Among The Wolves
Piotr Kowalczyk lived by a simple mantra, “Sweep and live.” He was an old man, nearly sixty-five, in July 1943 when the Nazis had rounded up all two hundred and thirty-five people in his small village of Michniów and executed all but the two dozen or so who were sent to the camps. The Waffen SS soldiers had burned every structure in the village and buried the bodies in the trenches the local partisan units and Polish Home Army groups had dug for defense. Piotr did not know why he was spared when the rest of his family was killed, his two sons, his sweet grandchildren, and his beautiful Ania. Perhaps the Germans thought him too old to waste a bullet on or he supposed they wanted a few cowed survivors to warn others of what happened to those who opposed the Third Reich. Regardless, He was sent to Special Camp 137 to be an orderly for the camp commandant, Major Horst Vetter. As an orderly, Piotr swept Vetter’s two room office, polished his boots, and occasionally made his coffee. A task that Piotr was amazed the arrogant SS officer would allow a prisoner to do. How easy it would be for Piotr to poison the coffee and get some measure of justice for his Ania and all of Michniów. While sweeping the office one day Piotr had found a small ball of rat poison and slipped it into the lining of his grey prisoner’s shirt. At night he would fantasize about dissolving the little white ball in Vetter’s coffee and watching the Nazi turn blue as he clawed at his uniform collar with its precious SS lightning bolts, gasping for air like a fish out of water. But Piotr could never muster the courage to do it. “One day.” Piotr would always think to himself. “One day Ania I will avenge you.” Piotr and the other three camp orderlies slept in separate quarters from the other prisoners in Special Camp 137, mostly because Vetter and Doctor Grabner, who ran the medical research facility, did not want the orderlies contaminating their work spaces with the lice that infested the malnourished residents in the prison barracks. A special cell with four bunk beds was attached to Doctor Grabner’s medical research building. The cell was located at the end of the hall of a long corridor of cells that housed the objects of Doctor Grabner’s research. Piotr was always careful not to look at the occupants of the cells as he passed by, the living mutilations of Doctor Grabner’s research. At night, Piotr and the other orderlies would try and block out the screams and whimpering cries of those poor souls. The other three orderlies, all Slovaks, worked in the medical research building next to Vetter’s two room headquarters. Vetter had selected Piotr as his orderly because, unlike the three Slovaks, Piotr had blue eyes and Vetter found dark eyes distasteful to look upon. Piotr was sweeping the outer office the night that Sergeant Metz brought the stranger in. Metz was exactly the kind of man the Nazi’s liked to attract into their ranks. He was a burly blue-eyed brute with a blonde crew cut and an unfathomable penchant for cruelty and violence. Piotr had often see Metz mercilessly beating prisoners for even the slightest infractions and he was haunted by the look of feral glee that filled the sergeant’s face as he doled out pain and suffering to the unfortunate souls of Special Camp 137. Once, Piotr heard guards joking that you could always tell a prisoner who had met Metz because they were missing teeth. The result of Metz’s trademark kick in the teeth while a prisoner was down on the ground. When Metz walked into the outer office Piotr was careful to look down and avert his eyes, but he could still see the jackbooted Nazi kick the mud off his feet onto the floor. “Clean this up.” Metz sneered to Piotr as the two German guards with him chuckled. Piotr nodded his head wordlessly and quickly began to sweep up the dirt from the wood floor as Metz walked by him. He could see there was a fourth man with the Germans, a tall man in a dark suit with black hair and a thin mustache. Something about the man seemed very familiar to Piotr. “Where have I seen that face before?” Thought Piotr as Metz instructed the man to wait against the wall as the two guards took up a position by the door. Metz knocked on Major Vetter’s office door and then quickly slipped in and shut it behind him when the commandant had given permission to enter. The dark haired man seemed to be studying Piotr closely as he swept up the mud and deposited it in a metal pail. The man’s intense scrutiny made Piotr very uncomfortable. However, something about the man seemed so familiar and Piotr could not help to keep glancing at him. To Piotr’s horror the man walked across the room and right up to him. Something in the man’s gait tickled a memory in the back of Piotr’s mind. Piotr