⚠️Warning: This chapter contains historical references and dialogues related to the horrors of World War II and the Holocaust. Remember that everything narrated is fiction, and the author does not intend to offend any victim of this tragedy; discretion is advised for the reader.
The only thing I feel sometimes is the cold. The other day, I couldn't stop shivering. I saw one of my companions get shot. They moved me to another camp. Dr. Weill told me he didn't want to see me because of everything that happened with Élodie. Honestly, I didn't want to leave the medical block. Where was I supposed… to do something? Was I just supposed to saturate? No… don't get distracted, or you'll end up on the ground. What was I thinking?
At that moment, an SS soldier shouted:"Line up!"
His body moved on its own. With the little strength he had left:"March! In line! Orderly! Run!"
As his body moved, he had to keep his hands on his head. He knew they would hit his legs, but he still had to protect his head. Because the last time they hit him, they almost executed him for not standing up, thinking he was sick, if it hadn't been for an adult who lifted him, saying:"Stand up, boy! Stand up!"
Nuriel was lost in his thoughts. His inner world was perhaps the only thing keeping him sane, carried along in the cold. He felt that the only things that could give him warmth were three: the urine running down his legs while he was on the ice, his mouth, which was perhaps the only thing that could give the sensation of warming his hands, and the wood he leaned on, to simulate an imaginary blanket.
All he thought was that maybe this was too much for a young boy. In his mind, only the following existed:Dr. Weill, Élodie.
He tried to hold back tears under the endless sigh of cold. However, with the pickaxe he held in his arms, he only let it fall by its own weight, avoiding fatigue.
We are in Buchenwald, 1945, March 25.
At that moment, very close to the camp, deep in the surrounding forest, it sounded as if a man were trying to scream but couldn't, because the object stuffed in his mouth prevented him from calling for help. Tied to a tree, seeing that his foot had another hole, he felt terror from the man holding the dagger, his face cold as if reflecting the past—it was Galton.
"Tell me, you damn German scum. You're going to tell me how to get into that place, or your eye will see colors, from blood or heat."
However, the capo, who only patrolled the outer part of the camp, did nothing but spit at him after removing the rag from his mouth, in disdain for his Jewish ethnicity.
Seeing such a reaction, Galton grabbed him by the neck, placing the dagger on the searing red, and said:"You know what? You're starting to tire me. The only reason I haven't gone into that damn camp to destroy it is that the stupid Cherub tells me that if I force my way in, they'll kill me. Because I'm not bulletproof. So I'll make it very simple and easy. Do you think I don't know what they've been doing to these people, not just Jews, huh?"
Galton put the rag back in the capo's mouth with a stick and said:"Listen. I think you and I have a lot in common. You hate my people, and I hate yours. So, as a way of showing you my love, my dagger will kiss your eye. I won't need anything from you. Don't worry. I think your uniform will be more than enough for me to investigate on my own."
After this, all that was heard was the scream of a man, watching with his left eye as his right eye fell out through the living red flesh pierced by metal. The man fainted.
Adelaida was tied outside the hideout, not knowing what the hell was happening. She saw Galton wearing a German uniform and asked:"What? Now you're taking patriotism for my people? You know you're Jewish, right? Even if you try to look like a German, you won't pass for one."
"Shut up," Galton answered. "The only thing that matters now is getting that boy out. We can't waste any more time."
"Can we?…You might say—Because, as I said before, this isn't how you treat a lady. You brought me here. You took me from my home. And all you did was give me rabbits."
"Listen, Jew. You…"
"Girl, shut up. I'm not here for your stupid patriotism. In fact, what I have to do now is investigate the place. And you'll stay here. So I'm going to hunt a single rabbit for you, and I hope you make it last. Because frankly, there's nothing else I can give you besides rabbits. It's not like I can show my face anywhere in this shitty country."
They were near a farm. Galton noticed because he smelled manure. Adelaida just kept saying she didn't want to eat rabbits again while insulting him.
Galton went to the nearest farm, noticed it was empty, stole a small pig, and brought it back to the hideout. Adelaida was horrified, as he didn't even have the decency to slaughter the animal at the farm.
"Here, girl. Put this thing on the coals. Just for your hunger. I'm in a hurry. That place is a camp. It's a concentration camp. If the Lightning Saint is just a boy, he could die any day. I don't know what would be better. Destroy the camp and take the boy? Or just take the boy and destroy the camp? Frankly, deep down I feel this isn't right."
Adelaida, disgusted by the scene, felt like vomiting.
"You don't know how to treat a lady, huh?"
"That's all you're getting, girl. Enough for 3 days, maybe 5 if you make it last. I have to go to that place and see how to get in without being discovered."
"What thing?"
