Mariam and Wanda
Mariam opened her eyes. The night had been quiet, and now, the morning of the next day, it was the voices of Armin and Wanda that she heard first. She thought she’d prefer the birds to twitter. The two of them fought. Still. They had fallen asleep arguing, in the driver’s seats of the van, but Mariam had nevertheless seen Wanda’s head slump against Armin’s shoulder when they had finally been too tired to discuss further. It seemed as if in the few hours of bad, uncomfortable sleep they had replenished enough energy to continue where they had left off. “No, Wanda. I’m sorry. No. No way. I will certainly not drive a few hundred kilometers through contaminated territory only to be shot into shreds by some scattered remnants of the Italian armed forces at the Brenner.” “You’re a coward, you know that? If they’ve made it this far, the other way around should be the least of our problems, right? We have supplies. We have weapons and we have vehicles. Armored vehicles, if I may remind you. These poor, half-starved miserable figures have been able to cover the distance on sore feet. Without supplies, without decent clothes. Not to mention guns and vehicles. Of course we can!” “Yeah, sure. They’ve made it this far. But at what price? More than half of them spent so much energy on their way here that it is a miracle that not every hour one of them dies. Most people will never recover from this martyrdom again, and you know it! Organ damage can’t be seen. Not immediately at least, but look at these faces. Most of them can be seen very clearly that they won’t be doing it much longer. And my cowardice: I’m not just about myself. I care about my people, too. They’d come with me if I wanted them to, no question about that. But I have a responsibility for them. I won’t knowingly send them on a death drive. Your degenerates are one thing. Organized remains of the military are something quite different. Besides...” “Yes. Yes. Yes. Of course, you care about me, too. But of course. I don’t doubt that at all. But aren’t you aware of the difference? The fighting between this bunch of Italian soldiers at the pass and the Cardinal’s degenerates? Didn’t you hear what the waitress said? Maybe they´d let us through.” “By the way, the waitress’s name is Ella.” “How is that important? Didn’t you say they were doomed anyway? Why remember the names? The important thing is that she has made clear what this Uri wants. He’s trying to protect the country. He’s just guarding this damn tunnel. The Cardinal wants to see his vision of a new, better society, if that can be called society at all, spread everywhere. Don’t you see the difference? They’re already here. And I am sure that they are also in Switzerland, France and Spain. Which of these groups is the greater danger, you world savior? I know you think that before you can fight for the world, you have to make sure it’s gonna exist for a while, but...” “Oh, it will exist. There’s no doubt about it. The only question is whether there will be room for us or whether the new rulers will be cockroaches and ants. We’re not your private vengeance squad, Wanda, I’m sorry, I really am. There aren’t many of us. Not enough, who think like we do, and even less who have the necessary knowledge to avert the greatest dangers. Even we have our problems, I mean, that’s exactly why we needed Doctor Mahler. And we need more like him. A lot more. As teachers, for example. In a lifetime it is impossible at all to bring the power plants under control. In a lifetime it is not possible to build so many filter plants that one will be able to drink safely from our rivers again. This goal must not be lost sight of. It must be pursued for decades and centuries to come, and therefore each one of us is far too valuable to be sent on a suicide mission. There are risks everywhere, that’s for sure. But this, knowing what we learned last night, with that knowledge, I just have to break it off.” “Bullshit, Armin! There are also nuclear power plants in Italy. That was the deal, wasn’t it? You’ll help me get to Rome, we’ll take care of the Cardinal and then we’ll take care of the power plants and everything else.” “They were shut down before the war.” “What’s that argument? Are you kidding me? What if they were damaged? What if ... oh, forget it. Have you forgotten the attack on Neckarwestheim yet? That was the deciding factor. You’ve lost a lot of people, even if there were more casualties on the other side. You were fire and flame, you realized that the degenerates are not the harmless weirdos you thought they were at first. And now you hear a story about a crazy Italian with a flamethrower and you get