The Contraption

The Contraption by Rita Villa

The residents of Freiberg, Germany, are going insane. Stored away in the basement of an old asylum, they await in catatonic silence. Their families pray for a cure or even a cause. Doctor Hans Joachim must use his grandfather’s infamous invention, The Contraption, to see into their tormented minds. But the mysterious black forest knows the truth. Can anyone endure the harrowing journey into that forest or will they fall prey to the blood-soaked jaws of the wild wolf, the curse of the witch, or the gruesome Nazi experiments? Strap yourself into The Contraption. If you dare. Watch the current surge through your veins. Everything seems real but nothing might be. Be mindful of what you’re thinking. It could very well kill you.

The front door crashed open and they swarmed in like flies on a pile of shit. Boots pounded on tile. Those damn shiny black leather boots. Nothing sounded quite like them. Lydia looked around for a place to hide. But it was impossible. They’d search every closet, under every desk and around every corner. She dropped her book and sat completely still. The rumors were true. The goddamn rumors were true. Sweat beaded on her forehead and her heart felt like it would burst through her chest and onto the floor. She wanted to run into the hallway and gather everyone up but it was too late to save anyone, even herself. They were inside the building and that meant certain death or worse, capture. “Hide everyone, hide,” someone yelled. Boots followed the voice, running boots. “Oh, shhh, dear, shhh,” Lydia muttered. A few seconds later the yelling stopped. The silence was more frightening than the screaming. Lydia stood just to the right of her office door and pressed her body against the wall. Tried to make herself flat. Invisible. Maybe she could become part of the plaster and disappear forever. The wall felt cold and hard against her back, but at least it was solid. An anchor. She had nothing else to hold on to. No one to protect her. But that was a good thing. Right now anyway. Loving people only meant getting hurt. She moved closer to the door and peeked around the corner. The hallway filled with smoke. It didn’t smell. But that didn’t mean much. Mustard gas didn’t smell. And symptoms wouldn’t reveal themselves until the next day when the retched pain tore through your body. Then your skin would fill with red blotches and blister into yellow puss balls, everything from a few inches to a foot long. After that, death was imminent. She covered her mouth and nose with her sleeve and hoped this was just a fog to drive people out of the building. “Please, please, just a fog.” The silhouette of a man stumbled and crashed on the floor. Quickly, she pulled her head back inside, stopped breathing and closed her eyes. Boots drew closer. Right outside the door. Stopped. She stood as still as the two-by-fours inside the wall. Nothing in here but plaster and wood, she thought. Nothing in here, you son-of-a-bitch, not one living thing. Her heart pounded so loud she was positive she would have a heart attack. Right there. Just drop over dead. Her carotid bulged and pulsated. Ready to pop like a firecracker. Her palms sweated profusely and her head was about to crack in half. He cocked his rifle. She pressed her body harder into the wall, just before gunshots almost tore a scream from her. Seconds later, boots walked away. Blood seeped into the room and she could only stare as it flowed over the white tile floor, filling in the cracks like varicose veins. Her mind wandered…The young soldiers she’d met had been nice. Jesus, she just couldn’t comprehend the idea of them murdering people, she just couldn’t; but it was happening. There was no point to it and no matter how hard she tried to find a point, a reason, she couldn’t. The rumors were true. The shootings. The gas. The missing children. All of it was true! Soldiers ran by. A few glanced in quickly. Faces covered in gas masks. They didn’t see her. They would be back sooner or later to do a thorough check. If you could give them credit for anything it was perseverance. They would never give up until the job was done. Her one and only chance was to get out of the building and escape into the forest. After most of the soldiers went upstairs, she stepped over the blood, placed her back flat against the wall and crept down the hallway. Screams and gunshots echoed. She needed to cross the hallway at the corner and make a right. That should put her close to the back door. But the fog was so thick, she couldn’t see a thing. Her eyes burned as if they’d been set on fire. Hopefully just tear gas. “Please, God, just tear gas.” She let go of the wall and took a step. A tiny step. Then another. Reached out. Grabbed for the other side. Nothing. Reached again. Nothing. Stretched further. Only air. One more step. One more reach. Still nothing. One more step. Her foot hit something, twisting her ankle and sending her flat to the ground on top of a lump, a sticky, wet, hot lump. Her eyelids slammed shut. What is it? she thought. What is it? What is it? A hand grabbed her wrist. “Help me,” a voice pleaded. She opened her eyes. Benjamin, a volunteer, stared back at her, his skin bluish gray and eyes like overfilled balloons. Blood ran from his nose and his ears and his mouth. Dear God, the bullet had gone right through his head. “Help me,” he mumbled as his rigid grip loosened and his eyes went vacant. She jumped up, horrified, hands covered in blood. Boot falls came faster. And faster. They must have heard her fall. Or maybe she’d screamed. She didn’t think so, but she might have. People screaming. Boots slamming against the floor. Rifles. Shots. Bodies falling. It was too much. Too damn much! She ran straight ahead. At least she thought so. Running. Trying to breathe. Hands sticky and smelling like raw roast beef. Trying to get out. If she could only get out. Maybe. Possibly. Someone else would be alive. “Get out of this building, into the forest, that’s my only hope, the forest,” she mumbled. Starting to feel dizzy. Delusional. “The forest, yes the forest.” She crashed into the wall. Her hands passed over the plaster quickly. Moving faster and faster. Getting dizzy. Having flashbacks. Home. Stanley, Kansas. “I’ll be fine in Germany, Mom, really I will.” Boots getting closer. About to pass out. Hands moving. Searching for the door. “Mom, I’m sorry, Mom, you were right, I shouldn’t have come here.” Her hand touched molding. The door frame. The wood was slick. Painted white, just last week. She felt around frantically. “Where is that damn door knob?” Boots closing in. Heart going to explode. “Doorframe. Then to the left. Down. Whoo. Dizzy. Down farther. More to the left. That’s it.” Cold. Metal. Doorknob. She twisted and pushed. Light beamed in. And air. Fresh air. She pulled her sticky hand loose, threw the door wide open and ran. Still dizzy. She took some deep breaths. Fresh air. Running. Not looking back. Breathing. Feeling. Thinking of home. Running toward the forest. The trees. A black wall of safety. Continues...