I feel it only fair to warn you: this story is very strange. The seed idea came to me while watching one of my favorite movies, but it’s not exactly a sequel; perhaps we could call it a quasi-sequel, a story which could have taken place in the world of that movie had things gone just a little differently. I think most of you will probably pick up on it pretty quickly, and if you don’t…well, that’s what comment threads are for.
Greta ground the butt of the cigarette into the ashtray, then opened her case for another. Upon realizing that she only had four left and wasn’t sure when she would be able to get more, she decided to conserve them. She didn’t normally smoke as much as she had tonight, but she was unusually nervous; her instincts told her something was very wrong, and they never lied. Perhaps it was the way Klaus had behaved when he let her know this group was on the way last night; perhaps it was the unusually large size, more than twice as many as usual. Maybe it was the one little girl who simply would not stop crying, or the heavy rain.
But most likely, it was the fact that Albert was an unprecedented three hours late.
Ignoring the silent question in the refugees’ eyes, she went back upstairs, put on her coat and hat and went onto the balcony with her binoculars. It was a futile gesture, really; in this weather she wouldn’t be able to see anything outside her own grounds. But it kept her occupied for at least a few minutes, and allowed her to avoid the frightened people downstairs who might be able to read the apprehension on her features.
After returning the wet things to the rack she went to Goliath’s room at the end of the hall, knocked and let herself in; she found him where she knew she would, seated in his massive wooden chair staring out at the storm with a strange look of fascination. When she touched his hand he turned to her and smiled that silly grin of his, and perceiving his empty tray she asked, “Was your supper good?”
“Yes. Very good,” he said.
“I’m glad. It shouldn’t be much longer now, then we’ll have the house to ourselves again.”
“Good,” he frowned. “I hate crowds.”
“I know you do,” said Greta, “but what we’re doing is very important. These people are trying to escape bad men who want to capture them, to lock them in chains and maybe even kill them. The bad men hate them because they’re different, and you know what that’s like, don’t you?”
“Yes,” he said quietly, with incredible sadness. “I know.”
Greta was fairly sure he did. Her father had taken him in over 20 years ago after his previous caretaker had died of influenza, and though he was simple and childlike, his great size and terribly ugly features frightened people so much the family kept him hidden as much as possible. “I’m going to leave your door ajar, so you can hear if there’s trouble, all right?” He didn’t answer, but she knew he understood.
She found the leader of the little group waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. “What can I do for you, Rabbi?”
“I wanted to thank you on behalf of my people, for endangering yourself to help us.”
“Greta is just a stage name, Rabbi; my mother called me Judith.”
“Ah. Then you are in as much danger as we are should you be found out; why do you not escape to Switzerland yourself?”
“Guilt. At first I was as happy to take their money as I was to take that of any other man, and even more so after the Nuremberg Laws made them all criminals for hiring me. But after the war started and the usual hate turned into something monstrous, I knew what manner of men I had entertained and I feel I will never be clean of their foul touch.”
“Yet their money paid for our refuge, and your profession gave you the contacts you have used to help so many of your people, just as Rahab sheltered Joshua’s men in Jericho,” he said. “Think about that.”
Before Greta could answer there was a squeal of brakes followed by the sounds of running feet and a pounding on her door; she saw shadows flitting past the windows and knew that disaster had come upon them. The door flew open, and in strode a Gestapo officer, announcing that everyone was under arrest; in moments several of his men had entered the room. There were not many but they were armed and organized, and thus more than a match for a group of panicked refugees, most of them women and children.
They were no match, however, for the nightmare that came lumbering down the stairs a moment later, ignoring their bullets as completely as he ignored the officer’s frantic orders to halt. Goliath flung aside the first men he encountered as easily as an angry child might fling a doll, and both refugees and Gestapo alike screamed in terror when he put his right hand on the officer’s shoulder and in one quick motion tore his head off with the left.
Greta knew it was imperative she get the refugees away from the melee; in his berserk state Goliath might not be able to tell friend from foe, and might perceive screaming and panic as a threat. “The back door!” she shouted. “Out the back door!” The Nazis who had originally gone around to block that way had immediately returned to the front when the screaming started, though they would soon wish they hadn’t. Once outside, she directed the fleeing group toward the barn and then made a wide circle around to the front herself, hoping to calm Goliath down once the battle came to its inevitable conclusion.
