Brockmann had rented a car. It was some sort of Asian SUV and they parked on what Simon assumed was the back of the morgue.

They had been mostly silent. Occasionally Brockmann had given orders and Simon had followed them. This was Brockmann‘s domain and he felt always like a tourest in it.

„So how do we get in? Are you planning to break down the door?“ Simon asked. „Or are we trying something subtle?“ He was slightly mocking the older man. Brockmann did not bite. He never did.

„I got someone to do the heavy lifting. We wait.“ Brockmann said. Simon nodded.

„So who is our helper?“ Simon asked.

„They are.“ Brockmann said and small VW parked on Theo their side of the street. Brockmann watched them with feverish eyes. Four young men got out, all wearing bomber jackets that looked cheap. Sneakers. Short hair. One had shaved his head.

„Neo Nazis?“ Simon asked. „Seriosuly?“

„They are perfect. Easy to get to do what you want and too stupid to understand they are used.“ Brockmann said.

Simon looked at him and Brockmann put his ski mask on. Simon sighed and did the same. The four young men looked around. Laughed and then climbed the stairs to what appeared to be a second level back-entrance. One of them had a crowbar.

„Get ready.“ Brockmann said. Simon watched the four men as one got a crowbar out of his jacket and they began working on the door. It was not as easy as they imagined, but after a minute the door gave in and cracked open.

„There will be an alarm system.“ Simon said. The four men entered.

„Of course there will. Intruder alert. That’s is why we needed some intruders.“ Brockmann said and left the car without a further word. Simon followed him as he passed the street. It was raining still, which was probably good. Nobody was on the streets now who did not have to. Brockmann climbed the stairs with swift steps. Simon understood the plan now. These guys would be caught and that would explain the alarm. Nobody would know another two people had entered the building. It was kinda brilliant.

He slipped into the dark corridor behind Brockmann. He hands expected a modern facility, but the whole thing was from the seventies. Ugly PVC floors and white woodchuck wallpapers. Simon heard yells and laugh as the four skinheads probably enjoyed the little adventure.

„They will get caught quickly.“ Simon said.

„Yes, I told them the building is unguarded.“ Brockmann said and took a lock pick out of his overall. Quickly he turned to the left and looked at the door. The lock looked old and outdated with a large keyhole. Brockmann cracked it in seconds and opened the door. He slipped inside and Simon followed him. Gently the older man closed the door and then looked around. Simon did the same. It was some kind of bureau. An old computer and a lot of paper files everywhere. Brockmann went to the desk and sat down on the seat. „Make yourself comfortable, we are gonna be here for a while.“ He said.

Simon did as he was told, leaned against the door and slided down until he sat on the floor.

„How long?“ Simon asked.

„They are gonna capture them. Police will be called, arresting them. Then they probably search the building for any escapees and when they are done we are gonna wait for another hour.“ Brockmann said. „Then we should be clear.“

Simon nodded. He wondered how often Brockmann had done this. his calmness was infectious. Simon did not feel the slightest bit of nervousness as they broke into a Government building.

He took out his mobile and then excited against going to the internet. It would be full of news about the shooting. Maybe they got the name of the dead shooter by now. He did’t wanted to know his name. He wanted to not think about him at all.

****

Brockmann looked at him, saw his exhaustion and doubted it had been such a good idea to bring him. This live was hard, he knew that. The loneliness of knowing. The danger- The waiting. The death the violence and then again the loneliness, accelerating and amplifying all those burdens.

„Gefreiter Brockmann meldet sich zur Stelle!“ Private Brockmann reporting for duty. He yelled those words at the superiors in 1979 with a stupid enthusiasm that people smiled at. He did not see their smiles. he was proud to be a soldier and he was happy to be away from this goddamned fence and this cursed rifle. He had regained the ability to laugh, had regained the joy that life could bring. When he woke up it was not always the first thought he had that he had killed a family father. He had even found a woman. Christa worked at the cantina of the barracks in Berlin, where he was temporary stationed as he was about to have holiday and would be reassigned afterwards. She had smiled at him as she had put the pancake extra on his plate and he had basically been thinking about that smile all day. „Maybe I should invite her for coffee?“ He asked Richard, another man like him who was about to b transferred after the holiday season. Richard, who was a handsome man with a handsome face and a charming smile put down his book and looked at him. „You mean the cantina girl? Yeah, why not. Reasonably cute.“ He said. They were lying on their beds in their shared room and were doing nothing really. They were not on duty, yet had no passports to leave the premises and would not get any until Monday morning when the admins returned to work. So they had a weekend ion the baracks, right at the edge of Berlin, the capital. The most thrilling town in the whole German Democratic Republic.

