“Oh, dear. Can I get you anything? Some cold water, perhaps?” Dietrich asks.
“Please,” Otto replies.
Dietrich pushes his stool away from the table and takes his folder with him. “Oh, I don’t want to be carrying this around.Why don’t you take this, Otto. The folder contains IDs for our experimental subjects, and you’ll also find accumulated data given to us by the air force. All notes you add to this folder must be datemarked, and cited.”
“Okay,” Otto says, keeping his eyes glued to my unseeing expression.
Dietrich walks out of the laboratory to find me a glass of water.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Otto says, wasting no time in expelling his thoughts.
I drum my nails against the tabletop, collecting my thoughts before I say something I shouldn’t within the confines of these walls. Anger is raging through me and I’m having trouble looking at Otto.
“Tell me you didn’t know you were working in a death camp torturing innocent people…” I say.
“No, Dachau is a concentration camp—a prison for persecuted criminals,” he replies, avoiding the answer he knows I’m waiting for.
“Did you or did you not know that Dachau was interning innocent Jewish people too, and not just political criminals?”
“I’ve just been assisting with note-taking and data entry on the research pertaining to the potential cancer cure until now, Emi. This new order just came in and everything shifted within days. I—I don’t know what to say…This—it’s complicated here and I’m sure you understand now why it’s the last place I want you to be.” Otto is obviously uncomfortable, shifting around his seat, a sheen of sweat glistening across his forehead.He knew there were innocent Jews here.
“Yet here I am.”
“Because of my father, yes.”
“It’s always because of your father, Otto. Tell me why you decided to leave your dream of becoming a pilot behind. Whydid you suddenly change your plans to attend medical school? I was so foolish convincing myself that it was because you wanted to share a common interest with me, but that wasn’t it, was it? I knew your father had something to do with you choosing a different career path, but I didn’t know he had hatred running through his veins until today.”
Otto rests his elbows on the tabletop and drops his head between his clenched fists. “I don’t know what you want me to say. Yes, my father told me I wouldn’t be able to support you or a family on a pilot’s income. He told me the only chance I would have at giving you a proper life was if I went into the medical field—that and that it would keep me off the battlefield. I fought him on this, Emi. God, I fought him for weeks about this, but the man is relentless. You know this. I never intended to end up here. I didn’t know before it was too late. I swear to you.”
“You knew yesterday, and the day before that. You’ve known since February and didn’t say a word.”
“Because—I’m already in too deep. If I walk away…I’ll be a loose end. Hitler’s army does not have any loose threads. Do you understand?”
“So, you let me walk in here to also be trapped by what I’d find, rather than telling me the truth and giving me the choice to stay away.”
Otto stares into my eyes and I can read his thoughts of blame.You’re stubborn. You would have forced me to leave, getting us killed. You wouldn’t listen if I told you this was a bad idea last night. I tried.If those are his thoughts, he’s right.
“So it’s my fault.” His sarcasm is clear and unnecessary. “Look, if either of us walk out now—it will end as badly as you can imagine. There are two sides of this war. There’s the side that lives and the side that dies. Which side are we going to be on?”
“Not this one. I’d rather die than be the cause of someone else losing their life. This isn’t a world I chose to live in, nor will I take part in crimes against the innocent.”
Otto stands up, shoving his stool back, the metal legs scraping against the wooden floor. “You don’t understand what you’re saying. This order—it’s from the Reichsführer.”
“Your father did this to us,” I utter, breathless as tears run down my cheeks. “I have an excruciating headache and need to get home. Now.”
Otto holds his hands up in defense as if I’m threatening to physically assault him. “Emilie, we need to talk about this more. You can’t just run away, and I can’t leave for the day.”
“I understand your situation perfectly. However, I need to take care of my headache so I can think straight. So, please, take me home at once.”
Otto slaps his hands against his hips, closes his eyes, and paces two steps forward, pivots, then two steps back, again and again, until he stops. His eyes open as he squeezes his hand around his temples. “Okay, okay, but this is all confidential, and?—”
“I’m aware of what the consequence entails,” I tell him.
NINETEEN
DANNER
JULY 1942
