her head' thing?" Kim asked in reply.
"That's the one." Ron said in return. "Hey, maybe we can get some of the guys in the woodshop class to build us a guillotine?"
"I don't think that would fly, Ron." Kim laughed. "Public beheadings after cheer practice aren't exactly within school policy."
"Well, I was just spit-balling…" Ron said. "So how are you coming with your side of things?"
Kim shut her locker and turned to face Ron. "Actually, I have a few questions." she finally said. " I seem to have run into somewhat of a snag."
Ron simply raised a curious eyebrow to this.
"You see, I've gotten a lot of good material on your distant relatives. A lot of them seem to be artists and businessmen, living in Europe. A few were even local politicians."
Kim paused to take a breath before continuing.
"The snag comes shortly after the Great Depression hit. It's like my research suddenly hits a wall, and I can't find any records, anywhere! Did your entire family suddenly enter the witness-protection program or something?"
Kim looked up at Ron and noticed that he had seemingly developed a sudden fascination with the laces of his shoes. He wouldn't make eye contact with her, choosing instead to look down and rub the back of his neck, nervously.
"Uhhhhh… Earth to Ron! Hel-loooooo"
"Huh?… Wha?"
"Umm… Is there something that you're not telling me, here?"
"Well, it's just that, uhhh… Oh, hey, look at the time!" Ron suddenly exclaimed, looking at his bare wrist. "I just remembered, I gotta go see the guy at the place about the thing! Uh, we'll talk later! See ya'!"
With that, Ron bolted down the hall, leaving Kim standing beside her locker with an expression on her face that perfectly articulated her thoughts at that moment…
"What the HECK was that about?!"
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Wolfgang Puck's lessons on presentation obviously held little sway with Doctor Anne Possible, and her signature dish was ample evidence of that fact.
As much as one tried not to think about it that way, there was just something about "Brain Loaf" that would put even a seasoned professional off his lunch. Sure, it was just regular, run-of-the-mill meatloaf. In substance, it was no different that the amalgamous, brick-shaped concoction served up by thousands of busy housewives each day. However, when your mother is a brain surgeon with a flair for creativity… Well, as a very wise person once said: "stuff happens."
As usual, her teenage daughter was somewhat less than enthusiastic about the steaming facsimile of a human cerebrum sitting on the table. Her twin sons, on the other hand, were characteristically enthralled by the display, repeatedly asking for a slice of the "Substantia Nigra" area; a request which they knew made their sister cringe.
Anne said nothing. The experience gained by raising three children had taught her not to become involved unless it was totally necessary. Still, as the evening meal wore on, she began to suspect that something else was bothering her only daughter.
After several more minutes of observing Kim from across the table, she finally put down her fork, sighed deeply, and spoke.
"Is there something the matter, Kimmie?" she asked with a tone of genuine concern.
"Huh?" Kim said, jerking her head up with a startled expression. "Ah, no, not at all. Everything's fine." she replied, forcing a rather unconvincing smile.
Anne simply raised an eyebrow to this, which was indication enough that she wasn't buying any of it.
Kim sensed her mother's disbelief, and was smart enough to realize that she wasn't going to let up. She heaved a heavy sigh, resigning herself to a full confession.
"Oh, it's just a project I'm working on for school. No big." she finally replied.
"Apparently it's big enough that you've hardly touched your dinner." Anne replied.
Dr. Anne Possible could smell anxiety in her children the way sharks smell blood.
"Well," Kim drawled, thinking about what to say next. "It's just that my research has run into a major roadblock, and I just can't seem to get past it."
"This is that 'family-history' project, right Kimmiecub." her father broke in.
"Yeah, dad. I'm fine up until the nineteen thirties, then it's like Ron's whole family drops off the radar. Arrrgh! Major frustration." She threw her head down onto the table, narrowly missing the dinner in front of her.
Kim's parents suddenly went silent, exchanging meaningful glances for the next several seconds. For Kim, this was all she could take.
"Allright, what's going on here?" she said, jumping up from the table with a jolt. "First Ron, and now you guys! Why does everybody suddenly clam-up like a mime when I bring this up? What the heck is the ferociously big secret?"
Her parents looked at each other once again, and her father nodded slightly.
"Kimmiecub, I think you'd better come with me." he finally said, his voice soft and filled with trepidation.
