Cheap Thrills (6 Thrilling reads) (28 page)

Chapter Fourteen

Thirty-four Hours Earlier

“S
o it’s just you and your brother?” Jerry asked as he sat slouched against the hard prison wall. He lit up a cigarette and handed one to Jacob. Jacob grabbed it and put it into his mouth quickly. His hands shook as he tried to stay conscious after the various beatings he had received that day.

Jerry could see how much pain he was in. He got up and moved closer. Jacob flinched, but Jerry calmed him down by chucking him his lighter. After a few seconds, Jacobs’s cigarette was alight after a few failed attempts. Jerry then grabbed the lighter and moved back to his corner. He sat there, staring at Jacob as he inhaled the cigarette.

“They say those things can kill you, you know?” Jerry said timidly. 

Both men stared at each other some more, and then burst out laughing. It was an uncontrollable laughter. A laughter that was contagious. It felt good to laugh; at least it did for Jacob. They then remained silent for a long while. Both had gone through half the pack before either of them spoke.

“You know I didn’t want to do this?” said Jerry, finally breaking the silence.

Jacob lit up another.

“Neither did I. I didn’t want to be the ‘Last Jew,’” he said.

“Well, according to what you told me, you aren’t the last Jew. Your brother Abel is.”

Jacob laughed.

“Maybe I said that so I wouldn’t be raped.”

The silence in the room returned.

“I wasn’t going to rape you,” Jerry finally said.

“Maybe, maybe not. It doesn’t matter,” said Jacob, still puffing on his smoke.

“I think it does matter. How the hell do you think I feel?”

Jacob smiled for the first time that day.

“Guilty, hence why you are letting me smoke your cigarettes.”

Jerry stood up, feeling angry.

“I don’t feel guilty. I know who I am and what I stand for. The thing is, I don’t agree with how we go about it, that’s all.”

“Oh, so you do admit you are a Nazi?”

“No, I am not a Nazi. I’m just an agent, doing his job,” Jerry said, sitting back down.

“And what job do you actually do, besides raping Jews?”

Jerry knew he was being tested. Jerry knew that Jacob was trying to get a rise out of him. It wasn’t working. Jerry wanted information. He wanted it for the right reasons. At least that was what he was telling himself.

“So your brother, where is he?”

Jacob remained silent for a long moment. “If I tell you, then I’m going to be killed, aren’t I?”

Jerry nodded. “Even if you don’t, you’ll be killed, Jacob. I can’t stop that from happening. They want you dead. That’s what they are going to get. The Reich always gets what it wants,” said Jerry, now standing back up, looking at the cracks in the cell floor.

“What do you want? What is it that you actually want, Jerry?”

“Information on your brother. Maybe I can spare him. Maybe I can hide him.”

“But they will kill you. If you try to spare my brother, they will kill you.”

Jerry paced the length of the cell for a while and then made his way to the door.

“They are going to kill me anyway. Either tomorrow, or the day after, you can bet your ass that they will kill me. Agent of the Reich or not. I disobeyed orders. I didn’t do what they wanted me to do. Before I die, I want to make sure I do something right, if it’s just something little. I want to do something right.”

Jerry walked out of the cell and shut the door. He bent down to slide the peering gap shut.

“Abel is in the trenches of Maryland. The dumping grounds. He’s safe there,” Jacob said, turning over and putting his head down as if he was about to go to sleep.

“He’ll be safer when I find him. I know people. People who can keep him safe. I promise, Jacob. I promise he’ll live.”

Jacob coughed. “Either way, I’ll be long dead before you find him. Let’s hope that in death I am still honored, and you’re not the type of man to break a promise, even if it is to a dead man.”

Chapter Fifteen

The Chase

W
e were being chased by helicopters. All sorts of machine gun fire was hitting the dirt as we passed it. The wheels were skimming bullets. It was a wonder that no bullets had yet hit any of us. We were in plain view. The back of the truck was wide open. The pilot and the gunner could see all of us heaped up in the back of the truck. They could see the look of terror in our eyes as we swayed from left to right, balancing out, getting ready for another onslaught of gunfire. Jerry was hanging on for dear life. He was angry and scared. I could see it in his eyes. He didn’t want this to happen. I could see he’d had a change of heart. It was obvious, really. What man would risk upsetting the Germans the way he just did?
A man who wasn’t afraid of dying
, that was for sure.

