Damien Broderick - Strange Attractors by Original (pdf) (no david read aloud txt) 📕

to study at the Hindenberg Gymnasium in

Berlin. Would you care for a drink?’

He pushed her against the table, face-down. H er long brown hair

had been cut recently and she wore a satin dress. He pulled it up,

his throat dry as he undid the buttons on his fly. The Fuhrer had

forbidden zippers as an invention of American Jewry — one of

their last.

Trudi was whispering that she loved him. but she did not assist

his efforts. He pulled down her panties and shoved aside the remaining crockery on the table. The radio was playing the noon broadcast of Deutschland Uber Alles. Aching with desire, he

penetrated her, clutching her buttocks.

They had never been able to make love without fear in the

Ukraine, when their families had been out supervising Unter-

menschen slaves at their respective farms and factories, or vying for

social superiority at Folk Gatherings.

He almost missed that desperate thrill which had materialised

with his homecomings. That illicit fulfilment of desire, when Trudi

had absconded from her parents’ estate to tryst with him.

The remembrance of their love in that sea of hate fuelled his

passion; she began to moan.

‘You’re quite certain, Doctor?’

The worn man spoke quietly. ‘Yes, Fraulein. There’s no doubt.’

He was anxious to appear polite. There had been a long line of

women waiting to be processed, outside the surgery, mainly those

ordered in for preliminary classification or seeking permission to

fill child quotas. Being a German she had moved to the head of the

queue. She sensed that the doctor was repelled by her; perhaps it

was a reflection of revulsion for himself, for he was certainly old

enough to have been practising before the War, fulfilling different

needs.

158

John Playford

‘Thank you,’ she said in her halting English. She rose and left as

quickly as possible, for the smell of death was in the air, and she

wanted only to forget.

‘The Schmidt situation will soon be resolved most satisfactorily,’

said the Gauleiter. Rudolf hugged himself tightly, surprised at the

cold. He was unprepared for it, as were the hundred or so Barossa

Germans gathered in Elder Park. They shuffled around in small

groups, or sat in the deckchairs provided. They were surrounded

by tall gum trees. A full moon, and several blazing torches fixed on

stands, illuminated the park. One of the nearby trees was strangely

dark, but he lacked the energy to investigate.

‘W here are the SS?’ asked the H auptm ann. ‘I’m surprised you

handed him over to them for punishment. The Death’s Heads are

our common rivals.’

‘These locals,’ said Kahr. ‘They love the Hitler Youth, power is

wonderful, yet they shy away from responsibility. You’re an agent,

I’m a politician. I can’t afford to shun the SS. It was bad enough

that you didn’t order any executions. In any case, the Wehrmacht

prefers not to process such cases, so there is no alternative.

‘The Black Men swear to Woden. They even told the Jews they

could go free if they professed belief in the Germanic Pantheon;

some of the stupid bastards believed them. You’re familiar with the

Wild H unt?’

‘The . . . myth? I was told of it as a child, it’s true.’

‘They’ll be here soon,’ Kahr said. There was the sound of hoofs,

and of barking. Flares burst overhead, miniature suns that slowly

descended to the earth.

First came a figure in an ill-fitting uniform. Rudolf recognised

Schmidt, his face contorted, his costume that of a Soviet General

from the War of Redemption. The hapless man scrambled across

the grass, stumbling once. Through the shadows, behind him,

came a snarling dog, a great wolfhound. Schmidt was running

towards the great tree.

Several of the beast’s companions came in pursuit, travelling

alongside half a dozen men and women on horseback. Flames

gleamed from horned helmets; the riders were garbed as Germanic

gods. Rudolf recognised one of the Valkyries, a courtesan from

Greater Barossa’s sole SS Castle. Woden cantered at their head. All

carried spears, wickedly pointed.