There's a moment when the sun disappears, when darkness falls, and you're left
with just your fears. That's the moment you feel your first pang of doubt.
That's the moment when the night comes out. When the night comes out,
presents the German what is the nature of evil? During the thirties and
forties there was never a bigger conglomeration of evil than what was found in Germany.
How does a population fall under the spell of such horror? And once
exposed to that evil, with it whispering in your ear, how far are
you willing to go for it? Would you let it? In? Private
James de Witt is going to find out that when darkness comes, evil whispers
from the shadows, when the night comes out. Private James de Witt stood
in front of his commanding officer and wondered for about the thousandth time how he
ended up where he was and how he had come so far from his hometown
in Illinois. He looked around at the dark stone walls and shuddered when he
thought about who was housed in this massive stone building. How did I get
here? You will be guarding a specific special guest, his CEO said,
we house him upstairs away from the others. We don't want him trying to
start anything with the rest of the crew, and we don't want them starting
anything with him. This puts you in a rather unique position, DeWitt.
It means you are more isolated than the other guards here. I understand,
Sir. DeWitt replied, you think you do, but I doubt you really
will understand until you've done the job. I'm ordering you two for a few
nights, the CEO said. You're the fourth person I've asked to be his
guard. The other three all ask to be transferred out after a few weeks.
He likes to talk. The key to this duty depends on whether or
not you like to listen, Sir. I won't let him affect me or
deter me for my duties. DeWitt replied he had to. He couldn't disobey
an order, could he, good answer, said the CEO. Giving good
answers and then performing successfully are two different things. I'm hopeful you can do
this so we can put him on trial. I'm looking at you now,
and I'm not sure. The CEO stood up from behind his desk. DeWitt
managed to stand straight. The CEO came over to him and stood in front
of him. He slowly looked up and down. DeWitt had never felt so
scrutinized. This is an important man, he said. I hope you understand
that you are to stand at that door every minute throughout the night. You
are to shine a light through the window every fifteen minutes without fail. You
are to do everything in your power to make sure he is still within that
cell. The government wants him alive. That means I want him alive,
and by nature it means you want him alive. Do I make myself clear,
yes, sir, said de Witt. Well we'll see, said the
CEO, because it's time to show you to your follow me. DeWitt nodded,
and the CEO walked past him through the office door. DeWitt followed,
making sure to stay just a few paces behind the man. His CEO was
not particularly tall, and his head was nearly bald. He wore round,
wire rimmed glasses, and they seemed too tight for his face. He walked
with a strange urgency and quickness of pace that made de Witt move his legs
faster to keep up. They were nearly jogging once they went through another set
of doors. They were in the main cell block. The stone walls managed
to look darker and more imposing. Here a row of wooden doors extended on
either side of the hall. Along the left side. Standing in front of
each door was a soldier. Attached to each small barred window was a bright
light the guard could use to shine into the room. Down on this floor,
the guards were stationed in front of each of the door, looking into
each of the cells. They walked up a staircase to the second level.
Cell after empty cell passed by. As they walked along the second level,
headed for the important cell at the end of the row, their footfalls echoed
back to them from across the drop to the first floor. At the very
end of this floor was the special guest. His cell was no bigger than
any of the others, but the person inside of it was like a prized
trout hanging on a line for a picture. There was a guard here too,
standing off to one side of the door, who saluted as they approached.
The CEO saluted back. He stepped in front of the door and turned
to look back at de Witt. This is it, he said, stand
here, don't listen. Check on him every fifteen minutes. If you hear
a sound that seems suspicious, you check on him. You don't hear any
sounds and you feel that suspicious, then you check on him. Am I
clear, Yes, Sir, DeWitt said, saluting. The COEO studied him
a moment longer, and then returned the salute. He told the guard already
there, he was dismissed. The guard handed the rifle he was wearing to
DeWit. DeWitt took it and took up his post beside the door. The
CEO and guard walked back down the hallway. DeWitt looked straight ahead to the
empty cell across the way. He could almost feel the pull of the man
within the cell to his left. The footfalls of the CEO and the previous
guard grew more and more dim but he listened to each footfall. Now alone,
just with his thoughts and the realization of who was behind the door he
guarded sank into his chest hard. He felt more alone than he thought he
would. Despite the guard's one level down and stationed throughout, it did not
take long for the special guests to take notice of the new blood. Well,
well well, said a voice thick with a German accent. I see
they have found me another new companion. Welcome to Nuremberg, soldier, What
is your name? De Witt swallowed hard. The voice was not what he
had imagined. It was friendly, almost jovial. He had always imagined all
Nazis spoke roughly or yelled when they talked. This voice was almost feminine in
quality. He said nothing. He remained stoic and on guard. Now now,
the voice from within the shadows cajoled, there is no reason we cannot
be civil. We have this whole end of the prison to ourselves. The
war is over, Soldier. Everyone in the world is now friends again.