„I think she got duty tonight. Maybe I ask her for a walk.“ Brockmann said. Richard laughed.

„Oh Brockmann. You are not really goods with girls, are you? Ask her out. Properly out. Food, yoiu know? A drink. You can have my flat, if you like.“ He said and put his book up again.

„You got a flat in Berlin?“ Brockmann asked.

„My Dad does.“ Richard said, obviously wanting to read. Brockmann looked at him and he knew the question lingering in the air. „He is member of the party.“ Richard said.

Of course he was. People in the communist part of Germany did not „own a flat“ and certainly not one they were not living in. It was almost a capitalist thing to do.

„That would be okay ...?“ Brockmann asked. Richard laughed.

„It is for girls. So yeah. My Dad takes his secratary there, I take girls there when I am in town and now you join the club of Braunfelds.“ He said. Brockmann wanted to thank him, but the the door opened. Nobody had knocked. it just opened and a Feldwebel, Sergeant as they called them in the western armies, stood there. Both men jumped up and saluted in their muscle shirts.

„Private Braunfeld. You got a call from command.“ the Sergant said. „It is urgent. Please follow me.“ The Sergant said and Richard nodded, took his jacket and followed him. Brockmann looked after him. He had known the man for a few days only, but he had not considered him the kind of soldiers who got calls from command. What command actually? He was not aware there was one that was only called „command“.

Brockmann stayed behind in the room and took a sip from his cold tea he had in a thermos. Then he looked at the book Richard had read. It was Moby dick by Herman Melville. A classic, but a pretty western classic. A surprising choice for the son of what appeared to be a functionary of the party.

He put it back and lay back on his bed. It took him only a few minutes, before Richard stormed into the room again. Yet, he was a changed man. The easy-going roommate was gone. His face was serious and dedicated as he walked to his bed and grabbed the suitcase below.

„Is everything okay?“ Brockmann asked and Richard looked at him. „Yes.“ The man replied. He opened the suitcase full of clothes and got a single envelope out. Then he turned to Brockmann.

„You wanna get out of here?“ He asked then. „See Berlin?“

Brockmann stared at him and nodded. „Yes, but how ...“

„I got a mission. I could use someone to watch my back.“ Richard explained.

„What kind of mission?“ Brockmann asked.

„Sorry, it is classified. But it is important and urgent. So you gotta decide now.“ Richard said. Brockmann wasn to sure if he wanted to be dragged into this. Richard saw the doubt and smiled at him. „Listen, I would appreciate it. A lot.“

Brockmann nodded.

****

Everything went incredibly fast from there. Richard asked him to dress in civil clothing and he himself did the same, putting on a shirt and grey trousers. Then he walked out of the room and Brockmann followed. They left the building and outside two soldiers were expecting them, with a suitcase.

„I need one for my escort, too.“ Richard said. The soldier looked surprised.

„I do not have another.“ He said. Richard looked at him and also a private he talked with the authority of a man of much higher rank.

„Right, in that case hand Private Brockmann your sidearm.“ Richard said.

„Excuse me?“ The soldier said. Richard got out the envelope and took the paper out, putting it right in front of the eyes of the soldier.

„Now.“ He said and the soldier quickly drew his gun and handed it to Brockmann. It was a Makarov. Loaded. Brockmann checked it and looked at Richard in surprise. The young man took the suitcase and was already passing the soldiers though and walked to a the car waiting for them. A Wartburg 312. A damned fine car. The height of car building in Eastern Germany. Brockmann saluted the soldiers and followed Richard.

„You drive.“ Richard said and sat one the passenger seat next to the driver, putting the suitcase on his legs. Brockmann got in and started the car.

„Where to?“ He asked.