Doctor James Possible led his daughter from the dining area and down the hall to his study near the back of the house. The desk and table were piled high with blueprints for new rockets and sheets of computations. This was his private work area, and at the back of the room stood a large, wooden bookcase. Her father reached high to the top shelf, retrieving a large, dusty, leather-bound volume from is designated place. The book was obviously old, and several of the pages had been dog-eared.
"I suspect this may help explain some of the gaps that you're finding in Ron's family tree." her father stated with a noticeable twinge of emotion in his voice. "Chapter fifteen should be helpful." With that, he turned away and returned to the dining room, leaving Kim standing in the study with the book he had given her. Quizzically, she looked down to the title printed in gold leaf on the book's cover:
"ANTHOLOGY of the SECOND WORLD WAR"
This sitch just kept getting weirder by the hour.
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Clad in her pink bathrobe and carrying a mug of tea, Anne Possible was on her way to bed when she noticed the light coming from her daughter's bedroom loft. Kim was obviously still up, and a quick glance to the clock at the end of the hall told her that this was a problem. It was a school night, and adequate sleep was a priority, even if Kim didn't always see it that way.
Making her way slowly up the cast iron steps, she poked her head through the open hatch in the floor, and silently pondered the sight which greeted her.
Kim was sitting cross-legged on her bed, a large book sprawled across her lap. The expression on her face was completely blank, conveying no other emotion than overwhelming shock. Anne could only describe it as the "thousand-yard stare" she sometimes heard mentioned in military circles.
"Sweetie? You okay?" she softly called to her daughter.
Kim didn't respond.
Taking the initiative, Anne slowly entered the room and sat down on the edge of the bed, keeping a close watch on Kim's expression. The motion of the bed when her mother sat beside her finally brought her attention around.
"Honey, what's wrong?" Mrs. Possible inquired again.
"Th… they… they're all d… dead." Kim barely managed to squeak. "They… killed… them."
Anne looked down at the book, which Kim had obviously been reading. Inside the well-worn pages were black-and-white photographs depicting some of the most grotesque images imaginable. Bodies stacked up like cordwood. Eviscerated human remains staring back from half-open crematoria ovens. Survivors who were little more than walking, skin-draped skeletons, and uniformed guards who were smiling and laughing through it all.
Anne simply leaned over and put a comforting arm around her daughter. She knew Kim had been all around the world fighting evil, and in doing so, had probably concluded that she knew what true evil was.
The holocaust, however, was an entirely different level of evil. It was in a league by itself.
Kim looked up at her mother, tears now starting to form in her eyes as shock slowly morphed into sadness. She tried to speak, but could only manage a single word:
"How?"
Anne could only look away and close her eyes. She had no idea how to answer this question. At least, not in a way that would satisfy her daughter. Kim had always enjoyed that advantages of youth, and one of those advantages was the ability to see the world in terms of black and white. In her world, good and evil were clearly defined. There were heroes, and there were villains, and you always knew who was who.
The holocaust defied such categorization. Not only was its evil perpetrated on such a monumental scale, but it had been carried out, for the most part, by ordinary people; people with friends and families, pets and home mortgages. They were people who went to church on Sundays and celebrated their children's birthdays just the same as anyone else would. Then on Monday morning, they would pick-up their lunch pails, punch the clock, and return to their jobs, operating the machinery of the "factories of death."
"I don't know, sweetie." Anne finally said in response to her daughter's question. "People have been asking that question now for over sixty years, and they'll probably be asking it forever."
"But, there must be…" Kim protested.
"I'm sorry, honey, but there's just no simple answer to that question." She sighed heavily. "As you grow older, you'll eventually learn that there are just some questions for which no answer exists."
Anne leaned down and gently kissed her daughter on the top of her head.
"Get to bed, sweetie. You've got school tomorrow."
"Yeah, I know. G'night mom."
Kim clicked off her light, and her mother closed the hatch as she left.
Now alone in the darkness, she pulled the covers snug around her. She closed her eyes, beckoning sleep to overtake her, but soon found the effort to be futile. Every time she closed her eyes, she was treated to a slide-show of the horrific images she had seen in that confounded book. Didn't her father know how seeing that would effect her? Why had he even given her that cursed thing?
"Duhhhhhh!" a small voice inside her head screamed. "Maybe because you ASKED for help on your project?"
