Recruitment Efforts (2)
“Frau Dietrich?”
“…I’m sorry, right now—”
“This is an urgent patient. Open the door.”
How many muffled sniffling sounds came through before the thick iron door finally creaked open?
…Just as I thought.
Was this person really the only doctor they had down here?
“Where does it hurt…?”
“He’s been badly beaten. Please treat him.”
Reddened eyes. Disheveled blonde hair. Even so, the woman doctor who seemed to carry the surname Dietrich took several deep breaths, then gave a small nod.
“Bring him inside.”
I was an adult man, for what it was worth. The SS soldier hoisted me up like I weighed nothing, laid me on the cot, and snapped a salute my way.
“And who is this?”
“A technician under Sturmbannführer Schulz’s direct command.”
“What was he doing when…?”
“There was a… misunderstanding. A sergeant beat him.”
“…A misunderstanding. Right. As always.”
“Once treatment is finished, Sturm—”
“I’ll speak to the major myself. Yes. You can go now.”
Another ordinary raised-hand salute. Which meant this woman wasn’t particularly aligned with the Nazis—she was one of Hans’s people.
“Can you understand me?”
“Obviously.”
“…You’re fluent.”
Fluent was generous. I was just spitting out whatever came to mind. I’d never really thought that part through. The subtitles had always been in Korean, but the speech itself should have been English.
“If that came off a little prejudiced, I’m sorry. Most of the patients who end up here are immigrants—especially Asians like you. Foreign laborers.”
“I understand.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Barely a day.”
“…And yet as a direct subordinate, it seems they didn’t touch you lightly.”
Even at a glance, the room was packed with medical supplies. The emergency kit she opened in front of me held neatly wrapped gauze and medical alcohol. Farther back on the shelves sat rows of syringe needles and surgical tools.
“What did you do up on the surface?”
“This and that… day labor, mostly. Earn enough for one day, eat enough for one day.”
My backstory was drifting more and more toward some random construction grunt, but I doubted it mattered.
“What about you, Doctor? Were you a doctor up top as well?”
“I was a doctor. Just not one for people.”
“…A veterinarian.”
“Most of the real doctors were busy treating blast injuries from nuclear detonations and gunshot wounds from the looting. The ones with convictions refused to evacuate at all—said they had to stay with their patients to the end.”
“Then how did you end up with these Nazis…?”
“I didn’t come here by choice.”
Still holding an alcohol swab in her gloved hand, Dietrich’s eyes filled.
“…I was traveling with someone who’d worked at my clinic, helping with all sorts of things. When they caught him, they caught me too.”
“That person—”
“A Middle Eastern immigrant. A devout Muslim. Even in the camps he kept doing things that put him on the wrong side of the guards, and they hanged him.”
“…I…”
“Is that really so wrong? Being a different race? Having a different faith? Superior and inferior decided by hair color, skin, eye color—really?”
In the end, the tears broke free. The alcohol swab hit the floor as both hands covered her face.
…Still, there was something I needed to test.
“Sturm… Major Schulz. Hans Schulz. That’s the one you know, right?”
“Yes.”
“He seems to be trying to change things from the inside.”
“He means to kill every superior officer and put himself at the top. You already knew?”
“He looked like he was gathering capable people. You seem to be one of them.”
“Capable…”
When I tried to hand her the cloth lying beside the bed, she refused it and pulled a handkerchief from her own pocket instead.
“I’m nowhere near a real doctor. My sutures are a mess. Digging out a single bullet takes me forever. I can’t even make a clean incision, so recovery is slow. Organ rupture… organ… rupture…”
“….”
“Sometimes I just think it would hurt less to kill them. Like that…”
She was a crier. Ready enough to get blood on her hands, but not exactly made of steel.
“I wish someone else were here instead of me. Someone who isn’t just an animal doctor who—”
“But you still saved people, didn’t you?”
“…I only did the basics. People or animals—disinfection and rest matter most. The body does the rest.”
“Think about how many people can’t even manage that much.”
A veterinarian was still a doctor. People were still animals. In a case like this, stack enough surgical experience and you naturally earned a doctor’s credentials—black-market ones, sure. Pair that with books, a workspace, and a stock of drugs, and you had a multi-purpose talent in no time.