"The camp. 'There is the Lightning Saint; that's why I captured the Nazi. So don't go to the tree where the soldier is tied. Don't go, unless you want to see a thirty-year-old man naked. Listen carefully, girl: start the fire at night, not during the day. No need for a big setup. Dig a hole, place the stones, put the pig there, and cover it with leaves and dirt so the smoke isn't too visible and doesn't attract attention. Don't lure a soldier or summon a troop. This place could fill up—there could be soldiers at any moment."
"What? I didn't hear you. All I heard is that I'm just making smoke and they'll find me. I think I'd rather that. Don't you get that I don't want to be here?"
After that, Galton knocked her out with a single blow, saying:"Well, then that's going to be a problem. I'd rather you stay asleep while I go back."
"Galton entered the camp. Despite the uniform, he didn't look like an SS soldier; his face gave him away, and the jacket, too loose for him, accentuated the imposture even more."
"My God, how can men move in this? And what are these things? I mean, I know they're boots, but they're way too tight. I still don't even know how to put them on," Galton thought.
"He then approached the left perimeter, heading toward one of the watchtowers. He discovered that the camp had twenty-two towers, and the guards watched both the inside and the outside. He spent the whole day inspecting the area from every angle, even trying to imitate the soldiers patrolling around."
"All right. Calm down, Galton. You've done this before; it's simple. Just like in the underground fortresses of Yunann—where not just anyone could enter—pretend you're a soldier and patrol the perimeter. Walk three laps to measure the length, width, and perimeter of the camp; that way, you'll identify courtyards and hiding spots. On the second day, you go in to look for blind spots. That's it."
"However, Galton was nervous. Despite being immortal, he didn't possess divine invulnerability. The last time he faced an SS soldier, a bullet grazed his leg. He knew well the power of those weapons and how, in just a few years, they had ended the lives of thousands of civilians."
"What's wrong with humanity? Over the years, did we make weapons that make us more cowardly when it comes to killing?" he spoke to himself.
On the first day of circling the camp's perimeter, he noticed several things. An SS soldier saw him and said:"Your face is weird, man."
"If you don't like my face, then look the other way," Galton replied.
The soldier laughed but didn't take it seriously. Still, he couldn't help raising an eyebrow at the man's features, because he had a beard. When he was about to ask his name, the man had already disappeared. He didn't report anything, thinking it might have been a misunderstanding. But reflecting on his features, he realized the man could be a spy or a non-German soldier in disguise.
Returning to the hideout, he saw that the pig leg he had left had cooked while Adelaida slept. So he sat down and said:"Brat, wake up."
The girl woke and said:"My head and shoulders hurt."
This was because Galton hadn't even bothered to let her sit.
"Is it night already?""Yes, it's night, girl."
Galton was frustrated because he realized that, even though the place didn't seem complicated to enter, just by checking the entrance, he understood his terrible mistake. He saw the concentration camps in the distance but had never entered any. Buchenwald was an area full of armed soldiers, with order and precision that scared him, and there were towers almost everywhere in the camp. He had no idea how to get Nuriel out without being detected, because if he was spotted, they could shoot him or shoot the Saint, killing him before even reaching the gate. Also, his Jewish features had already raised suspicions.
"I don't understand… I mean, I get that you want to get him out. But he's a Jew… Well, I guess Jews help each other, right? Are you telling me that the God of creation chose a Jew, imprisoned in a concentration camp, to be the Lightning Saint? Is that what you're trying to tell me? Because ever since you got me out of Berlin, you haven't said anything else."
"Girl, shut up, please. I'm trying to think."
"Mm, I think things aren't going well for you this time. Look, it's not that I want to help you, but I don't think knocking out the only soldier who might have helped you get in was the best idea."
"I don't understand any of this. I know about war, but the war from a thousand years ago. Not this one. These things… they throw little metal stones that make holes in flesh. And their tactics are organized, though crude. Since I arrived on this continent, I haven't stopped seeing those metallic birds in the sky; they seem from another world."
"They're called planes, maybe you mean the Messerschmitt Bf 109.""And some metal boxes that moved by themselves.""You mean Panthers, or maybe Tigers.""Not to mention the thousands of troops they had.""You mean a battalion? Or maybe a unit division.""Those things behind them that shoot metal stones…""Karabiner 98k, or maybe an MP40."
"Girl, shut up, say something smarter!""I don't care. I just want to finish my pig leg and see if I can run. Although, thinking about it, with how fast you are, I'll probably give up on the first try."
"If my survival depends on you capturing, kidnapping, or whatever the person inside, I'll just tell you this: I don't know much about camps. It wasn't a topic that interested me when they mentioned it in the newspapers or on the radio. I frankly disliked it."
