A/N: So I finished earlier than expected. Congrats to all who got the reference I made last chapter. For those who don't know, the answer was Oskar Schindler. Schindler's List has been an influential movie in my life and if you haven't seen it, I highly recommend it.
For this chapter, I tried to keep it as accurate as possible. This was difficult to write emotionally, but it was worth it. I hope you all enjoy.
"Are you sure you can't come?" Helga asked a sneezing half Japanese girl lying in bed. It was the day Helga and Phoebe were supposed to finish Auschwitz, but Phoebe began to feel ill the previous night, and it hasn't let up.
"I'm afraid so," Phoebe replied, shivering beneath the covers. "I would suggest we wait until I feel better, but I fear if we wait, we would be too late."
Helga frowned. "Why do you have to be so rational?"
"It's my specialty," Phoebe said, her nose stuffed up. "Are you going to be okay?"
"Are you kidding?" She scoffed. "I'm Helga G. Pataki. What do you think?"
Phoebe shook her head at her friend. She knew exactly why her friend was behaving this way. She was scared, especially having to go to the camp alone. She wouldn't dare break her friend's strength, no matter how forced it is. "I know you can do it."
"Thanks, Pheebs." Helga squeezed her hand and headed downstairs.
The sun could barely be seen behind the grey clouds that fill the sky. The streets around the city appeared more dismal before merging into one that followed a train track. The smell of smoke filled the air. Helga could feel her throat closing as the car approached the massive brick entrance.
"This is it, Olga," beamed Bob. "This is Auschwitz."
Helga was too nerve wracked to correct her father. The car entered through a side door next to the main entrance. A thirteen foot gate adorned with barbed wire surrounded the perimeter. Rectangular buildings were on both sides of the road. Shouting of numbers can be heard nearby.
Helga and Bob exited the car and were greeted by a young SS officer. He couldn't possibly be much older than Helga. He had sandy blonde hair styled in a crew cut and wore round-rimmed glasses. "Heil, Hitler!" he greeted the two Pataki's. They reciprocated the salute.
"Heinz, this is my daughter, Olga," Bob introduced. "You will show her around the camp and see to her every need. Jawohl?"
"Jawohl, mein Herr!" Heinz replied. Bob walked away, heading to his office. The officer turned his attention to the young blonde in front of him. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Olga."
"It's Helga, actually," she stated, annoyed. "Big Bob couldn't remember it if his life depended on it."
"My apologies, miss." Heinz bowed.
"Yeah, yeah, no need to be dramatic. So, are we going see the place or what Heinz?" Helga wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible.
"Y-yes, of course. Follow me." Heinz motioned towards the main roadway. Helga followed suit. "Heinz is my last name. My first is Brian, although most people call me Brainy."
Helga eyed him. "Why is that?"
"I was top of my class in Düsseldorf. You can call me whatever you want."
"Eh, what the heck?" Helga answered nonchalantly. "I'm partial to nicknames. Now, can you tell about this?"
"Right, sorry," Brainy pointed to the tracks. "This is where the prisoners enter the camp. The men are taken off on the right side, while the women and children go to the left. They are later divided into those who can work and those who can't. If they are able to work, then they receive a number that will be on their uniform as well as tattooed on their left forearm. Their hair is removed to prevent lice from spreading. They also get a shower and then sent to the barracks."
"I see," Helga said. It doesn't seem that bad, she thought. "So, what happens to those unable to work?"
Brainy wrapped his arm around her shoulders, smirking. "How about I show you that later?"
"Sounds great." She feigned a smile. She shrugged his arm off of her. "So, how long have you been working here?"
"I was originally at the first Auschwitz, which is where we kept Poles. But then the Final Solution began and this place was built. I helped oversee the construction and have been here ever since. We needed the extra space to hold the Jews, but we do have Poles and Soviets here as well. They are all marked by the badges on their uniforms." Just then, a train whistle was blown. "Ah, here comes some more prisoners. Now, you can see how organized we are!"