I saw Danni sitting on the rickety trailer floor. It was rusty and dusty. The specs of green paint that donned the truck’s exterior had found its way inside. It was a weird mesh of colors. A surreal mixture of reality. Sparks were bouncing off the sides of the truck. The helicopter was finding its mark. They managed to hit the truck a few times. Everyone in the back of the army vehicle crouched and ducked at the sound of the pinging gunfire.

“Fucking hell. We are going to die!” one of the rebels said as he hung on in terror.

“Man up! We need to figure this out. We need to get out of this alive,” Jerry said as he grabbed his AK-47.

He steadied himself as he got to his feet and balanced his legs as the truck went over some bumps. He took aim at the helicopter. He then fired a full magazine. I put my fingers into my ears, trying to muffle out the gunshots. It made no difference; I could still hear them.

I watched as the helicopter started to weave in and out, dodging each shot that Jerry had let out. Finally Jerry stopped firing his rifle. A look of defeat had washed over his dirty face. He looked beaten. I could tell that he thought we were all done for, as did the entire group. We knew that it was just a matter of time until we came to our demise. We couldn’t run from an army; it wasn’t possible. It just wasn’t realistic.

“Maybe we should pray?” said Danni, looking up at all of us huddled together as if we were struggling for body heat.

“Pray to whom exactly?” asked Jerry.

“Whoever is watching over us? I don’t know — let’s just pray,” she said, this time with a little more conviction.

I smiled at her. I thought it was fitting, really. When it came down to it, everyone feared death. Even Jerry. Even Danni. Even me. Well, especially me.

“I think it’s a good idea,” I said, trying to back her up. She gave me a warm look. I don’t know how to express what a warm look is, but it definitely made me feel warm, so I guess a warm look it was.

“Horseshit. We fucking mow these fuckers down. Sammy, where’s the launcher?” asked Jerry.

The guy he called Sammy looked nervous.

“We only have one rocket, and they are usually best suited for tanks, not moving helicopters, sir,” Sammy said.

At that moment, a hellfire of bullets had started to penetrate the back of the truck. One of the bullets hit Sammy in the leg. He let out a scream. The helicopter was firing 30mm auto-cannon rounds. They had modified it to fire at a rate of 3,000 rounds per minute. My guess was that they had an infinite stockpile up there, but I knew we would probably be dead before they ran out of ammo.

“Someone hand me the damn launcher,” Jerry shouted.

Within seconds, he had the RPG in his hand. He put it on his shoulder and aimed. Everyone in the truck hit the floor and scrunched themselves up into tight balls. I looked up at the helicopter, which was gaining on us. With every passing second, it got closer and closer, until all that remained was inches between us. It was then that Jerry fired the rocket. Half a second later, the rocket reached the helicopter. Milliseconds later, the helicopter exploded, leaving nothing but falling debris on the road behind us as we sped off.

Chapter Sixteen

Somewhere in Germany

C
indy Goldstein sat her daughter down on the park bench and lifted her summer dress up a little.

She could see the scrape on her daughter’s knee. It was confirmed by her little girls wailing. It wasn’t the loudest she’d ever heard her daughter scream, nor would it be the last time she heard her scream. She was used to her baby girl crying. When Daddy came home, both of them would have been used to crying. But that was then and this was now. It seemed as if both of them were paying for mistakes made by other people. That was partly the reason for the trip to the park. It was partly the reason for the pep talks that Mrs. Goldstein, now known as Cindy Stedt, gave her daughter.

“Everything will be fine, Mary-Lou. You’ll see. It’s just a little boo-boo. Nothing that will make your leg fall off!” she said, trying to interject some humor into the already humorless world they lived in.

“But I want Daddy!” the little girl said.

It made Cindy mad. It pissed her off something rotten, that her little girl would still scream out for her daddy, even after everything that man had done to them. It made her blood boil to the point that sometimes she felt like ending it all.