scared? That’s...” Mariam had enough. She opened the door on the passenger side. She had to get out. That’s been going on for almost an hour now. Armin and Wanda fought quietly with each other, so that one could not hear them outside. Nevertheless, the two were relentless in their verbal battles and the fronts were hardened. Their arguments had already been repeating. The two would not reach an agreement so quickly, and Mariam was not sure whether this was possible at all. Sometimes Mariam thought it might be better to just let it all go. If only the Degs could spread their gospel over the surface of the earth. She wished the chemical tanks would rust faster. Should the nuclear power plants have holes, and should some lunatics serve themselves at the ammunition depots. That would at least speed up this whole affair - all of it. I wish the fucking world would end. But then she saw Leander put a new bandage on the burnt arm of one of the refugees. Then she saw Karim, who now also wore a bandage on his neck of course, cut a face at two starver children and how they laughed and grimaced as well. It had been right, she thought, that Armin had decided to stay here. At least for now. They had extended the circle of protection they had formed with the vehicles. With tarpaulins and long branches they had improvised canopies and tent walls to protect them and those of the starving that could not find a place in the vehicles from wind and rain. Mariam looked up. Regine was again on the roof of her transporter with her sniper rifle and secured towards the south. When Mariam turned her head, she saw that Isahnna, her girlfriend, was doing the same thing, just heading north. A few of the starver people had just returned, packed with small branches and other pieces of wood, which they unloaded a few meters from the fireplace. Breitmann stood at the guard rail and talked to the man Leander had knocked down during the first food distribution. In this situation, the sixty-year-old had acted like a wild animal when he tore the child’s food out of his small, weak hands. He had earned the blow, Mariam found. But now he laughed and joked with Breitmann, while they communicated with each other with cumbersome gestures and in a kind of toddler language. Leander took care of the fire. He didn’t make it very big, just big enough to keep warm some canned food. But it didn’t matter. The sun had come out, and although it was still cool, nobody had to freeze. He still distributed only small portions to the individual starved and burnt people, wrapped in blankets and lumpy clothes, who gratefully accepted them. Most of them were still asleep anyway, or at least lying there, quietly resting. They probably felt halfway safe for the first time since escaping hellfire in the Brenner tunnel, Mariam thought. Once again her gaze looked for Regine’s face. It was hardened and expressionless. In a way similar to Wanda’s, but the petrifaction did not go quite as deep. Mariam could see that it still bothered her that she had shot. Tragic and sad, for sure, but Mariam didn’t think that the woman could be blamed. With her own pistol, with which Wanda had let her practice so much – she also had already killed with. Mariam touched the handle. She felt security, but also discomfort and disgust. She looked over to the fire again, looked at the starvers, who took their small portions in metal bowls and ate as if the canned food was the best life had ever offered them. Then the discomfort and disgust prevailed, and she took her hand away again from the grip of her weapon. She tried to imagine what it must have been like to be hunted by the flamethrowers in the Brenner tunnel. She saw it right in front of her, the running, the fear and the panic. The heat in the back and the screams in the ears of those who were not fast enough. I wonder how many were burnt there that day? Then memories came up, memories Mariam didn’t want. Memories of other tunnels. Frankfurt and Tommy. Then she had to think of Shepard and Gustav. It would be better if she forgot them, Wanda had once said to her. It would be easier then. “Hey,
