A/N: I can't believe this is my last official chapter. It seems only yesterday that I started writing, and it's coming to an end. I will have an epilogue that will be up tomorrow. So, here we go.
Berlin, September 1945
Helga found herself sitting in the same park bench she sat in that fateful day when Big Bob announced they were moving to Oswiecim. I can't believe this survived, she thought as she gazed around her surroundings. It appears not much else has.
The once bustling capital was long gone. Gone were cheerful families walking together down the streets. Instead, piles of rubble filled the streets. The buildings that once surrounded the park were either in ruins or nonexistent. Even the air was different. Months after the bombings and the dust still hadn't settled.
Helga leaned back against the bench and drew out a long breath. So much has happened in six years. The war was now officially over with Japan's imminent surrender to the United States after the dropping of the atomic bombs. While the rest of the world celebrates the end, the past two weeks proved to be some of the toughest that Helga has endured.
Two Weeks Ago, Stockholm
Gerald placed Phoebe on the couch once she fainted. Helga rushed to retrieve a damp cloth and placed it on her forehead. The two people closest to her never left her side. When she came to, she asked Gerald to give her and Helga some alone time. He respectfully obliged and left the two best friends to talk.
"You okay, Pheebs?" a concerned Helga asked.
Phoebe shook her head. "Did Sid say what I think he said?"
"I'm afraid so," Helga reluctantly answered. "I don't think anyone would have survived an explosion like that."
"That's what I was afraid of." She hung her head as she let out soft sobs. "Half of my family gone," she whispered.
"I'm so sorry, Pheebs," Helga consoled her friend. "I can't even imagine what you're going through."
Phoebe stayed silent for a moment. Helga just watched as she could see multiple thoughts running through Phoebe's head. She didn't utter a sound, but merely waited patiently until her friend was ready to speak. Phoebe dried her eyes and took a deep breath.
"I need to go back to Japan," Phoebe declared. There was no emotion behind her words. She said this as if it were a mere fact.
"Um, okay?" Helga quizzically replied to the sudden change in Phoebe's demeanor. "What led to this conclusion?"
"I need to prepare a proper burial for everyone," Phoebe said stoically. "Or even a memorial for the family. Also, I will need to go through my father's possessions and sort out finances. It is imperative that I depart for Japan as soon as I can."
Phoebe sat up on the couch. Helga kept her hands close just in case Phoebe felt light-headed again. Once Phoebe had settled on the couch, Helga sat up next to her.
"How long are you planning on being in Japan?" Helga asked.
"I think a month or two will suffice."
Two months? Helga thought. It's an awful long time to be away, but it's for Phoebe. Arnold will understand.
"That's fine, Phoebe," Helga said. "When you start to feel better, we will pack our bags and head to Japan."
Phoebe looked at Helga, confused by what she said. "What do you mean 'we'? Who said anything about a we?"
"I-I thought you w-wanted me t-to come with you," Helga stammered.
"Oh, Helga," Phoebe sighed, taking her friend's hand. "I'm not wanting you to come with me. I could never ask you to do that, especially with your wedding soon approaching."
"Arnold would understand," Helga defended. "He knows I would do anything for you."
"And I appreciate that…" Phoebe began before closing her mouth.
"But…" Helga helped.
"But I want Gerald to accompany me," she managed to finish. "He was supposed to meet my Japanese family once this was all over, and now this will be the only time he will ever see Japan."
Helga shook her head, trying to comprehend what her tiny friend was saying. "Wait. So, you're not going to stay there?"
"No," she said flatly. "With everyone gone, it would hurt too much to stay there."
"Well, where are you going to live?" Helga wondered. "Are you going to go see your mother in America?"
Phoebe shook her head. "I refuse to step down on that soil. What they did was cruel." Phoebe began to grow visibly upset, shedding away the wall she recently built. "They killed thousands of people. Many of them were innocent, including my family. I can't forgive them for what they did. If my mother wants to see me, she can come to whatever my new home will be, but it will be a cold day in hell before I step foot in that country!"
Helga went bugged eyed as Phoebe panted from her rant. She has seen Phoebe mad before, but never has she seen such hatred for anything. Helga didn't even think Phoebe was capable of such hatred.
"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do," Helga reassured. "I know you and Gerald will have a lovely home wherever you two decide to live. And I will make sure to visit."
"I think I need to speak to Gerald now," Phoebe said, returning to her stoic state.
"I'll get him for you," Helga offered. She got off the couch and walked to the kitchen to find the three men at the table. She had obviously walked in on something, because the moment she walked in, it was eerily quiet.
"How's Phoebe?" Gerald asked, hopeful that she was doing better.
"She wants to see you," she told him. Immediately he got up and went to the living room.
Arnold and Sid looked at Helga. "How's she taking everything?" Arnold asked.
Helga held on the back of an empty chair and let out an exhaustive sigh. "She's being… logical about the situation," Helga explained. "She's trying to hold in her emotions. I think it's too much for her to handle, so she's kind of shut down."
