The giant looked at her strangely, trying to determine if she was telling the truth, then gave a curt nod. He bent down and picked Mengele up, a disarticulated sack of broken bones, then unceremoniously threw him in the rusty wheelbarrow the girl had brought.
‘Take care of him,’ he said hoarsely, ‘I want him to live, he doesn’t deserve his death yet...’
Natasha nodded, lifted the wheelbarrow’s iron handles, and hurried for the hospital.
Severin lifted one of the abandoned machine guns and started running towards the camp’s commandment, which was almost surrounded now by the waves of prisoners, thousands and thousands of people who had overcome their individual fear and now acted like one single will, a giant fist, thirsty for revenge, smashing everything in its way.
A massive explosion
