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KAAMOS (A Tale For Grown-up Kids)	By : runningnakedinthepark Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Rammstein Views: 2133 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Rammstein. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
Title: KAAMOS (A Tale For Grown-up Kids)
Author: Robby a.k.a. Mr Naked
Rating: NC17/AU
Pairing: everyone and then some more
Disclaimer: I was smoking some really good stuff when I came up with this. (Means it's all a fantasy, for those with water instead of brain.)
Betas: Flowers and thank yous go to Hannelore_K & Ketene

KAAMOS (A Tale For Grown-up Kids)
Part I. The Day The Whole World Went Away
Chapter 9.

I looked at him, motionless, without replying. I could sense each time Christoph was getting upset, even if he was appearing to just joke around, even if he was answering the same, or telling him that he’s jealous. Christoph would make fun of him by saying that he had this secret crush on me, but he never got the guts to admit it.

“Look, we’ve always been so close. Now, since you got back, I can’t get through to you anymore,” Richard said to me, with an almost pleading voice. “I miss you, Till.”

He sighed. Then: “Forget it, you won’t remember any of this tomorrow anyway.”

I continued to look at him in silence as he was lighting another cig.

“All those years, Till,” he said expiring the smoke. “And you didn’t say anything to me about it.”

His gaze searched around the room, like he is avoiding looking in my eyes.

“It took all this shit to happen to you, so I’d find out the way you are.”

He smiled, tired.

“But, guess, if you’d have told me back then, I wouldn’t have wanted to see you ever again. Guess that was the curse you had to bear.”

He inclined his head and looked back at me.

“He managed somehow. When everyone was saying that you’d remain like a veggie, he managed to do it. He gets through to you…” Richard whispered, but stopped as he saw me shaking my head slowly.

“What?” He asked.

We looked again at each other for a few seconds in silence.

“Go, Till,” he said, breaking suddenly the silence. “It’s a big day tomorrow. Go get some rest. Go, there’s a beautiful man waiting for you there,” he added and grinned.

I continued to stand there, near the door, for a few seconds, and then I opened it slowly, like a mouth of a pit of hell. I turned around and looked through the pitch darkness in the hallway. It could have been just as well a door to the infinite void of the Universe, and once I’d stepped through it I would have fallen forever, until the end of Time.

But I decided it is the hallway of that tiny apartment, so I entered it and closed the door behind me, slowly, like trying not to awaken the monsters and demons sleeping behind the veils of darkness.
I made another step, dragging the leg with the damaged knee. When they realized they can’t get much from the people around me, they came to my house.

I made another step. My heart was already racing madly, like a little bird.

And they came when it wasn’t just me at home, but my wife and the kids too.

That little bird - my heart - so scared, that it was trying to fly through her cage, almost breaking her delicate wings.

They wanted full effect. They searched the entire house; they yelled and abused us in front of the little ones.

I tried to walk faster; I was racing toward that door I knew was just in front of me.
They didn’t care anymore about what the world would say. They turned the house upside down until they found the proof they needed. My writings. Those words scribbled on papers that seemed to be more dangerous and threatening to the Beast than a bomb attack.

But the door was nowhere to be found, no matter how much I stretched my arms to feel it. I was almost running, as much as a man with a smashed knee can run. I didn’t want the monsters to catch me. No, not those images. I didn’t want to remember how they took us all, how they interrogated her and me together, separated, making us watch how the other was abused.

And that bird that was my heart was so panicked that it was literally smashing her small body against the walls of its cage.

I tried so much to hide from them, all those hungry merciless crows that my memories were, that were feeding on the corpse of my brain. I fell. But, now, they caught me, and pinned me to the ground.

My demented glare was boring through the darkness, beyond any ceiling, beyond any face of anyone leaned above me asking: “Are you alright, Till?”

Beyond all that I could see them, like a rerun of a movie, slowly, turned frame by frame, the images of them forcing me to witness the death of her, my wife, and of my children. And, in the same time, remembering that I was wondering if it was worth; anything of what I did so far - was it worth? Any ideology, how much is it worth if it requires even only one person to die? Any idea, is it more valuable than the life of them, my children and her?

That was then when I knew that they’ve defeated me. And I wanted to leave this defeated man that I was so ashamed of, so I got away from myself.

*

I can’t breathe. I’m choking. It’s too hot, like my whole flesh is boiling on my bones. And it’s as if billions and billions of people are whispering near my ears, all at once, inside my head. I throw a dizzy look at Olli as he is stopping the car in front of this huge building, with gray walls and big windows.

I incline my head and press my palms against the temples like in an attempt to make those voices shut up. Behind me, in the back of the funeral car, our limo, the others are fidgeting.

“There’s no turning back,” Richard’s voice gets through to me. “Now is our last moment to decide if we’re going for it or not. Later will be no way to step back.”

Silence for just a split of a second. Then, someone is arming a gun.

“I’m ready,” states Olli near me, and grabs the rifle that’s been between our seats until now.

Then, the others are arming the guns and arranging themselves.

“Till?”

Richard’s question seems rather to pull me out from that ocean of whispers. Confessions. Testimonials. Survivors telling their sagas about the atrocities, and about what they’ve been through. And I was only the hand with the pen that fixed on paper all those words, for eternity. For others, for our heirs. Words mean so much for us, for humans.

I look again through the windshield, outside at that made-of-gray-stone monstrosity, spread like a disease over half of a boulevard; an overwhelming and choking symbol created to make ordinary people feel so small and even more ordinary in front of the power of the Beast. Who dares to speak against it shall be crushed!

“Yeah, let’s go for it!”

I feel this hand placed on my shoulder, like a burning spot; I don’t have to look to see that this is Christoph. He embraces me from behind, placing his arm around my chest and squeezing me gently, as I feel his lips planting a dry kiss over my shaved skull. Then he rubs his cheek slowly against my head, and whispers into my ear:
“Remember our song – let us die holding hands!”

He squeezes me again in his embrace. Our song, the song he used to whisper to me to calm my seizures.

I incline my head and lay my cheek against his forearm. Does he know? Did he figure it out yet?

“We have to make it look like a robbery,” the others are talking in the back of the car. “At least at the beginning.”

That’s what Richard and Christoph were talking about, last night, when reviewing the plan for our action.

“They won’t dare to shoot us, once we get known and seen. They can’t afford to make the world see them as what they are, in fact – cold-blooded murderers. That’s our chance.”

That’s what they were saying, laid in bed, around me, sharing that bottle of booze. My own words; that’s how it all started, isn’t it, with my own words?

What if we’re wrong? I ask Christoph in my mind as my fingers caress his forearm.

“Let’s cover our faces!”

Christoph’s lips leave my ear, his arm sneaks away off my chest.

“With these stockings we’ll look like dicks,” comes Richard’s mutter.

“Actually, you’re upset cause it might ruin your hair,” ripostes this comment.

We all look at each other, alarmed.

Paul. Paul talked.

Flake inclines his head, while his hands are fiddling with the harness of that huge bomb he has to carry. But he can’t hold it for long and bursts into a laughter that he tries to suppress, at the beginning. So, for the first seconds come only those chuckles and we can see only his bony shoulders trembling.

Paul talked and mocked Richard.

“You were funnier when you weren’t talking at all,” Richard growls making the rest of us start laughing loud.

~ To Be Continued ~
- 8
- 9
- 10
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KAAMOS (A Tale For Grown-up Kids)