She used to be a woman of resolve, but now she felt as if all she had was empty promises of safety and a peaceful life. After all, it was her duty to provide such things as a mother. It was only her and Mary-Lou, not counting the daddy, who most of the time was away. That was why she was at the park.

“Daddy is at work, Mary-Lou. He won’t be able to see you until he comes back, which won’t be for a long time,” she said, trying to cover up her creaking vocal chords.

“Where are we going, Mommy?” the little girl asked, wiping the tears away from her face.

“Somewhere far away. Someplace where we can feed the ducks and maybe even get a dog. Someplace where we will be safe,” Cindy said, tears welling up and falling down her face.

“But we can feed the ducks here,” Mary-Lou said.

“Yes, but these ducks aren’t any good. They are troubled. They have no morals. The ducks where I’m taking you are kind and caring,” she said.

She held out her hand, smiling down at her daughter.

Mary-Lou smiled back.

She had already forgotten about her knee. She had forgotten how her mother had dragged her out of bed in a hurry. She had forgotten about tripping over her bedside table and scraping her knee. Her mother hadn’t forgotten. It was all that was on her mind. It played back, constantly, for what seemed like every waking second. She could never forget what she’d done. It wasn’t in her to forget such things. Maybe, with time and its passing, maybe she could forget. But the constant look of heartbreak in her young daughter’s eyes would always remind her of that day.

“You ready, dear?” she asked, still holding her hand out.

“Yes, Mommy. Let’s go and see the new duckies,” she said, a youthful innocence about herself.

Cindy gently lifted Mary-Lou off the bench and plunked her on the ground. She grabbed the two suitcases lined up behind her and made her way out of the park toward the train station down the road. She stopped abruptly and took one last glance at the town she had called home ever since she’d gotten married. A tear rolled down her face as she said goodbye in her own way. She then carried on down the road, hand in hand with her bubbly little girl, Mary-Lou.

Chapter Seventeen

The Getaway Truck

I
must admit, the sight of blood was something I thought I was getting used to. Just a few days ago, I would feel faint at the slightest scent of blood. Now it seemed I had gotten used to it. I supposed watching your brother being torn to pieces will make you de-sensitized to certain “flesh wounds.”

Lying on the floor of the moving truck was Sammy, one of the rebels. He was gasping for air like he had been hit in the chest. I was surveying him. I was tasked with keeping him calm while Jerry patched him up. He only had a
flesh wound
to his leg. A piece of shrapnel must have hit him, because if one of those 30mm auto-cannon shells had hit his leg, he would be legless. He was lucky, really. We all were, if I’m going to be honest.

The truck had received quite a beating. Holes were punctured through the armored material the back of the army truck was made from. We could see daylight piercing through the holes. I could see a stream, some trees, and a whole lot of mountains. Maybe the driver thought that going deeper into the sticks would make it harder for the pursuing army that would most likely follow us after that escapade at the compound.

The tree line and mountain ridges were a near salvation in my already troubled heart. I immediately felt that maybe we would have a chance now that we were moving into hard terrain. I thought that the bumpy roads and hilly inclines we were passing would make it difficult for the pursuing Germans. I mean, there was no way they would be able to get tanks up these hills. They were littered with all sorts of rocks and streams, making it hard for even our wheels to fit through the crevices. I suppose my ignorance was the only thing keeping me from going into even more of a panic.

“We should be safe now, right?” I said aloud, not really asking anyone in particular, just stating the thought process that was running at a hundred miles an hour through my head.

“‘Safe’ isn’t the word I would use to describe our situation, my boy,” said Jerry as he continued to patch Sammy up.

“My fucking leg, man. It kills!” Sammy cried out.

“So what words would you use to describe our situation, then?” I asked.

For a long moment there was silence.

“Fucked. That’s how I would describe our situation.”

“At least you’re honest,” said Danni.

“I’m always honest,” said Jerry, in a self-assuring tone.

“Are you, now?” asked Sammy, who was still reeling on the floor.

The comment shocked Jerry. He had a look of discontent on his face. The type of look a guilty person might have when harboring certain feelings.

“I am as honest as the next man,” stated Jerry as he continued to wrap a bandage around Sammy’s destroyed leg.

