Nightfall in Dresden

When the sun rose on the rolling gray hills, the men began to stir about in their makeshift campsite. Their black sweeping uniforms were murky with dried blood from the night before, and they had slept that evening with celebratory dreams of victory. Their goal had been simple: locate the source of the Jewish insurgency, and eliminate them. When the sun rose that morning, all who stood in the way had been eliminated.

"Herr Becker," one of the younger men asked, "should we bring their bodies to the town square? You know, to set an example?"

General Becker sneered at the still, crumbling structure that had been a hotbed of rebellion only the night before. He brushed soot off his armband absentmindedly.

"Nein, Fritz," he finally answered, "we leave them where they fell. The smell of their putrid rot will be enough of an example.  Now pack up, all of you; we are set to return to Dresden by night."

The men saluted, raising their hands out to the sky before quickly setting to work. There was one truck between them all: General Becker himself and five of his most trusted guardsmen. Their mission, as stated, was to sever the heads of the insurgency that had begun to sprout up across Germany: the Jewish population was fighting back, and they were hitting hard. Becker and his men hit back even harder.

"Is that everything?" Becker asked as the men began to pull the dark green tarp over the back of the truck.

"Yes sir," young Fritz responded, "we're all set to leave for Dresden."

Becker nodded, pulling open the passenger door and sliding into the truck. Their cargo securely packed into the back of the truck, the men all accounted for, the group began their journey home to pick up new orders.

Unbeknownst to the group, who had all packed in such a hurried fervor, they had left something behind at that tiny campsite. There, tucked behind the large stone that served as the backbone of the campsite, was a body. It was wrapped from head to toe in cloth, and its arms were placed in an X formation across its chest as if it were a mummy. The body was chained across its legs and arms, keeping it firmly in position. The wind howled as it lay there, chained and bound like a wild animal. It lay there as the early morning sun began to climb ever higher, and it lay there as the sun began to set beneath the hills.

It was nearly nightfall when the car arrived. It had been driving along innocently enough, following the same route that Becker and his men took back home; like Becker's group, the truck stopped at the campsite, the ashes of the insurgency building not a quarter mile away.

A man emerged from the driver's seat of the car; he was old and graying, with wide rimmed glasses that sat on his nose and a cane that aided his movement. He was quickly joined by a young woman who emerged from the passenger seat, her brown curly hair blowing in the Autumn wind.

"Mein Gott," the man whispered to himself as he signed the cross in front of his chest, "there's nothing we can do."

"Herr Schmidt, what happened here?" the woman asked as she stepped closer to the scene of the crime.

"This place housed a chapter of the resistance," Schmidt said as he lowered his head, "I can only imagine what horrors those monsters subjected them to. I suppose all we can do is-"

Schmidt turned to his left, his attention diverted. He saw the body that had been left behind, slumped against the rock like a sleeping soldier.

"Frau Engels," he motioned towards the body, "help me put this one in the back. They must've left this poor fellow to suffocate in there; we'll store him in the morgue until we can identify him and his next of kin."

Engels nodded, hoisting the body up and cradling it like a child. Schmidt hobbled back towards the car, pulling the backseat door open as she gently placed it across the seat. She seat-belted it in place horizontally with both buckles, and the pair resumed their drive towards Dresden Hospital.

****

"Well?"

The men waited in anticipation as Becker exited the command building stationed in Dresden. He had entered with the purpose of discovering their next objective in their war on rebellion, and now he had an answer.

"Gentlemen," Becker announced to his men as they crowded around the building's steps, "our next stop is simple: intel has located another insurgency outpost just north of the city, about ten or so miles out. They expect us to have it cleaned up by tomorrow morning."

"It'll be dark soon, Herr Becker," one of the men boasted, "and no juden stand a chance against our..."

He patted the back of the truck, which had since been emptied of cargo. The soldier nervously patted the back of the truck again, then once more as the men's faces changed from courageous to nervous.

"Where is it?" Becker whispered as the men's faces began to grow pale. "Where is it?!"

"I-I don't know," the soldier stammered, "it should've been kept out after we put away the cargo... we must've forgotten it at the campsite!"

"You forgot it?!" Becker roared. "Have you any idea what you've done?!"

He grabbed the soldier by the collar, shoving him away from the truck. He leaned his head against the back of the truck, mumbling swears to himself as he clenched his fists.

"Here," he said through gritted teeth, "is what we do. Our best bet- our only bet- is that those do-gooder doctors have brought it to the hospital.  That's not so far from here; we mobilize, taking all of our precautionary countermeasures.  Our mistake could cost dozens, if not hundreds of lives; we need to be careful in reclaiming it, or if unavoidable... killing it." ****

"Johannes!" Schmidt shouted as he swung open the hospital doors. "Give Frau Engels a hand with this cadaver! Prep it for examination and autopsy!"

"Yes, Dr. Schmidt!" Johannes exclaimed as he rose to his feet. The young orderly quickly took the body from Engels' arms and rushed it towards the examination room, its chains rattling and clanking as it jostled in his arms.

"What do you make of it, Herr Schmidt?" Engels asked as she closed the doors behind them.

"It's most peculiar," Schmidt mused, "that they let this one suffocate while the others died in the actual raid. Perhaps this one was some kind of leader?  Someone they wanted to suffer longer than the rest?"

"I don't know," Engels responded, "I'm not sure I want to know what drives this cruelty."

"They think they're protecting the Fatherland," Schmidt answered simply, "they're so blinded by fanaticism that they can't see that this country's rot stems from them. But it is no matter.  I'm a doctor, not a politician.  My job is not to make the Fuhrer's decisions for him, but to clean up after his actions.  This man is just one more victim of a 'better' Germany."