Helga rolled her eyes at him and stared at the opening door. An engine slowly chugged its way in, with several carts following behind. The train came to a complete stop before the SS guards approached it, shouting at the top of their lungs. Helga can see the prisoners being drove out of the carts like cattle. They looked tired, as if they haven't slept in days. The guards pushed and shoved them around, soon separating the men from the women and children. As they arrived at the tables set out several hundred feet away from the track, Helga could see that the older men were pulled away, as well as the older women and the women with small children. More shouting occurs as families are split apart from each other. Helga became uncomfortable at the sight. Do they need to be so rough?
"Amazing, isn't it?" Brainy asked.
"It's definitely something," Helga somehow sputtered. "I'm ready to see some more of the camp now, if you don't mind."
"Not at all." The duo strolled down the barracks. Helga can see the prisoners busy working. They were all clad in striped uniforms. She didn't need to look closer to see the lifeless gaze in their eyes. They were so thin that Helga almost thought they were walking corpses if it wasn't for the dirt and sweat that covered their skin. "Every day the prisoners are woken up for roll call. They get some hot water before going to work."
"How long do they work each day?"
"About twelve hours."
"What about a break?" she asked as she saw a man sitting down. A guard quickly yelled at him and led him away.
"They don't get one," Brainy answered.
"What happens if they-" A gunshot rang out, causing Helga to jump. She then realized her impending question had just been answered. "Never mind." Her stomach dropped.
Brainy continued on as if nothing happened, which disturbed Helga. "After working, they go through roll call again, then receive some bread before going to bed."
"That seems quite the productive day," muttered Helga, forcing herself to say the words. She needed a distraction. "I couldn't help but notice the badges the prisoners wear. What do they mean?"
"It helps us to differentiate what type of prisoner they are. A yellow triangle is Jewish. Red is a political prisoner. Green is convicts. Blue are emigrants. Purple are Jehovah's Witnesses. Pink are homosexuals. Black is for asocials such as drunkards and prostitutes. A letter beside the triangle indicates what country they're from."
He led her to a cluster of buildings near the back of the camp. "This area is known as Canada. This is where we collect all the prisoners' belongings after they come in."
"So, you hold on to their stuff for them?" Helga asked.
Brainy chuckled. "It's sort of cute how naïve you are." Helga silently growled at his failed flirting, although Helga considered it more as an insult. "Do you want to see what we find?"
"Sure." They entered one of the buildings. Inside were piles. Piles of shoes, glasses, clothes, locks of hair. It was endless. Helga couldn't believe her eyes. How many people have gone through here? The camp was not that big, and there was no way all the owners of all these belongings are residing there. Her eyes found a small pair of shoes. They obviously belonged to a child. Who is that child? How old is she? Do her parents love her or neglect her? Does she have a sibling who was perfect? Does she love a boy she has known her whole life?
Brainy tapped her shoulder. "Remember when you asked about what happened to those who are unable to work?" She nodded, not taking her eyes off the shoes. "It's about time. We need to start heading over before we miss it."
They walked out of Canada and walked down a pasture. Helga couldn't stop thinking about those little shoes. Soon, she saw a line of elderly people and children walk down a walkway. It was the same prisoners who arrived earlier that morning. They soon spotted a small brick building. Helga and Brainy stood several hundred feet away.
"This is Bunker 1, also known as the Little Red House," said Brainy. They watched the prisoners enter the building. "They're being told that they are going to take a shower and must remove their clothes." The way Brainy said that made Helga uncomfortable. It was icy, and it sent a shiver down her spine. "In a sense, they are taking a shower, but it won't be with water."
Helga's palms started to become clammy. She knew she was going to regret asking this question. "What do they use instead?"