Yeah. DeWitt swallowed again. His mouth was suddenly very dry, and he
wished he had a canteen to take a long drink. He wanted to look
into the cell, but it wasn't time yet. He also felt an urge
to speak, but he had been told to ignore this man. He wanted
more than anything to be back home in Illinois instead of in some prison in
Germany with one of the biggest monsters in the Nazi party behind him. I
guess you are not the friendly type, the voice said, Or perhaps you
are just nervous. I think perhaps it is the second one. You are
all so young. I was young leg Za once too. I was nervous
like Za at one time as well. Perhaps you will change your mind at
some point. Yeah. There was soft laughter from within, and then silence.
Somehow, the silence seemed even creepier than the voice or the laugh.
Dewitch shook his head slightly and checked his watch. He had been on duty
for barely a minute. That seemed impor possible. Surely he had been standing
here for at least half an hour. He was sweating, and he wiped
his forehead absently, but wondered if doing so would be perceived as weakness.
Time passed slowly. Eventually, DeWitt looked down at his watch and saw that
it was time to check on the prisoner. The cell had been so quiet,
DeWitt had been running under the assumption the man inside had fallen asleep.
What does a monster look like when asleep? He wondered, What does a
monster look like at all? How did such a monster ever develop and grow
among normal humans in the first place. De Witt turned on the light.
He stepped back and let out a cry as the light hit a face pressed
directly into the small barred window. The man's teeth were bared, his lips
pulled back, his eyes were rolled up into his head, like a man
in the middle of a seizure. DeWitt felt as if he would wet himself.
He reached for the whistle he was given when he first got here,
convinced the man was either attacking him through the door or somehow dying while standing
on his feet. Oh, put your vessel of ai. The mouth attached
to the head's side, followed by more laughter. The face in the window
shifted to that of a fat man with soft features. I was just playing
a joke. You need to relax, soldier. Your predecessors did not know
how to relax. Look at what happened to zem. He backed away from
the window, still laughing. Once he reached the middle of the room,
he spun around, arms out from his sides until he faced de Witt once
more. DeWitt waited until his heart returned to a beat that seemed normal,
and stepped forward. He shined the light on the man in the room.
He was not as tall or as large as DeWitt had thought. He had
seen this man on many newsreels, and he always looked so bloated and huge.
Apparently his time in prison had made him lose a little bit of weight.
His uniform hangs off of him. His face is remarkably chiseled, but
still a bit doey. His hair nearly shines and slicked back to the point
where it almost looks like a helmet. He is smiling, and his cheeks
are red. He almost appears like a friendly old uncle rather than the murderer
of millions. Take your look, soldier, he said, See that I
am still alive and mostly healthy. I will be for a long time too,
So make a note of zat is well? Am I what you expected?
I thought you'd be taller, DeWitt muttered and snapped his mouth shut.
He quickly turned off the light and went back to his original spot. He
heard the laugh again. I am sorry to disappoint you, the Germans said,
You, however, are exactly as I pictured you. You Americans always
looks the same to me, young and velle, fed, eager for the
future, or something that must be all of your Coca Cola, Hershey bars,
American food and radio programs. DeWitt heard a soft shuffling as the man
moved inside his cell. The bed creaked as the Germans sat and then laid
down. Once situated, he let out a large and dramatic sigh. Do
you listen to the American radio programs? He asked. DeWitt swallowed hard and
shifted his feet. He did not reply. He picked out a spot on
the cell door opposite him. He focused on that spot. Look at the
spot, he said to himself. Just stare at it, ignore it.
