Chapter 14: Tonight
In this chapter:
· Grieving
· A friend
· Reminiscing
· Some dog tags
· Preparation
Elsie stepped into her room and glanced around.
Hugo's things lay on the floor. On the bed. In the bathroom.
Closing her eyes for a moment, she managed to regain control of her limbs, shutting the door and walking to the bathroom. Looking at her face in the mirror she noticed how tired she looked. The cut on her cheek wasn't bleeding anymore, the blood already dry around the wound; but the pink tinge around the edges of it made her think that it would be best to clean it. She grabbed a cotton ball from the counter draw, dampening it with warm water before dabbing at the slightly swollen scratch.
She splashed her face with water, but she didn't feel any better.
She needed sleep. But more than that, she needed a drink.
Tossing items of clothing, shopping bags and various other items around the room she began searching for a bottle of whisky that they might have left lying around.
She found one, but it was empty. Naturally, she threw it at the wall.
There was a knock at the door.
She remained where she was, hardly considering whether or not to open it, but she didn't have to decide. She had left it unlocked. It opened slowly, revealing first a hand holding two bottles of alcohol and then the rest of Donny.
Elsie remained with her back to him, staring at the spot on the wall where she had thrown the bottle.
"I thought you could probably do with a drink," he said quietly.
Words spoken softly by Donny sounded unusual, but all the same she immediately felt calmer.
She nodded and slowly turned around.
They sat down at the small table by the window, and poured large glasses of the whiskey.
"When did you get back?" Elsie asked, remembering that she had left the Basterds back in Nadine.
"We didn't stay too long after ya left. As soon as the doc had plastered up the bitch's leg, we were outta there. But then we had to get fitted for these suits for tomorrow night..."
He made a face to show that he hadn't enjoyed the experience.
"Where did you get these?" Elsie asked, gesturing to the bottles that sat on the table.
"I stumbled across them," Donny assured her. Sure, the way muggers 'stumble' across ladies purses.
They didn't speak for a few minutes, drinking the burning alcohol at a rate that was probably not healthy; but Elsie didn't care.
She just wanted to get drunk and forget about everything.
Donny guessed this would be the case, but he wanted to be there while she did it, just to make sure that she didn't hurt herself in the process.
He looked across at her as he drank. The rims of her eyes were red, but any other signs of her grief were being kept well hidden.
"Do you wanna talk?" he asked her.
"Not really."
He nodded and looked around the room. He wondered if it had been this messy before she'd gotten back from the bar, or if she had only just recently trashed it.
She sighed loudly and leaned back in her chair, hands behind her head. He turned his attention back to her.
"I don't know what I'm thinking, Don. I'm supposed to be crying, right? But I can't. What does that mean?"
She stopped to drink from her glass.
He couldn't think of anything to say. What words would comfort her?
Don't worry, it doesn't mean anything?
Maybe you didn't really love him after all?
He decided to leave it alone. It was probably better to let her find the answer to that one herself.
Nearly an hour later, the bottles were down to their last few dregs, most of it now in Elsie. She poured herself one more glass, downed it in one go and then made her way slowly over to the bed.
"I jus' needa sleep for a while," she slurred.
Donny got up at the same time she did, running his hands back through his hair as she moved a few articles of clothing that had probably been Hugo's, off the bed and onto the floor.
She had fallen into an alcohol induced sleep-coma before he could even say goodnight.
He pulled a chair over to the bedside and sat down, watching over her but frowning at the troubled expression that remained on her features even as she slept.
The following morning, Elsie woke up to find her room had been tidied; more specifically, all of Hugo's things had been put away out of view.
She silently thanked Donny for this.
Dragging herself out of bed, feeling the beginnings of a migraine, she grabbed her usual outfit and moved towards the shower.
It was time to clean up and she didn't mean it in an entirely physical sense, either. She needed to face the fact that Hugo was dead. And Wilhelm; one of her closest friends amongst the Basterds. She knew that, for the sake of the Basterds and their plans for the premiere, she had to get her act together.
There wasn't time for grieving.
Not feeling much better, if only refreshed, she went downstairs. She wasn't sure where she was going, but more than anything she wanted to be out of the room that she and Hugo had spent much of their time together in.
She would be driven by one of the Basterds to the Ritz, later in the evening, to meet up with Fredrick; but meanwhile, she had time to spare. Some of this time would be dedicated to getting her hair and make-up done, but for the most part she had no idea what to do with it.
She had to keep her mind busy.
Pausing to lean against the wall of the building she had been staying in, Elsie recalled the moment only a couple of nights ago, when Hugo had told her he loved her. Her brow creased as she relayed this moment in her mind.
She remembered the feeling that it hadn't felt right hearing him say those words.
She pushed this from her mind.
Continuing to walk down the street, she passed the cinema that would be hosting the premiere later that night. It was adorned in Nazi banners and colors. She stared at it in wonder...more a disturbed awe, really.
Looking away from the peculiar party decorations, she continued walking, this time reaching The Pure Heart.
Of all the things she could have recalled happening in there, her mind was brought back to Major Hellstrom; that strange afternoon they had spent together, with him discussing their future.
Reaching into her pocket, Elsie felt the comforting steel of Hugo's knife that she had taken from the bleeding corpse of the major. Checking to make sure that no one was around to see, she took the it out and ran her finger over the German inscription: 'Loyalty is my honor'.
Truer words were never written.
A sudden thought struck her and she turned, travelling in the opposite direction.
She was trying to recall the room number.