Only once before had Greta been directly exposed to her protector’s incredible capacity for violence; years ago a client had turned brutal and, summoned by her screams, Goliath had burst through the door and literally dismembered her assailant. But that incident had been over before it started; this was carnage on a scale she had never even imagined. Body parts lay strewn madly about, the windowpanes were opaque with blood and Goliath was stumbling around the front lawn in the pouring rain, growling and crying out incoherently and swinging a grisly club (which Greta took to be a human shin) at invisible, airborne opponents.
“I’m safe!” she shouted at him, “Look, it’s me, Judith! Your friend! The bad men didn’t hurt me!” He heard, and turned toward her with a look of such implacable fury that for a moment she was terrified he could not recognize her.
But then his features softened abruptly; he dropped his grotesque weapon, reached out toward her with open hands and plaintively called out, “Friend?”
“Yes, it’s me, I’m all right! You did good, you protected the people! But the battle is over now, and you have to be calm again.” But as she spoke, she realized he was looking past her and scowling, and she turned to discover that several of the men had come up behind her after arming themselves with the dead Nazis’ guns. “He won’t hurt you!” she cried. “He only attacks people who threaten him or me.”
“Do you know what that is?” one of the older men shouted. “It’s…”
“It is a golem!” interrupted the Rabbi, in a voice that commanded attention. “Do you not know the story of Rabbi Judah Loew of Prague, who created a man-like creature from inanimate matter in order to defend the Jews? This is another like it.”
His authoritative declaration had the desired effect; the guns went down, albeit slowly, and Greta suggested it would be better for them to wait in the barn with their families while she tried to discover whether Albert had been captured or merely delayed. In either case, they would have to leave soon, and this time she and Goliath would go with them; this place wasn’t safe for anyone now.
“Come on,” she said, as calmly as she could manage. “We both need to get out of these wet things.” And with that she took his huge hand in hers, and led him back into their home for the last time.
I’m surprised you didn’t use a still from the 1930s version of that movie, which is much more famous. I want to say the famous version’s starring actor was English, but he had a Russian name.
I liked this one, with the little girl. But I think my choice of picture is misleading y’all as to the real identity of this particular artificial creature made in Germany, with a limited vocabulary, fascination for thunderstorms and tendency to go berserk.
I loved this story, Maggie! But, had I written it …
Goliath wouldn’t be sitting around on his ass eating and watching it rain and waiting for something bad to happen before he “sprung” into “hero” mode.
Nay, in my version … Goliath would have waged a nightmarish pre-emptive war against the Nazis. Finding Jews to catch would have been the least of their problems – their main problem would have been sleeping safely in their own beds at night!! 🙂
A “drone” would have been a nice addition to Goliath’s quiver – as well as a MOAB and a bunker buster or two. 😛
Seriously – these are Nazis – so it’s all cool!
By the way, since “Golems” are loyal to Jews, the Iranians aren’t “making” any of them. Instead, they have their own new secret weapon. I wonder what these women are like in the sack? I’ll bet they’re crazy!!
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/middleeast/iran/9090658/Iran-trains-female-ninjas-as-potential-assassins.html
This particular “golem” isn’t really loyal to Jews; his previous caretaker was, as far as I know, Christian. He also isn’t smart enough to do anything pre-emptively, and tends to get himself into trouble when there’s nobody guiding him. I take it you didn’t guess his identity? 😉
His identity is GOLIATH. 😀
And he’s a “Golem”.
He’s somebody else?
You know I cringe when I dial in to your page and see the words “Fictional Interlude” … because I know it’s going to be a mental challenge for me! LOL – I haven’t caught a single one of your hidden meanings yet!!
What year did this happen?
It matters because, if it was after 1942 then there would have been an MG-42 machine gun in that Gestapo assault squad. 8mm of lead at 1,500 rpm would have carved up everyone except perhaps … Ben Grimm – and I’m guessing there because he appears to be made of rock and might be more impervious to that kind of firepower – though I’m sure it would have pissed him off terrifically.
