Free Save the Last Bullet for God by J.T. Alblood Page B

together and wiping away the tears in his eyes, he
went on. “When her husband learned about the situation, he didn’t
take it very kindly, and this is my reminder of it.” He pointed to
the scar above his eyebrow.
    “I don’t even remember the name of the
woman,” he said.
    “Gabriele,” I hissed between my teeth.
    “Gabriele . . . yes, yes, Gabriele, but how
do you know?” As he was trying to speak, he looked me up and down.
I wasn’t laughing and soon nobody else was laughing either.
    “After you got beaten up and left, she tried
to commit suicide. She died after suffering for days.”
    “Wilhel…?” he tried to ask before I punched
his nose.
    Berton stumbled back and tried to back away,
but I jumped on him and hit him again. Reinhardt, the lieutenant,
came out of his shock and grabbed me around the shoulders. Seeing
his opportunity, Berton stood up and began to hit me with all the
strength and speed he had. A few blows to my face almost made me
black out.
    Suddenly, I heard the sound of glass breaking
and the arms of the lieutenant loosened. As I pulled away from the
man, I saw Hellen with a broken bottle in her hand and the
lieutenant swaying with blood gushing from his head. While the
blood leaked through his hair and spread over his eyebrows, the
girl screamed and the officer stumbled back and fell. He held onto
a tablecloth as he went down pulling it over him along with the lit
candle. Otto Reinhardt was suddenly covered in blue and yellow
flames. Panic broke out.
    Berton, who was also paralyzed in shock, was
now mine. I kicked at his feet and, when he went down on his knees,
drove my knee into his face. I jumped on him and he lost his
balance completely. I grabbed his hair and hit his head on the
floor repeatedly. When he lost consciousness, I turned him over and
pressed my elbow into his throat until I heard the sound of
breaking cartilage. He tried in vain to scratch my face and push me
back with his hands, but I held on, leaning down to whisper into
his ear, “Shhh! Calm down, death is coming.”
    As Berton’s body twitched and he breathed his
last, I looked at Maria. While Hellen had turned away from me,
Maria looked into my eyes. I pressed the palm of my right hand, now
covered in blood, to my heart. Maria closed her eyes and
nodded.
    I stood up. My hands and knees were
shaking. I collapsed on the closest chair and looked around. Most
of the people in the club had run away. The girl and one of the
waiters attended to a whimpering Reinhardt, his face burned from
the now extinguished flames. I leaned down, took a half-filled
bottle and poured the remaining alcohol down my dry throat. I
turned around and saw that Maria was gone. A hand
touched me. I turned and looked at Hellen. She lit a cigarette,
drew on it, and put it between my lips. She took a chair, sat by my
side, and put her hand on my shoulder. Searching my pockets, I
found Hitler’s letter and the documents and lay them on the table.
Then we all quietly waited for Himmler’s man.
     
    1 December 1957, Ft. Leavenworth Prison,
USA
    Wilhem Reich
    After the incident at the nightclub, I
suffered the rage of Himmler, who had lost his man, Berton. I was
tortured and there were beatings in a dark, cold vault, but
Himmler, in all his rage, didn’t kill me— Heil Hitler!— Instead, I was exiled.
    I took refuge in Sweden, leaving everything
behind except my name and the information Maria had given me. The
translated text described a blue energy that generated all the
unique features of a living being. I eventually named it “organon”
and did my best to prove its existence.
    Utilizing some of the vast research by
Professor Schumman, the head of the Technical University in Munich
and of the science team evaluating the data received from the Vril
community, I became familiar with the theory of “the Schumann
resonances.” This led to a proof—or so I thought—through
experiments that I carried out on microscopic beings called
protozoa. I did