"Zyklon B. The crystals are dissolved into a gas and they inhale it." He smiled. Even his smile was cold. Helga paled. She heard of Zyklon B before. She remembered seeing the warning signs with the skull and crossbones on them.
Then she heard the screams. Her head jolted to the Little Red House. The shrieks filled the air. They pierced Helga's ears. She felt sick knowing that none of them will see the light of day again. Her thoughts went back to the tiny shoes she saw in Canada. That little girl must have went through the same fate. A small tear formed in the corner of her eye, but she forced it to not fall, not wanting to look suspicious.
The screams continued for what seemed like centuries while the symphony gradually went through a decrescendo, eventually evaporating into the abyss.
Silence.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" asked the officer. "The sound of the wretched being silenced. Their bodies will be incinerated soon." Helga wanted nothing more than to run. She wanted to get away from that godforsaken hell and never look back. But she couldn't. Not just yet. She still had the main part of the mission to complete.
"Is it," she squeaked, then quickly cleared her throat, "is it possible to see the list of prisoners? I know that seems like an odd request, but I am curious to see where all the wretched Jews are from. I am especially intrigued about those from Berlin, just to see if those from my childhood are gone for good."
"Absolutely." They walked back to the front of the camp. Brainy was talking, but Helga wasn't paying attention. Her focus was on trying to ignore the horrors she just witnessed and to just look for Harold's name to see if he is alive. Oh please, be alive! she thought. They went to the administrator's building and ascended the staircase to a door. "The record keeper will help you. Everyone here knows your father so there won't be any funny business. He is a prisoner, but you will be fine. If not, then just scream and someone will come help."
"Thanks," Helga whispered. She knocked on the door and entered. Slowly she closed the door behind her.
"I was wondering if you would come," a deep voice said. Helga's head craned towards the owner of the voice. He was tall, probably six feet tall. He wore the striped uniform like everyone else. His number was 16755. Beneath the number was a red inverted triangle. A political criminal. His head was shaven with hazy green eyes that gazed at her.
"Who are you?" she asked. Surely she doesn't know who this person is. But then why would he say that? He slowly walked towards her. Helga backed up until she felt the door pressed against her back. He looked down at her.
"Does the name Football Head mean anything to you?"
Helga gasped. It couldn't be. "Arnold?"
He nodded. "It's me, Helga. Ever since your father started working here, I kept praying that you would come." Her heart raced from the sound of her name. She knew it was him. The love of her life, no longer a ghost in her dreams. He was real. She felt overwhelmed, not knowing where to begin.
"Why…? How…? What are you doing here?" she managed to spit out.
"There's no time to talk about that. You need to get us out."
Helga's eyes blinked multiple times. "Us? Who's us?" she inquired.
"Myself, along with Harold, Eugene, and Patty. We're all here, and we're all alive. At least, for now. If there was ever a hell on earth, the devil himself wouldn't be able to dream of this."
"You're all alive?!" she shouted. Arnold quickly drew his hand to her mouth to keep her quiet. There was some rustling behind the door before going away. "Sorry," she whispered. "I'm just surprised. How do you expect me to get you out?"
"I don't know, but I believe in you. I know you will find a way." He handed her a piece of paper. "These are our numbers. They may be of some use. I don't expect you to try to help us now. A few weeks ago an attempt was made to escape. They were caught and killed in front of everyone. I don't want that to happen."
"Neither do I," she answered. There was no doubt in her mind what she head to do. She took the paper. "I'll do the best I can."
He smiled that warm smile she remembered. "Thank you." There was a knock at the door. "You better go. I'll await for your return."
Helga nodded before turning towards the door. She glanced back at him. He looked so different from three years ago, but yet still the same. She smiled. "I'll be back soon, Football Head."
She left the room with a heavy heart. She hated that she had to leave him behind. She hated not knowing why he was in there to begin with. But it didn't matter. All that did was that he was alive, and she was going to save him.
A/N: So Arnold is alive! Along with the others. So now to plan the escape.