I was picturing 1941.
Ah, world war 2 trivia time.
The Mg-34 was in service before 1942 so the Gestapo would have had access machine gun support. It fired the same round as the mg-42 which was the same as the round fired by the standard German service rifle, the Kar98k. So,the MG-42 probably wouldn’t have done anything to Goliath.
Next, there wasn’t really a “Gestapo assault squad” the idea of the Gestapo as being this massive army of spies and secret police was something of a myth, designed to cover up the willingness of Germans and people in occupied territories to denounce other people for rewards. Most members of the Gestapo were overworked bureaucrats sorting out denunciations that actually met the incredibly low burden of proof they set. That’s not to say the Gestapo wouldn’t have carried out this kind of raids, it’s just that it would have been one Gestapo Agent and a bunch of regular soldiers.
They probably would have never brought a MG-42 or MG-34 along with them because they weren’t used like SAWs in modern infantry squad and unless they expected an engagement at long range, they wouldn’t have brought along a separate MG section, nor brought one indoors.
That was more or less my concept; one officer and a bunch of glorified cops sent to arrest a whore, a few “inferior” men and a bunch of terrified women and children. They had no idea they would have to face a resurrected engine of destruction.
Krulac,
Have you ever run into the alternative Superman universe where his spaceship crashes in Bavaria instead of Kansas?
No – and I really don’t want to because I’ve postulated right here in these comments before about what kind of individual I’d be had I been born in Hitler’s Germany.
As a kid, I was the antithesis of Maggie. I didn’t question shit if it came from “authority”. I took to the military like a duck to water. I remember a “surprise” muster in my barracks at 0230 one morning – I got out of bed and went out to the formation and one of the girls from another barracks scowled at me … “You love this shit don’t you Krulac?” … and I just said … “Yep – I do!”
That one never would go out with me – even though she was fairly good looking with the kind of slutty crack-whore ambiance that I dig … she thought I was a lunatic. 😛
Fortunately – I got promoted super-fast and trusted enough to be shown the “sausage making” – where I discovered that so much of my trust had been sorely misplaced. I think I’m cured now, maybe.
Frankenstein’s monster? Right?
Go to the head of the class. 😉
No way!
Frankenstein actually came to my mind when I read this sentence …
But I never thought he could plow through a Gestapo platoon! 😛
Frankenstein’s monster can do whatever he likes because his creation was clearly the work of a supernatural entity. My theory: the creature actually was a golem sent to destroy Frankenstein for being and idiot.
Really, ‘the creature’ from the actual (terrible) book struck me as rather intelligent- arguably more so than Frankenstein, who’s idea of science was to sew dead body parts together and then zap it with electricity. Granted, if he had freaked out because it actually worked (and was clearly some evil godlike creature messing with him), rather than because ‘he had played god’, every action he subsequently took would have been much more justifiable.
I love Young Frankenstein, not merely for the loving parody of the Universal movies, but also for its commentary on the novel. Wilder’s Frederick succeeds because he refuses to abandon his creation, despite the temptation to do so.
Specifically, this is the Universal horror movies version of the monster, in a world where the old blind man in Bride of Frankenstein succeeded in hiding him from the hunters and cared for him until 1918, when (as I stated in the text) he died in the flu epidemic.
Anyhow, in Son of Frankenstein it is stated that the monster just keeps getting stronger with time; in that movie he’s running around with several bullets in his heart. So I figure by 1941 he’d be strong enough to shrug off the few hits a bunch of panicked men could actually score in a small, dimly-lit room against a fast-moving target.
The most famous version of which, starred Boris Karloff.
I guessed Frankenstein also.
You really should consider publishing a short story collection, maybe as a Kindle ebook.
… talent …
This was good. There is an episode of Night Gallery where the Nazis encounter Dracula, and that may be the only reason I guessed Frankenstein’s Monster. The creature is the obvious inspiration for the flesh golem of Dungeons & Dragons.
I’m quite taken with the version of “the creature” from the movie VanHelsing. He’s become … soulful.
Still inordinately powerful, of course, but … welding it to a very human sense of responsibility.
💕s for good fiction, Maggie.