The Escape

March 16, 2011
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“Go get it!” Yelled Viktor as his friend Vladimir was chasing after the ball. They were playing a game of catch after school. It was a sunny day, 1937 in Berlin, Germany. It took a while for Vladimir to retrieve the ball because of his fake right leg that was from a car incident. He hated that leg because it never had brought him any good. Their baseball gloves were worn down brown leather gloves, and now they were tossing the pure white ball with no mistakes after Vladimir returned. Vladimir was amusingly tossing the ball behind his back and without looking, but Viktor on the other hand could barely throw. The two twelve year old boys were having nothing but a joyful time. Their game of catch was interrupted by the high voice of Vladimir’s mother. “Boys, time for dinner!” Black forest ham and potatoes is what the superb dinner consisted of. “Thank you for th-“ A powerful knock on the door interrupted Viktor. Vladimir was awoken by multiple gunshots, it was only a dream.

Vladimir was lying on the bloody red dirt surrounded by electrically charged fences. For he was not at home, he was at a concentration camp in Germany, 1943. He gave out a sigh of sadness as he returned to the dreadful, real world. Vladimir was having trouble getting up because he was still dwelling about his dream, but that changed when a Nazi soldier kicked him in the head. He grimaced, rolled over and quickly rose to his skinny feet. It was time for a morning march. He looked around noticing many more people were killed last night than usual, he couldn’t imagine being shot or killed. Vladimir had adjusted to the sight of dead and wounded people since he had seen more than you can imagine. As he marched around the camp with a straight face, he thought of his dear friend Viktor. How fortunate he was for not being Jewish, and how he was doing. For Vladimir had not seen him since he had been taken away by the Nazis. As Vladimir was marching with sweat dripping down his boney head, he had trailed away from the straight line but managed to get back into line before he met death. During the horrid march Vladimir saw many people being shot at, he wished that they would be okay but he knew that wasn’t going to happen. Vladimir’s ears were ringing from the gunfire. The dreadful march went for hours and he was cramping like no other for he had not had any grub in a long time. “Click click, boom!” The Jewish women behind Vladimir had been blown to bits by a shotgun. He jumped in shock from the ear piercing gun shot. “Halt!” Yelled the angry Nazi soldier. He walked straight towards Vladimir. “You don’t like gunshot?” He asked amusingly as he pointed the gun at Vladimir. “Click click, whack!”

Vomit covered Vladimir’s body as he awoke, and surrounding him was not blood but just the dirt. As he reached for his head he noticed that he had luckily not been shot, but he had been beat by the butt of a Nazi gun. That showed because a knot the size of a baseball dominated most of his forehead. He sat up dizzily thinking he must have a concussion. What was more shocking to him is that every other human in that march was later killed, and thrown into the pit. He was so thankful for not dying, a smile poked out of his mouth, and not only was it a great smile but it was the first smile since that sunny day in 1937. It was midday and he could see no human life form, he was next to a fence at the corner of the camp. He was contentious to not touch the electrical fence. Instead of getting up and walking closer, he stayed there lying down. He did not want to go closer to the Nazis nor did he want to walk because he was tired and when he walked he felt as if it would contribute to his death. He had been lazily lying down for two hours now. Vladimir was in and out of sleeping, but that changed when a human walked up and towered over him blocking the sunlight. A shock ran down the back of his spine. Fortunately it wasn’t a Nazi soldier; it was someone he had never seen before. The mysterious man was about six foot tall and he had a long brown beard. He reminded Vladimir of Viktor. “My name is Zachariah. Would you like to escape with me?” Vladimir’s eyes bulged.
He quickly replied, “I would love to; however there is no way we can. I’m afraid of gunshot and I can’t run fast or much because of my fake leg. There is no way we could possibly escape. “Anything is possible,” remarked Zachariah. Vladimir let out a tear, for that is what his mother used to tell him. She had died right before his eyes in the concentration camp. Viktor said softly, “I don’t know if this is possible, but I would rather die trying to escape than just eventually dying here. Zachariah grinned and laughed softly. All night they brainstormed ideas, but every time one of the two came up with an idea the other turned it down. After hours and hours of discussion they came up with a plan that was so simple they wanted to slap there selves. They called it, The Escape.

Vladimir slowly awoke with Zachariah’s head just above him. “Are you ready?” Zachariah said shaking. Sweat was pouring down his head like a faucet. Vladimir sat up and looked at his right leg because something on it caught his attention. Zachariah said, “I rapped your knee so the leg wouldn’t fall off too easy.” “Thank you…thank you.” Vladimir trailed off. “Are you sure this will work?” Vladimir asked. “Only if you believe it will.” Zachariah said with a smirk on his face. The two men prepared their things and began, “The Escape.” They ran low to the ground beside the rusty silver fences. As Vladimir as jogging, he looked at the other people marching and Nazi soldiers. He wanted to escape, and he wanted it more than anything. Finally, they reached the entrance where the gates would only open for trucks bringing in new Jews. Three trucks came in dropping Jewish people off, they knew this would be their only chance. They agreed that they would hop into the back of the last truck. Vladimir could feel his blood going through is veins, and wondered if these breaths would be his last.

Zachariah looked more confident than ever. The first trucked past, then the second. “We can do this,” whispered Zachariah. The third truck was about to pass. “Go, go, go!” Zachariah screamed. Vladimir darted to the back of the truck and hopped in, and Zachariah followed. Zachariah leaped to get into the truck, but fell short. His large hand was held by Vladimir. “I’ve got you,” confidently said Vladimir. Unfortunately the Nazi’s saw them attempting to escape. “Shoot Them!” Many Nazi soldiers fired directly at Zachariah. Each bronze bullet just missing, but just one caught his arm. “Ahhhh!” yelled Zachariah. But Vladimir managed to pull Zachariah in. They were relieved as they seemed to be safe. The truck came to an abrupt halt. Vladimir’s breath stopped. Zachariah with eyes bulging jumped out of the truck and made a dash for it, and Vladimir quickly followed. “Whack,” went the truck door. Click, click, boom! Vladimir recognized that noise. It was almost as if he could hear the bullet screeching through the air. The bullet guided its way right into the “skin” of his right leg. Vladimir collapsed onto the dirt ground with a high pitched yelp. A second shot was fired to finish Vladimir off. Just before the bullet met Vladimir, Zachariah dove in front of helpless Vladimir. The unforgiving bullet pierced straight through Zachariah’s heart. The Dark green truck slammed shut and drove off. Vladimir sighed in relief, but noticed that Zachariah was dead as he turned over. He wanted to scream but he knew if he did the Nazis would find him. Tears poured down Vladimir’s dirt red face. He didn’t wipe them off because he was exhausted, and he just wanted to leave them there to remember Zachariah for that short time. The only thing he was happy about is that the bullet had hit his fake leg, and how he never knew that his fake leg would come in handy. Vladimir made a small, and started to walk, however he did not know where to walk, he just wanted to get as far away as possible.

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