Sing a song inside your head, I see, said the German, sounding
disappointed. You are going to be a good soldier and not speak to me.
I understand that. I understand the idea of being a good soldier.
I understand the idea of following orders. All of us here in this building,
Viva are following orders. Viva, all good soldiers. See where it
has gotten us. Yeah, there was a soft chuckle again. Then there
was silence for a while. Well, then the Germans said, if you
will not talk, then I will sleep. Just try not to shine the
vidant light directly into my eyes. There was more creaking from within as the
Germans shifted around to find a comfortable spot. After several more minutes, there
came a steady sound that DeWitt realized was snoring. He began to relax a
bit. When he checked again with the light, he found the man turned
on his side, away from the door, fast asleep. DeWitt once again
wondered how he ended up in this place, so far from Illinois. He
never wanted this, but here he was. It turned out to be one
of the longest nights of his relatively young life. The next night, de
Witch shuffled along the upper level to relieve the day guard, but found he
had more trepidation brewing in his stomach than the night before. He had not
slept very well, and told himself it was because he was not yet acclimated
to his new schedule, or perhaps it was the time difference. He knew
none of this was true, but he was quite good at convincing himself of
things when he wanted to. In fact, it was just the German's voice
in his head all night, cajoling him, taunting him in an almost polite
manner. It was so hard to connect the profound evil behind the wooden cell
door and the man who had spoken to DeWitt the day. There was nothing
about the doughy man which was menacing and yet this monster had masterminded the death
of millions. He took up his post and found the familiar spot on the
door across the hall at which to fix his eyes. He hoped. The
German inside the cell hadn't even noticed the guard change. Of course, he
should have known better. Well, well, said the German, if it
isn't the good soldier. Hello, young man, how you this evening?
Feeling a little more chatty yet? Yeah? Nine? DeWitt heard shuffling behind
the door, and a moment later it was like the German was right beside
his head. His skin crawled, and he bit down hard on his cheeks
to prevent him from screaming. He was determined not to scream or show any
weakness to this man. You do not look fell my friend, the Germans
said in his oily voice. You need to get more rest. I'm not
your friend, de Witt whispered. Pardon, young men, The German asked,
what did you say? You're not my friend? De Witt said,
louder, but still cautious. Ah replied the German. Well, then,
what shall I refer to you as de Witt? He answered through clenched teeth,
or you can refrain from referring to me at all. The kind of
name is that? The German asked, is that your first or last name?
Last? De Witt hissed nationality. De Witt turned his head slightly so
he could look directly at the red cheeked face in the window. American.
The German smiled, delightful, And here I saw all you Americans enjoyed talking
about there, you and your ancestors. Ver fum you are. It's a
great melting pot, isn't that correct? In Germany we do no such thing.
We are all just German, the fight as Germans for the sake of
Germany. I am glad to find an American who feels the same. DeWitt
stopped looking at the man and returned to the spot on the door. He
cursed himself under his breath. Damn it, he had fallen for it,
and now the monster behind the door thought they shared a common belief. He
clenched both fists. The silence which stretched out after this minor victory on behalf
of the creature behind the door felt like ours. DeWitt felt the man's eyes
scanning him, burrowing into the back of his skull. You sink, you
bet to zen me, the Germans said, matter of factly, after the
eternity ended, I can tell. DeWitt let a small smile across his lips.
He snapped back to attention. No emotion, he said, he needed
to be stoic. Sure he hated the guy, but it would do no
good for him to know that, and it wouldn't help dewitz situation at all.
I see that, the German announced, as if anyone had asked,
yes, I can tell all of you who come here sink you are bettas
than all of us, but especially me. All of the previous gods who
vehias saws the same thing. They all think I am locked up in here
with you. Then it is really you who are locked up in here with
me. I'm not locked in here, DeWitt muttered, without thinking. He
cursed himself for engaging in conversation with this man. He had been expressly told
not to do this very thing. He was letting this monster get under his
skin. Last night there had been dreams of monsters and long, dark corridors
with heaps of emaciated corpses piled high along both sides. They reached for him,
but the monster behind him laughed and spoke softly to him, telling him
it was all right, just let it eat him. Oh really, the
Germans sounded pleased with himself. Then, by all means, just walk out.
