by Graeme Rodaughan
Greifswald, Northern Germany
May 1st 1945
The former Führer und Reichskanzler of the Third Reich, Adolf Hitler stared at the passing streets of Griefswald as he made his way through the town toward the docks.
Adolf seethed with rage, the city was now occupied by the Red Army. Gifted to the communists intact by that ridiculous traitor Petershagen, who gave the city away without a fight - the weak coward.
Turning to his companion, Adolf’s rage became a background hum, replaced with something akin to adoration. Dieter Franz, his savior, his mentor, a beautiful Aryan god that he had first met on the blood soaked mud of Passchendaele in 1917 - his youthful blond hair and blue eyes unchanged in twenty eight years.
A god that had admitted him into the ranks of the divine the night before in the bowels of the Führerbunker.
On the night of the 30th of April, Adolf had admitted to himself that all had been lost. He had written his last will and testament; then it was to have been a poison pill and a 9mm round from his own Luger. Better honorable suicide than the humiliations that would have been visited upon him by the Slavic hoards of the Red Army. Then Dieter had arrived, a colossus that towered over the other men within the bunker; he had locked the door, knocking Eva Braun unconscious with a slap and then attacked him.
Adolf had felt ashamed of his display of primal terror, whimpering as Dieter bit deeply into the side of his throat. The pain of having his throat slashed open and feeling his blood drained away in seconds was nothing compared to what came next. Dieter had laid his own forearm open with a flick of a razor sharp dagger, pressing the gushing wound directly against the hole in Adolf’s neck and his divine Aryan blood had mixed with Adolf’s own. He had felt the excruciating agony of the ravenous fire of Dieter’s blood cleansing all human weakness from his body. But while his body writhed in torment, his mind exalted in triumph over death, and victory over time.
Adolf had been surprised to discover that as the pain ebbed away, how the overwhelming lust for blood had a deeply familiar feel to it - as if he had felt this need all his life - and only after this divine transformation could the need be fully realized in immediate, frenzied, feeding.
Eva Braun had awoken just enough to register terror on her face as he had lunged at her. Pinning her to the ground, latching hold of her throat with an unbreakable grip, his fangs lacerating her arteries as blood poured into his mouth. He had then drawn on new internal muscles that created a vacuum effect, accelerating the flow and in seconds she ran dry.
Leaning back from Eva’s limp body, Adolf sat down on the floor, drunk with blood, his head whirling, exhilarated beyond measure.
Dieter dragged him to his feet and said, ‘time to go.’
Rage suddenly flared, how dare he touch me, then immediately settled back as Adolf followed Dieter from the bunker. Of course no one stopped him, he was Adolf Hitler, and the tall, powerfully built Aryan marching in front of him added an extra layer of intimidation. In moments they had cleared the bunker, striding together through the ruins of Berlin; fires lit the horizon, smoke tinged the air, and shells whistled and crumped in the distance.
Adolf looked up at Dieter, ‘what of the Russians?’
‘We will go through their lines, I have transport waiting north of Berlin, follow me,’ Dieter said, throwing his coat to the ground and revealing a longsword belted at his waist. He drew the sword and the razor sharp metal of the blade gleamed with a crimson hue in the light of the surrounding fires.
Adolf’s mouth twitched, half way between a snarl and a smirk, ‘what use is a sword against tanks?’
‘Have faith - it will be all we need, now make sure that you keep up.’
Adolf had watched in wonder as Dieter rushed off through the ruins of Berlin with the speed of a god. He followed after, wonder giving way to exhilaration as he reveled in the speed and power of his new divinity.
Dieter cleared the way before them, none could stand in his way, he was too fast, blurring through the ranks of Russian soldiers like a scythe through a field of wheat. He steered Adolf past rows of advancing tanks, and together they moved too quickly for the Russians to react. Breaking through the Red Army lines, they quickly covered nearly eight miles to an abandoned house surrounded by ruins.
Waiting in front of the house were a dozen heavily armed young men dressed in civilian clothes. They jumped to attention and saluted as soon as Adolf approached, their faces lit with pride to be part of the mission to save the Führer. Adolf noted the discarded uniforms of the 1st SS Panzer Division in the front yard of the house; the men were members of the Leibstandarte SS Adolf Hitler, his personal bodyguard.
Adolf smiled, pleased - they will serve me well.
Across from the house were three powerful Mercedes Benz 540K armored saloon cars the color of night. The men piled into the first and last of the cars, with one of the men getting into the front of the middle car and the last man holding open the passenger door for the Führer and his companion.
‘Our transport,’ Dieter indicated with a nod of his head.
Adolf climbed into the plush accommodation of the rear seat of the saloon, and Dieter followed him in, storing his sword and scabbard on the floorwell. The last SS man got into the front of the car, and the powerful engines of all three vehicles fired into life. Moving forward as a column, they disappeared into the night and escaped Berlin.
Morning arrived as they reached the outskirts of Greifswald, and Adolf discovered why the middle vehicle had been fitted with thick black curtains on the windows. He was intensely disappointed to discover this weakness, this vulnerability to sunlight and his expression remained sour until they had taken refuge in a barn.
Dieter quietly explained while they waited that when evening came they would enter the port town of Greifswald, making for the docks and a waiting submarine. The Type IX U-boat would take them through the Baltic sea, then across the Atlantic to South America and a new life in Argentina. The twelve unsuspecting young men of the Waffen SS would join the submarines crew - as additional food - to sustain them during the weeks of travel. By the time they reached South America, the submarine would be a ghost ship without crew, but the two immortals on board would survive and flourish in a new land.
