What If (My Ending )

The Corpes That Breathed

Volkheimer prided himself in not being started easily. Often knowing his enemy's move before the action was preformed. Though to say that when the corpse exhaled, that the man had not seen his life flash before his eyes would have been a lie. His hand clutched his jacket just above his chest as he tried to even his breathing. The girl lay deathly still. Fear welled as the man turned her over once more. Puffs of oxygen turned to clouds of mist escaped the dying girl’s mouth. It was a miracle. An anxious breath that he had been holding was released in a sigh of relief. Thank goodness.

It was rather odd to think that this beast of a man had killed many thoughtlessly yet feared for the life of one girl. On his knees in the snow he thought of his mother cooking as she gave little Frank Volkheimer lessons on life. Her voice graceful and sweet as honey as she spoke in a low almost inaudible tone. The words jumbled into a different order each time. As if his memory was playing a scratched record. The needle bumping over words, skipping whole phrases. At times her words came as nonsense to his ears. Yet it didn’t matter, he knew the meaning. It was similar to reading a book, over and over again. You know the story, the plot and the characters, though can’t recall the words they declared. Yes maybe his mind was an old book with worn pages rather then a record player.

 Kindness. That’s what his mother had meant. A simple act of humanity. In a world so dark that good deeds seemed rather unheard of. Helping someone went a long way. It was a talk his mother had given the man when he was just a lad, poutng at the table as she explained why a single mother would give the last of her bread to a girl they just met.

 “I know baby. I remember my father giving me a talk similar to this. I still remember his exact words. He said, ‘darling, one day you’ll grow up and realize that I was right. The world is a creol place. Evil will rise and hunt the innocent. It’s kind acts that help us through those dark times. That’s why, Sweetheart, that’s why we do what we do.’ Now that I have my own baby I now understand what he meant. Be kind to those less fortunate. Treat those how you want to be treated.” Mother’s back was to the young boy, who sat at the table pouting. Her hair pulled back out of her face so she could efficiently work. Strands of loose hair stuck to her pale skin from sweating in the summer heat. The woman was talking about the woman and baby that was to stay with them.

“Mutti, but what do we get out of it?” The words came out mumbled for his mouth was pressed against his arm as he spoke. Annoyance clear in his tone.

“Well baby, I suppose a smile and warmness in our heart knowing we were about to do a kind deed. Whenever someone is in need, it’s our duty to give a lending hand.” And those were the words that echoed in his mind when he found the corpse that was not a corpse.

The girl let out a ragged breath. The sound coming out shaky as if a boot was pressing down on her chest. The soldier calculated that she had only a few hours left, if it. He got to work, ripping the bottom of his under shirt to use as a bandage for the gash that was now caked in ice crystals. Lifting her into his lap, he grabbed his left glove between his teeth and gave it a tug. The warm fingers checked the temputure of her skin. Cold. The girl’s skin was on the verge of grey. Volkheimer knew that if she wasn’t warmed up soon she will be a corpse.

The man moved with the grace of a machine rather then man. Hefting the girl into his arms as he turned towards his destination. The snow crunching under the weight of the two forms. There had to be a barn or home around the corner. Or maybe the bend after. The distance was an issue. She needed warmth soon. Splotches of grey decorated the exposed flesh.

Down the dirt path the man went with the girl limp in his arms. The land before them seemed to stretch on for miles, discouraging the man. Then by some miracle, a speck appeared in his sight. As the soldier drew closer he realized that it wasn’t a speck at all. But rather a barn. The frame leaned to the left, as if it had been pushed by God himself. The wall was missing pieces and the wood faded. It was shelter and Volkheimer would not complain .

Time ticked on as the man’s aching feet carried the couple to the building in the distance. His arms began to ache from the weight. The girl wasn’t particularly heavy. In fact she was lighter then his inical thought of what a woman should weigh. The man bussied himself with taking each burdened step one at a time. One. Two. Three…… Two hundred and sixty-seven. Two hundred and sixty-eight.  The door of the barn door swayed at the current of the wind. Arms relaxed he almost dropped the girl in relief. With a grunt, Volkheimer managed to push the door with one hand. The other arm occupied holding the girl. The wood entrance blew shut behind them once inside. Sealing the pair in darkness. Untouched to the world.