nervously looked over at the two guards, who curiously though they were looking straight ahead did not appear to even notice the man’s movement. “Do we know each other?” Asked the man in perfectly accented Polish. “I do not think so Sir.” Answered Piotr looking down. He was not supposed to talk to anyone but other prisoners and never in his native tongue, at any moment Piotr expected the guards to walkover and begin beating him. “Here now good man, let me get a good look at you.” Said the man. “Sir, please you are going to get me in trouble.” Piotr pleaded with the stranger in a hushed tone. “Nonsense, let me see you.” Replied the man. Piotr looked up and the man seemed to study his face with his dark piercing eyes. The man brought his hand to his chin and made a much exaggerated gesture of thinking as he looked at Piotr. The orderly’s eyes nervously darted to the guards who still seemed oblivious to the exchange. The man squinted and pointed at Piotr. “It will come to me, I am certain we have met before. In the meantime, can I ask a favor of you my good man?” “A favor?” Replied Piotr uncertainly. “I would like to leave something with you. Could I do that?” Asked the man. “What is it?” asked Piotr, his eyes continually darting over to the guards. The man reached into the pocket of his dark suit and produced a gleaming silver dog whistle attached to a silver chain. The whistle was covered in writing in a language that Piotr did not recognize. As the man reached out and handed the whistle to Piotr a shock of recognition ran through the old Polish man’s body. “It couldn’t be.” Thought Piotr. “It just couldn’t be. And why is he speaking with a Polish accent now?” The man placed the whistle in Piotr’s hand and closed his fingers around it. Piotr just stared up into the man’s face, a face he had not seen in a very long time, unable to speak. “Now if you hear a dog, I’m going to need you to blow that whistle. Can you do that?” asked the man. Piotr just nodded. “Good. Good. You won’t forget now will you?” asked the man. Piotr shook his head. A big smile crossed the man’s familiar face and he walked back across the room to where Metz had told him to wait. Piotr looked over at the guards who continued to look straight ahead uncaringly as he slipped the dog whistle into his pocket. *** Major Vetter looked up from his desk at Sergeant Metz with disdain. “Can you repeat what you just said Sergeant.” Said Vetter in tone that let the brutish sergeant know that it was a command and not a request. “An Englishman came to the gate of the camp this evening requesting to speak to you, Sir. He said it was a matter of great importance.” Replied Metz. “And you checked this man for weapons?” Asked Vetter. “Yes Sir, two times, very thoroughly. He had no weapons.” Replied Sergeant Metz. “Where did he come from?” asked the SS Major. “He did not say Sir. But he must be a spy. Should I have him shot?” Asked Metz with a hint of eagerness in his voice. “Idiot, what kind of spy walks up to a gate and knocks?” Asked Vetter irritated by the Sergeant’s ignorance. “Bring him in.” “Yes, Sir!” Said the sergeant, snapping to attention and then exiting the room. Major Vetter knew that the Third Reich needed men like Sergeant Metz, and he had to admit he was very effective at keeping the prisoners in line, but he was so limited when it came to thinking. Before the war Horst Vetter had been an engineer and he enjoyed creating order by solving complex problems, by making things fit. That is one of the reasons he had joined the Waffen SS, the armed wing of the Saal-Shutz or “SS”, the SS had solution to problems. The SS created order. As commandant of Special Camp 137 he had secured for himself a senior position in the SS-Totenkopfverbande, the SS-TV or Death’s Head Units, and played a leading role in solving the problems of Germany once and for all. Dealing with mindless brutes like Sergeant Metz was just a cost of doing business. Metz was just a cog in the machine that ground down the problems of the Third Reich into ash and dust. Sergeant Metz came back into the room with a tall man in a dark suit. Vetter quietly studied the man with his ice blue eyes, a look he knew made the prisoners cower with fear. He enjoyed watching the wretched creatures wither under his gaze. Major Vetter saw the Aryan race as a bright sun that scorched the undesirable weeds of humanity wherever they tried to insidiously grow among the flowers of Germany. To Vetter’s surprise, not only did the man return his gaze with dark piercing eyes, but the man actually smiled. Not a cursory cordial smile, a real genuine smile that reached up to the man’s eyes. “Major Vetter I presume!” said the man in English cheerfully extending his hand in greeting. “I fear you have me at a