Death Machine
an excerpt

Chapter One

The men lined up in front of the pit.

“Strip, and kneel down.”

Clothes pealed from skelatle forms as each slowly followed orders. Some kneeled in the direction of the pit, only to be hit in the face and told to look “towards your death”.

Ludger cleared his throat, as if before a lecture. “What you want to do is hold the gun so that it isn’t touching their skin, unless you want to burn them and in that case, go ahead. Then, you cock the gun and pull the trigger. Terribly simple.”

He cocked his own gun and stepped before the first man. “Cock, aim, shoot.” The body fell backwards, without a sound. “Easy? Your turn.”

He handed the gun to Armin. The metal felt cold, and foreign in his own palm. He stood in front of his first victim.

Trees all around them rustled in the wind. The forest’s darkness was all consuming, and Armin wasn’t sure if the gun was where it should be.

“Just shoot, damn it.” He fired.

Blood splashed back onto his face, and Armin realized what he was getting into. Death. Everything was death. He moved to wipe the blood away.

“There is no point doing that,” Ludger stopped him, “you’re only going to get more on you later. Just shoot, practice.”

Next victim. A man of what ever age looked up at Armin, eyes horrified. “Please, I…” Shoot, fall. The body didn’t make it into the pit, so Ludger pushed him in with his foot.

“Next”

Cock. Aim. Shoot. The third fell in, completely this time. Still, there was more blood on Armin’s face.

“I don’t want to kill them, Ludger.”

“Next” –no response.

Cock. Aim…Armin tingled, shivered. He could see in this man’s eyes that he didn’t want to die but Armin would bring it to him. Death. His hand shook as he tried to pull the trigger.

“Armin, shoot.”

Burst, blood, fall back. Armin stopped shaking. Only one man left. Armin stood before him knowing full well what was going to happen: I’m going to kill him, too. Cock, aim…He shivered again. Death was in their eyes. Pleas, cries, in their voices.

“Please, sir. Please. I have children. I have a wife. They will not survive here without me. Let me live, I’ll do…”

:\Ludger smacked the man. “Shoot, Armin.”

“No.” The gun shivered between palm and trigger finger, requesting both to be set down and to fire.

“Shoot him, or I will shoot you. Shoot the man.”

“No.” He turned and pressed the gun to Ludger’s chest. “You animal” Armin fired.

Ludger didn’t move. Didn’t bleed, didn’t fall. His mouth open, creaked, like a skeletal form. “Herr Fürcht. Wake up. You’re having a bad dream, sir.” The voice was higher, more feminen, and half asleep. Blood seeped from Ludgers lips, and driped down his chest. It flowed over the barrel, and soaked Armin’s hand. Ludger grabbed Armin: “Kill him, or I will kill you.”

“Herr Fürcht. Please sir, wake up, you’re scaring Rudiger…”

Armin rolled over in his bed, only to find Hedwig, the house maid, leaning over him.

“Your son can hear you screaming. He’s worried for you, sir.”

Eyes wide, either full of fear or anger, he sat up. “Hedwig. What did I tell you about coming into my room?”

The woman stood up quickly and started biting her lip. She looked young, certainly no older than twenty. Her curly hair was in clumps pushed up against her face, obviously from sleeping. “You told me that I…should…”

“Yes?”

“That under no circumstances I am to come into your room. I’m sorry, sir, it is only that Rudiger could hear you screaming, sir, and so could I, sir.”

“If my son is worried about me, my son can come wake me. You are never to come into my room for any reason. You understood this before, why do you defy it now?”

Though half asleep, Armin still had his usual masculine beauty. He was missing most of his clothes, though. Hedwig kept her eyes to the floor as she spoke. “I was worried that…Rudiger was worried that…so I came in because I did not want him to see….”

“Your excuse is worthless. Get out. I really don’t care, just leave. Tell my son to go back to sleep.”

She turned to leave, but Armin caught her wrist and pulled her back to him. She was forced to look into his eyes. They were a sympathetic caramel color—so unfitting, she thought. “If you ever come into my room again,” he started, enunciating carefully, “I will kill you myself.”

She shuddered, but tried not to show it. “Yes…sir.” Her voice shook, she shook. She wasn’t sure whether to say she would never do it again and that she was sorry, or to just leave. She left.

Armin pulled himself tight under the covers, and lied back down. He felt like Ludger when he threatened the poor girl, but he wanted her out of his room. She didn’t belong in here. It wasn’t that Armin had anything to hide, certainly not. Nothing she could find use of, other than stealing this, or that, or the other that she might be able to use as currency with another Jew. She was to stay out at all times. Upon threat of death.

The shadow bounced from his dresser to the floor, and made inhuman figures. His dream was still clear in his mind. How couldn’t it be? It was only the fifth time he had had it. Armin sighed, and rolled away from the shadows.

The faces of the living, and the dead, haunted him in his sleep. Not anyone, though, more respectfully those he had killed. He wondered if Ludger managed to kill without this problem just fine. Probably. Ludger would kill even without an order to do so.

But death pressed itself to Armin’s mind. He was constantly reminded of those he had seen, starving to death or before he shot them, gassed them, what ever he happened to be working on at the time.

“For my country,” he whispered, “They deserve to be killed. They should already be dead. All of them.” He clenched his fist, not sure who he was angry at.

Armin’s fist went slack, and he tried to ignore anymore thoughts of death. He felt like blood was splashed on his face. He always felt like blood was splashed on his face. And maybe it was. Maybe an invisible pool of blood has been stirred up and splashed, allowing the mark of those he had killed to always be on him. Since the first shot, blood has always been on his face….

“Ludger would tell you you’re drinking too much….” With that comfort, yes, I have been drinking too much, he rolled over, with more of an effort to sleep.