„Friedrichshain.“ Richard said. „Just follow the signs.“ He opened the suitcase and Brockmann began to drive. He risked one look to the side out of curiosity and saw Richard take ab gun from the suitcase. it was much larger than the Makaroc. A Stechkin ABM. the weapons Russian special forces used regularly. Richard attached a silencer to it.

„This is not something ...“ Brockmann asked.

„We act on order from high command. So this is by definition not illegal, if that is hart you mean.“ Richard said. „This is just a precaution. We are not going to kill anybody. Hopefully.“ Richard said. Then he took out a yellow file and opened it.

„We go to the Wismar Square. You will see police there, that’s is the house we need to go to.“ Richard answered.

„Sure. but if I am to be any help, you should probably give me some idea what the mission is about.“ Brockmann said and took a left.

Richard looked at him. „There is safehouse there, which hold a team of special operatives working under direct command of the STASI. We lost contact to them and I am to look if everything is okay.“ Richard said. „More you do not need to know.“

„Are you some kind of spy?“ Brockmann asked.

„Drive faster. Do not worry about traffic rules.“ Richard said and then looked at Brockmann. „If I was, do you think I would tell you? also this is the kind of question that gets you to a lonely outpost somewhere into the woods for the rest of your service time. So let us pretend we never discussed this, yes?2 Richard asked.

„Yes.“ Brockmann openly replied.

„Listen, everything you do here is classified, you hear me? Never talk to anyone ever about this. Nobody.“ Richard said.

Brockmann kinda knew he had gotten himself into trouble. He knew he had made a mistake. What he did not yet know was it was about change his entire life.

****

Brockmann wondered what had been Simon‘s decision that had changed the trajectory of his entire life. Brockmann had needed years to find the moment, the one decision that had changed him so profoundly it had reborn the man he was today. It had been following Richard Braunfeld on this mysterious mission. Simon would probably think it ewas joining the Nocturne Society. Maybe he realized it had happened earlier, maybe when he had joined Brockmann in the hunt of the monster. Truth was, all this had been consequences on a path he had entered much earlier. Like Brockmann, he had probably not known and not even guessed the extend of consequences of his decision when he made it. Probably it had been when he became the boyfriend of Sandra, the girl whose death he had wanted to avenge. The girl that had ragged him into a world he had not known about, without him even having a chance to know it.

„Don‘t fall asleep.“ Brockmann said. Simon‘s head snapped up.

„God, I slept all day, how can I be tired.“ Simon said. „I do not hear anything.“ He then said.

Brockmann looked at him in the dark room only lit by the full moon shining through the window from outside.

„Yes, it is way too silent.“ Brockmann said and pushed himself out of the chair. He felt the pain in his back as he did so. For all his preparation he had forgotten to take any painkiller. What a stupid mistake. In the dark he opened his overall and withdrew the revolver he had hidden inside. Simon immediately did the same with his much smaller Makarov. Brockmann gave Simon his bag and went to the door. Simon made room and gently Brockman opened it.

The corridor was empty. Dark and empty. No sound of rampaging skinheads or the guards hunting them. No police or alarm. It was absolutely silent.

He pushed himself into the corridor and still there was nothing. As Simon followed him he turned to the boy.

„Anton Burzynski is on the lower level I guess in one of the autopsy rooms.“ Brockmann whispered.

Simon nodded. So he knew the name of the man he had killed now after all. Anton Burzynski.

Brockmann lead the way, his gun on the level of his hip, like a gunslinger from a TV show. Simon kept his gun ready, but aimed to the ground. They took a left turn and Brockmann leaned against a door made of glass and metal It slided open and revealed stairs. The light in the staircase blinked alive. Motion sensor. Brockmann silently cursed to himself.

„They got cameras on the lower level, so under no circumstances we remove our masks, understood?“ Brockmann asked. Simon nodded.

„Wonder why they have cameras down there anyway. Those guys do not walk out of here anymore.“ Brockmann hissed.

„Theft.“ Simon said. Brockmann stopped and looked at him.

„What? Who steals a body? Brockmann asked.

„Well, destroying evidence or more likely ... personal reasons.“ Simon shrugged. Brockmann looked at him in disgust. Simon shrugged. „I read online that it is one of them ore common perversions to ... you know ...“

„You read too much.“ Brockmann said and made it down the stairs. They arrived at a door to the iuunderground level which looked like the counterpart on the top floor. Brockmann opened it a slid. He saw a desk there at their end of the corridor. It was empt.y At day you probably had to check in and out with a guard sitting there. Now it was empty.