disadvantage, you know my name but I do not know yours.” Replied Vetter coldly, not shaking the man’s hand. “Oh yes, yes of course.” Replied the man. “Do you mind?” The man gestured to the wooden chair on the other side of the SS Major’s desk. “By all means.” Answered Vetter with a nod. Something about this Englishman’s nonchalance was beginning to bother him. The man sat down in the wooden chair and unbuttoned the front of his suit to make himself more comfortable and appeared to be looking around the room. “Maybe this man is some kind of spy.” Thought Vetter. “Well look at that.” Said the man leaning over to look out the office’s window. “You even have a view of the night sky, what a beautiful full moon it is tonight too!” “I believe you were about to tell me you name.” Said Vetter in an unamused tone. “Yes of course. My name is Janus Greystone.” Replied the man pleasantly. “You should wipe that smug look off your face Englander.” Interjected Metz with menace in his voice. Major Vetter raise a hand and cut off Metz with an annoyed look. “You are aware that England and Germany are at war, are you not?” said Vetter. “Oh of course, dreadful business.” Replied Greystone calmly. “So you will understand our curiosity at an Englishman showing up on our doorstep in the middle of the night.” Added Vetter. “While I do speak English that does not make me an Englishman.” Corrected Greystone “He’s clearly an Englishman and a spy.” Started Metz but was silenced by a stern look from Major Vetter. “Wenn ich Deutsch sprechen würde, wäre ich Deutsch?” If I spoke German, would I be German? Asked Greystone in perfectly accented German. “If you come here seeking to play games Mr. Greystone, I think you will find I am in no mood for folly.” Shot Vetter coldly, beginning to lose his patience. “On the contrary Major, I am here to take a problem off your hands.” Replied Greystone, crossing his right leg over his left to make himself more comfortable. “Mr. Greystone.” Answered Vetter with a sneer. “Nobody takes anything from the Third Reich. The Reich takes what it wants from those that do not deserve what they have.” Major Vetter punctuated his words by moving his hand to his collar and rubbing his thumb over the SS Death’s Head insignia on his collar. As he watched his commanding officer losing patience with the Englishman, Sergeant Metz let a wolfish grin cross his face. The Nazi sergeant sensed violence was about to unfold and he would revel in the chance to break this Englishman. “Let me clarify.” Replied Greystone raising his hand with his index finger extended to make a point as he spoke. “You have someone residing at your camp, three someone’s actually, that I believe would be mutually beneficial if you turned them over to me.” Major Vetter mirthlessly laughed out loud and Sergeant Metz followed the officers lead with a grunting sort of laugh that sounded more like a boar searching for a forest truffle. “Mr. Greystone it is highly unlikely you will be leaving this camp, let alone taking anyone from it!” Said Major Vetter, his voice thick with malice. “I am speaking of three brothers, the Kovak brothers, identical triplets. Though one has a scar on his right eye.” Continued Greystone unperturbed by Vetter’s threats and moving his index finger across his right eye from brow to cheek to demonstrate the man’s scar. Sergeant Metz screwed his face into a look of puzzlement and then interjected. “Doctor Grabner has three Serb twins in the research building.” “Triplets.” Corrected Greystone. “I have grown tired of this game.” Replied Vetter irritably. “Sergeant Metz, take our guest for questioning, I want to know where he is from and how he got here. Mr. Greystone, I think you will find Special Camp 137 to be far less hospitable than where ever it is you came from.” “I can assure you Major Vetter, that by tomorrow morning your career in the SS will come to an unceremonious end if I do not leave here with the Kovak brothers this evening.” Greystone answered coolly. Sergeant Metz appeared ready to throttle the Englishman but Major Vetter stayed his hand. He studied the unusual man before him, Greystone was as calm as he had ever seen any man. Not even a bead of perspiration dotted his forehead despite the fact that Vetter had just assured him of certain torture and death. While in Berlin, he had heard rumors of the Gestapo training men to pass as Englishmen or Americans for special operations, could this Greystone be a Gestapo agent? He had shown no credentials of the sort, but what other explanation for this bizarre visitor could there be. Greystone had spoken both English and German with equally impeccable accents. “Sergeant Metz, go find Doctor Grabner.” Ordered the SS Major. “Sir?” replied Metz, confused by the sudden change in