The cool wind nipped at Joe’s tattered jeans and seeped into his mind, convincing him that his life was over. The stench of rotten tomatoes loomed in the ashy air from the burned houses in the town. Hatred boiled through his body, encouraging him to fight. He was willing to rip off the Star of David on his arm. He wanted to be someone other than who he was. Then the world went as dark as a black hole.

“Joe, wake up;  you’re late for school,” his mother cried from downstairs. He scratched at his lice infested head aggressively with hatred boiling through him. Groggily, he woke up and rapidly dressed for another day of his miserable life, relying on only the vegetables and fruits grown in their compact lot, the plants growing on top of each other. The steps creaked wincingly while the malnourished child walked down with no electricity in his house.

 All of his friends abandoned him because he was Jewish, listening to the “wise words” of dictator Adolf HItler.  Poor and small, he was picked on by his superiors every day with teachers making no attempt to break up the fight.

The family hunched around the splintered dining table, listening to the radio while chatting. Then everyone in the room hushed into silence. Joe’s father dropped his knife in sheer shock. Tears swelled up into his eyes. 

In Munich, there was a two-day conference discussing the acclamation of the Sudetenland in favor of Germany. France and Britain seceded the Sudetenland to Germany in order to prevent another World War. Devastation tingled through the hearts of Joe’s family once again after Hitler forced all Jews out of his country, and if they stayed they would be persecuted. Joe’s family had to leave right away. The issue was that they had no means of transportation. 

With two days to get all the way to the border, they could take nothing but the bare essentials. The trek was nearly 100 miles over treacherous lands. They set out with nothing but a few berries from their garden. They set out, determined to get to Prague. 

Each step lowered their morale by half.  The hot and humid day layered sweat onto Joe’s face, tearing away at his skin. The jog through the country was a ritardando slowly fading away in enjoyment, with each minute seeming longer than the previous. The turns wound by coiling and uncoiling as the family jogged on. Germans would throw tomatoes at them from their houses, teasing the Jews as they passed by in their rag-tag clothes. Each passing house reminded him of his home, and his legs hit the ground and considered if moving forward was helpful. He wondered if he would be living the same life in Prague.           

The family stopped for a break, and Joe’s father started, “ It’s all right, things will be better in Prague.”

“I don’t want to relive my life there,” confessed Joe sulkingly. 

“It will be fine; there will be more Jews there and there is less German support in the east,” Joe’s father assured.

The barren road split into two sectors; the family was clueless as to which way they should go. The family voted on going to the left. Little did they know that it led into a forest in the South. 

In the path there were multiple paths all branching out in different directions. With only chance to rely on, the family randomly selected path after path, trying to get to Prague. As the sun went down, they headed toward what looked to be an abandoned cottage to seek refuge. 

Joe’s father saw a man that he immediately recognized wandering around the back of the cottage; he cried out, “BOB!”
A man who looked about 35 groggily reared around and yelped out,“Jim, long time no see!”

Joe’s father ran up to the man and hugged him, all while Joe strutted around awkwardly waiting for the love fest to concede. 

Jim timidly replied to his family, “Meet my brother, Bob.”

Joe’s mother slowly walked up, gave a quick handshake and slyly examined the man. It was like a monkey approaching a man, examining the person while staying safe from harm. 

She asked her husband, “why haven’t I heard about Bob?”

Then Bob said, “ That is partially my fault.”

He sighed and narrated, “When I was a child, me and my brother, who is now your husband, lived in poverty surrounded by the misery of the First World War. I was taken hostage by the Germans. The Germans wanted me to tell them about the town, and where the militia and factories were so they could lay siege efficiently. I was promised that I could live if I told them the details about the town. Out of pure fear I quickly agreed to the Germans’ orders. The Germans were clearly satisfied with the advice I had given them. I was let out a couple of miles from the town so I could not tell the town what had happened. I watched helplessly as barrages of artillery were fired onto the militia who were just finishing their training, and onto the factories and even some homes. Fires were ravaging the homes, and cries of the people could be heard from miles away. I knew that there was no home to come back to, so I ran away. I did not want to cause the deaths of so many people, so I fled to the wilderness so I couldn’t be responsible for another's death again.”

The utter silence made Joe feel lifeless. Suddenly both men shed uncontrollable tears flowing down their faces like a wild stream. After a few extensive minutes, they trudged on, this time with a map from Bob and a basket of bread that looked like a million dollars to the famished family. 

The dark canopy blocked out all light, as if god had looked the other way. The chatter of owls, and the rustling of branches made a horror story come to life. The ground was infested with branches that had fallen off of trees. Every family member peered at the sky, trying to make the sun rise. But it never would.

A thumping sound came from their right. Jim held out his knife and staggered toward the sound. The cackle of witches haunted his thoughts. He heard a loud sound and instinctively dove for the ground. He rolled toward the safe haven of the bushes. He looked up and saw the swastika, the symbol of the Nazi Party, and at this moment he knew it was over. 

He woke up in a city, larger than his little town in his old home, the memories of which were too painful to bear. His weary eyes scanned over himself, and he saw a throbbing sea of red on his torso. He saw that only he and Bob were there. 

“Welcome to Prague,” hollered a distant voice.

Bob had decided that this man may be helpful to their cause. He quickly told him their story and said that he was Joe’s father. His mind then started to comprehend what was actually happening. 

The man replied, “we can take revenge on the Nazis, and we can assassinate Hitler and save the world.”

As much as Joe didn’t want to revisit the people who caused his family's trip to the graveyard, Hitler deserved to be put down. The rest of the day went by quickly and uneventfully. Joe thought to himself, couldn’t that have happened the last two days? Joe sought vengeance at god himself and the Nazis for killing his family. 

They boarded the train to go to Munich, Germany, the place where all their troubles had begun. The security was tight, but they made it with their fake identities. The sweat trickled down Joe’s face like a broken sprinkler, sputtering water in batches every now and then. Their train was an hour late for pickup but somehow made up that time in the travel. The streets of Munich had many swastikas hanging from the windows. He saw the accursed face of Hitler several times on their way to the Church. He looked at the poor German children bombarded by the propaganda machine of the Nazis; he even saw another Jewish family being harassed. 

The church loomed over their heads like looking at Mount Everest from the base. The explosives flew through the air, each one traveling in slow motion trying to find Hitler, each one creating a boom that could destroy a house. Then Joe realized what he had done. He had bombed a church.

Joe fell to his knees, shocked at what he had been a part of. The church tore down like a tree had been cut down. A once beautiful church now destroyed. He saw the man rush away. The man named Adolf Hitler. And the bullets that pierced his body didn’t hurt him.

-Aakash Iyer