"And from the little I know, I can say one thing: I know very little. The Jews exploit them and exterminate them with punishments. Tell me: how are you going to find a Jew among so many? How are you going to know who the Saint is, to begin with?"
"I have a skill the angels gave me. I know who the Saint is. Just by looking from a distance: the eyes God gave me catch a slight glow that emanates from the marked person. That's how I found you. What, you think I was spying on you for days? No. I wandered Berlin like a fool until I saw a glow in a woman and instantly knew you were the Wind Saint."
"Ah, sure, a glow. What kind of explanation is that?" she said. "I know I'm pretty, but I'm not made of glass."
While they debated, the cherub appeared in front of them and asked:"Tell me, Galton: did you find out how to get the boy out?"
"I found out nothing," Galton replied. "I only discovered that the camp is guarded by hundreds of guards. I don't know how to enter without being detected. Before, I didn't worry about this; people back then used arrows or swords. But these modern weapons make everything complicated. It's the first time I have no idea how to get in."
"I don't know if you're going to try some tactic or if you'll give up," the cherub said.
"What are you talking about?" Galton asked.
"The boy," the cherub said, "this is his last night in Buchenwald. Tomorrow they'll select him to transfer him to a munitions factory called Mittelbau-Dora. If they take him there, you won't be able to get him out until the war ends. The chances of Nuriel surviving are very low. He's sick; he will fall tomorrow, either morning or afternoon, but he won't make it past that day."
Hearing the angel's prediction, Galton headed back to Buchenwald hoping to enter. He realized that even at night, the camp was more guarded than during the day. He spent four hours in the freezing night, observing until dawn, trying to understand how they would transport the Jews to the factory.
Nuriel woke at the guards' orders: one with a notebook, another organizing lines, and another watching the gate. They selected who would go to the factory. As the angel had said, Nuriel was chosen. They ordered them, line by line, to pair up the prisoners and take them out of Buchenwald.
By decision of the administrators, they would not use the railway: resources were lacking. Instead, they would patrol on foot, lining up a guard every fifteen meters, with dogs and horses to watch for any escape attempts. They marched out.
It was then that Galton understood, with bitter certainty, that even in this era, the art of parading prisoners as an excuse to kill them was a tradition in all tyrannies. He began analyzing the situation in a low voice:"I'm fast, but not fast enough to dodge bullets," he told himself. "I have to wait for Nuriel to exit the forest and catch him in the first meadow. If I try to get him at the camp entrance or in the middle of the forest, carrying two people—Adelaida and Nuriel—would leave me vulnerable. If I get injured, both are in danger. And I can't transfer the gift of creation yet: I already gave it to Adelaida, but giving it to Nuriel during the abduction isn't viable; besides, he's sick. Immortality might not cure what he suffers from; a baby adapts, a sick person might retain their illness forever."
"Sir," someone asked, "is Germany going to be the judge of Israel? Or are they judging us through Germany?"
Nuriel walked among the rows, looking forward. He tried to focus, but his body betrayed his will: he was malnourished, dehydrated, and dissociated. As he exited the forest, his mind, in a final effort to cling to the present, projected memories of Auschwitz and the reasons that still gave him a desire to keep living.
"Tell me, Nuriel, what was the book you liked most when you were in Poland?""I liked Pan Kleks, by Jan Brzechwa. A lot.""I don't know much about the Polish, but I think I could like them. You're a very adorable boy, Nuriel. Help me hold the patient, okay?""Yes, Miss Élodie."
He remembered how happy Miss Élodie made him feel. I like Miss Élodie… she gives me a reason to keep… keep… keep going…
Suddenly Nuriel collapsed from weakness. The SS guard dog sniffed him. A soldier approached. The other Jews tried to encourage him, but no one saw a reason anymore. Upon inspecting him, the soldier decided he wouldn't survive: he raised the dagger and pressed it to his throat, ready to cut. Then a shadow intervened, pushing the dagger aside. The soldier, surprised by the man's strength, was shoved back; the dog received a kick. The man grabbed the child and, with a desperate leap, launched into the forest.
"Boy, you had to faint right now. This didn't go as planned."
Three guards saw the man fleeing with the Jew. Seeing how fast he was, they released the dogs and began shooting from a distance.
"Damn it… Run, run!"
Galton carefully placed the child on the grass and thought quietly: these dogs are trained to torture prisoners. I noticed it when they exited Buchenwald. They're tracking dogs: if I don't immobilize or kill them, they'll follow the trail to Adelaida and to the soldier I extorted.