Surely there are us as things you've had rather be doings than staring at
a spot across the way. De Witt was startled by the comment, as
if this being had read his mind, and turned to look at the face
again. See, said the German, we are not so different. I
look at that same spot. It is the only thing worth looking at.
Did you see me today? As the trial? Dewitch shook his head.
I was sleeping. You've a trying to sleep? You mean, the German
corrected, as if to a student in his classroom. The trial does not
seem to be going very well as far as I'm concerned. I do not
think I or many of us here will be leaving these grounds. DeWitt smiled
again, although it felt false across the bottom of his face. You likes
the sound of that, I bet, the German teased. Tell me what
do you see when you look into sissel vis that bright light? De Witt
let the silence stretch out for a bit, then he whipped around, grabbing
the light and shone it directly into the German's face. The man did not
flinch when the piercing light stabbed his eyes. He saw the redness in the
man's cheeks and sweat beated on his brow. I see a mass murderer and
a monster, DeWitt said, and snapped off the light, returning to his
post, which still consisted of staring at a spot. That is what I
sawts you've ad say, said the German. You have zi luxury of seeing
me zat vee. You have zi luxury of being on that side of zidoul.
If you've on this side I am, you might see things differently.
You might choose to see me as a monster, because it is easier to
believe only a monster could do the things I am accused of instead of a
man. What kind of man kills women and children? DeWitt muttered again.
He cursed himself. What use was this to debate the German? The man
was on trial for monstrous crimes and would likely find himself dancing at the end
of a rope Before too long, all of this would be played out in
front of the world. What use was it to have a private debate here?
What do you know of Germany. The German asked to dewit's surprise what
I was asking you? What you know of the history of Germany. He
repeated, I know you've lost two big wars in a row. Yes,
this is true. The German replied with mild amusement. Did you know I
flew planes during the First World War? Yeah? I did. This was
before I got fat and became a joke to you people. I was a
vod hero. I fought bravely for my country in the First World War.
We were a powerful country then. You know, we had all the power.
We have the most powerful ships and tanks. But you just couldn't stay
behind your borders, could you. I was from a wealthy family, he
continued. I didn't have to join the army or the Air Corps, but
I did. Like many, I was devastated when we lost the war.
The treaty was a joke. Our country was in shambles. Vibes would stand
at the fences of the factories where their husband's worked. The men would run
out to the fences visit their paychecks. By the times the vibes could catch
them, the money had devalued to the point of verse lifelessness. People became
desperate. Have you ever been desperate of it? Yes, my family was
hit hard during the Great Depression. For your information, my father was out
of work. We didn't know how we would pay for food. Still,
we never resorted to murdering innocent people to make ourselves feel better. The German
nodded, No, you just wounded up your Japanese citizens and put them in
internment camps for the crime of merely being Japanese. I understand some German Americans
but also imprisoned. DeWitt felt anger burn within him, and he knew he
was turning red in the face. He kept silent, and the German let
the silence linger long enough for DeWitt's own mind to start playing tricks. Do
you know what stopped your depression? Never mind, I've asked that your war
with US. I am not saying anything about whether I did or did not
participate in these things I am accused of. I merely point out that the
only reason your country has continued to exist was because of the industry generated by
this war. So, really, in a vey, your country also benefited
from these so called murders you speak of. It's not the same thing.
The wits bat No, said the German. Of course it isn't you,
vun Zi wore. That means you can declare anything as the truth and the
rest of the world has to accept it. Your German and Japanese citizens will
return to to their lives to pick up the pieces, and because you did
not kill them in gas chambers, you will feel justified. Then you will
do all you can tobury is that part of your history. The world will
accept your version of this war. Are you saying you didn't kill millions of
Jews. I'm not saying anything, the German replied. I'm just saying you
can hold yourself as zimoral superior because you have victory under your belt. If
you've on this side of Zidoor, things might look very different. We don't
have a dictator, Dewitz said. He had turned to face the German again
but didn't even remember doing so. Everything was slipping through his fingers, and
the tighter he tried to get a grip on his emotions, the slippery or
they became. We don't gun people down in the streets. We have freedom,
yes, agreed the German. But do you have it for everyone?