Mariam. Don’t make such a sad face and come over here!” Mariam got up from her musings and looked for the one who had called. It was Karim. He looked in her direction and waved at her. Mariam hadn’t gone far away from the transporter while she had made her observations. She took a quick look towards the vehicle. Behind the reflecting windshield she saw Armin and Wanda still gesticulating and arguing with each other. As she approached Karim, she saw that the bandage around his neck was not too bloody. So his wound couldn’t be deep, which made her happy. Karim had noticed that she had looked at his injury and pulled her mouth to a narrow smile. “Don’t worry about it. It’s all good. It’s all good. It can happen when people are scared and hungry.” She still saw some blood in Karim’s hair and inevitably had to ask herself whether it came from him or from the woman who had been shot by Regine. Then she concentrated again on his smile and on what was in his hand, which he stretched out towards her. A slimy piece of canned peach. Karim, however, presented it as if it were a valuable treasure stolen from the secret treasury of some exotic king. Mariam didn’t feel like eating peach, didn’t even feel like eating anything at all. But she didn’t want to take away his joy, forced a smile on her face and accepted the small gift. “Good, right?” “Yes. Really delicious,” she replied chewing. In fact, the sugar brightened her mood a little. “Do you want another one?” Karim asked. Mariam thought for a moment and finally confirmed. You had to take what you could get. Karim fished briefly around in the can, the sharp-edged lid of which was still connected to the sheet metal at one point and stood upwards. After some attempts he gave it up and pressed the whole can into her hand. “Make sure you don’t cut yourself. And don’t forget to drink the juice.” Mariam thanked him and put the can on carefully. She remained in the middle of the movement. She felt somehow observed. At first she didn’t immediately know why, but then she saw the girl. One of the starver children. The little one had hidden behind Breitmann’s motorcycle and peered across the front wheel in Mariam’s direction. She was a few years younger than Mariam, so she didn’t think it was wrong to label the girl as a child. She herself hadn’t felt like one for a long time. While Mariam was working on the can, Karim had gone over to Breitmann and the sixty-year-old and had latched into their conversation. He stopped paying attention to Mariam, which she thought was good, because he would not notice that she was now imitating the behavior he had just shown. She looked at the little girl, demonstratively lifted the can with the peaches up, pointed with her other at her hand and waved. The girl hesitated at first, but then came closer with insecure steps. When she had taken courage and reached for the can with both hands, Mariam fortunately remembered that the starved and burned were not allowed to eat much at the moment. She lifted the can out of reach of the little hands and made a gesture with her open palm that was to say: In a minute. Don’t be so hasty. Mariam found it surprisingly amusing to see how the joy in the little girl’s face gave way to an expression of disappointment and then to an impatience that was barely restrained. She hastened to fish out a peach, the smallest one still in the can, and held it out to the child. The girl did not spend time chewing the sweet fruit, but simply swallowed the peach as a whole. Mariam’s face must have expressed considerable astonishment, for the little girl began to giggle mischievously, turned around and had quickly retreated behind Breitmann’s motorcycle. “That was pretty nice of you, Mariam.” So Karim had been watching her after all. Because Mariam didn’t know what else to do, she just shrugged her shoulders. It was unpleasant for her to have been observed, even though she could not think of any reason for it with the best will in the world. She turned away from Karim, who respectfully and still smiling returned to his conversation with Breitmann and the Italian. Mariam began to walk around in the circle of wagons, always at the edge, at the boundary of the camp, which was formed by the vehicles standing across the motorway. After the third lap, Mariam noticed that Regine, on her guard post on the transporter roof, kept peering inside the camp as if she needed to make sure everything was all right there. Perhaps she was afraid that some of the starvers might still be seeking revenge. After all, she had killed one of theirs and even if it didn’t seem to matter much to them now, it could change if they were a little better again. If I were her, I’d try to talk to them. Sure, Regine had helped to bury the old woman who only wanted something to eat, but still. Mariam went to the guardrail. From here she could not see the cross the starvers had put up for the woman, but she knew it was there. This symbol was also used by the degenerates and Mariam didn’t really know what to think about it being used by her people. But are they even my people? Wasn’t she just here because she basically never had a choice? Sure, she was well treated, but in another world - had she met all those