TAKE THAT INTO ACCOUNT!”
Dr. Hoffmann stopped her Volkswagen in front of a small two-story house that looked as dreary and unassuming as all of the other houses that surrounded it on the quiet, suburban residential lane. On the mailbox in front of the house, the name read: Rausching.
“Do not accuse me of anything,” Dr. Hoffmann raised her voice to Wayne. What he had said upset her. “I have no memory or knowledge of actions I might have taken as an entity in a different time plane. Whatever my alternative self has done, I know nothing of it. I risked my ass to save yours.”
“My ass is here because of you,” Wayne said sharply.
Tears began to stream down Dr. Hoffmann’s cheeks. “Its all my fault. All my fault,” she softly spoke.
There were certain people Wayne could never picture crying, such as his dad, John Wayne, and Dr. Hoffmann. But, these were extraordinary circumstances, and when Wayne watched her cry, he felt closeness to her that he had not ever felt before. He gave her a hug.
“I’m sorry,” Wayne said. “Thanks for saving me. Now we have to work together and somehow undo our mistake.”
Dr. Hoffmann regained her equanimity, “We’re here.” Dr. Hoffmann handed him clothes that had been in the back seat of her car.
“What’s this?” Wayne asked.
“I brought you clean, more suitable clothing. Quickly, put them on.”
“Anything has to be more comfortable than what I’ve got on,” he stated. Wayne removed the filthy clothes he had been wearing, and put the fresh clothes on.
“I will tell the family that you have laryngitis,” Dr. Hoffmann said. “If they hear you speak, they will become suspicious of your strange accent.”
“I talk like every other New Yorker,” he said.
“Remember, New York has not existed for forty-five years. Never refer to the city as New York. That would arouse deep suspicions. The city is presently called New Berlin,” she said.
“New Berlin,” Wayne repeated the city name with a shrug. “That just doesn’t sound right. Couldn’t the Nazis think of a more original name?”
“Please, Wayne, when we are inside the house, act happy and as if everything is normal.”
Wayne chuckled, “I’ll have to give an Oscar-winning performance for that.”
“Oscar who?”
“Never mind.”
The Rausching residence was typical of how the average family in the Reich lived. The inside of the house was sparsely furnished with only the barest necessities. The Reich emphasized production of products that would help the Reich as a whole, such as military defense items and farm machinery that could better harvest grains and food items for the masses, instead of the production of a wasteful assortment of consumer goods, such as 20 different kinds of bathroom tissue or pinball machines. On a wall hung a painting of the Fuhrer, Karl Goring and on a coffee table was Hitler’s book, “
In the adjacent dining area, Mr. and Mrs. Rausching, a middle-aged couple, and their son, Karl (named after the Fuhrer), age 11, and daughter, Carin, age 16, were sitting down to eat supper.
Dr. Hoffmann and Wayne entered the house.
“Perfect timing, Lisa,” Mr. Rausching said.
“How wonderful — you invited a guest to dine with us,” Mrs. Rausching said. She prided herself as a good cook, and always had extra despite the occasional lack of funds.
Dr. Hoffmann would have rather skipped the meal. She couldn’t afford to arouse suspicions by skipping it, however, because she always ate with them.
Wayne noticed to himself how Aryan looking the family was, with their stark blond hair and deep blue eyes. He felt out of place with his black hair and brown eyes. Most people pegged him as an Italian, and he appreciated that face at the dinner table.
The talk during dinner was normal table chatter. Mr. Rausching spoke of his day at his job at a building materials company. Karl spoke of his day at school and how he did well on a recent test while Carin spoke of trying out for the school track and field team. Dr. Hoffmann had explained how her guest had suddenly come down with a case of laryngitis. The family members did speak to Wayne, but he was able to answer their simple questions with a nod. Carin reminded Wayne of Lauren. It was not that she looked like Lauren, but she had the same type of look, as far as her facial features and long, curly blond locks. Wayne tried to avoid gazing at the teenaged girl, but probably did so more than he should have. He marveled at how much she reminded him of his girlfriend and wished that it was Lauren sitting there with him instead. When Mrs. Rausching passed the main course,
After dinner, Wayne and Dr. Hoffmann joined the family in the living room to watch television. A soccer match was being televised.
Soccer is the most popular sport in the Reich and every citizen closely keeps up with the goings on in the National German Soccer League. On the first Sunday of each October, the final NGSL championship match takes place in Berlin, all activity in the Reich comes to a standstill. The Fuhrer customarily invites the winning championship team to the Chancellery to personally congratulate the players.
The boy, Karl, was excited because his favorite team, the Munich Stars, was playing that night. A Munich player kicked a goal to break the tied game with only seconds remaining on the clock. Mr. Rausching and Karl cheered.
“Now children,” Mrs. Rausching said, “it is time for the National Pledge, then time for bed.”
The family members stood in front of the painting of the Fuhrer, each member placing their right hand above their heart. Dr. Hoffmann did this, too, and nudged Wayne to do the same. Wayne did so, though reluctantly.
The Rausching family and Dr. Hoffmann began to recite the Reich National Pledge, “Fuhrer, my Fuhrer, bequeathed to me by the Lord, protect and preserve me as long as I live…”
Wayne could not believe the crap that he was hearing. The television was still on. He looked at the screen. The soccer players on the field also held their right hands above their hearts and were reciting the National Pledge.
“…Thou hast rescued Germany from deepest distress…”
Wayne turned to Dr. Hoffmann and whispered, “I don’t get it. Who’s the guy in the painting?”
“Quiet!” she whispered back and continued to recite the pledge with the family, “…Abide thou long with me, forsake me not, Fuhrer, my Fuhrer, my faith and my light.
Carin and Karl kissed their parents good night and proceeded upstairs to bed. Mr. and Mrs. Rausching invited Dr. Hoffmann and her guest to join them for fresh brewed coffee. Dr. Hoffmann explained that it was getting late and that she and her guest needed to get some work done. She thanked Mrs. Rausching for a wonderful dinner and excused herself and Wayne from the living room.
Dr. Hoffmann led Wayne upstairs to the guestroom. It was a small cubicle that consisted of nothing more than a small bed and a lamp. Wayne had seen bathrooms that were bigger than the room.
“It’s not exactly the Hilton,” Wayne said.
“I will be back in a moment,” Dr. Hoffmann said. “Rest yourself.”
Wayne, his body sore and throbbing with pain, lay down on the firm mattress of the bed. He wanted to go to sleep, and wake up to find out all that had happened to him had just been a terrible nightmare. Before he could doze off, Dr. Hoffmann walked in, holding first aid supplies. Wayne slowly sat up.
“Take off your shirt,” Dr. Hoffmann instructed Wayne.
Wayne removed his shirt, revealing his badly bruised back, on which large welts had formed. “I want you to tell me something — what was that unidentified meat that passed for dinner?” he asked. “I hope it’s not what it looked like.”
“That delicious dish was
“What exactly is
“Smoked eel.”