Of course we do. De Wits bat it's the whole basis of our society,
sure, the Germans said, with a smile. So a black person
has all of zurrides you do. So there has never been a Jew in
your country who was persecuted. And I guess they're just going to ignore the
atonement caps I mentioned as an as a Perhaps you might want to ask your
Indian tribes what they think of your government. DeWitt blinked, as if slapped.
He had walked right into that one. What the hell was wrong with
him? He was letting himself be manhandled by this man. The German had
stepped right into his head and apparently taken up residence. You don't understand,
he said at last, once his silence had stretched to an uncomfortable length.
I see, however, I have to wonder if you do. I guess
you understand that if it's like to be here and what happened here, how
nice for you to have everything all figured out and to be able to seize
the world so much in black and white. I'm not supposed to talk to
you, DeWitt said, and returned to his post. Yes, but you
are, the German replied, I consider that progress. With that the German
laughed his mocking laugh, and Wit heard him shuffle across the floor. A
moment later, there was the creak of the bed and a loud noise as
the man stretched out. De Wig ground his jaw compulsively, his teeth creaking
in his skull, and he forced himself to stop. He needed more sleep,
he thought to himself. He resumed his vigil of the spot on the
door. The dreams de Witt had while trying to sleep were unreal. He
had never been the type to have nightmares, but now, as soon as
he closed his eyes, he heard the German's voice whispering inside his brain.
The images which filled his subconscious were terrifying. In one of his dreams,
he was once again walking down the hallways in the prison, but this time
the cells were filled with emaciated people of different races. Japanese prisoners reached for
him with pleading eyes and curled fingers through the bars of one cell there were
black men, women, and children. Inside another. At the end of
the hallway, instead of a wall, was a large furnace burning with the
heat of the sun. The smell of burnt pork filled the air from the
ceiling. Men, women and children hung from ropes, their eyes burning into
his skull, their heads twisted. He began to run inside the dream,
but when he finally reached the cell where the German resided in the real world,
he froze. Inside the cell, instead of a person, was a
giant American flag. Patriotic music poured from within. DeWitt snapped awake, Sweat
poured down his chest, his heart hammered against his rib cage. How was
he going to survive this duty? How was he going to maintain his sanity?
The next afternoon, DeWitt awoke with a headache. He had spent the
rest of the day tossing and turning instead of sleep. He couldn't seem to
get the window, and by default the room dark enough. His head would
not settle down and let him drift back to sleep. He continued to hear
the Germans words in his head. He tried to push them away. The
man was wrong, and that was the end of it. He and that
monster were nothing alike. The German was like some alien from another planet and
not fit to live among humans. DeWitt was nothing like him, and no
one he knew was like him. He gathered his strength and showed up for
duty. The stone walls appeared darker and grayer than they had been the day
before. The sky was an oppressive gray as well, as the last of
the light filtered into DeWitt's eyes. The sun went down far too early,
and the darkness crept in much too fast this time of the year, in
this part of the world. As soon as DeWitt stepped into the prison,
he heard the voice of his sea. Can I speak to you private,
Yes, sir, he replied. A few minutes later, they were in
the CEO's office. His commander looked concerned, but not angry, so DeWitt
felt slightly more at ease than when his name had been shouted. Still,
he shifted from one foot to the other nervously. I received a disturbing report
that you were heard talking to the prisoner last night, the CEO said,
Is this true? He won't shut up. I may have said a few
things back to him, but mostly told him to be quiet. The CEO
nodded, he does that. It's the reason we have the guard stand off
to the side. When the guard was looking into a cell all of the
time, he really wouldn't shut up, and I drove them nuts. My
advice is that you just ignore him, all right. He's trying to get
under your skin. Don't let him. The man is a criminal and a
monster. Remember that, I will, Sir. DeWitt answered back, but
he thought of the dream again and felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.
