EXOSKELETON II: Tympanum (42 page)

2

Friday, 12 June (2:43 p.m. EST)

Will sat at a large table in a room stacked with boxes and crates filled with books, files, and artifacts taken from the Nazi base. The smell of old books and light perfume brought back memories of college, studying physics in the stacks of the library with his girlfriend.

Daniel and Sylvia left to check on Horace. His condition was gradually deteriorating.

Denise sat across the table from Will and read files through black-framed glasses.

In a just over a day he’d gotten up to speed on Red Falconˈs history and the Nazi base in Antarctica. His quick learning was thanks to Daniel’s work; he’d compiled all of the important information into a detailed report. At first he thought it would be dry, factual reading. But it wasn’t. The subject material was either too interesting or too disturbing to be boring.

Although it sickened him, he found the development of Red Falcon fascinating. Red Wraith had only picked up on the separation aspect of the research. They’d missed the White Stone, the secret base, and, most importantly, the beacon. That the Americans had missed the true objective was a testament to the Nazis’ ability to keep a secret. In the end, World War II, the Holocaust, the Nazi obsession with the occult and historic artifacts, and ODESSA, an acronym that stood for the organization of former SS members – were all connected to Red Falcon. They may even have occurred
because
of Red Falcon and, therefore, the beacon was the underlying cause of all of it. It was a dark, concealed thread of history that might never have been revealed had the beacon remained silent.

Only a few of the highest-ranking Nazis were fully vested in Red Falcon. The short list included Adolf Hitler, Hermann Göring, Joseph Goebbels, Heinrich Himmler, Wilhelm Canaris of German intelligence, and, of course, Dr. Josef Mengele – the monster responsible for the “hands-on” work. There were others who had participated in various arms of the project – the concentration camps, for instance – but they were oblivious to the full picture.

Will was surprised to learn that the allies had been aware of ODESSA well before the war had ended. The network was set up by the German SS to facilitate the escape of upper-echelon Nazis to, among other places, South America. However, even though they’d known about ODESSA, the allies seemed to have no idea about the Antarctic base. It was clear that Mengele had used the ODESSA rat path to escape to Argentina, and then to the base. He’d been sighted later in other South American countries until he’d finally died in Brazil in 1979, well after he’d carried out his hideous work and the base had been abandoned.

Denise sighed loudly, slapped a file on the table, and took a drink from her mug. She looked up and her dark eyes met Will’s. “Can I ask you something?” she said.

“Shoot.”

She hesitated, started to speak, and then stopped again.

“You want to know if I can really do it – separate,” he said before she could speak. He knew that if it wasn’t the specific question she hand in mind, it was in her mind somewhere. He’d wanted her to ask him about it.

“I do,” she admitted. “But if you don’t feel comfortable – ”

“If I can’t feel comfortable with you, then who? Why didn’t you ask me long ago – right after I got out of the Red Box?” he asked and put down the file he’d been reading. He leaned forward and put his elbows on the table.

“I didn’t want to pry – embarrass you.”

He understood, and even appreciated the courtesy even though it implied disbelief. “The answer is yes, I can separate.”

She nodded in a way that seemed that the answer didn’t satisfy her.

“You need evidence,” he said. “What do you want me to do?”

“What do you mean?”

“I can separate right now and prove it to you.”

“No, you don’t have to.”

“Okay,” he said and shrugged. He picked up the file and feigned reading. He knew if the roles were reversed that he’d want proof. He felt her eyes on him as he waited.

“What could you do?” she asked after a full minute of silence.

He slapped the file back on the table. He didn’t want to do anything that might frighten her. “How about this,” he said. “Write something on a piece of paper and hold it so I can’t see it. You can’t fold it or anything – that won’t work. If you can see it, I can see it.”

She looked at him with skepticism. “Okay,” she said as she grabbed her notebook from the table and put it on her lap, completely out of his view, and wrote something on it.

“Ready?” he asked.

She nodded.

He sat back in his chair and relaxed, concentrated, and separated. He rose out of his body, above the table, and curled over to her side, read the words, and returned.

He opened his eyes, straightened up his body, and looked into her eyes.

“Well?” she asked.

“Who is
Carmen Davis
?” he asked.

Her expression evolved quickly from surprise to fear. “An alias I use sometimes,” she replied.

“You’re not going to freak out on me now, are you?”

She squinted her eyes. “That wasn’t a trick of some sort, was it?”

He was ready for the reaction – the same he’d have under the circumstances. “I need to do something more drastic,” he said. “What can I do to convince you?”

“Move something,” she said.