people, Armin, Leander, Isahnna, Breitmann, Regine, yes, even Wanda - would she ever have met them? Would they have liked each other at all if fate hadn’t dealt them similar cards? If Wanda... “You think hard thought. I can see. Everything’s not just easy thing everywhere.” Mariam got angry at herself. She hadn’t even noticed that she had come close to Ella, who was resting with a few other starver people in the shelter of one of the makeshift tents. The former waitress now sat up and made efforts to dig her way out of the ugly, holey blankets one had left for her. “Nice of you give the peach.” Mariam smiled shyly. Then she noticed that she was still holding the can in her hand and offered Ella to help herself. The woman came over. She was still moving so carefully, as if she had to be really cautious not to fall over. “Thank you,” she said when she ate the penultimate peach. “Last one’s for you.” Mariam took the last piece of fruit and then drank carefully so as not to cut herself on the lid, a large sip of juice and then held the can towards Ella again. When she had drunk too, she thanked Mariam again and then asked: “What kind group are you? What are you do here, with the car and away from the city?” Mariam pondered for a few seconds, in which Ella’s gaze rested calmly but curiously on her. “The people who invaded your city. The ones that kidnapped people. Yes? They’re here too. But their leader is in Rome. Cardinal Raphael Da Silva is his name. We want to go there. Make an end.” “Da Silva, yes? Car... Car... Cardinal? I heard that name. They talk about him. Sometimes just Angel Raphael. They say he immortal. That he was dead, but come back.” Involuntarily, Ella reached for a tiny golden cross that she was wearing around her neck on a fine chain. Mariam was shivering, and she wondered why. Was it this symbol that she herself did not associate it with protection and comfort, but only with the cruelty of the degenerates, whose prisoners she and Wanda had been for far too long? Or was it what Ella said? He was dead, but he came back? Surely that was just gossip to impress simple minds. Or was it? Yes. Of course. Mariam had seen a lot of death, and no one had ever come back. If we die, we’ll be eaten by worms and insects. That’s all, then. It is our job to ensure that this does not happen for as long as possible. That was what Wanda had once said on this subject when Mariam had sought the conversation at the fire in the evening. A simple truth that one could live by. Only now, at that moment, did Mariam notice the discrepancy between this statement and Wanda’s actions. If you wanted to make sure you stayed alive as long as possible, you wouldn’t go where death could wait for you. You’d walk away. As far away as possible. So there was more to Wanda’s soul than just the urge to stay alive for as long as possible. Not that Mariam ever doubted it. Not that she ever doubted that Wanda loved her. But she never really had realized it. “We should … sit down?” Ella made a gesture towards one of the transporters whose side wall had also been used as a back wall for an improvised tent. There was enough space left for the two of them. Some of the starvers, who had recovered from their strains there, had risen and stood together in a small group. Mariam nodded. Then she shrugged her shoulders and went ahead. She leaned with her back, and Ella sat down on the floor in front of her, laboriously and carefully, bending her legs sideways and supporting herself with one arm. Her gaze was still friendly and attentive. “What’s your name?” “Mariam. And you’re Ell
a, right?” With a nod, Ella confirmed what Mariam already knew. Armin must have talked to the former waitress after she told her story the night before. Ella looked up as Marcelo, the man with the black, matted hair, walked past them at a distance of two meters and joined the little group that the more rested of the starvers had formed next to the small fire. “Is he your leader?” Mariam asked. Ella nodded. “He’s a good man. And your leader is Armin, right? Or the woman?” Mariam didn’t really know what to say and made a vague gesture instead of answering. Ella’s eyes narrowed as she tried to understand what this gesture was supposed to mean. Mariam realized she needed to be more specific. She thought for a moment and then added: “Me and the woman, Wanda, belong together. The others belong to Armin. Two groups with the same goal. Most of the time, anyway. But it can change.” Ella must have seen a touch of worry in Mariam’s face. “What’s not good? Fight over ... over us?” “No. Yes. I don’t know.” Mariam knew it very well, but she didn’t know how much to tell Ella about all