“No one is truly innocent. Not you, nor I, are we, now?”
“I—I—yes, people can be innocent—even if you’re not.” My words are broken and my voice hoarse. The struggle to think of words when all I can do is picture the tortured look in Danner’s eyes is keeping me from saying anything firm.
Dietrich lowers his hand and glances over to Otto. “I’m not sure I understand the issue here, Frau Berger.”
“You’ll have to excuse us,” Otto says. “I—uh—I didn’t quite brief Emilie on much before arriving today as we hold a strong focus on classification for our studies.”
“Ah, well, I suppose we should start from the beginning,” Dietrich says with the return of a wide grin.
“Actually,” I say, holding up my index finger. “I would like to speak to my husband in private before continuing this conversation.”
Dietrich repeats my words to himself then shifts his stare down to his wristwatch. “I’m afraid I’m on a tight timetable today. If we could just chat for a few minutes first, you can discuss whatever you’d like with your husband afterward.”
Otto remains quiet, allowing me to argue or agree to Dietrich’s schedule.
I’ll do nothing to help any staff, police, or whoever is here. Had I known this was a concentration camp to punish innocent people… Herr Berger asked me to assist with the overload of patients, but it doesn’t really seem like that’s why I’m truly here.
I should have questioned the logic behind arresting so many political prisoners, just to put them in impoverished livingconditions. Only for them to end up in a bind when they become overwhelmed with medical issues. It makes no sense. It’s foolish. And worse, Danner isn’t even in the sick bay because he’s actually sick.
I’d like to know how many of the men waiting in that room are sick versus here for reasons like Danner’s. With that answer, maybe I would understand what it is I’m supposed to be doing here, or worse…what Otto has been doing here all this time and how he didn’t know the entirety of what was happening here. He may not have seen Danner before today, but how could he not have known this isn’t just a prison for political criminals? I know he wouldn’t want to tell me something so awful, but a secret like that…I can’t fathom Otto keeping such a thing from me. Unless, he had an idea that there was more than just political prisoners here, and that’s the real reason he argued with his father about me helping out with the sick patients. Another bout of nausea waves through me. I’m not sure I’ll even make it to the trash receptacle from here, but I run and heave up the small breakfast I’d forced down my throat this morning.
Otto yanks at a metal paper-towel dispenser, grabbing a handful for me. I take them and press the dry napkins to my mouth. Otto’s hand circles around my back, trying to calm me, but it doesn’t seem to be working.
“Come, have a seat. You’re as pale as a bed sheet,” Otto says. “Do you need to use the lavatory?”
I shake my head, not wanting to wander around these halls anywhere. “No, I’ll be fine.”
“I understand this sick bay is a lot to take in at first, but I assure you we’re here for valuable reasons,” Dietrich adds, pulling a stool away from the lab table, and tapping his palm on it, gesturing for me to take the first seat. The only reason I sit is because I might fall over otherwise.
He pulls a second one out for Otto and a third for himself. Before Dietrich sits down, he makes his way across the room and opens a metal cabinet door, retrieving thick folders and pencils. He places one of each down in front of Otto and me, then finally takes his seat.
“Okay,” Dietrich says as we settle in around the table. He intertwines his fingers together on top of his folder. “The nature of our research is in response to the request from the German Air Force, seeking additional aid tactics and solutions to combat cold-climate elements—particularly immersion hypothermia after suffering a loss of crew members who were recently shot down over the North Sea.”
The hypothermia question Otto’s father asked me last night makes more sense now. “I see,” I reply.
“Otto was just telling me how brilliant you are with all the studying you’ve done beyond your time in nursing classes.”
Is that what Otto truly thinks of me? Maybe it is. Now that I know the reason he hadn’t wanted me to join him today, maybe it wasn’t his level of faith in my knowledge I should have been questioning.
“I’m not so sure. I can tend to sick patients, but anything more than that—” I croak.
“Don’t be modest, darling,” Otto says, squeezing my knee beneath the table.
“Moving forward then. As you can imagine, we are already in a time of war and don’t have an extended period to follow the research steps we might normally follow. We will be complementing our research efforts with experiments here in our lab, using prisoners who have volunteered to be case studies in exchange for a shorter sentence.”
Even though I knew the truth was coming, it still hits me like I’ve just been immersed in ice-cold water. “Human experimentations,” I repeat, knowing the spoken words maymake me vomit again. I clutch my hand around my throat and wrap my other arm around the center of my stomach as if trying to physically prevent myself from purging again.
“Correct.” I want to glare at Otto. I want to slap him and scream at him, but all I can do is sit here as if I’m being held hostage. I can’t get up and run. The entire camp is surrounded by guards. I need to be escorted out, and I want nothing more than to get as far away from here as I can right now.
Except, Danner just told me he volunteered to be here so he wouldn’t be executed.We hear so much chatter over the radios but no one has mentioned the act of execution. Executed for being Jewish?
My eyes blur as I stare at a blackboard full of chalked chicken scratch. The blasts I’ve been hearing from our house—they might have been executions, not methods of redirection. It could be a scare tactic to force the Jewish people to comply with their demands, but I’ve heard the sounds. There’s no choice but to believe the threats. Danner’s ultimatum says it all—die quickly or suffer until you do. Danner’s face—the pale, thin, sickly version—floats across my mind’s eye and then another blast rattles through my core, a bullet shoots straight through Danner’s forehead and his eyes bulge and remain in shock, frozen, lifeless before he falls. Another blast hits his chest, forcing his dead body to bounce. “No!” I scream, gasping for air.
“Emilie,” Otto hisses, grabbing my hand. “Are you okay?”
“No—no, I—I need to leave. I can’t be here. You can’t?—”
“I knew she wasn’t feeling well last night when we went to bed. I was hoping it would pass,” Otto tells Dietrich.