Arnold and Sid looked at each other uncomfortably. Helga noticed this and wanted to know what was going on. "What are you two hiding?" she demanded to know. "I'm seriously exhausted right now and I don't want to deal with any games.
Fidgeting, Sid spoke up. "You might want to sit down."
Eyeing both of them, Helga sat down in the chair she was holding before. "Just give it to me straight."
Sid inhaled deeply. "Your dad's been captured by the Allies." Helga sat there emotionless, motioning for Sid to continue. "He was put on trial and found guilty for crimes against humanity for his actions at Auschwitz. He has been sentenced to death by hanging in Berlin in two weeks."
Helga remained expressionless after hearing the news. She wasn't surprised Big Bob was found guilty, and she sure wasn't surprised that he was going to be executed for what he did.
"If you want, Sid is willing to take us to Germany so you can see him before his execution," Arnold added. "Or if you don't want to see him, then to at least get his affairs in order."
"Why can't Miriam do that?" Helga asked plainly.
"She died, Helga," Sid said sympathetically. "I couldn't find out when or how, but she's gone."
Helga closed her eyes and pondered about what to do. Her parents have never really been there for her, so why should she be there for her father at his end? On the other hand, this will probably be the last time she would ever be able to try to tell him how she feels. He will most likely not listen to her, but she knew she had to try.
"When do we leave?"
The next day, the two pairs bid their goodbyes to one another as Gerald and Phoebe headed to the Orient while Arnold and Helga, accompanied by Sid, sailed their way to Berlin. Helga never thought she would ever return to her birth nation, and she was nervous to see how it looked now.
It was desolate. A wasteland. It was a far cry from the Berlin she grew up in. Both blondes looked in horror at the ruins around them as they rode in the car taking them to Sid's new house. Nothing looked familiar to them.
Four days after leaving Stockholm, they soon arrived at Sid's place. It was one of the few buildings that haven't been destroyed by the bombings, but there were some cracks in the walls. They grabbed their bags and headed inside to find a surprise.
"Well, hi there!" a friendly voice called out.
"Hey, Stinky!" Helga exclaimed, hugging her old companion. "It has been so long."
"Too long," he agreed, hugging her back. "And I see you found Arnold."
"I did," she replied, smiling for the first time in days. "I'm sure Sid told you everything."
"He did," Stinky confessed. "Congratulations on y'all's engagement."
"Thanks, Stinko. You are more than welcome to come to the wedding."
"Will there be lemon pudding?" His eyes lit up with hope.
Arnold laughed. "We'll have some made for you."
They had finished settling into their temporary home and rested for the night. The next day, they congregated in the living room to discuss the plan.
"Tomorrow, I'm going to the prison to talk to Bob," Helga stated.
"What are you going to say to him?" Arnold asked.
"Honestly, I have no idea. I don't know where to begin with him. I'm probably just going to wing it and hope for the best."
"What do you think he'll react?" Stinky asked.
Helga laughed. "He's going to be shocked to see me alive, first off. As far as everything else, I wouldn't be surprised if he has nothing to say about it. But I'm not going there for him. I'm going there for me. I need to get all of this off my chest or else I'm going to explode."
"Do you want me to come with you?" Arnold asked, holding her hand. She squeezed it.
"As much as I want you to, I think it's best that I do this by myself," Helga admitted. Arnold nodded, understanding her reasoning.
"In that case, I'll be looking around Berlin and getting an idea of the damage done with Sid and Stinky."
"Hey, Helga?" Sid asked. "Could I see you alone for a moment?" Helga nodded, and followed Sid to a storage room.
"What's going on?" she asked.
"There's something of yours that I have. I forgot in all the craziness this past year that I had it." He dug through one of the boxes and pulled out Helga's journal.
"I thought this was gone forever," she whispered, flipping through her coded thoughts. "Thank you for saving this."
"There's one more thing." He reached into the box again. Helga's stomach dropped as she saw what he had. The little black shoes. Helga took them from Sid's hands and examined them. All thoughts of Auschwitz came flooding back to her. All those deaths, and her own father took part in them. She held them close to her and closed her eyes. "I wasn't sure if I should have shown them to you, but I thought you might want them as a reminder."
Helga clutched onto them for dear life. Please give me strength.
As she walked down the prison corridors to her father's cell, Helga could feel a pang of nervousness ruminating in her chest. Don't run from this. You need to do this for yourself. It doesn't matter what he says.
"You have a visitor," the guard called into the cell, knocking on the bars with his stick. Inhaling a deep breath, Helga walked in front of the cell and saw her father for the first time in over two years.
"Who is it?" Bob grunted. He didn't change much since she last saw him. He still had the same stern expression on his face. The only difference was he had more grey hair than before.
"Only your daughter, Bob," Helga answered.
"Olga?" he asked. His face paled, as if he had seen a ghost. Helga rolled her eyes.
