REPOSTED CHAPTER

Chapter 6- Ada's Escape

He fixed my plate and set it next to me on his desk without so much as a mention towards our previous conversation. It seemed odd though I could never be sure of what he was really thinking. With a single finger, he pushed my plate towards me. "You should eat something," he said while taking a large bite of his lunch.

"I'm sorry. I'm just not hungry." Honestly, I couldn't take not knowing his thoughts on what I had just told him so I decided to distract myself by learning more about him. After all, he seemed to have everyone figured out yet he was still a mystery. "Colonel…"

"Hans," he corrected.

"Hans, may I ask you something?"

He smiled, lifting the left side of his lips higher and placed his utensils on his plate, turning his full attention towards me. His expression was more serious than normal and with one look into his eyes he seemed more closed. It was as though suddenly he had built a brick wall around himself.

"Why were you in the country yesterday? I mean you were the last person I expected to run into. I figured someone of your stature would be in the big cities," I said.

"The Furher himself has moved me from my home in Austria to the French 'cow country' to track down Jewish families that have not yet been accounted for."

"Oh," was all I could say. As for what happened to them when he found them—I could only imagine.

He placed a finger on my plate and tapped the rim suggestively. I still shook my head. He sighed in defeat and finished his meal looking over his notes in silence. When he was finished, he piled his scraps along with my untouched food on the other side of his desk. "I'll take care of that later," he said and brushed himself off. Pen in hand, he looked at me to continue.

"When did you realize that they hadn't forgotten about you?"

"One of the younger ones opened my door. He was my age it seemed with thick, curly, blonde hair. I tried to feign sleep but all he needed to see was that I was still breathing. He called out to some of the others who came in and picked me up off of the floor. They carried me into a different room—one with a table. I imagine it was the same one they had me on the first night I was there. All the windows we passed were boarded up or painted black. I thought I'd never see the outside world again."

"If we drove back to where I found you do you think you'd recognize the place you escaped from?" he asked.

Fear struck me at the thought of going back there. I tensed but replied, "Possibly. When I left I didn't exactly look back."

"During your stay there, how many different men do you think you saw?"

"At least twenty," I said. "They came and went. I'm not sure where to but they were never all there at once."

"Did you ever see any women or children?" he asked.

"No," I said lost in thought. Hans raised an eyebrow at my drawn out response. "They had mentioned other women as though there were others being held against their will, like me but I never saw them or heard much about them."

"Interesting," he said and jotted a few notes down. "They brought you to this new room," he continued, "then what happened?"

"They told me since my 'husband' was so good at finding people," Hans smiled at this, "that if he truly loved me he would come find me but until he did they were going to make sure they left their mark. Since I knew you were not even aware of my existence I pretty much gave up all hope right then. I stared into space a lot as they talked to me, lost in my thoughts. They did not like that."

"What were your thoughts?" Hans asked.

"That this was it. This was the end. I was going to die in this place. There was no escape. And for a moment my terror seemed to subside. I had become an empty shell. The next week became surreal like it wasn't really happening or I wasn't really there all of the time. I imagine it was like what they call an 'out-of-body' experience. I could see things happening to me but did nothing about it but watch it all."

"Did they do anything to you that night?" he asked.

"Yes," I said. "That was the first night I was raped." I paused, hoping he wouldn't want me to go into too much detail about the incident. Lucky for me, he seemed more interested in my attackers. He noticed my hesitation and prompted me onwards.

"Can you describe the man—"

"There were three," I interrupted. He raised his eyebrows.

"Three?"

"Three men. One was the greasy one from the alleyway. The second was the curly youth and the third was someone I'd never seen before."

"Can you describe this third man?" he asked while writing all of this down.

"He looked to be in his mid-thirties and was extremely clean cut. His hair was about your shade, perhaps a bit darker."

"Did he say anything to you? Or did any of them for that matter?"

"You want me to repeat what they said?" I asked, feeling tears prick my lower lids. I crossed my legs involuntarily and took a deep breath as Hans waived the pen back and forth suggesting that I could just give him a gist.