orders. “Go ask Doctor Grabner to join me. I want to hear what is so special about these Serbs for myself.” Replied Vetter. The sergeant snapped to attention and left the room. Greystone sat wordlessly, barely even paying attention to Major Vetter. He seemed far more interested in craning his neck to peer up at the night sky. “Who sent you?” Asked Vetter, hating the sound of uncertainty in his voice. “I assure you Major, I come of my own accord.” Replied Greystone with a casual smile that Vetter found increasingly maddening. “The man must be Gestapo.” Thought Vetter ominously. “Probably someone high up in Himmler’s circle to be this confident.” Major Vetter was racked with indecision. If this man was indeed a secret agent of the Gestapo, harming or hindering him in any way would be career suicide. It could even result in an assignment to the Eastern Front. But on the other hand, this was exactly the kind of ruse the English and their allies were capable of. If he let an English spy walk out of his camp with three important prisoners he would face the firing squad for certain. He needed to hear what Doctor Grabner had to say about the Serbs. Greystone reached into his jacket and checked a pocket watch. Vetter watched as the dark haired man frowned down at the timepiece and then returned it to his jacket. “Do you have somewhere to be?” asked Vetter, starting to feel unnerved by this whole encounter. “No.” Replied Greystone with an impatient sigh. “But time is always of the essence.” Sergeant Metz returned to the room with a thin bald man with small round spectacles and dressed in a white doctor’s lab jacket with a swastika emblazoned on the left breast pocket. Vetter noticed the jacket had small pencil tip sized speckles of dried bloodstains on it. “Sergeant that will be all. You can wait in the outer office.” Commanded Vetter before turning his gaze to the doctor. “Heinrich, thank you for coming.” The burly sergeant saluted Major Vetter sharply with the stiff raised arm Nazi salute and turned sharply on his boot heels, exiting the room and closing the door behind him. Heinrich Grabner was a senior Nazi party official and member of the Allgemeine SS, the branch of the SS responsible for enforcing the Third Reich’s racial policies. His work at the camp consisted largely of experiments on the prisoners to identify further genetic traits of undesirables and other highly classified research. Although Vetter was in charge of Special Camp 137, those duties were largely confined to managing the camp’s prisoners and maintaining security. Grabner was senior to him within the Nazi party and his medical research was the camp’s priority, but this did not cause any friction between the two men as they both shared a mutual respect for each other based on the same strong ideological beliefs and religious zeal for the Third Reich. “Sergeant Metz told me this is about the Kovak triplets?” asked the bald doctor grabbing a chair and seating himself at the edge of the desk, then eyeing Greystone suspiciously. “Yes, it is.” Replied Vetter, annoyed at Metz for discussing the matter with the doctor and making a mental note to discipline the sergeant later. “I would like the boys to be turned over to me.” Added Greystone. Doctor Grabner’s raised his eyebrows in surprise at the unusual guest and his forthright request.“And you are?” asked the doctor. “Janus Greystone.” Replied the man with slight nod of greeting. “He has been sent here to take the Serbs, what are your thoughts on that?” asked Vetter.The doctor looked at Vetter for several second with serious, studious eyes. Vetter knew the doctor was coming to the same conclusions as him, such a request only comes from the Gestapo secret police. “The Kovak boys, teens really, are interesting specimens. They were captured in Serbia in the vicinity of a town called Zarozje. They are strong for their size and have a high tolerance to pain.” Replied the doctor. “Pain? I trust they have not been hurt.” Stated Greystone narrowing his eyes. “No, they have not been hurt. Though they may have found some of my experiments and tests uncomfortable.” Replied the doctor cautiously. “What have your tests discovered?” asked Vetter curiously. “All three boys are uniformly strong, my guards have to take special precautions when moving them. When they first got to the camp we had several severe injuries as a result of them breaking loose from their bonds and attacking my staff.” Replied Doctor Grabner. “Their pain threshold is remarkable. When I conducted these same tests on other patients I have broken their will to resist in minutes, but these boys do not even twitch. It’s remarkable.” “Who has seen your reports Doctor?” Asked Vetter. “My work gets reported to the most senior members of the Allgemeine