Salutes were exchanged, and DeWitt made his way to his post. He checked
in the cell and saw the Germans sitting at a desk writing something He did
not acknowledge the light when DeWitt shone it into the cell. Somewhat Satisfied for
the moment, DeWitt took his place beside the door, hopeful maybe someone had
spoken to the German as well. I apologize, my young friend, the
Germans said, after several minutes of blissful silence. I have as busy writing
letters to those who still considered themselves my family. I sink my time here
as this world is almost over. DeWitt said nothing and kept his face straight.
He felt more in control of himself to night, despite the dreams.
Perhaps being talked to by the CEO had bolstered his courage. Ah, so
said the German, we are back to silence. I would protest, but
tonight I am too tired. I am feeling defeated, young soldier. That
should go a long way toward making you feel very superior to me. DeWitt
blinked, the last sentence stuck in his craw. Why did it bother him?
Flashes of the dream, the American flag, and the cell, the
patriotic music all played through his mind. I'm not saying I'm superior to you,
he said. His reply stopped the German in mid stride. His face
reappeared in the cell door. Really does that mean you admit even you could
end up in a place like Zis given the right circumstances. No, DeWitt
said, I'm not saying that. I don't understand how anyone could ever do
what you and the rest of these people here did. I'm just admitting you're
a person, and so am I, and that I'm not better than anyone
else. So you no longer just see a monster here, said the German.
I don't know what I see, Dewitz said. I see a man
who is lost just about everything, and yet he keeps trying to convince himself
and everyone around him that somehow the horrible things he's done were justified, some
part of you is a monster. Anyone who could order the deaths of millions
is a monster. It's one thing to do it for war, another to
do it for some crazy idea of a racial purity. Both are terrible,
but the second one is what makes you a monster. Despite that, there's
something sad and pathetic about you, I see, said the German. You
pity me in a way. I guess I do. You deserve what's coming
to you. But none of this should have happened. Not the war,
not the industrial murders, not the madness of a dictator, not these trials.
Something broke somewhere in society that allowed all of this to happen. The
German buried his teeth like an animal. I do not need your pity,
soldier. In fact, I need nothing from you. Then why do you
continue to talk to me? DeWitt asked. You're scared, but you won't
admit it. You're terrified of the noose, but you'll never say it.
You're desperately lonely and craving human contact, but you won't agree with that either.
What else is there to do with someone that is unwilling to admit weakness
but pity them? The German growled to seem fierce, but he also stepped
back from the window a bit. It was as if DeWitt had reached through
the bars and slapped him hard across the face. DeWitt had to admit it
gave him some satisfaction despite the pity. The hate for this man and what
he had done still burned bright. Do you sink my execution will be a
mercy quiet the bravado gone, now more mercy than you ever showed the millions
you helped murder, DeWitt said. It is not dignified, the Germans said,
and being gassed in the showers with hundreds of others is DeWitt asked,
I am an officer in said German army. He said, I should be
put before a firing squad, and not dangled from the end of a rope.
You'll forgive me if I don't feel much sympathy for your situation, DeWitt
said. Another long pause followed, so long DeWitt thought maybe the German had
gone to sleep and he hadn't heard the footsteps. Then the voice appeared,
like a ghost, little more than a whisper carried on a summer breeze.
No said, the German. I don't think I will forgive you. I
don't think I will forgive you because you will not forgive me. You are
in a position for you could help me, and instead you choose to laugh
at me. Once again, I must point out this seems to be little
difference between you and what you accuse me of being. No matter how many
times you say that, it doesn't make it true. What you did was
unforgivable. Besides, how am I in a position to do anything? DeWitt
asked, you have access to the storvum? Yeah, DeWitt nodded. All
of the guards had access to the storeroom. It not only contained supplies for
the guards, but housed personal belongings of the prisoners. Why did he just
admit to this man he could access it? Then all you would have to
do is bring me a container of face cream I have in my suitcase,
the Germans said. My skin gets so dry and it is the only cream
I have ever found that can help me. What's in it? I don't
know, the German replied, it is from Switzerland. I bought it in
a small store on a most delightful corner. The couple who Vane are delightful.
I should give you the address in case you ever visited Switzerland. You
can visit you know what I mean. The German smiled. It would probably
be best for you if you did not know. You see, it is
very much like the German people. They did not know because they chose not
to. You can do the same in some regards. I feel you are
that you are playing such a game with your own mind. DeWitt did not
take the bait or respond to that. He stared hard at the German.
