Ghost Train of Treblinka by Hubert L. Mullins

Author:Hubert L. Mullins [Mullins, Hubert L.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Published: 2019-11-03T16:00:00+00:00

Treblinka

January 21st, 1948

When he picked this place as a lair in the years leading up to the construction of the Treblinka camp, he assumed the Nazis would be smart enough to keep it running until the Final Solution was carried out. That would have been enough death to satisfy him while he plotted to move elsewhere, find the next holocaust. Man had so many aspirations when it came to being evil, so surely he wouldn’t have to wait long.

But now the lair was little more than a crypt. Five years had passed since the girl walked away, and in those five years he waited, hoping enough death would float on the wind, bolster his spirit, and let him leave this place once and for all. There was promise here, oh yes—with its hidden location and the laboratory at the far end, but what good was it all? He was weak, in no shape to govern the minds of the mortals to his will. The Entity had always been a scavenger but now he’d become a bottom-feeder, scrounging in the trash for whatever scraps he could find. The girl had broken him.

The only things keeping him from falling back asleep were the deaths that happened by chance. A few years ago, the first spring after the girl had left the cave, a two-vehicle accident claimed the lives of two drivers and three passengers. The Entity lingered at the mouth of the tunnel and breathed in the sweetness of fresh death. A couple of months after that a farmer, for whatever reason, walked across the field in the distance, sat down on the back of a wagon, and put a shotgun in his mouth. That death wasn’t filling, but it was tasty, all the same. These were the scant offerings that wafted by his lair, and it was nearly torture. Just like the warriors of old, it was better to die in the heat of battle than linger past the world’s turmoil only to live as an old man. And right now, he was an old man.

A year after the girl left was the last time he got a decent meal. He’d looked around his tomb that morning, finding a solace in the remnants that were once people. To be an Entity as old as he, was to forget the passage of time, to be content in the moment, and to be immune to the boredom that plagued man. His tomb was silent. The smell of rotten meat had long since dissipated. Now that he thought about it, nothing ever came to eat the bodies—his wickedness made the lesser creatures of the world keep away.

As the morning light filtered through the gap where the train tracks used to run, it cast an eerie glow across the four-thousand skeletons sitting in the cars, as if still waiting on the fateful night the train headed to Treblinka. Even Otto hadn’t moved an inch since the day he crawled up to the engine and collapsed. True, he was smaller now, the meat all gone and his face sunken like a mummy.

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