Engels nodded as the two moved further into the hospital. Several rooms down the hall, Johannes pushed open the door to the examination room, placing the body on a table in the center of the room.

"First things first," he said to himself, "let's get all this cloth out of the way for Dr. Schmidt."

He cleanly cut a slit in the fabric with a nearby scalpel, ripping the cloth apart as he struggled to reveal the face. When he saw it, he gagged in disgust.

"Mein Gott," he whispered, "what did they do to you, fruend?"

As he stared at the disfigured body, he noticed something draped around its neck. He pulled it up and out of its cloth covering: it was a crucifix necklace. It was a simplistic design; just a small silver cross attached to black string.

"This might be useful to the police," Johannes thought out loud, "perhaps they can identify a man who might've worn something like th-"

Johannes turned around, and the body was gone.

"Frau Engels," Dr. Schmidt called as he pulled on his white coat, "will you check on Johannes for me? He's spent quite some time in the examination room."

"Yes, Herr Schmidt. I'll see to it right away." She calmly entered the examination room, silence falling on the hospital for the first time in what felt like years.

Her scream of terror pierced the silence, echoing through the empty halls like a banshee wail.

****

When Becker and his men arrived at the hospital, they nearly slammed into Dr. Schmidt and Frau Engels, who were huddled by the entrance door.

"Who are you?" Dr. Schmidt asked. "We sent for the poli-"

"Where did you see it last?" Becker asked immediately, prompting Engels to weakly point to the examination room. He gestured for his men to follow as they hurriedly marched down the hospital hall.

When they got to the examination room, they were hit by a momentary relief as they saw the familiar shape of a body covered in cloth. The feeling faded fast, however, as Becker pulled the sheet off to reveal the withered husk of what had once been Johannes. His skin was wrinkled and leathery, and his eyes appeared hollow and colorless. His mouth had been contorted into a permanent, lifeless scream.

"Shit," Becker whispered, "it's gotten free. Everybody fan out!  This is a hospital, so it's going to track the weakest patients first!  Concentrate your searches on populated rooms!  Now move!"

The men saluted quickly and scrambled out of the examination room. They tore down the hall, shoving into various rooms as Becker drew his pistol. He approached Schmidt and Engels, who still huddled together in fear.

"Where do you keep your patients?" he asked quietly.

"Why... Why do you need to know?" Schmidt asked in a shaky voice.

"It wants easy prey," Becker answered, "and I can't think of easier prey than bedridden sick men. Now for your safety and theirs, where do you keep your patients?"

"They're all on this floor," he responded, "we're a small hospital, I couldn't afford to build any extra floor-"

Schmidt's explanation was cut off by the scream of one of Becker's men. His attention diverted, he quickly rushed down the hall, where the rest of his men had gathered.

"What's happening?!" he asked as he pushed through the men. When he entered the hospital room, he realized exactly what was happening.

The patient in the room was already dead; their body was shriveled and dry like Johannes', its signature mark. Becker, however, was more concerned with the pair of uniformed legs that dangled limply from the ceiling.

Not only had they caught it, they had caught it mid-feeding.

It dropped the body, screeching as it scrambled to the floor. It lifted the soldier's lifeless body in its grasp as it stood straight up, giving all the men a good look- and a clear shot- at it.

The creature was tall, but not unnaturally so; it looked like it was around 6'3". Its face had long since rotted away, leaving a skull that was crimson with spattered blood.  Its hands were larger than normal, sporting long, spindly claws.  It wore a uniform similar to that of the soldiers, its sweeping overcoat resembling that of Becker himself.

Of course, that's not what the men were focused on. Their attention had been drawn by the long, pointed fangs that protruded from the mouth of the skull.

It leapt forward in an instant, throwing Becker aside as it tore into the throat of Fritz, the group's youngest member. In an instant, Fritz's body began to dry up as the other men pumped bullets into the creature fruitlessly. It batted them all away like toys, its attention focused on Fritz's bloodless corpse.

"Herr Becker!" one of the soldiers screamed. "It's drank the blood of three men! With sunrise so far away, it's too powerful to contain!"

Becker gritted his teeth as he gazed down at the satchel he had brought with him. His options had been depleted.

"Right," he mumbled to himself, "the men come first. I must protect them at all costs."

He opened his satchel, removing the long, pointed stake and gripping it tight in his hand. He slowly approached the creature, which was hunched over Fritz as the other men stayed along the corners of the room. When he was right behind the creature, it took notice; it whirled around right as Becker plunged the stake forward, driving it straight through the creature's heart. It screeched in pain, dropping the body of Fritz as it began to sink to the floor. It looked up at Becker, then around at the men, then it dropped backwards, pushing the stake all the way through its chest. The men gathered around it, watching it take its last gasps as the life faded from its rotting body.

****

When word reached the public about the incident at Dresden Hospital, it was told that the hospital itself was a secret insurgency base; this was the reason for the fire started by General Becker and his men, which encompassed the whole building, killing all the hospital's occupants. Becker received a demotion for the reckless killing of German patients, and his men were scattered to different battalions; Fritz's family buried an empty coffin.

There was something found that couldn't be as easily explained away, however: amid the rubble was a corpse that, according to the autopsy, had been untouched by the fire, but had been killed from a stake through the heart. This skeletal corpse, dressed in formal Nazi attire, was unaccounted for among Becker's group; the body's life and death were a mystery to those who investigated.

One final thing: the body was transferred to a hospital in Munich, where it would be properly examined and autopsied.

When the doctor removed the stake from its heart, the body supposedly vanished.