Skyler - Fragment Earth: S.S.H.U.T

Fragment Earth - 001 - S.S.H.U.T.

Robert Ethan Skyler

Episode 001
It is a childs fantasy, these past few weeks in Berlin. This Iknow to be true as I have yet to meet an adult who can make senseof what is happening but we understand. It is a pretended fantasycome true and here we are at the heart of madness, battling withguns and grenades, against artillery attacks and bombingraids.
In the ensuing phantasmagoric transformation of my reality, myduties as messenger, driving me to exciting new places that monthsand even weeks ago were just my neighborhood, keep me lucid enoughto stave off the creeping insanity which owns everything aroundme.
I attended school for years in a building which stands behind metoday as headquarters of a dream battle against evil. The generalstore I regularly fetched ice from for my mother now lies ahead ofme dark and glowing from the low clouds reflection of fire lightthrough its missing roof and with each new explosion eerie shadowspulse out of its windows frightening me onwards.
These are the forges from which all nightmares spawn and I imaginethey will remain so for all time, as even though I am only a child,every new breath I draw confirms I am still this dreamsmaster.
Messages secure in vest pocket. I push onwards with my mission tothe Fuhrerbunker. Running alleyways and through the park where Ihad practiced this very game in summers past; ducking down streets,from storefront to debris pile, there is no one to be seen thesedays and even less around this time of morning, except for ussoldiers. At least I think it is morning.
The tank I eyed to hide behind following my next leap was not thereyesterday. Its lifeless hulk standing as high water mark of thelast Red Army incursion shivers me onward, for at this moment itsprime position is ideal cover on my current path. There is no frontline, not anymore. There is this street and that alleyway, a bunkerhere, a hole in the wall there and only a childs imagination todraw a map for this battlefield.
It cannot be that the Russians have been this close so recently, Ithought as I leaned up against the wheel of their smoldering tank.Each time we push them back, their fire melts us further away. Youhave to think on your feet to stay in this game. Survival is assimple as seeing the brim on a helmet before that helmet sees you;only the quick live to the end of the morning in myneighborhood.
Everyone one I know is dead. There is something to be said forthat. I never deny myself the privilege of reveling in my ownmortality.
Arriving at the Fuhrerbunker, I crawl up into the MessengersEntrance: a crook in a bombed out wall which does not allow you tosee in or out until you breach the passageway, where after I findmyself in the silence and security of the outer garden of theReich's Chancellery.
Slowing my pace, I allow my breath to catch up with me.
Cautiously, I proceed into the main yard where the guard, a dizzystatue of a man probably drunk again tries to stop me. I yell athim, get your hands off me, this message is for the Fuhrer. Hedoes not let go. I repeat myself.
He covers my mouth and says, you are too late.
I am not too late. I am never late.
He continues, the Fuhrer is gone.
Gone? I echo. The word everyone uses for dead these days. No oneever dies anymore. They are just gone. Gone? I repeat, what doyou mean?
No, no, not that kind of gone, he replies pointing to the sky, ashis finger produces a tiny object, an aircraft lifting up over thecity, gone, he says, the Fuhrer has left; hes gone south, toBavaria.

I did not think I would get you out of there in time, I said overthe blaring engine. You put up a valiant fight. But you cannotblame yourself for this outcome. You made all the right moves atall the right times. The fates simply were not with you on thisone.
Looking over, into the silent reflection of his face off thedarkened window staring down into the glowing ruins of our oncethriving capital city crumbling under the heel of the advancing RedArmy, I am drawn into his reflection. I can see perfectly withinthose eyes the haunting lost lust of a thousand conqueredconquerors. Even in defeat this man is intoxicating.
I could have done better Hannah, shatters the silence of myrambling.
Oh Mein Fuhrer, I went on, could this have been any other way?You will still be triumphant in the end. I am sure of this. On andon I droll, taking every chance I dare to drown myself in thatreflection. A dip in the wings brings my attention back to thecontrols, and I am still talking. He could not have known I wasbarely flying this light aircraft to see me now.
What was I saying?
Does it matter?
Is either of us listening?
I did better, last time, he interrupts with astonishing zestrocking forth and back in his seat. Turning toward me, he looks tojustify his comment further. Squinting my assistance sees onlyfailure's familiarity subdue his gaze back toward the silentjudgment of the German countryside streaming below us.
We fly low through our safe corridor to the south held open at thecost of so many lives. Is he worth it? I wonder for the briefest ofmoments, but no answer comes and I would not want one if it did. Itis not for me to ask such questions. The silence strikes me.
Arriving safely over our landing site, the droning of the motor, Ithought had deafened me to anything the Fuhrer might have said, ason our approach he mumbles something I do not comprehend and darenot ask him to repeat. Landing smoothly like some dreams end, thejostling of rough turf under wheel awakens me.
My heart beats again.
A guard runs up to the aircrafts side. He opens the door. Hitlerturns to get out but stops, and turns back looking into my eyes andsays, forgive me.
I freeze, as babble fills my throat but say nothing with aswallow.
He leans to get out his last words, I will do better, nexttime.
I am sure you will Mein Fuhrer, I reply in a gush.
Or think I did.
I cannot say for certain I said anything at all.
Maybe he did not either.

Shuffled into my waiting armored car, we sweep off through thecountryside. The latest reports anticipate the Red Army could behere at any moment of unexpected weakness, Mein Fuhrer, says theaccompanying S.S. officer to Hitler, there is not a second to belost in transit to our destination.
Feeling the weight of that last statement, I press on even fastertoward the best kept secret of the war, and the only salvation Iimagine might save me, short of fleeing west to surrender to theAmerican Army.
Behind the front line borders of the Nazis Third Reich lay ourfate, where I had unwittingly aided in the enslavement of countlesssouls whose creation I now feared would soon see us joining them intheir shallow graves down the long winding dirt road I now drove toour destination; a hole in the wall, which held within it aninsurmountable horror of defensive positions no rational army couldbreech, to guard a prize no rational man could refuse.
The future of the Third Reich, and the victory Soviet Russia bledfor lay within this mountain fortress. Its external defenses sat atthe ready as the remnants of our elite S.S. Troops, havingabandoned their Berlin defenses, flowed south behind us.
Berlin soon fell, but much to the Red Army Supreme CommanderZhukovs disappointment, Hitler was not found in its ruins. Seeingthis deception only after the fact, Zhukov turned his forcessouthwards toward the only substantial body of resistance remainingin Greater Germany.