"They told me," I started, cringing at the waiver in my voice. "That they were going to… to—"

"It's all right," Hans reassured me. "I've interrogated numerous individuals. I doubt you'll say anything that can shock me." I mouthed the word 'fuck' and he closed his eyes, smiled and nodded once. I guess it was to further encourage me or perhaps show his understanding. I'll never really know. "You don't have to use their exact phrasing," he said.

"Until I bled," I continued. "That I was going to be black and grey in select areas and they were going to perform experiments on me."

"Did they ever perform experiments?" he asked.

"I guess that depends on your definition," I said.

"In yours?"

"No," I said. "I guess not but they reminded me that there was no use in trying to run or fight because they would always be able to find me no matter what."

Hans nodded. Keeping his full attention on me, he placed his pen down. "Ada," he began, "do you know why they said these things to you?"

I shook my head.

"Because they were trying to convince you that there was no way out when there obviously was. I mean you're here now," he said, gesturing towards me with a smile. "A person would say something like that to their enemies in an attempt to extinguish any hope that might be left. They said these things to you not necessarily because they were true but rather to instill fear in their victim so you would not try to fight them because hope wasn't there." Explained like a man who knew exactly what he was talking about.

I'm sure he did but nonetheless, at this very moment in time I was thankful that this man's name was carved into my stomach because despite what he might think of me, he took me in, fed me, sheltered me and offered his full attention to a story that I would assume other Nazis would laugh at or push aside.

Yet here was Hans, not only listening but explaining things to me and as the day turned to evening I found that despite my hatred for the Nazi organization I had at least a seedling of respect for this individual—this man, who seemed to take great pleasure in educating me in the ways of torture and violence. The way he explained it, it was an interesting medium. Regardless of what he was saying, I found that I took great pleasure in listening to this man talk. I could listen to him talk for hours.

It was no secret that I prized intelligence in a man but in my mind, I was ashamed of myself for allowing my heart to feel the least bit attracted to him as he continued to enlighten me in graphic detail on the darker side of human nature. He seemed to understand all too well what was going on in the minds of my captors. It was frightening yet alluring. I suppose it was his job to know what goes on in others' minds. And no matter how gruesome in detail our conversation grew, to him it was as though we were talking about the weather or a sporting event. I wasn't sure whether it was him being professional, or him being utterly dangerous.

"Were you ever raped again?" he asked.

I nodded.

"When?"

"The following five or six days," I said. "I lost track of time a lot. There were no windows."

"Just once a day?" he asked.

"No. It was as though I had become a communal pack of cigarettes. One man would come into my holding room and have his way with me then leave, usually without saying a word. Sometimes minutes passed, sometimes hours and someone else would enter and do it all over again. It's like I was there for their sheer pleasure and nothing more. They came in, they did what they needed to do then they went on about their business."

Hans took a deep breath and picked his pen back up. "Let's move on, shall we?"

"Yes," I said, the thankfulness evident in my voice.

"Want to tell me how your finger was broken?" he asked, resting an ankle on the opposite knee. His free hand tapped its fingers patiently.

"It was the extremely clean-cut man from before. The one with hair like yours," I said. "I don't remember what exactly he said to me but as he was leaving my holding room one night I waited until he turned his back and I flicked my middle finger into the air." I demonstrated for Hans. "There was another man in the hall though that saw what I did and alerted the man. He came right back in and grabbed my hand…snapped my finger like a matchstick. It seemed to only further prove that I was nothing to him. That he could break me with a snap of his fingers.

"When he left the room the other guy came in and pressed his fist firmly into my face. That was my last night there. I'd had enough. I wasn't dying fast enough for my liking and I certainly wasn't going to give them the pleasure of asking for death so I started thinking of ways that I could get out. I thought of the other rooms I had been to and how they all connected, where the doors were. I figured it couldn't hurt to try and escape. If I was caught, they'd kill me and if I wasn't, I'd be free. I was willing to take the risk."

Hans smiled at me. It wasn't that lopsided smile but instead a full on, teeth exposed smile. Although, it seemed a little creepy it was nice to see. It was then I thought that despite what I had said to him earlier about defending the Jewish, he still thought well of me…possibly. He seemed pleased by my will to fight. He admitted that he was impressed.