Kim groaned dejectedly into her pillow. She had been so distraught by the contents of the book that she had completely forgotten the reason she had been reading it. This was so ferociously unfair! Not only did she now have these images seared into her mind, but she was going to have to use them in her report. After all, this was part of Ron's family history.
With that thought, Kim bolted upright in bed, a slew of different images racing through her mind. The thoughtful pause Ron gave her at Bueno Nacho when she first asked him about his family. The way he wouldn't look her in the eyes in front of her locker that afternoon. The wheels of her mind quickly turned, clicking into place to form an epiphany, and her jaw nearly hit the mattress when she finally grasped the mind-numbing truth of the matter:
He knew!Ron must have known all along, Kim surmised. It explained his strange behavior as of late. In fact, he probably had known for years, choosing never to bring it up. After all, it's not the sort of thing that one can really slip into casual conversation. Still, she couldn't believe that after all the years she and Ron had known each other, he would be hiding something like this from her. The prospect of Ron not confiding in her left her feeling hurt, but she shuddered to think what it must have been like for him. To suffer in solitude for all those years, having no one to share his burden of knowledge.
But just what exactly was that knowledge? Kim was completely in the dark on this point. She had no way of knowing the true nature of what Ron had been hiding from her all these years.
Well, that wasn't entirely true…
Inspiration hit in a heartbeat, and within moments she was at her computer, desperately trying to contact Wade.
"Ugh. Do you have any idea what time it is?" a bleary-eyed wade groaned as he finally appeared on the screen, rubbing his eyes. He was dressed in his pajamas, and had obviously been in bed when the call had come in.
"Bedtime, apparently." Kim retorted. "Look wade, I need you to run a quick web search."
"Uh, sure." Wade replied. "What for?"
"Stoppable is a pretty unique name, isn't it?"
"Uhhhhh, yeah, I suppose."
"So any records with that name are likely to be a relation, right?"
"Once again, I suppose."
"Spankin'! So can you run a search for the name Stoppable in all databases that list Holocaust victims?"
"Wait, what?" Wade replied, taken somewhat aback by the unexpected nature of this request.
"Yeah, it's weird, I know, but it's also, like, ferociously important!" Kim implored. "So like I said, can you do it?"
"In my sleep!" Wade replied with a confidently sly grin.
"Ironic choice of words." Kim mumbled to herself. "Let's light this candle!"
Wade's fingers flew across his keyboard, each keystroke indistinguishable from the others. Within moments, a two-tone beep from his machine indicated that the search was complete. Wade gazed intently at the results on his screen, then turned toward his monitor to face Kim.
"Well, I ran the search just like you asked. I ran the name Stoppable through every Holocaust registry and database I could find."
"And what's the verdict?" Kim asked, leaning forward to stare intently at the figure on the screen.
Wade took a deep breath before speaking. "I've got twenty-eight separate hits."
Kim found it difficult to form the question she wanted to ask next. Her mouth suddenly went dry, and she could feel her heart pounding inside her chest. She was already dreading the answer, and she had yet to even ask the question. Still, she screwed on her courage and plowed ahead.
"And… and how many of those are survivors?" she finally managed to choke out.
There was a long pause…
"None." came Wade's melancholy reply.
Kim didn't even bother to thank Wade or say goodnight. She simply reached over and hit the button closing the connection. Her mind was in too much of a fog at the moment to do much of anything else. She tried desperately to comprehend what it must have been like for Ron to live with such a secret for all these years; the inner-strength it must require. The inner-demons that he must have to face on a daily basis.
Suddenly, Kim felt an overwhelming urge to go to him; to be with the man she loved. She needed to hold him in her arms, to tell him that he was no longer alone in his secret. She needed him to unburden himself of this secret to her, just as she needed to unburden herself of this knowledge to him.
She didn't even bother to change out of her pajamas. Not wanting to chance waking either her parents or her brothers sleeping on the floor below, she simply put on her slippers and slipped out her bedroom window. The evening was warm, so there was no need for a coat. She jumped down onto the close-cropped grass of the front lawn, and began running down the street, intent on covering the few blocks to Ron's house as quickly as possible. She was on a mission, and nothing in the world could get in her way.
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Author's Notes:
Okay, I realize that this is a somewhat touchy subject I'm getting into here, and I'm trying to handle it with as much tact and taste as possible, while still doing justice to the subject itself. I'm really curious here, as to how well I'm doing in this regard. Please feel free to let me know, as I'm a little nervous about this, and I'd love to improve if I can.