The Tesla Experiment

Chapter 20

After the terrifying night had passed for Purdue he had only a nightmare to look forward to. Within two hours after the SS officers had hurled him into the reeking cell with the decomposing corpse of the Allied pilot Purdue made an active effort to contact Lydia. In all his delirium and fear, the anguish of his scalded skin was far from dulled, yet he persisted in his slow moving crawl toward the largest space in the small cell. Where he could find an open piece of floor without debris or soiled linen strewn upon it, he placed the BAT.

Purdue had never been a religious man, but if he prayed for success in contacting his old friend there had to be some god looking out for him. In fact, as he mentally prepared the right words for his maiden broadcast with his finger tip on the button, he absolutely doubted the efficiency of the device. With no hope and only disappointment for causing his own misery in pursuit of grandeur, Purdue closed his eyes and whispered, “If You exist, whatever You are, I beg for your grace.”

By no means did it mean he would believe in God if it worked, but in some curious way he needed to ask some invisible force for courage. In the empty dungeon of cells and rot and mold under the godforsaken boots of the most evil men history had ever known, Purdue systematically did what he recalled Lydia telling him to do. It took him two hours to remember what the BAT box was for, and he also finally recovered the memory of what the dental plate was doing in his mouth. Relieved about the solving of the latter confusion, he pressed the covered button and virtually dropped the BAT in fear of holding the dangerous gadget in his grasp for too long.

The burns he had already suffered were intense enough. Purdue was not eager to find out what the sun’s core heat felt like in the palm of one’s hands! What baffled him was that the blinding light, reminiscent of the excessive thermal quality of the BAT left absolutely no residue on the floor or affected its surroundings whatsoever. He had merely spoken near the device, carefully choosing words that could constitute a briefing of significant information, but in truth Purdue had no idea if his message was ever received by Lydia — by anyone.

Of all things besides food, of course, Purdue wished for a hot bath. He was certainly too wary to ask the Nazi’s for a shower, especially with their twisted forms of disregard for the lives of others. No sooner had he thought about the cruelty of the SS when the steel bolted door opened and let in the sharp beam of light. Purdue covered his face as the light stung his eyes, but the troops who came to collect him were worse off. Unaware of the state of the cells the two new soldiers were unfortunate to be confronted with a rush of sickening smells.

They coughed. One gagged and bent over to the side to throw up, but only delivered bile. Exclamations of disbelief and curses escaped them as they stumbled deeper into the dark passage to locate the Allied soldier they were sent to bring back to Sturmbannführer Adolf Diekmann. The men covered their mouths and noses with their sleeves to prevent the vile odor of decomposition from overwhelming them. To make things worse there was an underlying smell of electrical wiring gone faulty, but there was no electricity down here.

“Hello!” the one greeted the prisoner found seated on the floor with an army blanket wrapped around his body and his legs pulled in. He made no sound, but he was alive and awake.

“You are wanted in the administration office,” the other informed Purdue.

‘Administration office?’ Purdue thought to himself. ‘So no torture chamber?’

“Mein Gott! You smell terrible!” the officer cried, turning his head away from the bundled up blanket around their captive. Purdue wanted to lash out and blame the neglect of the SS for his condition, but he knew it would be futile. If anything it would only provoke their cruelty even more. The rumbling in his stomach only reminded him of the systematic abuse they inflicted on him.

“Can I get some water, please?” Purdue asked, hardly able to speak from the sandpaper in his throat. They ignored him, rambling on between the two of them about something amusing he could not translate. “Can I get some water?” he repeated as the nearing exit blinded him. Still they paid Purdue no mind, dragging his weak and aching body off to the administration offices. Attempting to ascend the stairs with them, his legs failed him and he sank to his knees.

Maria came out of nowhere. She rushed to Purdue’s aid and shouted harsh reprimands at the two soldiers, sending one rushing for a glass of water.

“David, are you alright?” she asked, hooking her arms under his to support him on the steps while the other guard looked on.