"Most wouldn't do that," he said. "Especially most women."

"We're stronger than some of you think," I said.

"Look at your life, Ada. You had nothing left to fight for yet you still did," he said with more excitement than anticipated. "You have no family and being that you moved here not too long ago, your friendships cannot be but so strong…yet you still fought by your own will. It's as though there is a wild beast inside of you, Ada, bloodthirsty for a battle." He seemed to love that idea a bit too much for my liking.

I shook my head. "No, Hans. I'm afraid you've got me wrong. I'm no monster."

"I didn't say you were."

"I'm not an animal."

"Then why did you fight?" he asked. "Primal instinct. Don't be ashamed of it. It's natural. It's human nature. Survival of the fittest. Your primal urges kicked in and you went from a battered young woman to a savage fighter."

"I'm not a savage," I said, growing a bit annoyed with his enthusiasm.

"Don't tell me you escaped from the clutches of these men who, as you put it, could 'break' you, were in and out of this place day and night in great numbers and none of them saw you," he said with a grin. It was like he knew something about me that I didn't… or that I did but didn't want him to know. "It is unlikely that you would've been unseen by anyone and even more unlikely that they would have just let you escape." His demeanor seemed to return back to normal…whatever normal was for Hans Landa. "Tell me, Ada, is it possible that you killed one of your captors?"

"I'm not a savage," I repeated in a shaky voice. Tears started to well up in the corners of my eyes and for the first time I thought I saw admiration in his eyes. He was right. I had murdered but I was not like him. I was not like the Nazis. However, through my tears I found it hard to separate myself from him in terms of murder. It was silly. I knew we weren't the same but when Hans stood from his chair and opened his arms to me I couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging for the first time in a long time.

It was as though he was the master and I, the apprentice. Praising me for what I had done, he rubbed my back gently. As soon as realization dawned on me, I pushed him away. "Stop that," I said.

"Stop what?" he asked, looking overly innocent.

"I don't need your comfort," I spat.

"Ada, you and I aren't much different."

"I am nothing like you," I said, my volume rising with my anger.

"What am I like?" he asked. I didn't respond. "You know nothing about me," he said, his voice remaining calm and controlled. "Jew Hunter," he said in little more than a whisper. "I didn't ask for the title that was given to me but I earned it and I'm damn proud that I've earned it. Though I wouldn't expect anyone else to understand how proud I am that I'm so good at my job. I'm a detective, Ada. And a damn good detective at that. I earn these," he said pointing to the medals on his uniform, "Because I take pride in my work as a military officer and as a detective not because of the people I've killed. And believe me," he said, "I've killed more than you could ever imagine. I did the job that I was ordered to carry out. So please," he continued, his demeanor turning back to the hospitable hawk in a matter of seconds. "If you wouldn't mind taking your seat and telling me what else happened," he said, raising his palm towards my chair.

"What else would you like to know?" I asked.

"Your other cigarette burns," he said. "Where did they come from?"

"It was the same man," I said. "The one who sliced up my stomach. He knew exactly where it would hurt the most too—right where the first one had been. I imagine that's how the infection started. Every day he would come in, do what he wished and before he left I would feel the burn of his ashes on my thigh. Every day. He never missed one.

"In fact, he was the last one I saw before I left," I said.

"He was the one you killed?"

"No. I killed the boy," I said. "The youth with the curly hair. When I decided I'd had enough, I sat by the door waiting for it to open again instead of just lying in the middle of the floor. He was the next one to open it. When he did I immediately reached for his holster and pulled out his pistol. Before he had a chance to react I pointed the barrel between his eyes and pulled the trigger." When I reiterated this story to Hans, I didn't realize how cold and disconnected my demeanor had become. I frowned when I looked up at Hans and he seemed pleased. He did his best to hide his smile but I could see it faintly. It was enough to know that it was there.

"Surely someone would have heard the shot," he said.

