Necrocide (21 page)

CHAPTER 27

“Genevieve, wait!” Hawkins called out as a silence resumed from the chaos and then the low frequency pulse of a nearby power supply began to become evident. Hawkins was stood in a large chamber which was clearly the hub of a series of laboratories, separated by translucent glass panels. The Brits young French beau had seen fit to press on, with or without him and she could be seen in the gloom of the chamber looking around, inspecting equipment and rustling her way through papers and clipboards left by the scientists.

“What are you looking for?” Hawkins inquired as he limped forward and joined Genevieve as she rampantly tore through each workstation. The French girl remained disquietingly aloof as she began opening the doors to the adjacent labs and Hawkins followed her in astonished silence. In the next room, a cold and barren chamber seemed to possess the atmosphere of a morgue and it quickly became obvious that this was the storage area used to keep the cadavers before processing. A thick doored freezer unit was the main feature and Hawkins could only imagine how many bodies lay dormant within. The Brit cast his mind back to Leballieur's map and tried to equate it to his current position. The machine room was beyond the next series of laboratories that Genevieve seemed uncomfortably fascinated with.

“Look, can you tell me what's going on. We need to move on, there's going to be more fucking soldiers coming any second!” Hawkins ordered his companion to explain her actions but just ended up feeling stupid. She seemed so relaxed in her surroundings as if she was casually shopping for groceries at her local market. Genevieve moved on, gliding through the next doorway serenely. Hawkins followed closely behind still vigilant. If his companion had lost the plot then it was important that he remain ready to defend themselves. Hawkins was armed only with his Webley now which was almost as useless as a pea shooter against the cold soldiers. It was vital that they reached the machine room as swiftly as possible.

The next chamber was apparently used in a more administrative role hence the series of desks, typewriters and filing cabinets which adorned every wall. Upon a pin-board, a map of France was prominent. Across it, strategic manoeuvres were stencilled in and Hawkins thought this a very useful tool to study the Germans' plans for the D-day defence. It was all of course way too late for that. One day it might be a prized museum piece gazed upon by students of history. Hawkins' will to make that a possibility was still strong and his mission was still clear in his mind, even if Genevieve did not share the same principles.

Genevieve sat at the desk and swivelled about on the chair like a child, her legs dangling about, her bare feet noticeable. Hawkins stood there incredulous. With a casual nonchalance, Genevieve began to open each desk drawer and rummage about inside it. She was clearly searching for something. The fact that it appeared to Hawkins as if she knew what she was looking for was even more disconcerting. The French woman began to thumb through a small blue object which looked to him to be a book of telephone numbers until she stopped at a certain point and studied the scrawled handwriting carefully.

“OK, this is really freaking me out now. What the hell are you doing? Did you know that was there?” Hawkins' words once again fell on deaf ears as Genevieve continued her ignorance to his heartfelt pleas. She stood up, carrying the small blue book and made off further into the lab complex. Hawkins shook his head in wonder and followed making sure he looked behind for any traces of following soldiers.

The short corridor from the office led to a larger chamber which was very dark and once again awash with red light. There was enough to see the rough outlines of walls and ceiling but Genevieve herself seemed to disappear from vision, blending in with her dark red outfit. Hawkins marched forward, the pain from his leg was a mere distraction as he realised that this room was familiar. It was the ante chamber to the machine room. He did not think for one moment he would make it this far, now he was tantalisingly close, he felt exhilarated by his heroics and even had the audacity to daydream about his impending stature of the man who saved the human race from their own insanity.

Moving forward, Hawkins could see that the door to the machine room was not going to be straightforward. A large circular blast door akin to those seen in naval vessels blocked the way and Genevieve was now standing before it fiddling with a rectangular panel besides it.

“Dear God, how are we going to open that? Hawkins whispered as he stepped closer to run his hands across its formidable form. Hawkins turned to look at Genevieve who seemed to be tapping a code into a small panel of round buttons.

“You know, I think you have completely lost it. What
is
the matter with you, why all the sudden games? Your definitely not all that you make yourself out to be are you? What are you, some kind of agent?”

Again there was no reply. Not once had Hawkins ever felt threatened in Genevieve's presence but that had now come to an end. Her silence was provoking terrible thoughts and consequences. Still, after all that had happened, there was an element of trust there and the British soldier felt that all would be revealed in time.

There was a click and a whirr and as Hawkins leaned against the door to take the weight from his leg, he felt a vibration through the metal, the movement of the mechanism being released.

“Ho, ho, ho, I don't believe it.” Hawkins laughed nervously as Genevieve waved the Brit away from the door and began to turn the large wheel mechanism clockwise. As the round portal open, a bright white light spilled though and bathed the ante-chamber in a glaring brilliance. Hawkins had to shield his eyes from the intensity as he had grown accustomed to the dark. Whilst he struggled to regain his senses, Genevieve had already stepped through into the machine room which hummed with pulsating electrical energies.

Hawkins followed her into a large bright, cavernous room with an iron floor. The walls appeared to be akin to giant circuit boards, alive with dances of light from humming bolts of transient energies. There was little other way of explaining the incredible visual feast that was presented before him, it was otherworldly. On the far wall, lay what Hawkins could only describe as a vast machine, conduits and wires and walls which presented moving abstract imagery, it was such a vision that it defied description and Hawkins felt humbled before it.

