Frederick grabbed the man’s wrist firmly, his eyes wide. He knew what it was. It was the same chemical used to put dogs, horses, and prisoners down. He jumped up with a small scream of pain. His leg burned badly, as it was still infected. He grabbed the medic’s other wrist, now holding both and kicked him hard in the stomach. The Aryan medic fell backwards and onto the hard, concrete floor. The glass syringe shattered all over the floor. He was scrambling to stand as Frederick made his way towards him. He instantly regretted his decision. Frederick clenched his fists and began beating the young medic up. He screeched in fear like a mouse in the jaws of a hungry cat. Frederick gave the medic one last, solid punch to the face and he fell unconscious onto the cold, stone floor. Frederick ran outside and back onto the concrete wall. He ran away from the camp, into town, down the alley, and finally into his house, slamming the door behind him.

Adrenaline pumped through his body, making his hands sweat and his stomach lurch. He thought his heart was going to stop. He took deep breaths, trying to calm down. His face was stained with dried blood and dirt. Frederick limped into his kitchen, grabbing a bottle of whiskey out of his wooden  cabinet  and some towels. Frederick staggered across his blue and white checkered floor and basically fell into the wooden chair. He winced, clenching his teeth. If nobody took care of him, he’d have to take care of himself. He quickly drenched his leg with the alcoholic drink, yelping softly. He clenched his teeth, closing his eyes and pushing his arms and back against the chair. It kept burning as he bandaged it up with towels. His face was bright red. He took some penicillin as well before clambering up the stairs with great effort and hopping into bed. Frederick hoped he’d still be alive in the morning. He shivered from the chills, hot, cold, hot, and then cold again, looking up at his ceiling fan. 

Around and around it went. It would keep moving the whole night, he knew. One thing he had hope in. Well, unless the power went out.  He frowned, reaching for his phone, but didn’t know who to call. He felt hopeless. And alone. Frederick stood up out of bed, grabbing his first aid kit and some other stuff once again. He returned to the camp, exhausted when he got there. He climbed down the ladder, trying not to fall. His leg still hurt badly. He looked up, hoping to see the stars as he stepped down into the dirt. But the sky was still filled with smoke. He walked down the street once again and towards the prisoner’s small, pathetic looking houses. He stepped inside. A few of them were awake, staring at the soldier with dull eyes. He stood there silently, taking a deep breath, “I was injured a few days ago..one  of you men helped me. I ask that you please step  forward .” The doctor obeyed, looking at the ground as he did so, “Have you come back to kill me? Or punish me, sir?” Frederick shook his head, looking at the ground, “No sir..I’ve  come back for your help.”

The Jews stood there silently, their eyes filled with surprise. The doctor’s face erupted into a smile, “Of course sir..sit down. I ask, why didn’t you seek the help of your own doctor?” Frederick frowned uncomfortably, “I-I trust you more.” A few of the Jews gasped in shock. He TRUSTED one of them? How was this possible? Frederick laid down, taking a deep breath. He handed him the first aid kit, the whiskey, and a large bag of food. The prisoners saw this and sighed in relief. They hadn’t eaten anything substantial in quite some time.  

The doctor smiled, “My name is David. I’ll take good care of you, sir.”  

“I’d hope so.” 

“Just close your eyes. Get some rest. Let me take it from here.” 

Frederick did so, taking a deep breath. He was glad to know that someone would be watching over him through the night. He wasn’t so worried anymore.

He fell asleep as David worked to heal his wound. While he was asleep, David grabbed a knife out of the first aid kit and began cutting the dead tissue away. Though he wouldn’t have felt it while he was awake, he didn’t want to scare him. Not even one of his tormentors deserved that. Frederick dreamed about something strange that night. He dreamed about a large herd of golden-colored deer, bounding through a beautiful forest, free. Suddenly tall, iron trees grew around them, pushing them together tightly. They shrieked and yelped in fear, thinking they’d never again be free. Wolves circled them on top of the trees, their red eyes filled with death and savagery. One by one, the wolves jumped down, tearing the deer apart. He woke up in the morning with a gasp, looking around frantically. It had only been a dream. 

David walked over to him quickly, “Are you okay, sir?”  

“Yes, it was simply a bad dream.” 

“What about?” 

“I honestly..don’t know.” He looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. He began shivering slightly in the frosty room. Winter was nearing, and it’s chill began to spread through the lands. David noticed this, taking off his own shirt and covering Frederick with it. The soldier looked up, his brows furrowed with concern, “No..take it back. My body is stronger than yours.”

 “You must stay warm in order to ward off the infection.” 

“And you need to stay warm to live!” 

“I’m just fine. You rest now.”