He grabbed a book from the right side of the table and set it in front of her. “That’s it?” “Very funny. You know what I mean.”

He closed his eyes and separated. He lifted the book about two feet and let it drop. He returned to his body as it hit the table with a thud.

Denise leaned away from the table. A tear rolled down her cheek.

He reached across and grabbed her hand. “Hey,” he said softly. “I thought you knew what all of this was about.” It was a statement and a question.

She nodded. “I know … I heard about it,” she explained. “It’s different when you see it happening in front of you.” She laughed and wiped a tear from her cheek with her free hand.

“The world is a different place now with that experience – actually seeing it – isn’t it?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Knowing what we’re capable of,” he said. It was something he’d thought about often. “I don’t think it’s a bad thing – to know. It’s a new facet of our existence.”

“What’s it like?”

“Being separated?”

She nodded.

He had to think. It was something he’d never had to put into words.

“Is it like a dream?”

“No – not like my dreams anyway,” he replied. “Mine are foggy, smeared. When I’m separated, it’s the opposite; extreme clarity – details beyond imagination. Like when I look at the stars, I see everything as if I’m looking through a high-powered telescope. And the more I focus, the more I see. But it’s so much more than that. It’s as if the center of my consciousness – all of my senses – can move about without restriction.”

“And you can move things,” Denise said.

He nodded. “Yes – interact with them, or pass through them. I needed to do both to get inside the beacon and turn the switch.”

“Do it again,” she said, “the book.”

“Why?”

“I want to see something.”

He shrugged. “Okay.”

He separated and lifted the book, but this time Denise grabbed it and tried to pull it down with one hand. He pulled a little harder, and she responded by grabbing it with both hands. He pulled a little harder and her arms stretched upward, straining. He was about to ease his tug when motion to his right caught his attention. There was something there – like a shadow, partially concealed behind the stacks of boxes and crates.

Will moved toward the crates, releasing the book, which slapped hard on the table. Denise said something, but he paid no attention. He moved to a stack on the far wall and peered around one corner. There it was, between the crates and the wall, crouching. It was dark, and had human-like features. It looked at him, and he felt as if its eyes were those of death itself. It jerked with claw-like hands to see if he’d flinch. It was trying to determine if he could see it.

Will remained still, but it suddenly lurched at him like a cornered cat.

The amorphous face then formed into the most hideous thing Will had ever seen – misshapen features, jagged fangs, large black eyes that seemed to be nothing but holes. And then it hissed; Will thought he could smell its rotten breath. The thing let out a ghastly screech and charged at him.

Will fled to the ceiling to avoid the advance. It chased him through the walls and down through the floor. An instant later, he was back in his body with the sensation of falling.

He hit the floor hard, his head just skimming the wall behind him. He’d fallen backwards in his chair. He stood up and Denise stared at him from across the table with a bewildered expression.

“What happened?” she asked.

“What the hell is in there?” he said, pointing at the stacks. He stood and moved to the crates. Denise followed.

“What is it?” she asked, shaken.

He opened boxes and then set them aside so that he could get to the next one on the stack. After he’d searched a half-dozen of them, Denise grabbed his shirtsleeve.

“What are you looking for?”

“They brought more back from the base than just files and books,” Will said. “There’s something else.”

Denise nodded. “Yes, they brought the White Stone, a map, and … oh my God …”

She moved boxes around until she isolated two wooden crates, one larger and flat, about the size of small, square coffee table. The other was smaller, about the size of a microwave oven. “This must be it,” she said, pointing to the smaller one.

Will’s nerves tingled. He sensed the presence of thing that had chased him. He knew what it was – he’d seen one before, in the Red Box. It was a wraith. He dragged the crate out from the stacks. “What is this?”

Now pale with fright, she said in a shaky voice, “How could you have known that that was there?”

He grabbed her arm. “What is it, Denise?”

She shook her head in disbelief. “Daniel and Sylvia told us about it …” she stopped mid-sentence.

“Denise, please,” he said softly and released her arm.

“It’s an urn,” she said. “A cremated body.”

“Whose?” he asked.

She took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes. “Those are the ashes of Adolf Hitler.”

3

Friday, 12 June (4:00 p.m. EST)

Daniel and Sylvia met Will and Denise in the mess hall. They sat at a table in the corner.

“Where’s Jonathan?” Will asked Denise.

“In his quarters,” she answered. “He’s been inundated with phone calls – Foundation business.”

“How’s Horace?” Will asked.

Daniel and Sylvia glanced at each other. Sylvia answered. “Not well.”

“Do they know what’s wrong?” Denise asked.