SS.” Replied the doctor with an air of arrogance. “It’s my understanding that it is received with great interest.” This was all beginning to make sense to Vetter, senior members of the Third Reich would be very interested in genetics that made a soldier stronger and more pain resistant. Vetter suspected that Himmler himself was aware of Doctor Grabner’s findings, perhaps even the Fuhrer. “Though their dietary habits are still a mystery.” Added the doctor thoughtfully. “Dietary habits?” asked Vetter curiously. “Yes.” Replied Doctor Grabner “At the time of their capture the Kovak boys were found eating the corpse of some of our recently killed soldiers. As a matter of fact, they appear unable to digest any food aside from fresh meat, they regurgitate anything else we have fed them.” Gunfire suddenly punctuated the quiet night, followed by shouts and screams. Major Vetter leapt up from his desk, his hand going to the pistol holstered on his hip. A look of concern crossed the Nazi doctor’s face. They were deep within Reich held territory, this was supposed to be a safe and secure area where he could conduct his research. “Sergeant Metz, what’s going on?” Shouted Vetter. “Gentleman, I am afraid I warned you that time was of the essence.” Said Greystone shaking his head disappointedly. *** “Sergeant Metz, what’s going on?” called the Major from behind the closed office door.The sounds of automatic gunfire and screams were escalating outside. Piotr knew that something was going to happen tonight when he recognized the tall dark haired man. A smile crossed Piotr lips, perhaps the first he had smiled since that July morning in 1943. The two German guards lay sprawled on the floor and motionless, their empty coffee cups broken and shattered alongside their bodies. Sergeant Metz, the monster in the nightmares of so many prisoners in Special Camp 137, lay on the floor his legs kicking wildly as he clawed at his neck for air. Rivulets of blood seeped out of the scratches he tore into the skin of his neck as he gasped for air. Piotr walked over to the struggling sergeant, stepping over the spilled remains of the poisoned coffee. He looked down and noticed with satisfaction that the brute had urinated on himself, soaking the front of his uniform pants as he struggled to breathe. The man looked up at Piotr, his blue eyes bulging and bloodshot, his face bluing with the lack of oxygen brought on by the poison attacking his respiratory system. Piotr smiled down at the sergeant and with all his might he kicked the flailing sergeant in the mouth, sending a spray of blood and broken teeth across the floor. He watched the man’s kick’s slowly die down to a light flutter, crinkling his nose in disgust as the sergeant’s bowels vacated themselves. “This is for you Ania.” Thought Piotr with a smile as he stared down into the Nazi beast’s lifeless eyes. Outside all chaos was breaking out and he could see flashes of automatic rifle fire lighting the night. Though Piotr thought he detected more screaming and less gunfire than he had only moments before. Then over the maelstrom unfolding outside he heard the clear and distinct howl of a dog. The man reached into his pocket and withdrew the silver whistle. Putting it too his lips Piotr began to blow. *** “What is this Greystone? What have you done?” demanded Vetter drawing his Luger pistol and pointing it at Greystone. “I have done nothing.” Said Greystone calmly. “This was all within your power to avoid Major.” “Metz!” Major Vetter called again. “Where the hell is Sergeant Metz?” “Hell is probably a very good guess.” Mused Greystone with a sardonic smile. “I’ll go get him.” Offered Doctor Grabner running to the office door. Just as Doctor Grabner turned the doorknob and swung the door open, a huge brown wolf-like beast leapt through the open door and onto the Nazi doctor. Major Vetter watched in horror as the beast dug its claws into the doctor’s chest and clamped its large jaws down on the doctor’s screaming face. It was the largest wolf Vetter had ever seen, at least twice the size of any of its species with a coat of thick grey-brown fur. The creature’s teeth were easily the size of a man’s index finger. Doctor Grabner’s muffled screams snapped Major Vetter out of his momentary shock and he pointed his Luger at the beast and fired several shots into its side. The creature swung its massive head to look at Vetter with eyes as dark as coal, taking with it the vast majority of Grabner’s face. Lidless eyes bulged out of Grabner’s skinless face, a gaping hole remained where the doctor’s nose had been and a lipless mouth screamed inhumanely as the doctor’s limbs flailed in mindless agony. The wolf snarled at Vetter, pieces of Grabner’s face dangled from the creature’s razor sharp teeth like curtains of fluttering meat. The creature seemed unfazed by the bullet wounds and rounded on Vetter. Malice filled the creature’s dark burning eyes and Vetter noticed the creature had a scar running down the right eye, from brow to cheek. He backed away trying to put his desk between him and the beast. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Greystone, sitting as calmly in his chair as he was just moments before. A second wolf of equal size to the first padded into the room and as casually as someone would sniff a flower, sank its teeth into Doctor Grabner’s writhing body and tore free a mouthful of flesh and stringy intestines prompting an inhuman scream to burst forth from the Nazi doctor’s ravaged mouth. “You did this.” Growled the Major accusatorily turning his weapon on the smiling Greystone.Vetter pulled the trigger and the gun let out a loud click. Empty. Greystone smiled that insanely calm smile at him and shrugged. Then the beast was upon the SS Major slamming him to the ground. Blood gushed from his neck, coating the Death’s Head insignia on his collar as the wolf tore into Vetter’s neck. His screams turned into choked gurgles as the beast tore through muscle and sinew. *** Piotr watched as the large wolf waited in the doorway for the other two members of its pack. Shortly after he had blown the whistle the first of the huge wolves had ran past him and leapt through the open door into Major Vetter’s office. A second had followed shortly after the first. The beast that sat patiently in the doorway looked at Piotr, but showed no malice towards him. Piotr decided he would keep his distance nonetheless. The sounds of fighting outside had died down and Piotr no longer heard gunshots. The two gore covered wolves appeared from Vetter’s office and calmly trotted by Piotr without so much as a sidelong glance. They joined their companion waiting by the door and all three walked calmly outside and into the night. Piotr leaned his head into the office and saw the faceless disemboweled body of Doctor Grabner laying torn and mangled on the floor and he smiled. This had been a very good night. In his mind’s eye Piotr pictured all the townspeople of Michniów celebrating around a huge bonfire in the afterlife. His sons and grandchildren would be there running happily around the fire, and of course his beautiful Ania would be there with the firelight reflected in her eyes. “I think I will be seeing you again very soon my beautiful Ania.” Thought Piotr with a wan smile. To his surprise the tall dark haired man appeared in the doorway of Major Vetter’s office and smoothed out the wrinkles of his jacket with a calm hand. He looked up and surveyed the dead Nazi guards and rested his eyes on Piotr and smiled. Piotr stepped forward and handed the silver whistle back to the man. “Good job.” Said Greystone in perfect Polish raising up the whistle and putting it in his pocket. “Very good job indeed.” “I…I know you.” Stammered Piotr nervously. “Oh?” Said Greystone cocking his head in curiosity. “When I was a little boy my grandfather took me to Prague. When we were there we went to a carnival to see the animal shows. It was called the World’s Most Wondrous Traveling Carnival. You…you were there. You were the ringmaster.” Said Piotr. “You walked over to me and leaned down and gave me a balloon, the same way you handed me the whistle earlier. That’s when I recognized you. That’s how I knew it was you, the movements were identical. The Germans called you Greystone, but you went by a different name then.” “You have a very good memory. I have gone by many names.” Smiled Greystone. “Piotr, isn’t it?” “Yes, that’s me. But how? That was over sixty-five years ago. You look exactly the same.” Said Piotr. Greystone just smiled and shrugged. “I am a collector of oddities, some would even say I am an oddity myself.” He patted Piotr on the shoulder and started to walk out the door in the direction of the wolves, then he stopped and turned back towards Piotr. “Did you like it?” Asked Greystone. “What?” Asked Piotr questioningly. “The show, when your grandfather took you to see the carnival did you like it?” asked Greystone. “It was the most amazing thing I have ever seen.” Smiled Piotr, remembering that wondrous day so long ago. “Piotr.” Said Greystone with a curious look on his face. “Would you like to come with us?” “Yes, I would like that very much.” Smiled Piotr. “Ania, it looks like we will have to wait a little longer to see each other again.” Thought Piotr as he walked alongside the ringmaster and the three wolves out into the darkness of the night. Credit: Jack Finn Twitter Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on Creepypasta.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed under any circumstance.