"Hel-ga," she enunciated. "Criminy, all this time and you still can't get my name right."
"How did you escape?" Bob asked, pointing at her. "You were supposed to be killed!"
"I had some help," she shrugged. "By the same people who I helped get out of Auschwitz and from your death trap."
Bob scoffed. "They had it coming. All Jews are nothing but trouble. They're the blame for everything!"
"No, they're not, Bob," Helga argued. "I can't believe how insensitive you are. Wait. Actually, I can. Because you've always been this way. You've neglected your family for work."
"That's bullshit, girl!" Bob yelled, crashing into the bars reaching out to her. Helga backed up in time before he could grab her. "I gave you everything!"
"Like hell you did!" Helga snorted, crossing her arms. "You never showed that you loved me or Miriam. All you cared about was working, and then it was about Hitler! And look where that has gotten you? You are in prison, sentenced to be hanged. Your wife is dead and your daughter wants nothing to do with you! You have no one! By the way, how did Miriam die, Bob?"
"She drunk herself to death," he replied nonchalantly. Helga looked at him with disgust
"Your wife is dead, and you have no sorrow for her," she said, shaking her head.
"People die every day, Olga," he argued. "One more person doesn't change much."
Helga looked at him flabbergasted. "Wow," she whispered. "You know, I have seen people been gassed, almost been killed twice, heard of a mixed Rhineland be sterilized, and have the guy who I've been in love with ever since I was a kid propose to me. But what you just said…" her breath staggered and tears began to form in her eyes, "is the most shocking, disgusting thing ever. But I shouldn't have expected anything different from you. You are crude, vile, and I'm so glad the world will soon be rid of you so you can never harm another person again. And you can be damn sure that I will be there next week to watch you die."
Helga spun on her heels and walked out of the prison with her head held high. Bob yelled after her, screaming her name. Well, screaming "Olga", but regardless, Helga never looked back.
One Week Later
A small crowd gathered in front of the Berlin prison. Helga, along with Arnold, Sid, and Stinky stood in front. There was a small platform with a beam hanging past it. Hanging on the beam was a rope fashioned into a noose, dangling about a foot past the platform below.
A group of guards came out, with Big Bob in the middle. His hands were tied in front of his Nazi uniform. He had a calm look on his face, but with a small hint of a smile in the corner of his mouth. Helga remained stoic as he walked up the platform. He was positioned so he was right on the edge.
"Robert Pataki," a guard announced, "for crimes against humanity, you are sentenced to hang by the neck until you are dead. May God have mercy on your soul."
Another guard grabbed the rope and fashioned it around Bob's neck. Bob stood there proudly, staring Helga right in the eyes.
"Heil, Hitler!" he shouted as a guard pushed him off the platform. Bob's legs squirmed in the air. His face turned purple from the lack of oxygen. Moments later, his legs stopped shaking, and his body rocked back and forth in the breeze.
After watching Bob die, Helga said she needed some time alone. She wandered the streets of Berlin until she found the park that housed the bench from years ago.
She sat there for about an hour, reminiscing of what has happened in the past six years. All of the hiding, moving, plotting, scheming, escapes, relationships, and deaths that she became a part of. She reached into her pocket and pulled out two books. One was her old journal. The second was the journal she bought when they arrived in Stockholm. She had continued to write after leaving Poland. She wrote in detail about her capture, the exodus to Sweden, the stories her friends told her, almost being gassed to death, and the war's end. She grabbed a pen from her other pocket and began to scribble down the demise of Big Bob, not letting one moment be forgotten.
"What are you writing?" Arnold asked as he sat down next to her.
"The ending of our memoirs," Helga replied, finishing the final sentence and putting it away. "It would be selfish to keep it hidden from the world. People need to know what really happened here, and I'm going to tell the world."
World War II lasted for six years, one day.
An estimated 1.3 million people were sent to Auschwitz. Roughly 960,000 Jews were killed there, along with 47,000 Poles; 21,000 Gypsies; 15,000 Soviet POWs; and 10,000-15,000 members of other nationalities, totaling in 1.1 million deaths.
95% of Jews from Denmark were saved by being sent to Sweden.
Around 3,000 twins were picked by Dr. Mengele. Roughly 200 survived the liberation.
About 400 'Rhineland Bastards' children were arrested and sterilized in 1937.
Heinrich Himmler- died May 23, 1945, suicide by cyanide poisoning
Rudolf Höss- died April 16, 1947, hanged outside Auschwitz
Amon Goeth- died September 13, 1946, hanged in Krakow, near Plaszow concentration camp. Immortalized in Steven Spielberg's Schindler's List.
Josef Mengele- escaped to South America in 1949. Died 1979 in Sao Paulo, Brazil
Of the 7,000 SS members who worked at Auschwitz, only about 800 went to trial. Most were able to avoid going to trial by either fleeing Germany or stating they did not take part in the gassing of the prisoners. Most Nazis who survived feel no remorse for what they did.