Daniel shook his head. “His condition is worsening.”

Will was concerned for the man, but his mind badgered him with other things. “How do you know those are Hitler’s ashes are in the urn?” he asked Daniel.

“Keep it down,” Daniel responded, cringing. “We don’t need the whole world to know.” He removed a bag of tea from his cup, squeezed out the last bit of water between his finger and a spoon, and put it on a plate. “His name was etched on the urn, and Mengele mentioned it in his notebooks.”

“Whether or not they’re his,” Will said, “something’s attached to them.”

“What do you mean?” Daniel asked.

“The owner of those ashes came with them,” Will said.

Sylvia swallowed hard. “I knew there was something about the urn – ”

“Are you saying you can see ghosts?” Daniel asked.

Will couldn’t tell if Daniel was scoffing or genuinely surprised. “I wouldn’t call it a ghost,” he said. “I’d call it a wraith, or a soul. And yes, I saw one when I was in the Red Box.”

Daniel shifted in his seat. “I’m still not clear on what separation is exactly,” he said.

“I’m not either,” Will said. “But other than moving through walls and interacting with the physical world, I can see other …
entities
… when I’m separated.”

Everyone remained silent.

“It was of a man who’d died in a nearby room – the one I saw in the Red Box,” Will continued. “It was angry. It was a wraith.”

“Hence the name, Red Wraith,” Sylvia said.

“And I just saw one back in that room,” Will said. “If those are Hitler’s ashes in that urn, then I can only conclude that – ”

“You just saw Hitler’s ghost – uh,
soul
,” Sylvia finished his statement.

“The Nazis had a side project,” Daniel explained. “They tried to reincarnate Hitler by providing a soulless body for him to occupy.”

“It was Hitler’s planned escape out of Germany,” Will offered. “He shoots himself, the body gets cremated, they take the ashes away – Hitler’s soul hanging on tightly – and they try to free up another body for him to possess.”

“It’s beyond science fiction – it’s
horror
,” Daniel said. “And I’d think you were bat-shit crazy for even suggesting it if I didn’t know what else has been going on.”

“I felt ill at the base when I was near the urn,” Sylvia said. “Was I sensing his presence?”

Will shrugged. “Could be,” he said.

“We could dump his ashes overboard,” Sylvia said.

Daniel shook his head. “No.”

“Let’s at least get it out of the room,” Sylvia said. “Let the captain put it somewhere else.”

“No,” Will said, shaking his head. “Maybe I could talk to it.” He’d never spoken while separated, but he could try.

After an awkward silence, Daniel finally spoke. “What could we learn?”

Will shrugged. “If the Nazis knew anything of importance, Hitler would have known,” he said. “
Would
know,” he corrected himself.

Jonathan joined them. He looked disheveled. “Sorry, I’ve been on the phone for hours,” he said. He sat next to Denise who quickly brought him up to speed.

Jonathan seemed strangely unfazed by the information.

“Okay,” Jonathan said in the tone of a professor posing a question to one of his classes, “suppose you really can talk to Hitler. Would you trust what he tells you?”

“Even lies reveal things,” Daniel said.

Will thought it made sense to explore all facets of the problem. That he might communicate with the most evil human in history was surreal. And he had many questions – the answers to which were sought by the entire world. But he wouldn’t have time. He had to find out what he’d done, and what was coming next.

Will stood. “I’m going back to communicate with whatever is connected to those ashes.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Daniel asked. “If it really is Hitler – ”

“I think
not
doing it would be a wasted opportunity,” Will said. “We’re running out of time.”

Denise stood. “I’m going with you.”

“No,” Will said, left the mess hall, and headed for the file room.

Denise’s crutches scuffed behind him, and he stopped and faced her.

“Do you think you should do this?” she asked with hard eyes. “Shouldn’t this be a team decision?”

“There’s no time,” he replied. “Keep moving.” He started walking again, Denise clanking along with him.

“Wait!” she yelled, and grabbed his arm tightly and tugged.

He turned.

“What’s going on?” she asked, holding eye contact.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “But it’s starting.”

“What?” she asked. “
What
is starting?”

“
I don’t know
,” he replied, frustrated. “Now let’s go.
Please
.”

She stared in his eyes for few seconds, and then let go of his arm.

He led the way to the file room, cleared off a part of the table, and retrieved the crate from behind the stack of boxes. It was a wooden box assembled with screws.

“Shit,” he said under his breath.

“I’ll find a screwdriver,” she said.

She headed for the door, but Will grabbed her arm. “No time,” he said and sat down in a chair near the crate. He closed his eyes and separated.