Relief floods through me, just a mere promise of attempting to put a stop to this allows me to breathe a hair deeper. The look on his face, however, tells me he has more to say.
“Thank you. Now I’m going to continue with my research so I can find the answers I need.”
“One more thing,” Otto says. “Then I’ll leave you to your work and find something for us to have for dinner.”
“What’s that?”
“You need to stop communicating and making eye contact with Danner. You’re putting us all in danger, Emilie, including him. So please, I ask that you stop testing boundaries.”
My heart shoots into my throat and my body weakens at the thought. Speaking to Danner is not an act of pushing my luck. We’re all running out of luck.
TWENTY-SEVEN
EMILIE
SEPTEMBER 1942
Dachau, Germany
Dietrich gave me one week, two days, twelve hours, and sixteen minutes to complete my research prior to testing additional subjects. They placed a temporary pause while they waited on the pending data necessary for the research. I’d been terrified they’d take Danner for other purposes, but I passed him in the waiting area this morning. He’s still alive thank God.
There are more subjects lined up today than usual. Otto has decided to walk into the sick bay side-by-side with me, likely to ensure I don’t glance in Danner’s direction, or hand him the scrap of food I had set aside for him, which I don’t think he’s aware I’ve done daily. If he is, I assume he would have said so the other night.
“Are you sure you’re ready with your data?” Otto asks me.
“Yes,” I reply, turning the corner toward the lab.
I’m not surprised to find Dietrich and the three soldier assistants waiting on us as we arrive.
“Good morning to you both,” Dietrich says, clearing his throat.
“Heil Hitler,” Otto shouts, saluting his uncle.
“Heil Hitler,” I add, muttering the words.
“Heil Hitler,” he responds.
“I’m sure you’re eager to hear the data we’ll need to work with this week to conclude our findings in your report,” I say.
“Indeed,” Dietrich says.
I place my notepad down on the table, ready to begin talking about my findings, but the three soldiers are having a private conversation, chuckling among themselves as if I’m not standing here waiting for their attention.
“Well, I’ll begin,” I say, ignoring them. “Despite original theories stating that rapid re-warming tactics are the best way to treat hypothermia, there are other factors to take into consideration. While rapid rewarming does aid in the rejuvenation of blood flow, it depends on how low the body temperature had reached. With an increase of hemoglobin and leukocytes, there are regular and common cases of heart arrhythmia at 30°C/86°F, which can lead to stroke, heart failure, or a heart attack, regardless of the attempt to rewarm a patient quickly.”
“Wait, wait,” Dietrich says, interrupting my report findings. “You forgot a key solution.”
“I haven’t finished,” I say.
“Which solution are you referring to?” Otto counters, allowing Dietrich to speak before I’m through.
“Which solutions…Well, you haven’t mentioned the idea of animal warmth. Have we tested what would happen if the action of rapid rewarming was produced through the heat from animal bodies? Or perhaps…women’s bodies?”
His question garners laughter from the male audience in the room except Otto. His words unravel down the length of my spine, sparking me with fury. The things I would like to say to him would put me in a dangerous situation. “I’ll touch on thatsubject, yes,” I say. More inappropriate laughter echoes. “Skin to skin contact is a valuable tool in circumstances where a person’s internal body temperature has dipped too low, but not to the degree we’re speaking about. The speed of rewarming a body with another person’s body heat would take far too long, and the patient in a state of hypothermia wouldn’t be remedied.” The continued laughter makes it clear I’m not being taken seriously, and this is a joke to them.
“I’ll touch on that subject…I see,” Dietrich says. “But have we tested this theory?”
“No, Doctor. It won’t be necessary.”
