Part One: Killing Hitler
William Dean Hamilton
Saving Hitler
Part one: Killing Hitler
William Dean Hamilton
Copyright 2015 William Dean Hamilton
Index
New York, July 28th, 2015, Psychiatrist’s office
New York, July 28th, 2015, Later, Burt’s place
New York, July 28th, 2015, Even Later Still, Uncle’s Garage
Munich, March 8th, 1932, University
New York, July 29th, 2015, Library
New York, June 12th, 2015, Theater
New York, July 29th, 2015, Later, Library
Munich Germany, March 10th, 1932, University
New York, July 29th, 2015, Later, Bad Restaurant
Munich Germany, March 12th, 1932, Arrival
Munich Germany, March 12th, 1932, Later, Tavern
Outer Space, March 12th, 1933, ish
New York, July 29th, 2015 Even Later, Bad Restaurant
Munich Germany, March 12th, 1933, Even later, Tavern
New York, July 29th, 2015, Even Later Still, Bad Restaurant
Munich Germany, March 13th, 1933, Hitler’s Place
New York, July 30th, 2015, Bad Restaurant
Munich Germany, March 13th, 1933, Painter’s House
Munich Germany, March 13th, 1933, University
Munich Germany, March 13, 1933, Inn
Munich Germany, March 14th, 1933, Painter’s House
Munich Germany, March 14th, 1933, Police Station
Munich Germany, March 14th, 1933, University
Munich Germany, March 14th, 1933, Hardware store
New York, July 30th, 2015, Later, Bookstore
Munich Germany, March 14th, 1933, Later, Police station
Munich Germany, March 14th, 1933, Later, University
Outer Space, March 27th, 1933, ish
Munich Germany, March 15th, 1933, University
Munich Germany, March 15th, 1933, Later, Police Station
New York, July 31st, 2015, Bad Restaurant
Munich Germany, March 22nd, 1933, University
Munich Germany, April 1st, 1933, Police Station
Outer Space, April 5th, 1933, ish
New York, June 15th, 2015, Bar
Credits
New York
July 28th, 2015
Psychiatrist’s office
The psychiatrist looked over at Martin and said, “Does Hitler remind you of your mother?”
Martin said, “No, my mother doesn’t even have a mustache. Have you listened to my story at all?” He looked over at the psychiatrist, but it was hard to see him with the only light in the room being a lamp that was behind the psychiatrist, but he could still make out the shadow of his glasses and mustache.
The psychiatrist said with no hint of emotion, “Of course I have. I think that you are feeling guilty about your mother and have made up this episode with Hitler.”
Martin asked, “Why would I feel guilty about my mother?”
The psychiatrist said, “Perhaps you feel responsible for her death.”
Martin said, “She got hit by a bus.”
The psychiatrist said, “Do you think you might have driven the bus?”
Martin said, “I was only ten at the time, of course not. I came here to talk to someone about how awful I feel about saving Hitler, I mean I am Jewish. That’s the last thing I should have done.”
The psychiatrist said, “You don’t really expect me to believe that you have a time machine. Do you?”
Martin sat up, “My uncle has one, he’s very smart. I told you that there might be some parts of the story that were difficult to believe. I just want someone to listen to me.”
The psychiatrist said. “You can’t fool a trained psychiatrist; you had to have known, on some level, that you wouldn’t be believed.”
Martin stood and said, “That is the end of the session.”
The psychiatrist said, “You still owe me for the full hour. I would recommend that you see me at least two times a week.”
“I’m not going to pay you or ever come back.”
The psychiatrist said, “You don’t have the option to not pay, you agreed to pay.”
Martin said, “You didn’t believe me when I told you my story, why would you have believed me when I said I would pay at the end of the session?” and started to walk out of the office.
The psychiatrist tried to look tough and yelled at Martin, “Hey, stop.”
Martin walked through the Psychiatrist’s office and out into the day. The skies were overcast with dreary dark and white clouds, but enough of the sun made it through to make his eyes squint from the adjustment from the dark office. Cars old and new filled the New York streets, darting through the shadows of large buildings. Lindsey, his sister, leaned against an old Pinto a cigarette hanging from her thin fingers. He didn’t ever recall her ever taking a puff, yet the cigarette was always present there unlit. He knew most men would find her beautiful, but he didn’t like to think about that.