Third floor. Third floor.
Perhaps being in the actual hallway would spark her memory as to which room it was.
Taking the elevator up, Elsie tightened her scarf and pulled up her gloves. The temperature seemed to have dropped a few degrees in the space of two floors.
As the door 'dinged' open, she stepped out. She was right; actually being in the hallway again triggered her memory. It was room 314.
Checking to make sure that the hallway was deserted, she approached the door and tried the handle. It was open. She supposed that, due to the unexpected orders of Lt. Raine, Wilhelm wouldn't have bothered to lock up his room. And the owners of the hotel didn't know that he wasn't going to be returning.
Pushing it open, expecting an ominous creak, she found it silent, albeit quite dark. This was solved with a flick of the light switch.
Wilhelm's room was tidy.
What was that saying? A tidy room means a tidy mind?
Something like that.
It explained a lot about her.
She found his dog tags lying on the room's small table. Scooping them into her hand, she clasped them tightly, but they served as a strong reminder of what she had lost.
"Elsie?"
Her heart stopped for a moment as she spun around.
Hirschberg and Utivich had their heads poking through the door, looking both confused and concerned.
"Oh hey, guys," she greeted.
"Uh, what are you doing in here?" Utivich asked.
She realized that she didn't have a reasonable answer to that.
"Why don't you come back to my room?" Hirschberg suggested when she failed to give them a reply, speaking for once without humor.
"Sounds good," she quickly agreed, pocketing the tags.
"Ready for tonight?"
Elsie, who was sitting on the floor despite there being numerous elevated places that she could have chosen to sit on, frowned up at Utivich.
"Does it look like it?"
"Uh, no, but I meant-"
Elsie laughed.
The boys frowned at her once more. They couldn't say for certain, but they were pretty sure that she had lost her mind.
"I know what you meant," she assured him, "but it's not as though we have a choice, is it? We're either in or we're out."
"Well, I don't know about you guys, but I'm in," Hirschberg told them.
"Why wouldn't we be?" Utivich asked him.
"Who's driving you all to the Ritz tonight?" Elsie interrupted.
"That would be me."
Omar entered the room, having overheard them talking.
"Do you not lock your doors?" Elsie asked them.
"The get-up I've gotta wear is gonna make me look like a chauffeur anyway," Omar went on, ignoring Elsie's comment.
"What are you wearing?" Hirschberg asked her with a little too much interest.
Utivich shot him a look to say that the way he'd asked the question wasn't exactly appropriate, especially given the events of the previous night.
"I bought a dress last night. With Fredrick Zoller, actually."
"That's the guy, ain't it? That fuckin' kraut movie star?" Hirschberg asked.
"You're thinking of von Hammersmark", Elsie joked.
"I can't believe you got stuck with some fuckin' German," Hirschberg continued.
The words hit Elsie in a way that wasn't intended, but Hirschberg didn't even realize. Judging by Utivich's expression, though, he had.
"How are you doing?" he asked quietly. The others glanced down at her.
She seemed to go into deep thought for a moment, before quickly shrugging it off.
"I'll be alright."
They could sense the lie.
"What will you two be doing tonight?" she asked Utivich and Hirschberg, quickly changing the subject, "The same as usual? Nothing?"
She forced a weak chuckle.
"We've got the perimeters," Utivich explained, motioning to Hirschberg, "Roof, in case anyone makes a break for it. Taking out any surrounding guards so that they can't open any of the doors once they're barricaded. Lt. Raine's going to make sure the doors are secured; then he gets a shot at Hitler."
Hirschberg was shaking his head at this. Apparently it seemed unfair to him that only Aldo got to kill the man who had started this whole thing.
"And the others?" Elsie asked.
"Uh, well Kagan's with us. Zimmerman and Sackowitz'll be going in through the upper windows to cover the remaining areas of the cinema."
"Hang on," Elsie said, rubbing her eyes with her fingertips, "I didn't hear the entire plan because I left early. Where will you and Donny be during all of this?"
"We'll be seated with the rest of the audience," Omar explained.
"Alright, this may be a stupid question, but what's the decided method for killing all the Nazis in there?"
"Everyone inside the cinema will have dynamite strapped to their legs with timers attached," he replied.
Elsie stared at him.
"What?"
"Well, you won't. Lt. Raine wasn't sure how long your dress was going to be and if the dynamite would show or not, so he said it'd be better if you focused on shooting. Donny and a couple of the others are going into the cinema today to plant a few items in the bathrooms."
"So, what? You place the explosives in strategic areas? Then we just excuse ourselves and get the hell out of there?"
"Not exactly..."
Elsie squeezed her eyes shut and sighed.
"Look, if you don't wanna die for this, you can back out now," Hirschberg told her as she got to her feet and began pacing.
She stopped and glared at him.
"You think that's the reason why I'm upset?" she asked, raising her voice, "I just lost two of my best friends back there! Why the fuck do we need to blow ourselves up for this to work?"
The three boys stared at her as though they didn't understand.
"Alright, then," she said, waving her hands as though she didn't care anymore, "I'll see you guys later tonight."
She left quickly, trying to comprehend everything she had just been told, on top of everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours.
It was a near impossible feat.
By the time she had to go to her hair and make-up appointment at a local beauty parlor, her head felt like it was going to explode.
As a chatty young French girl worked on her blond locks, she blocked out all sounds until they were mere white noise in the background.
So this was it.
This is what it all came down to.
Her and the Basterds.
One heck of an explosion.
And the end of the war.