It was only then that Hawkins glimpsed sight of the large imposing form of 'the chair'. Its contours were evocative, sleek, colourful and compelling. It was a throne of extraordinary beauty and power, even to feast one's eyes upon it was to be captivated to the point that it drew one forward. Sat in the chair was the slight, white coated figure of an elderly man. Bespectacled and bearded he sat motionless, melded to this mechanical throne as it throbbed and fizzled with excited energies. Hawkins walked forward to get a better look at the man who had seen fit to end a war and begin another. A man who had lost the clarity of reason and had allowed himself to be courted and then consumed by unimaginable power. Kurt Von Hummel appeared awake but quite still, his face presented itself in a trance-like state, his eyes were wide open yet he did not blink. His cheeks were drenched in the tears of a man unable to break free from this intolerable horror. Hawkins began to pity the man who had seen a thousand deaths and imagined how he could possibly release the bonds which seemed to be so inexorably tied.

“Pitiful isn't it.”

Genevieve’s voice from behind reminded Hawkins that his accomplice was in the possession of a great deal more facts than he had envisaged.

“Yes, it is. This 'machine' was never meant for us. This is what happens when humans abuse power. It corrupts us, disengages us from reality.” Hawkins felt strongly that Von Hummel was not in control here.

“Really, I myself do not see it so.” Genevieve sauntered up to Von Hummel whose eyes remained still, his pupils large and black.

“Go on.” Hawkins knew that Genevieve was not one to shirk offering an opinion, no matter how controversial.

“Von Hummel was a fool, a weak minded imbecile. He toyed with incomprehensible powers and used them for his own ends, that is unacceptable. This machine was a gift, a gift from God, pity him that he wasted the opportunity that was presented to him.”

Hawkins furrowed his brow. Genevieve was showing startling signs of extremism that was previously kept well concealed.

“So what are you then when all is said and done? Are you right minded or are you another Nazi sheep, moulded into the image of some power hungry dictator?” Hawkins grew more and more fearful that he was moving along the right tracks.

“Do you know that a great man one said 'If one has realized a truth, that truth is valueless so long as there is lacking the indomitable will to turn this realization into action.' I have seen the truth and I shall not be found wanting. It takes courage to be strong John, I would love you to understand but I fear you will never be capable of doing so.”

Hawkins smelled the stink of a Nazi ideology.

“Genevieve, you are still so young, so impressionable. You have only seen war. There is more to life than struggle. Why do you not ask Von Hummel where his principles got him?” Hawkins wondered how far Genevieve was willing to go in her quest for power. She had proved an outrageously talented operative; she had sunk her teeth into him and left him wanting for more. Hawkins felt extreme regret for having been led so easily by her physical sacrifices.

“Did Bauer know you were a Nazi?” Hawkins asked, suddenly drawn to the question like a moth around an incandescent light.

“Of course, he too was a fool. He was the worst kind of German soldier, a man who fought through loyalty without the faintest idea for what he was fighting. He chose not to tell you, or perhaps he tried but you did not listen. He knew from the beginning that I was aware how to enter the machine room and the mission could not succeed without this knowledge. If Bauer were here he would destroy the machine, such is his unwillingness to seize the moment. He already shirked the responsibility to learn from his find; instead he chose to run from it. I detest cowards. I took great pleasure in cutting your companion Beach's throat. He ran like a child at the first sign of the strap.”

Hawkins grimaced at this revelation and more so that Genevieve revelled in revealing her savagery. Hawkins was in a position of great danger now; he felt the hard mass of his side-arm which he had stupidly holstered as he entered the machine room. His hand hovered over his hip. Surely he was not going to have to kill this girl that he had grown so enamoured with. It was then that Hawkins noticed that Genevieve’s side arm was not strapped to her belt but in her hand, at her side. There was some noise from outside the machine room and it quickly manifested itself as fear as they both realised that Von Hummel's guard was upon them. Before Hawkins could even speak a warning, Genevieve raised her pistol to the vulnerable scientists head. As she pulled the trigger, Von Hummel could only flit his eyes to look his assassin in the face for the merest of moments before his skull was blown apart by Genevieve’s savage bullet and the Kalter Soldaten fell to the ground as if their life-force was just switched off in an instant.

The lights of the machine room dimmed and the intensity of the crackling arcs of energy diminished considerably. Hawkins heart pounded as Genevieve's pistol was now aimed at his chest.

“I am sorry it has come to this, John. I am afraid you would never understand. What I do now is for the benefit of humanity. You see, Bauer was wrong. He thought the war to be over.  It has only just begun.”

There was a terrible crackle of sound and a cold stab of sharp, intolerable pain. Hawkins fell to the ground, his eyes welling with tears, his mouth filling with blood. As the young Brit looked over to see Von Hummel's body expelled from the chair and a new occupant taking its place, a blissful peace washed over him and the pain ebbed away. It was no longer his fight; someone else would have to finish this for him. He was far too tired to resist the coming darkness. He did not care anymore. He was in contentment itself.

The End

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