Lindsey said, “I told you he wouldn’t believe you.”
Martin said, “This was all your fault for getting Hitler killed in the first place.”
Lindsey moved the cigarette in a vague circular motion. “How was that my fault?”
Martin said, “Really. You don't see how it could have possibly been your fault?”
Lindsey said, “Whatever. I have an idea that might help.”
Martin was doubtful, but knew he should trust his sister, even though he had only known her a few months, although the way time was jumping around all the time it was hard to tell for sure. “OK, what is it?”
Lindsay smiled, “We should get Burt, he likes me, I can talk him into going into the time machine, he can see himself last week, we won’t risk changing history again by going back too far, and then he will talk to you.”
Martin said, “We always run into Burt, it's just so annoying to know someone and they never remember who you are. He’s not a psychiatrist anyway.”
Lindsey said, “It doesn’t matter, any psychiatrist will think you’re nuts with the story you're going to tell them.”
Martin said, “I don’t know, he’s in the story whenever we come back to the present. I don’t know if this is the right thing to do.”
Lindsey said, “Oh come on, he saved you from being eaten by a zombie, he’s a great guy.”
Martin said, “Alright.”
Lindsey jumped up and clapped her hands, “goodie.”
New York
July 28th, 2015
Later
Burt’s place
Burt sat watching The Price is Right trying to remember the name of the new host. He felt a little guilty he couldn’t remember, but he was distracted by something, a feeling of foreboding. He thought, well, that wasn’t too unusual. He heard a knock at the door. He thought to himself, I don’t really have any friends, none that would come over. He got up and walked the two feet to his peephole and looked out. He could see a nerdy guy wearing glasses with the nose the size of the Statue of Liberty’s, not scaled to her face, but actually that large, where if you needed to retrieve something from up there you might have to send in a few guys with rappel ropes. Standing next to him was a… before he could finish this thought his hands started to tear at the locks...beautiful...the stupid things wouldn’t open fast enough...girl. Burt opened the door, but was unable to do anything but stare at the blonde woman whose angled chin, lovely eyes, long hair, and wry smile was like a girl you would see on TV or in magazines.
The nerd with the enormous nose said, “Hi Burt, we need to talk to you.”
Burt said, “Who are you, how do you know my name?”
The beautiful woman said, “Well I suppose you don’t really know us, but you saved M
artin’s life once.”
Burt asked, “How did I save your life?”
The beautiful woman said, “You probably wouldn’t believe us if we told you.” She smiled and nodded, her eyes indicating she was thinking of a far off place. “You know when New York was overrun by zombies; it was a lot nicer than what you would think it would be.”
The nerd said, “OK Burt, I know we’ve said a few strange things to you, and, to be honest, we are probably going to tell you some even stranger things before we’re done. But I need to release some stress by telling someone about what I’ve done. I think you might be my only hope.”
Burt said. “I don’t think I can help you. You’re kind of scaring me.”
The beautiful woman walked over to him, “Am I scaring you?”
Burt said “Well, maybe a little.”
The woman walked brushed against him, her long hair lingered for a second against his face, he could smell her perfume, but he couldn’t identify it, it just smelled wonderful. “How do you feel now?”
Burt was kind of dazed, but answered, “Horny and inadequate.”
The woman said, “Good, that was what I was going for,” and she clapped her hands in delight.
Burt said, “What?”
The woman said, “Please help out my brother.”
Burt said, “I don’t even know your names.”
The woman said, “I am Lindsey and this is my brother Martin.”
Burt said, “Nice to meet you. How did you find me?”
Martin said, “This is where you usually live.”
Lindsey said, “I am going to have you go back in time so that you can see that Martin is telling the truth and that we did the right thing by saving Hitler.”
Burt asked “Are you really anti-Semitic or something?”
Martin said, “No I am just your average Jewish person, so I am only a little anti-Semitic.”
Lindsey asked, “Will you help us?”
Burt said, “I don’t know.”
Lindsey brushed up close to Burt, and his reasoning got
