The Curse of Dr. Zola
Chapter 3
Days later…
"Barnes…James…Buchanan….sergeant…" he trailed off, but there was no one there to even care. The soldiers had left. He was sweaty, dirty, exhausted, and still strapped down to the gurney. Voices echoed in the hallway. They drifted thru his tired mind like a dream. A shout stirred him. He tried to pay more attention now, tried to focus his addled brain.
Faces peered at him. He tried to force his eyes to see clearly. The voices were speaking in front of him.
"I have papers signed by ze Fuhrer himself! I am to have access to all of your prisoners, and to take as many as are required. You can alvays get more!"
The faces peered at him again, blurry images. He tried smiling, just so happy to be stationary and not be spun around. Now, he knew what Steve felt like on the roller coaster at Coney Island. "Steve?"
"I vill take this one as vell as those from the factory."
"But, but…this one is showing the most promise…"
Bucky heard the rattling of papers again, and nothing else. He passed out.
"You vill give me some of ze serum. I vill administer it myself, when and if I deem it necessary."
She looked around as her team of men gathered up those soldiers she had hand selected, and watched as they got the men secured in the back of the truck. Silently, she kept up her chant. Hurry up, hurry up. We have to get out of here before someone realizes those papers are fake!
Outwardly, her expression and body language gave the impression that she was a seasoned Nazi Officer.
She held a riding crop in her right hand and as the men marched past she gave every other one a brisk tap.
Four men went back in and carried SSgt. James Buchanan Barnes out to the truck and dumped him unceremoniously onto its' floor. His head banged on the floorboards, but he was so out of it, he didn't seem to notice.
Dr. Zola frowned, as he watched his guinea pig leave on the back of the truck until it left his view. He stood a moment longer, having been cheated out of his prize. He huffed angrily. She has no right! He was mine! All the effort we put into him…wasted. He thought of the agents sent to New York to scout out potential targets.
He turned and walked back to the factory, the papers she left with him in an envelope he had secured to his clipboard. The Fuhrer was listening to women now? He started to open the envelope to give these papers a better look, when a guard came up to give him a report on how the weapons production was going.
"Oh, no, no, no, dis vill never do. Have you shown these to Herr Schmidt yet?"
The question was answered when Johann Schmidt strode down the factory floor looking upset.
"Vhat is de meaning of dis?! Production is down! I vant veapons, and I vant zem-NOW!"
"I don't know how much more strength the prisoners have left."
"I don't care. Vork them to death if you must, there are alvays more vorkers."
"Yes sir. Have you seen…" He let the sentence trail off. "Never mind."
Exasperated, Schmidt gave him a glance. "Vhat is it?"
"It is nothing. I vill take care of the weapons production schedule."
"Good." Schimdt stomped away.
Another person approached to ask for a signature and Zola waved him away angrily.
Zola walked up and down the rows of the factory. He scrutinized every worker with a keen eye, and made notes on his clipboard. The soldiers kept their heads down and dreaded whenever he came by, but today he was in an especially nasty mood, and no one wanted to be "noticed".
Occasionally, Zola stopped and demanded to see the dog tags of a soldier, scribbled a hasty note on his papers and moved on.
Dr. Zola moved onto the sick ward next. He inspected the dog tags at random. No one was "exempt" until he marked it so in his file. Of course, when someone expired, he made a note of that too.
Finished with the rounds, he finally went to his personal lab and sat down to examine those papers much more intently. The more he looked at it, the more he realized something was wrong. And then it hit him! He let out a long howl of rage that echoed down the halls. It was a trick! He had been fooled. And now both his prize subject and a hefty amount of serum were gone! In a rage, he threw his clipboard across the room, narrowly missing the newest subject on the gurney…