Becoming a doctor from scratch was nearly impossible. Especially in an apocalypse. But a specialist from a neighboring field learning pieces outside their own? That was doable. In that sense, the person in front of me was a jackpot.
“…Thank you for the encouragement. I feel a little better. Ah—no, this isn’t the time. Can you show me where it hurts? Did they hit you hard?”
“To be precise, it was more of an event… to win my favor.”
I lifted the cloth covering my stomach a little—
Huh.
“Good heavens, the bruising…!”
“Urgh!?”
That sergeant hadn’t been throwing soft punches. Even at a glance the flesh was mottled red and purple; some of it had already gone dark blue.
“This is Dietrich. Please send warm water and medical ice to my ward.”
“Lie back and rest. Those people… honestly.”
A doctor who used a radio as if it were second nature, lived in a decent space, and received a steady supply of materials. How would someone like that react to an invitation to walk out of the Zeroth Reich?
I’d confirmed she had bad memories. And her situation now couldn’t be good either—
Knock, knock, knock.
“Yes?”
Knock, knock, knock, knock.
“You can come i— haah.”
As if she already knew exactly who it was, Dietrich opened the door with her face twisted in pure irritation. An SS officer shoved his way straight into the ward.
Didn’t look like Hans.
“…I requested warm water and medical ice. And I most certainly did not request you.”
“Every piece of news passes through my ears, Frau Dietrich.”
“That’s an abuse of Communications authority. Besides, I remember Communications being a rather busy post.”
“Sturmbannführer has recently begun granting a blanket thirty-minute rest period even to Communications as a welfare measure, Frau Dietrich. You yourself should have those same thirty minutes of leisure.”
“I have a patient who needs attention right now. If you aren’t going to help with medical care—”
“Ah, so if it’s the patient, I may remain here, is that it?”
He took off his cap and flopped down without warning. I sighed on instinct. Yes. This was more like the Zeroth Reich. Hans Schulz was the freak of nature among them.
“Shall I report this to the major myself?”
“But after such long hours my head is pounding, there’s a ringing in my ears, and at the mere thought of you my heart goes thump, thump. Doctor, what do you suppose the diagnosis is?”
With another sigh, Dietrich picked up the radio.
“…Please connect me to Major Schulz.”
Her face crumpled—and then she barely managed to twist aside as the man lunged at her.
“What do you think you’re doing?!”
“….”
Even at a glance the officer’s face was twisted with rage. A moment later he forced an awkward smile and blocked the door with his body.
“Always Schulz, Schulz, Schulz, Schulz. Is that Schulz bastard supposed to be something special? Huh? Always batting those pretty eyes and that body of yours at Schulz—you go running and press your lips to that son of a bitch? Huh? Ice that officers like us can barely get our hands on, and you hand it out to that inferior race under the excuse of medical use?”
“Communications Officer—”
“Jakob. Jakob, Jakob, Jakob—I told you my name is Jakob, you filthy pervert. A doctor who only looks at animals, so you simper at animals? Rolling around with that monkey bastard, weren’t you? Huh?”
“I will not tolerate any further insolence.”
“What are you going to do with that useless radio?”
There were more than enough reasons to run from the Zeroth Reich. So I snatched the radio from Dietrich’s hands.
“This is Asian Unit 0032. Technician under the direct command of Sturmbannführer Hans Schulz.”
“Hey, monkey, what do you think you’re—”
“Would it be all right to request a connection with Sturm… with the major?”
A very different response from the one Dietrich had gotten. I watched the officer’s face freeze solid.
At that reply, the man glanced around once—then bolted for the door.
“…You.”
“Seems I’m rather, extremely important to Hans. Whether word already went out to Communications or not.”
I handed the radio back and shut the open door. My stomach still throbbed, but something more important than treatment had just presented itself.
“Is Dietrich all right as a form of address?”
“…Yes. And you—Lee—”
“Call me Hyunwoo.”
“Yes, Hyunwoo.”
“Good, Dietrich…. First—wiretaps, that sort of thing.”
“None. At least here should be safe. I’ve cursed Hitler plenty of times.”
The way she smiled with that bit of confidence was almost funny. They say if you laugh after crying, hair grows on your ass.
“Then… if I told you I intended to escape the Zeroth Reich… would you be willing to come with me?”