“So why did the Germans act like they knew you? What was all the whispering about? You reckon we didn’t see that, man? You reckon your boys in the bushes didn’t hear you trying to curry favor with them? I know I heard it. I know Danni and the Jew must’ve heard it, too, because they were standing right there, in an earshot’s distance. What are you playing at, Jerry? Who are you really? Because I’m starting to doubt whether or not you are one of us,” said Sammy, still wincing with every spoken word as Jerry seemed to react to his allegations by tightening his grip while administrating first aid.

There was another bit of long silence.

The truck continued to hurtle its way up the road, the suspension bouncing with every turn of the wheel. It was making it difficult to keep my balance, even when seated. I was too engrossed in the facial expressions of the rest of the rebels to even notice what Jerry was about to do.

At first I didn’t see it, but I certainly heard it. A loud ringing gunshot went off in the back of the truck. Everyone winced and screwed up their faces at the sudden outburst of violence. Everyone but Jerry. He was the one holding the gun, and it was being pointed in the direction of the now very dead Sammy. A bullet in the head was what killed Sammy, but many in that truck would say that it was his mouth that killed him.
His big
,
fucking-ridiculously
loud mouth
.

He just had to go and ruin the plan. Danni and I were on the case; it was covert enough to buy us some time, but no, hero Sammy had to ruin the day. Granted, I had just met the guy, and he did actually save my life. Mine and Danni’s, let’s not forget. Not to mention he also bailed Jerry out. He saved all of us, and now he was dead on the truck floor, brains leaking out of his head, a stupid look on his face. And standing over him was the now very pissed off and very un-rebel Jerry. He was a man in a predicament. He had just killed a rebel and blown his cover. He knew that Sammy wasn’t the only one who knew. Besides, it was kind of obvious now, seeing he had just murdered Sammy right in front of us.

“You are going to let me off this damn truck right now, or I’ll take a few of you down with me before you can even raise one of your guns,” said Jerry, pointing his pistol at the stunned rebels.

Jerry had his back to the wall of the truck; he was facing the open slit through which we’d entered. The rebels, on the other hand, were facing him, with their backs to the slit. It was him against them. Jerry would have to get through a bunch of them before he was able to make it to the slit, roll out of the truck, and make it for the hills. But even that was a bad idea. As soon as Jerry had chucked himself out of the truck, he would probably be fired upon by the rebels, and there wasn’t much cover in these open, rocky roads.

“Bad move,
puta
,” said one of the rebels with a Spanish accent.

“I said, fucking get out of the way, or I’ll blow you all to hell,” said Jerry.

I felt his stare bore into my soul. He looked at me as if I was his ticket out of there. It was then that my doubts about him escaping this very dangerous situation were alleviated and put to rest.

“Get up, Jew, or I’ll shoot you in the head,” he said to my surprise. 

I immediately stood up, my knees buckling along with the bumpy suspension.

“Now, you listen here, and you listen good. I’m taking the Jew. He’s mine. If you want him to live and none of you to die, then I suggest you get the fuck out of my way!”

“You better know what the fuck you are doing, Jerry. We will come for you, and when we find you, we will skin you and the fucking Jew!” the Spanish-sounding rebel said.

I was scared. I mean, what the hell had I done to deserve being skinned?

“Get out of the fucking way!” Jerry shouted.

Suddenly they complied.

A few of them shifted their weight and crammed up against the wall of the moving truck, making way for Jerry. I was standing in the middle, rebels at both my sides, a madman in front of me.

Jerry pointed his gun and gestured with it.

“You first, Jew,” he said.

I looked at him and then to where he gestured. He wanted me to jump first.

“What? No way, no fucking way,” I said.

Suddenly he leapt forward and tackled me.

We both went flying out of the slit and tumbled onto the hard rocky road. Luckily, neither of us hit any of the rocks, or we would probably be dead. We landed hard on some marshland right next to river.

The landing was softer than on concrete or dirt, but it didn’t feel any better. I tried to catch my breath as I looked up at the fading light in the sky. I heard the wheels of the truck in the distance screech to a stop. I turned my head and saw a barrage of rebels exiting the van. Before I could even say anything, Jerry had grabbed me and yanked me up on my feet.

“If you want to live, I’d fucking run,” he said as he ran off the road and up the mountain face.