The way into Greifswald had meant crossing the paths of units of the Red Army. Adolf had joined Dieter in combat, using his bare hands, he had fallen upon them as a wolf amongst sheep, reveling in blood lust and death. Not a single Russian they encountered had been left alive.
Adolf reflected on his new abilities. A new base of operations to create a foundation for a new Reich, superior to the third Reich, an amalgam of the irresistible alloys of the Aryan race and yes, it must be said - vampires. I will rule forever. None can resist my power, I am a true Übermensch.
Suddenly the first car pulled to a halt and Adolf’s mind returned to the present with a jolt. There was a roadblock, four of the Waffen SS exited the front Mercedes, more men came out into the street from the car at the rear. One of the men at the front shouted commands, the men started firing their 9mm submachine guns. In moments, the guns at the front fell silent, their harsh voices replaced with swishing sounds and wet thuds.
Adolf struggled to see what was happening from within the confines of his armored saloon. The men at the back of the column started firing wildly into the air. He thrilled to the rising panic of men beset by terror as he felt something leap over his Mercedes.
I am the new god of death - all will worship me and die!
‘There is a problem,’ Dieter said, grasping his sword and blurring away - the car door spinning into the street, torn from it’s hinges as he exited the car.
Adolf followed him, flushed with his new powers and supremely confident that whatever the challenge, victory would be his. He blurred out of the car and onto the street. Dieter stood twenty yards away, the Waffen SS men lay about on the ancient cobblestones - all dismembered, all dead, their blood pooling in the gutters.
Opposite Dieter stood a tall, young woman of exquisite beauty. She was clad in loose black clothing, carrying a long gleaming sword with both hands like one of the occult assassins that Himmler had been so fond of. She flicked her head, and her long dark hair flowed across her shoulders. Glancing past Dieter, she stared directly into his eyes and something passed between them - a recognition of inevitable destiny.
Adolf felt a shiver of dread race up his spine, his confidence evaporated as his guts curdled and suddenly cramped. Without thinking, he took a step back, raising his hands as if to ward off an impending attack.
Turning slightly toward Dieter, a slight smile curled her sensual lips as she said, ‘you have been a very naughty boy.’
‘He is under my protection; you have no authority here!’ Dieter declared.
She laughed coldly, ‘there are standing orders from Crane himself, you know what must happen now.’
‘I know no such thing, witch!’ Dieter growled, blurring forward.
Adolf watched with his vampire senses as Dieter and the woman engaged in combat. Even with his new abilities, he could not follow how quickly they fought as sparks flew from their clashing blades. He took another step back. Suddenly, Dieter’s sword shattered into half-melted shards, the woman’s sword passing through it to cleave off his right arm above the elbow, she blurred again, taking off his legs above the knees. Dieter flopped to the ground as the woman leaped over him toward where Adolf stood.
He did not wait for her to land; turning, he fled down the street, a dark blur in the shadows, hurtling toward the docks and the sanctuary of the waiting submarine.
If I can only get inside, I can get away from her. She cannot follow me into the open sea.
The buildings whipped by, Adolf strained to hear the sounds of pursuit, but there were no noises discernible as his pursuer. He could hear the drip of dank water in nearby gutters, the scuttling of rats lurking in the sewers, the murmurs of frightened townsfolk accustomed to staying inside if there was trouble on the street.
Why am I alone? Why is there no one left to die for me?
He darted into an alleyway and came to a halt, looking, listening - his heart beating rapidly - even for a vampire.
Where is she? Where is the witch?
There was no sound of pursuing footfalls, only a slight whistling, a shadow of a breeze, a glint of reflected moonlight from somewhere above him, and then her sword, an ancient Japanese Katana made by a 17th century genius slicing through his neck.
Adolf felt his head topple from his shoulders, bouncing painfully off the cobblestones of the laneway before rolling into a filthy gutter. He was still conscious, a ring of agony engulfing his throat, an even two inches below his jaw line.
Something was smeared over his face, stinging his eye, squishing into his nose, seeping into his mouth which soundlessly opened and closed like a beached fish. It’s horrid taste was magnified by the superb acuity of his vampire senses. It was unmistakable for a man who loved German Shepherds more than he loved people.
Dog shit! I have dog shit in my mouth!
And it’s been ill! Mein Gott! What has it been eating?! It’s in my eye!
The experience of life began fraying around the edges. A finely leathered boot tilted his face up slightly. He saw the woman peering at him as a scientist might stare at an obscure butterfly pinned to a corkboard. She wrinkled her nose in physical disgust, and her eyes narrowed as hidden emotions bloomed behind them.
‘I loathe wannabees,’ she said fervently.
Suddenly, she stepped away and he rolled back into the dog shit; which again seeped into his mouth and pushed up into his nose.
Adolf heard her call out, her voice betraying more than a shred of exasperation, ‘Dieter! Stop trying to escape - or do I have to take your remaining limb as well?’
The darkness closed in, his senses leaving him one by one, sight, hearing, touch. The last two lingered for a long moment, smell and taste, the most ancient senses and the last to go as his vampire vitality ebbed away.
Adolf’s mind echoed a single word repeatedly as it finally collapsed into oblivion, shit, shit, shit -.
Please don't reprint this short story without the author's explicit permission.
The preceeding story was a short story set in the world of A Subtle Agency, a full length novel. If you enjoyed this work, you will also enjoy the novel. A Subtle Agency can be purchased at Amazon . Reviews of the work can be found on Amazon or also at Goodreads . You can find out more about Graeme on Facebook.