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He continued to march down the darkened alleyway, with every step taking him further and further from his son who was still sitting in that old, emptied electrical box. He didn't want o leave him, he was only four and he still thought that this whole event was a game. A game!
He had invented it when he haphazardly translated the officer's speech at the start of this "game". He was actually surprised that his son had kept up with it for so long, despite all the evidence that he had seen that people being taken away didn't mean going home. by now, like the nervous hiccups, he figured it was an inheritance from. An overeager imagination, which his father had always called "God's gift to the ones who are meant to light up the world. They bring joy to the madness of life".
And in a way, he had proved that statement to be true.
He had lightened up the world, maybe not for his fellow prisoners who knew what was happening, nor the officers who had to put up with his foolhardy antics, but for his son. He had shielded his son from the horrors that lay all around him. Whether that would be a good decision was yet to be seen and sadly he would not get to see it.
And then he thought about how he would not get to see his son ride on "his" tank, how he would not get to see him go home with Dora, his princessa, as he called her. And how he would not get to see how his son's first day of school, his first friendships, his first love, his marriage, his own children. he would never get to see any of that.
No, all he would see would be a grey, dark, gloomy cement wall where he would die by a burst of gunfire.
He couldn't do this. It wouldn't end like this, he had to see Dora, he had to see his son, he had to go back home to Arezzo with the rolling hills of the Tuscany countryside that he could see from his bookstore window. He had to see it all, not some gloomy, grey cement wall.
And as they walked deeper into the abandoned factory, he began to put his imagination to work, though not for good this time. He had to get the rifle out of the guard's hand; that was for certain. Any resistance was futile when he could be killed with a simple push of a finger. If only he could get him to face away from him. Then, he could push the guard over and take the rifle from him.
"Dreh dich um und schau zur wand, du schwien!"
He had manged to pick up some German from his time here and he picked up on the fact that he had said to turn and face the wall. This was it, his execution date. He had think and quickly.
"Bist du es, Joseph?"
Is you, Joseph? That was what he said, and he prayed silently that the guard would take the bait, even if his German was a bit broken. And as he looked out fo the corner of his eye, he could see the guard look down the dark alleyway to see if the imaginary Joseph was indeed there.
He pounced on the guard before he even registered that he had jumped. They were now on the muddy, disgusting ground, tussling and fighting for life it seemed. Eventually, he felt his hand grab the wooden handle of the rifle and he pulled it with more strength then he knew he ever had. Suddenly, he now stumbled back a few steps, with the rifle in his hands.
He then quickly tuned the rifle around so the butt of it was facing the guard. The sound of the rifle butt making contact with the guard's face made him wince, even though he knew it was necessary for his own survival. And he felt a tiny bit guilty as the guard stumbled back a few steps, holding his now bleeding forehead.
Until he reached into his belt and pulled out a knife, with the grey glinting in the meager moonlight that illuminated this battle of theirs. he felt a bolt of fear run through him as he readied himself again.
He heard the rifle butt hit the guard's forehead again, knocking the guard unconscious as he did so. The body fell to the ground, with the knife buried in a pile of mud and what looked to what was hopefully animal feces. And he now stood next to the crumpled up body of the guard, with an unknown rage flowing through him.
He held the gun, butt side down as he spoke. "This is from the Orifice family!"
He delivered another blow to the guard's head, with one tooth actually breaking a little from the impact. He instantly felt guilty again, feeling as if that was too cruel. But, he did not have the time to think about such things, especially as he knew their were at least a hundred more guards still in the factory.
He took the strap and threw it over his shoulder, with the rifle hitting against his back as he ran.
"Stop! Stop running! Surrender to us; we won't shoot!"
English? He knew English, largely because one of his father's friends was an Englishman, who had taught him at least conversational English.
He stopped running and stood still, with the rifle still hanging over his shoulder.
"Put the rifle down!" The Englishman said as he heard steps behind him. He decided to oblige as he took the strap off and threw the wooden rifle away from him.
"Face us!"
He slowly tuned around and was met with a bright, white flashlight before it was quickly turned off. He was then face to face with he thought was an American soldier with his long, dark brown hair and light stubble.
The soldier then turned around and yelled "Lewis, it's one of the prisoners!"
Another soldier, one with skin that was noticeable darker then his comrade. "Shoot, this one's been beaten up good. Take him back to the unit, Theodore, he's gonna need some help."
The soldier known as Lewis then raced away from his view as he finally heard the exchange of gunshots that echoed throughout the camp. This must be the division that had come to liberate the camp!
He then felt Theodore's arm go across his shoulders as he helped him to walk.
"I'm Theodore, we're going to the American camp. I'll keep you safe."
He then faded in and out of sleeping before being laid down in a cot, in the far back of the infirmary.
The nightmare that was the Terni Concentration Camp was put to an end on July 18th, 1944.
Though the days that followed were their own kind of special nightmare, though not to the same level then his months in the camp.
This nightmare being the fact that he couldn't find Dora.
His princessa.
He had looked all over, from the lists of survivors to looking around the refugee camp like a maniac. And yet, no sign of her. And currently, he was resting on his cot in the impromptu hospital camp set up by the Americans while he debated what to do.
He knew that she was at the camp, granted he never saw her after the train ride, but, something within him had told him that she had also been at Terni. And he also knew that she would have raised hell in the whole of Italia in order to find him. So, he figured it was only a matter of time till she found him.
But, their was that annoying voice in his head that told him that she might not even be within the borders of Tuscany anymore. He did see many a truck leaving the camp that fateful night, with all of them being chocked full of prisoners, all wearing those same, stripped, grey outfits.And he didn't know if Dora was among those that had been taken.
And if she had, then he feared her fate would be unknown as none of the prisoners that had been taken that night had been found.
He turned to his right side as he looked to the cot next to him where his son Joshua lay sleeping. And the sight of his son finally getting a nice, good sleep did ease his thoughts a little, though he kept being bothered by all of the things that he and his mother shared. That same shade of brown and blonde hair, that same small nose, all of it seemed to remind him of Dora.
"Is their anyone here named Guido Orifice?" He heard a voice call from the end of the hospital tent. He sat up and raised his hand as he looked to whomever it was that had yelled his name.
He then saw the tall doctor, fully clad in white gown, cap, googles nod, before turning and exiting the tent, with the flap flowing the in the breeze slightly. it then stoped flying as it was grabbed and pulled back to reveal:
"Dora!"
She looked to him before breaking out into a run towards his cot.
"Guido!" She yelled as she finally stood infront of his cot before kneeling next to him.
"Princessa," he said while pushing an errant hair behind her ear. "You survived?"
"i survived Guido. And I can see that you and Joshua did too."
He laughed. "Yes, yes, we did. Though he fared far better then I ever could."
"Nonsense, Guido, your alive and that's what matters."
"And I'd say the same thing for you Princessa."
And as they hugged, he remembered what his father had said. and in this moment, he realized that he had truly found joy within the madness of the day.