Of the five dogs sent, four reached him. One bit his leg; a punch left it immobile. Another was slammed against a tree; the last two had their legs dislocated. The soldiers ran toward the place where the dogs were; the last one was still sniffing among the bodies. Galton held Nuriel, but when he lifted him, he realized he had a hole in his shoulder; one of the bullets had hit him. Knowing he had little time left, he returned to the camp. The camp alarms sounded: they had realized a soldier had been missing for a day and a half.
Galton arrived at the camp wounded, limping, but still able to move.
"Adelaida, we have to leave now.""What's wrong? Why are you so nervous?"
Voices of soldiers could be heard:"There's a fugitive! We have to capture him!"
"Girl, don't ask! Stop asking. I have the Lightning Saint. We have to go."
At that moment, the SS soldier they had left tied to the tree, with one good eye, managed to free himself. He saw that Galton had made a mistake: he had left his pistol. When Galton went on patrol, he had only carried the rifle. The soldier, aiming, said:"Calm down, I'm an SS Sturmmann. By your features, you seem civilian. Stay there."
Aiming at Galton, who carried Nuriel, Galton replied:"I haven't been very kind to you, lower the weapon… Or I'll have to kill you."
On impulse, he let go of Nuriel to prevent the soldier from shooting him. In reaction, the soldier shot Galton in the leg and in the rib, without hitting the lung. For a second, he felt death brush past him. With a reactive push, he subdued the soldier: he got on his knees over his shoulders and hit him in fear, without measuring the force. Three blows were enough to knock him down, but Galton kept hitting, throwing each strike violently out of panic.
"Damn you!! Son of a bitch!, son of a bitch!"
By the second blow, the soldier was already dead; however, Galton continued until nothing remained of the man.
Nuriel woke; he could only see a man breaking a soldier's skull. He was terrified seeing this; he felt cold thinking that the man who got him out of the camp might not be his savior.
Troops were heard shouting:"There's someone here!"
Galton, very afraid, held the girl and Nuriel. Wounded, he could still run, but the bullet wounds slowed him. With a burst of effort, he ran, as his life depended on it.
Meanwhile, Kamei-san had decided to move away from Volgograd to guarantee Dánae's safety. He was near the Don River, in a quiet area, where the water flowed calmly. The current was gentle, ideal for moving without attracting the enemy troops' attention.
"All right, girl. I know you're very cold, but this is worth it. You haven't bathed in a long time, and I'm really sorry. I don't like carrying dirty girls."
Kamei-san was analyzing the situation: Elton Lake is a vast salt lake in the Volgograd Oblast. The lake is shallow; its size and isolation make it strategic. Should I go around it or cross it on an improvised raft?
"Do I really have to bathe? Honestly, I'm fine as I am."
"No, girl. I have your change of clothes here. I won't let you continue wearing those dirty rags. You're going to behave like a young lady, understand?"
"All right, but in exchange for this, I want a chocolate…"
However, an angel appeared to them:
"Kami-san, you have to go quickly, east. Galton already has the Wind Saint and the Lightning Saint. Don't worry about Galton. He already has both saints and should be heading to Vermot now. But unlike you, he goes north and you go south, toward the east. Both of you will have to cross the sea. Be careful and hurry; there are troops coming from both directions, and carrying a girl in your arms is dangerous."
"Thank you very much. Dánae, let's go.""Yes, finally you're going to dry me off, it's cold… Can I still claim my chocolate, right?"
On the other side of Germany, Galton managed to bring the boys to a safe place. They were under a structure, a house collapsed by bombings. They hid as they saw one of the nearby cities being bombed.
Galton finally said:"I've truly captured saints before, I've been in wars and battlefields, but I've never seen anything like this. This is truly hell. Now I understand why God wants us to live only a hundred years. Frankly, I can't bear knowing I've lived two thousand years."
Nuriel looked at him with doubt but said nothing. Despite being rescued, he was too scared to speak.
"I don't understand anything. Frankly, this place is wet, cold, and on top of that, hard.""Because there's nothing to sleep on."
"Girl, all you do is complain. Can you stop complaining!""I won't stop complaining; I didn't ask for any of this; I wouldn't complain if it were my fault.""I didn't ask for any of this either. I didn't select you. It doesn't seem to me that you are the saints God has chosen, but I simply have no choice. This time I'm going to see how true it is that God chooses the saints.""But that's what you decided. Besides, we don't even know where you're taking us. It seems like you don't know either.""Of course I know, girl. I have to take you to the other continent; you know it as America.""America?""Yes. Within its forests is a confined sub-forest, a plane that I've restricted; no one can enter or leave unless they have spiritual knowledge, perfect for hiding from the wars.""Of all the places you could hide something like that, it had to be America?""Yes, three hundred years ago that place belonged to no one; there were only communities, but I never imagined it would become an overpopulated continent. Yes, girl. We have to go to Vermot; we are going to America."