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The Chosen	By : FenixFyre Category: X-men Comics > Het - Male/Female Views: 1065 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men comics, or any of the characters from it. I make no money from from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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- 5
- 6
The Chosen

Chapter 5

The Gray Land

That was the last time Erik ever
saw his mother again. The entire group of the men who were on the Lensherr�s
train, who were deemed worthy of life, were moved into
a single barracks. Nearly 800 men were squeezed into an area that Erik later
found out had been designed to fit 52 horses. To say it was cramped was an
understatement.

This was where they were expected
to sleep? There was barely room to breathe. Erik found his bunk and sat upon
it. His father took the one next to him. He reached over and touched his son�s
shoulder.

Everything moved quickly, Erik�s
first day began before dawn. The toilets were few and far between. He had to go
nearly to the other side of the camp to relieve himself.
He found that they had a limited time to do even that. Food was bread and some
salted pork. Someone said something about that being more than they usually
got. The bread was stale but it was something to put on their stomachs. Then it
was to work. Erik was sent to work in a factory as his hands were small and
nimble.

It was freezing in the factory. It
didn�t matter if your hands were too numb to feel the machines you ran. You did
it anyway. He wasn�t even sure what it was exactly he was making. They appeared
to be hinges or at least the metal rods that held them together. He pressed
them in a large machine and then grabbed them out of the still moving machine
to submerge them into the water to cool them before they could be assembled. He
gained blisters on his hands from the burning metal the first day. It was hard
to avoid it.

Around noon there was a break for something that could
technically be called lunch. It was more bread and turnip soup. It was nothing
more than water with bits of pureed turnip. What was worse, there were bugs
floating in it. Erik looked over at the man sitting next to him, �Pick them out
son. There won�t be anything else to eat until dinner. Hurry up or you won�t
get to eat even this at all.�

Erik did as suggested and dipped
into the bowl and fished out the bugs and began to eat it. It barely seemed
worth the effort of pulling out the bugs. They were probably more nutritious
than the soup. He ate it and his bread. He barely got it in his mouth before
they were being taken back to work. An hour or so after they had returned to
work, a man who was putting hinges together was dragged away from his work.
Erik could hear the soldier yelling. The man who worked behind the boy warned
him, �Don�t look, keep working, keep working.�

He tried to do it, sparing only a
glance towards the man. He was screaming at him about being too slow. The man
tried to tell the soldier that the machine had been out of order that morning
and he had been on another detail. Then there was a pop. The man wouldn�t be
too slow any more. His blood poured along the floor to congeal beneath Erik�s
shoes. He was grabbed away from his work to mop up the blood. He hurried when
he got back to catch up to how many he should have done already to avoid
notice.

Despite the work, he couldn�t help
watching the guards who stood around the work floor. Did they enjoy their work?
Why was it so easy for them to kill? He knew he certainly wouldn�t have been
able to do what they did no matter what his leader told him. Were Jews so
different? Did they really deserve to die?

What seemed like an eternity later
work was finished for the day. He was exhausted but eager to see his father.
Before they could retire, they had another meal. It was more of the same.
Watery soup, stale bread, was all there was to eat.

From there, it was back to the
barracks. He wouldn�t have thought he would have remotely been happy to see it,
though he was. There would sit his father.

One by one, Erik began to get to
know the people who surrounded him. Jozef Krysikowki, he was another Polish
Jew. Nicolai Rostanov was on the other side. Erik was shocked to hear that not
only was he not Polish, he wasn�t even a Jew. He had been a Russian soldier who
had been captured when Kiev was
taken by Nazis. Salomon Perel, also a Polish Jew and the second youngest, was
over Nicolai. Sali as he liked to be called was only two years older than Erik.
Erik�s bunk was above Rabbi Itzack Rabienowitz, he had been from Warsaw.
He had been at Auschwitz nearly a year. He didn�t have
advice for how to stay alive. He believed it was all in God�s hands. You could
die any day for being too fast or too slow. You could die for being too fat or
too thin. You could die simply because a guard didn�t like the way you looked.
�You do your work and you do it as well as you can possibly do it. Follow
orders quickly and efficiently. I know the work is tedious but don�t daydream.
It can cause you to make stupid mistakes. I don�t want to scare you but it�s
just the way it is.�

The Rabbi bowed his head and said a
small prayer. He dared not utter it at more of a whisper. That too was a reason
to die. The morning came far too quickly. There was no school. It was straight
to breakfast and work.

It was amazing how quickly and
easily things fell into a rhythm. He got up in the morning, used the
facilities, ate, worked, ate, worked, ate, and slept. What changed were the
faces. There were always new faces to come and die. It would be a man who
dropped his bundle because he was exhausted one day. It would be a woman who
wasn�t walking fast enough the next. The next day was a pregnant woman who was
chosen by Dr. Mengele for twisted experimentation. It never ended. Every day,
someone else died. Everyday, hundreds of people died.

Everything was gray. The ever
present mud was gray. The sky was gray. The stripes of the clothes, which were
supposed to be white, were gray. The people their faces, their eyes, were gray.
Their hopes were non-existent.

It seemed it was always too hot or
too cold. It seemed impossible that it should always be uncomfortable to matter
the day, hour, or the temperature outside. Erik remembered beautiful days of
sunshine and they never seemed to touch this horrid place. The light came but
it changed nothing. There were no living things to grow, save the occasional
weed. There was nothing that changed the fact that they were prisoners in Auschwitz.

Everything had a routine and that
routine was death. Every week people went to cell block 10. That was where
people went to die. The area between 10, 11, and 12 was where the gallows were.
Between there, the showers, and the crematoria Auschwitz
finesse for murder was unrivaled. They were hanged, shot, given Phenol
injections to the heart, beaten, burned and anything else creative that Dr.
Mengele could come up with. His cruelty was rumored to be truly horrifying. It
was said he would do things like bind a woman in labors legs together just to
see what would happen. His clinic was an abattoir, regardless of what it was
called.
- 4
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- 6
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The Chosen