Brockmann slid into the corridor, which now looked more like a hospital than upstairs. There were mobile Pritchett in the corridor, empty. Rooms were numbered. Brockmann went to the desk and pointed up. Simon saw the red light of a camera attached to the ceiling. He turned his back to it, as Brockmann activated his flashlight and looked through the papers on the desk. He finally found the daily reports and went through them.

„4A, he is in 4A, prepared for autopsy.“ Brockmann said. He looked up and there was a noise far away. It was something falling to the ground.

„They leave him there overnight? Does he not have to be cooled?“ Simon asked.

„Maybe the autopsy is still ongoing.“ Brockmann said and Simon looked at the corridor. One door was actually throwing a dim light into the corridor. Someone was probably here still.

„What do we do with the coroner if he is still here?“ Simon hissed. This was not as this had been planned.

„Let me handle him. Let me handle everything from here. You do not touch anything, until I tell you to. Understood.“ Brockmann said. Simon nodded.

„Good, take on the gloves. They are in your pockets.“ Brockmann said and began to walk down the corridor making as little noise as possible. Simon found legal gloves in the overall to his surprise and put them over his hands, changing the gun from one hand to the other to do so. They were too big. Brockmanns size probably. Then he followed Brockmann. His sneakers were easier to use to not make noises. But if he was not careful they made a squeaking noise on the floor. Brockmann stopped at the door with the light and Simon saw it was indeed 4A. Brockmann took the pistol up now and opened the door. It was not possible to do so without making clicking noises as the lock snapped open. So the older man slipped into the room with a remarkable elegant move. Simon waited outside. He realized only now he was about to see the body of the man he had killed. Until now he had ignored the fact and he felt hesitation.

„Oh my God!“ Brockmann gasped from inside. Simon had never heard him say anything with this amount of shock. Not thinking he followed him.

****

The room was dark, with only the lights above the autopsy table active. On the floor lay a man in a white gown. je slay with his head to the ground and spasms went through him. But that ewas not what had Brockmann use the name of the creator. Simon‘s eyes followed the body to the table as he heard a strange smacking noise and then he saw it. the body was there. Naked and lying on the floor, but from the opened chest something raised up. Something Simon had never seen before. A worm. A worm as big as a dog or a human arm was there, slowly moving from one side to the other. At the end of the worm there was a mouth with teeth and around the mouth were for claw arms spreading away from the mouth and then closing on it again.

„Stay back!“ Brockmann yelled at him and Simon did as he was said to do.

„What is this?“ Simon asked.

„My worst fear come true.“ Brockmann said and the worm seemed to react to sound. It turned it‘s head and the claw arms spread, as it made a gripping sound, now moving fast from one side to the other. Simon realized it tried to crawl out of the body, in which part of him was still stuck. Brockmann aimed at the thing and fired one single shot. Simon managed to get his hands over his ears just in time, before the shot thundered into the small room. The worm burst to pieces and collapsed. Brockmann said something, but Simon was only hearing a loud beeping in his ears. Brockmann realized this and grabbed the bag from Simon.

With feverish eyes full of anxiety Brockmann pointed to the door and Simon understood. He was meant to wait outside. He followed the order and slipped out. The beeping died down. Confused by what he had just seen Simon looked around. A monster. another monster. He remembered how he had joked about how this had to be one hell of a worm. Now he knew why Brockmann had not considered this funny. It was indeed one hell of a worm. There was a small window in the door and Simon looked through it. He saw Brockmann walking over the still moving body of the doctor to the body of Anton Burzynski. The older man picked up the papers there. Then he looked at the worm. Finally he took the strange grenade out. The napalm grenade he had called it. Simon realized Brockmann intended to burn all of it down. All of it, including the Doctor? The man was still alive. He went back in.

„Stop it! You cannot do this!“ Simon hissed with a low voice. Brockmann looked up.

„I said wait outside.“ He only replied.

„The man is still alive.“ Simon said and pointed at the doctor. Brockmann looked up.

„No he is not. He was infected.“ Brockmann said.

„You mean ...“ Simon stared at the body which had stopped moving.