this. She was nice. But she was still a stranger. Also, Ella had a funny look on her face when she mentioned Armin. No, just not that. Don’t hit on Armin. It’s dangerous. Not as long as Wanda needs him. Mariam thought of Eva. Wanda’s expression on her face when she had pushed her forward during the battle, directly into the trajectory of the degenerate arrow. Then she thought about what had happened in the cabin. That wasn’t so long ago. All she wanted to do was pee. And then she had been too awake to return to the car immediately and had begun to explore the surroundings with the help of her flashlight. She had discovered the hut and had begun to search it as she had learned to do . And then Wanda had suddenly been there. Wanda’s behavior, that she had tied her to the chair to make Mariam listen to her, the confused self-talks that Wanda had made, the appeals she had made to Mariam, all that Wanda had confessed and that had frightened Mariam so much and that she was only now beginning to understand - Wanda was not well. Not well in a way that could be dangerous to others. Everything they had experienced had left traces in Wanda. Traces, no - scars and wounds that had changed her. If Mariam now remembered even further back, she saw signs and indications of this change. Wanda’s stone face when they had walked side by side through the devastated world. The efficient, dispassionate, somehow too hard movements with which she performed necessary tasks. Things she sometimes said when she thought out loud. All little things, but the overall picture worried Mariam. But she knew that Wanda had suffered many of these injuries only because she had tried to protect Mariam. So was it Mariam’s fault? Suddenly she felt miserable again, even though her mind told her that she couldn’t do anything about it. It had been Wanda’s decision to take Mariam into her heart. But yet Mariam suddenly felt that she owed Wanda loyalty for what she had done for her, for the countless times she had helped Mariam survive with the little things or with the bigger. I’m sure Wanda will get better someday. And the sooner the thing in Rome was done, the sooner the recovery process would be able to begin. Mariam’s brain found other words for this, but they meant the same thing. For the first time that day, pleasant memories appeared in her head. The common bath with Wanda as they washed the dirt off their bodies after Shepard had freed them. The incredible relief. Sneaking through the tunnels with Tommy. Sure, it was dangerous, but it also was great. How the boy had made big eyes when she brought him her books. Mariam wanted to have even more of these good memories, much more, and she wanted Wanda to become a part of them. And that, so she thought, would be the easiest to accomplish if Wanda could finally come to rest. “What do you think, Mariam?” “Oh, nothing. A lot of things. Armin doesn’t want to go to Rome anymore. He says the road is too dangerous. With radiation and poison. You told me about that. And then the tunnel. Uri.” “That’s why they’re fighting, right?” “That’s right. That’s why. Mariam took a look at the transporter, from which none of the two had yet come out. She didn’t know if it was good or bad. But she found it remarkable that the quarrel never escalated to such an extent that any of it got outside. Both of them, Wanda and Armin, were in very good in controlling themselves. Ella followed her gaze and Mariam added: “But that’s not your problem. I’m sure you’re glad you got away from there, aren’t you?” Ella’s friendly face became a hint more closed, her smile a breath narrower. “Yes, it is. We’ve made it far. And now you tell that crazy people here too. You tell the Cardinal here. I ask where to go. If Cardinal everywhere, it doesn’t matter. I need to talk to Marcelo.” She nodded over to her leader. “But not now. Now I’m talking to you. Many of these people here? From the evil one?” Mariam just nodded. “This isn’t good. Maybe I help. Maybe if Marcelo hears that this isn’t better, maybe he will... but I don’t know.” Ella hesitated for a moment, then looked at Mariam again unpleasantly long and attentively. “Sad because quarrel? You want to go to Rome, yes?” Mariam shrugged her shoulders first and then nodded. “Yes. Wanda needs this. And it’s ... right.” Ella looked at Mariam again for a few seconds. Mariam could read the conflicting feelings on her face. Then Ella looked away, staring to the sky for certainly a minute in which neither of them said anything. “Armin doesn’t know me anymore. But I know him from before war. Long time ago. I’ll talk him. He doesn’t know everything.”
Brenner: The Gospel of Madness (Book 5 of 6) Page 17