The German shrugged, sink that you will do that. You will just remember
this is a chance to be merciful. I saw it in your country.
All men are innocent until proven guilty. I think you have been proven guilty.
DeWitt answered, your whole fucking country is guilty. The Germans sighed and
shrugged again, sink Butyuville. DeWitt turned up his lip and snarled at the
German, who simply smiled at him. Then he turned away from the bars,
and DeWitt heard the bed squeaking. DeWitt eventually just gave up trying to
sleep. Eventually he got up and listened to the radio. The news said
the trial had ended and the verdicts were about to be handed down. No
one expected the German to avoid the hangman's noose. DeWitt didn't know how to
feel about this, but was alarmed to find himself concerned the man had gotten
into his head. He made his way back to his bed and lay on
his back with his arm thrown over his face. After a few minutes,
he mentally found himself back in his small town in Illinois. He remembered the
day, even though he had been so young when it happened. The details
had grown hazy, but the image of the man hanging in the tree never
left him. It was a black man. Exactly what he had been accused
of, DeWitt did not recall. He guessed it was probably a crime against
some white woman. It needn't have even been a crime as bad as assault,
murder, or rape. Just looking at a white woman the wrong way,
even in Illinois, could be just cause this was central and southern Illinois,
and things were much different here. His father, shirt stuck to his
body with sweat, had awakened him in the middle of the night. His
cheeks were flushed red with work, effort and excitement. He shook de Witt
from one of those sound sleeps only a child can find but eludes the grown
man. Come on, Jimmy, his father had said, come on,
wake up. You have to see this groggy and maybe even still clutching the
tattered old teddy bear he had carried with him everywhere in those early days,
de Witt had gone with his father. He remembered bouncing on the seat next
to his dad their old car, with the bad shock sending each bump in
the road through his tiny spine. DeWitt's brother, a few years older and
doomed to die in the Pacific years later, sat next to him. Unlike
Dewyn, his brother was awake and excited like their father. They drove right
into the middle of town. It seemed every adult DeWitt knew was there.
Men and women were gathered in the park right across from the town hall.
People carried torches, and the lights made shadows flicker and dance across the square
and the buildings encircling it. DeWitt remembered being afraid. He had to be
lifted onto his father's shoulders to see a man hung from a rope knotted crudely
around his neck. The trailing end snaked up over a branch into a tree
in the middle of the town square. His head twisted at a strange and
very fatal angle, his tongue bold as did his eyes. Someone had tied
the rope around his neck, lifted him up and watched him strangle. He
looked as if he had been beaten before that. His face bulged and bruised
with dried blood in places. Even from the distance he was, DeWitt could
see moisture, perhaps from tears, perhaps from being spat upon, on the
man's cheeks, drying in the torchlight. His pants were wet from when his
bladder had let go. As he died. See Jimmy, his father said,
See what we do with animals. DeWitt watched the body turn slowly,
like some sick twisted mobile over an infant's crib in DeWitt's dream. As it
spun around, now he saw it was the German, cheeks still red but
tongue protruding, staring at him from the end of the rope. DeWitt opened
his mouth to yell, but the crowd made so much noise he was drowned
at. As the body spun again, DeWitt saw his own face now staring
at him, marking him, accusing him of crimes he had not committed,
but for which he had no defense. DeWitt opened his eyes and his bed.
He was surprised to see it was nearly time for him to awake anyway.
His breathing was ragged, his head hurt, his mouth was dry.
He sat up in bed and felt his sweat soaked shirt cling to his body.
It was time to go to work. DeWitt stood in the gloom of
the storage room, aghast at the stacks of boxes he found on either side
of him. He told his CEO he needed a new pair of gloves,
and showed the old pair he kept in his locker with the holes in them
as proof. He looked at the rows of suitcases and trunks near the back.
They were so normal, they looked, somehow so pathetic. These were
just suitcases that could have been owned by anyone, and not monsters and murderers.
Finally he found the one he was looking for. The German had described
the case the night before, just as DeWitt was leaving duty. In hopes
of finding some sleep, he opened the suitcase. There were some clothes and
a pair of nice white leather gloves. DeWitt pocketed the gloves and rummaged some
more. In a pocket. Beneath the lid was a jar of white cream.