„One of those is growing inside of him. That is what they do, when they wake up. The break out of the body and infect everyone nearby.“ Brockmann said.

„You have seen those before?“ Simon asked. Brockmann looked at him and nodded.

Then he opened the grenade and began to slowly droplets the orange fluid inside over the body and then lead a path to the door, which included spreading the fluid over the man. Simon shook his head.

„We can take him to a hospital and they can take this thing out, right?“ Simon asked.

„The risk of it spreading is too big. It could infect nurses, doctors, patients there.“ Brockmann said. He looked at Simonm and then took another step and suddenly lost balance and crashed to the floor. Simon saw the Coroner on the floor had grabbed Brockmanns ankle and held it in a tight grip.

„Dammit!“ Brockmann said and tried to push free, but the Coroner kept him in a tight grip. Slowly the man raised his head and Simon moved one step back. He had the same hollow stare as Anton Burzynski had in the school. He was pale, saliva dripping from his mouth and he slowly freed his second arm under him. Brockmann gave him one powerful kick, but the hand did not let go of him. Simon finally broke form his freeze and stepped over to the small table with instruments.

„No!“ Brockmamn shouted before he got there. „Do not touch anything!“ He yelled and Simon stopped. The man had freed his arm and dragged himself closer to Brockmann. Brockmann got half up and raised his revolver aiming at the head of the man.

„No, wait!“ Simon yelled and this time he had no hands of´over his ears as the loud bang of the gun filled the room. The beeping was physically painful and Simon leaned forward, covering his ears. He managed to raised his head and saw the man had collapsed and Brockmann was finally free of his grip. Blood began to spread on the floor. His head was having a huge whole. Simon could not help himself and threw up as he saw the mans brain. It was just too much. Then he felt both hands of Brockmann at his shoulders. He was talking he believed. Hard to say under the ski mask. Simon shook his head and was shoved by Brockman towards the door.

„Brockmann, wait, we gotta think this through.“ He said in the corridor, not sure if the older man even heard him. „The whole building could burn down.“ He said. Napalm burned like hell.

Brockmann left the autopsy room now, too and took out matches. He let the door one slid open and set one match on fire.

Simon stared at him as he threw it in and closed the door quickly behind it. Inside a burst of white appeared and then the orange of fire. the beeping in Simon‘s ears died a little down, but did not vanish completely.

„We need to get out of here.“ Simon gasped. „Fire alarm.“

Brockmann nodded. „Yes.“ He said and lead the way. Simon stumbled after him. Everything became a blurry of images and sounds. He felt it ewas hard to concentrate, but he managed to keep up with his partner. They climbed the stairs. Simon had some abstract awareness of the corridor above they passed and the door they had used to enter sliding open and Brockmann pushing him out.

„Get the car and go back to the hotel.“ Brockmann said and Simon nodded with a numb feeling, before he realized what this meant. Only now he realized fire alarm had gone off.

„What do you do?“ Simon asked.

„The four kids and the guards, I need to know they are no infected.“ Brockmann said. „We meet at the hotel.“ He hissed.

„Fire fighters will be here any moment now.“ Simon said. Brockmann closed the door and ignored the comment. Simon stood out there for a moment and then realized he was at risk of getting spotted. All he could really do was stumble to the car and get in. The key Brockmann had left inside. He ripped his ski mask from his face and started the engine. He gave the door a last look, hoping Brockmann would appear from there having changed his mind. Of course he did not. Changing his mind was not really Brockmann‘s style. So Simon started the engines and drove away as fast as he could without drawing unnecessary attention. As he made his way around the third corner or so he saw fire trucks pass him. Three. Then police cars. Too many to count. He hoped Brockmann would escape.

****

The boy was save. Brockmann felt much better knowing his partner was not at the risk of becoming the next infected. His revolver now in front of him, he quickly made his way down the corridor. He had memorized the blue print of the building, also it had been an outdated version. Doorwere now everywhere. He did not care about opening them silently. He had minutes at best. So he pushed them open and made his way to the lobby. He stopped immediately as he saw the four dead bodies lying there. Shot and their blood spreading on the stone floor. In their midst cowered a man in a blue guardsman uniform. He seemed to look at his work and slowly turned his face, grabbing the gun from the ground next to him. Brockmann did not hesitate. He saw the pale bearded face and hollow eyes and knew he was infected. Two shots into the torso of the man send him reeling to the floor. Brockman stepped over him quickly and the man opened his mouth, as a third shot of Brockmann landed in the forehead. His body collapsed right away and lost all tension. Outside he saw blue lights flicker. Firefighters were here.