“I’m so hungry, Maria. Please, anything to eat. Anything,” he panted weakly.

“I’ll get them to give you something to eat after your interrogation…”

“Please! Don’t let them torture me! I’m not a soldier,” he pleaded again. Purdue’s face was an inch from Maria’s beautiful countenance and his blue eyes were desperate enough to soften her heart. After his confession the day before she thought him a lunatic, but after much contemplation throughout the evening Maria had to reconsider. After all, she herself was a medium, channeling spirits and touching other worlds all the time. She had no right to dismiss him as a deluded maniac.

When she went to speak to him in the late hours of the night she saw a blinding white light exude from under the door of the holding cells. It was unlike anything she had ever seen, almost something she would have construed as unearthly. On seeing this phenomenon, knowing that only David Purdue was inside, she withdrew. Even with her insatiable curiosity as to what happened inside, she did not think it wise to enquire and draw attention from the guards. They were too meager of reason to understand.

“I am afraid I cannot promise that, David. But know this…” she looked at the attending soldier waiting for the other to return with water. He was distracted by a verbal altercation in one of the offices. “…I know there is something supernatural about you.”

“But…” he lit up, eager to elaborate, but she hushed him. She shook her head, frowning at her erroneous choice of words. “Not supernatural, but unusual.”

“I told you yesterday, Maria,” he started, but the other guard showed up with a tall glass of water. He crouched down and gave Purdue the water, but he clearly did not want to. It would have been great entertainment to watch the Allied intruder suffer, but they all knew that Maria was not to be crossed. Her potency was as great as her beauty. With Sigrun by her side, the two women headed the powerful Vril Society and had the ear of the Führer and Heinrich Himmler both.

“I need to know, David. I need to know everything,” she whispered in his ear as he greedily guzzled down the soothing water. She stood up and addressed the two soldiers with authority. “Make sure that he does not spend another night without food or water.”

With this she walked away and left Purdue to the mercy of the SS officers awaiting him in the large office at the end of the hall. Purdue had never experienced such terror in his life. Reading about the Second World War was like visiting the lion’s den at the zoo — looking in at the carnage from the security of high walls and steel barriers. Now he had been denied the safety of the fence and he was the main meal.

It was an atrocious time of raw and brutal evil, a time wherein nobody was ever safe. Madness prevailed and insanity corrupted those in power to the obliteration of the masses. Not even Germans were safe if they were judged by the personal vendetta of any of the commanders. Here he was, about to be interrogated by one of Hitler’s vicious beasts and his very fate was in the hands of a man who could end his life without lifting a finger.

The office was only that in name. Only three chairs surrounded a wooden desk with drawers in which the folders of prisoners, politics and enlisting documents were stored. But the rest of the room reeked of ammonia, floor polish and some awful whiff of formaldehyde mating with both to form nightmarish images in Purdue’s mind.

‘Don’t be hostile. Don’t speak out of turn, old boy,’ he instructed himself as he laid eyes on the Sturmbannführer seated at the desk. ‘In fact, remember who you are.’

“You are David Purdue?” the scrawny bald man with the laughing eyes asked.

“Yes, sir,” Purdue answered over parched discolored lips. ‘You are David fucking Purdue. You have more money than God and even more charisma. Command the room in the way only you know,’ his reason urged him.

He was numb with fear here in the presence of a Waffen SS Commander who had not a second thought for butchering women and children just to see their expressions. But he had to keep his wits about him. Purdue had to retain his positive nature, his cordial manner with which he could sway almost anyone to favor him.

Up until this very moment, through all his dangerous expeditions, his costly pursuits, reckless relic hunting and questionable associations, Purdue had never known doubt. Right up until this moment the affluent inventor and explorer had never tasted the choking venom of searing anguish. Never before had he abandoned his courage. There was always a way out, whether by the mercenary or by the wit. His money and his charm had always given him the upper hand, but now, in the snake pit of the SS, Purdue found himself a pauper.