It had no label, only a black screw on top. De Witt
heft it. He stared at it, then unscrewed the top and sniffed carefully.
It smelled like the hand cream he remembered his mother using back in Illinois.
The state of his birth seemed so far away. Now he was a
stranger in a strange land, now that, upon closer inspection, wasn't as
strange as he had first thought. He didn't die from sniffing the cream.
So he screwed the lid back on, tucked the jar into a pocket,
grabbed a new pair of gloves, and exited the room. Why did you
change your mind, the german asked. DeWitt pushed the jar through the bars
and the door. The glass felt strange and alien in his hands. The
man's face looked strange and alien to him. The verdict had been death,
and the sentences were to be carried out quickly. The man before him would
be hanging eyes, bulging tongue, protruding pants, darkening, perhaps in days
DeWitt stared into the man's face, and it was like he could suddenly see
the future. He saw hatred and death. He saw blood in the streets
and children crying as parents were murdered before their eyes. He saw a despotic
leader promising salvation only through him, while pointing the finger at one specific race
or religion. DeWitt saw men carrying torches, marching in the streets, channing
hate filled slogans, convinced of their superiority, but so afraid of the approaching
thing they considered a threat. More frightening than any of this was the realization
such a thing could happen in the United States or Canada, or France or
England, anywhere. It just took scared people willing to believe a lunatic who
would then focus their fear into a sharp razor of hatred. This man here
deserved his fate. Of that, de Witt was certain, beyond all doubt
all of them did. However, the veil between these men and the people
DeWitt knew back home was so thin. It was so thin it could be
ripped apart with a strong breeze or a push. This man, all of
these men, had been born with endless possibilities, then something had twisted them.
No one was born a monster, DeWitt realized. They became monsters through
endless, tiny, horrible twists throughout their lives. DeWitt looked into the German's
dark pupils and saw only an abyss to his endless horror. It looked back
at him. The fear he felt was absolute. Ice ran its fingers down
his spine. I came to realize some things, DeWitt said, Did you
recognize the monster? The German asked something like that. DeWitt muttered, I
thank you, said the German, don't. DeWitt held the man's gaze,
then looked down. The spell broken, the German shrugged. The glints had
gone out of his eyes, and so had the swagger disappeared from his step.
His cheeks were no longer so red. Whatever you wish, he said,
I shall returns to favor by waiting until you are off duty for what.
DeWitt said, I don't know what you're talking about. The German nodded
slowly as a sad smile crossed his lips. He looked much older to DeWitt
now, and much thinner. He remembered the newsreel footage of this man and
his obese frame shaking with laughter. Now it was hard to believe it was
the same man. Then again, de Witt was not the same man who
had stepped into this post a few weeks ago. So be it, the
German replied, so quietly. DeWitt read his lips more than he heard it.
DeWitt turned away from the bars and returned to his post. That night,
the two of them spoke of home. It turned out they had experienced
many of the same things as children. They shared some of the same loves
of music, literature, even film. For a moment, just before dawn
and before his replacement came on duty, DeWitt did not feel like a stranger,
and his spot in Germany felt very much like a spot somewhere in Illinois.
He thought, perhaps it was like being in the town square. Private
de Witt had a simple assignment. He was to watch over a man who
had once been powerful, but now was a shadow of himself, a man
waiting for a death sentence. Instead, what he found was that the monsters
of this world are more like us than we would like to believe. The
same lesson can also be learned from the gods we make of the men in
our history. We are all capable of amazing greatness or the most profound horrors.
A lesson, perhaps, and a warning about the true nature of evil.
A tale only told When the Night Comes Out. You've been listening to
When the Night Comes Out, a weekly horror anthology podcast with stories by Brian
w Alaspa and narrated and produced by Ali James, music by Vivekabishek. For
Brian's work, visit his website at Brian w Alaspa dot com or visit Amazon
dot com for his works of fiction and nonfiction. For Ali's work, find
her on Facebook at Ali James Projects. Check out our website When the Night
Comes Out dot com to learn how to support us on Patreon.