„Dammit.“ He cursed and grabbed his back. He quickly withdrew as he got out the grenade. It was not enough time to get the fluid from it and the grenade was stil half full. He had to hope this ancient thing still worked. He removed the safety pen and threw it into the lobby between the bodies and the dead guard. Then he turned and ran. As the door behind him closed he heard the hiss as the napalm sucked air away and then the small rumble of the explosion. Glass shattered. People yelled. Brockmann did not wait to see what happened. He knew police was surrounding the building right now and he was not as fast. As he used to be. He entered the next corridor and kicked open a door to an office. the old doors grave in easily which was his luck. He quickly passed the files and esk and hammered the grip of his gun into the glass. In movies it shattered immediately., but in reality those things began to splinter. So he kept on hitting it until it had a hole and then dragged himself up. his back almost killed him. It felt like breaking. Broken backs do not hurt, he reminded himself and kicked the window and it finally gave in and fell out of it‘s frame. He had no time to Colima so he simply dropped out of it and landed hard on his back again. The flash of pain made him gasp and he got slowly on his feet, looking where he actually was. There was a small street leading to a delivery entrance. A car with flashing blue lights just entered the street. a Police car. It stopped right next to him and a police officer quickly got out of the passenger seat, as Brockmann got to his feed. He knew he had only one chance, so he charged and rammed against the door, taking the policeman by surprise. he grabbed him and pout his revolver to his head. the driver was out of the car now and had his gun drawn.

„Stop right there!“ He yelled.

„Gun down!“ Brockmann yelled and he could only imagine how he had to look in the black overall with the ski mask. The policeman, a young guy in his twenties who was doing a lot of work out obviously stared at him.

„Now!“ Brockmann yelled and put the cock of the revolver back, arming it. the policeman did what they had told him in training and let go of his gun, raising his hands.

„Listen, do not make it any worse than it already is!“ He said.Brockmann hammered the grip of his gun into the skull of his hostage and felt the man go unconscious. Then he aimed quickly again at the policeman and as the policeman slipped form his arms he want around the car.

„Wait, let us talk about this!“ The policeman said, but Brockmann was already with him. He knew those guys had hand to hand training and this one looked like he might be way stronger than him. So he took the dirty reroute and kicked him with all his strength with the knee between his legs. The poor guy collapsed. Brockmann put his gun up and hammered it down into his head. He saw the man collapse, but not loose consciousness. There was nothing he could do about this now. He turned and kicked the gun of the police officer away and began to quickly run away. More blue lights flashed from nearby. Brockmann felt the pain in his arms and back and it was almost killing him. His heart was racing. But once he was around the corner he leaned against the wall and quickly took his ski mask off and ripped the overall from his body. He would leave traces. Hair. Skin. All kinds of DNA probes, he knew it. But what mattered now was that he escaped. He kicked the overall under a parking car and then breathed through once. Putting his revolver into the bag, he took it over his shoulder and forced himself to walk slowly away from the building as more flashing blue lights made their way down the street. He heard the policeman scream orders into his radio behind. Suspect. Black overall and ski mask. Armed and dangerous. the police cars probably saw only an old man as they passed him and he looked at them, like an spectator would when police cars would pass. When he finally made it down the street he turned to the subway entrance there and walked down there, taking his time. Once he was inside, he was certain he had escaped the immediate danger of getting caught. German police would take some time to shut down traffic arfoiund here so he took the platform 5, where a subway train was to arrive in two minutes, as the sign showed him with digital letters. He tried not too breathe to heavy, tried not to sweat too much, tried not to look suspicious to the young people hearing loud music from their mobiles down there. How he hated rap music, but how he thanked God it was only these two girls and men totally absorbed with their mating rituals down here. The train arrived and he got on it. Sitting down he put his bagnext to him and felt his heart hurt in a flash of pain. He ignored it. the doors closed finally and Brockmann gave them one of his rare smiles as the subway started to roll.