"They did. And that was the first thing that occurred to me was how quiet the place always seemed. The shot echoed through the halls. I didn't stop to think much about it though. Luckily, I think they did. I don't think any of them expected a fight so their shock must have delayed their response."

"You go out just in time," Hans assumed.

"No. Remember? I ran into the chain smoker near the front door. I don't think he saw it coming," I said. "He seemed surprised to see me." I found that I laughed a little picturing the look on his face. "He gave me this look as if to say 'I know you from somewhere but I don't know where.'"

Hans smiled. "It's a nice feeling, isn't it?"

I nodded and found that I was smiling too. It was a good feeling to fight back. It was a good feeling to catch them by surprise. "I pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and jammed it into his eyeball."

Hans chuckled. "You're just full of surprises," he said. "Good ones."

I tried to ignore his comment and continued. "Then I ran. I ran as fast as I could. My legs were like lead but I widened my stride, pumped my arms and pushed myself. I never thought I could run that fast," I said, wiping a stray tear from my cheek. "It was night out and had just rained or so because the ground was moist and slick. At least one of them followed me but I didn't think to turn around. I kept my eyes focused ahead."

"How did you know they were following?"

"There were a few gunshots and some shouts but they didn't last long. I was amongst a lot of trees. We were in the woods somewhere and it was pitch black. I imagine they figured I wasn't worth the fight."

"Or that you wouldn't last in the wild," said Hans, placing his pen and pad on his desk. "But this was not the day I found you, correct?" he asked.

"Right. I'm not sure exactly…you found me yesterday which was?"

"Tuesday," he said.

"Tuesday. So the night I escaped was either early Sunday morning or very late Saturday night. I know you found me on the third day. So now what? You've heard my story. Now we just wait?"

"I'll have to conduct interrogations on suspects," he said.

"And how will you find suspects?"

"I have to return to the country tomorrow and possibly for the rest of this month. There are several Jewish families unaccounted for. More than you'd think. I'll look into your boarded up shelter amongst woods," he said, standing and pulling his chair back behind his desk. "Until then you'll stay here."

"I thought I was only evidence? You've got all the evidence I have to give," I argued. "Can I not go home?"

"You said they knew your name. There is no telling what else they knew about you," he said. "You also said they confronted you not far from your home. What makes you think they don't know where you live?"

"So your answer is for me to stay locked in here unless I'm with you?"

"Yes," he said. "For your safety. Is this not acceptable?"

"You're going to go back to work and I'm going to be stuck here all day every day for God knows how long," I said. "I'm used to being a bit more independent than that."

"And look where that independence landed you," he argued.

"I'm going to go crazy in here."

"Have you any better ideas?"

I didn't. That ended that conversation. I sat defeated while Hans took care of our food from earlier.

"Are you hungry?" he asked. "I can get dinner."

"No," I said.

He was dangerous. He could not be trusted yet I was like a moth drawn to the flame or perhaps even, if you will, the mosquito caught struggling for its freedom from the spider's silky web. He had me all right. I was stuck. I had simply escaped a prison to be caught in the wild and stuffed back into a cage, albeit cleaner and less hostile. I knew it wouldn't be long before I would have to escape again- though this time, from a man I once considered to be my savior. However, how can you be expected to escape the grasp of Hans Landa. Part of me wasn't even sure I wanted to escape and part of me needed to.

I was startled from my thoughts as Hans held a glass of red wine in front of my face. "It will help you sleep tonight," he said. "I daresay I've stirred up a few emotions not worth stirring up." There was that look again…that smile.

I took the glass with a 'thank you' and found that the dry and bitter taste wasn't much to my liking but I drank in anyway. Somehow, it warmed me inside and thanks to my empty stomach, it wasn't long before I was sleepy and asked to retire for the evening.

Hans was gracious and allowed me one of his shirts again for the night since I still had no night clothing. I changed quickly and splashed my face with cool water before crawling under the covers. He took a seat beside me on the bed.

"I will find them," he said, placing a hand on my cheek for a moment. Then he returned to his desk. Again, I wondered where he slept but still didn't care enough to ask. My eyes closed as soon as my head hit the pillow and I fell into a deep sleep.