Shepard
At first they were just shadows. Schemes, approaching at high speed. Two jumped over a car wreck. Too many to count ran around the car. Dogs. But there was something else. Further back, above the dogs. In the air up high. One light, or several, and a strange noise. Not too loud – just strange. What the hell was that? There’s no time. I grabbed the machete harder and it hurt. They’d be there in a minute. Why hadn’t we heard them? No growling. No barking. Just the sounds of her paws in the street. Maybe if we’d noticed them sooner, we could’ve saved ourselves in a car. Now it was too late. Jan was still standing there rooted to the ground. Silvia, who had discovered the animals first, was also the first to recover and was about to turn around and run away. I saw how the pack running around the car wreck seemed to flow about fifteen meters away from us. More than a dozen big animals. Malicious, shadowy outlines that barely stood out from the semi-darkness and were only recognizable by their movements. The two who had jumped over the hood of the car collided with each other, rolled over, but were back on their feet in no time. They were heading straight for me. I got ready. My left arm bent, as if I were carrying a shield and my right arm with the machete I raised above my head to strike a blow - that’s how I wanted to welcome the animals. Running didn’t make sense anymore. We were too weak, and even if we had been in full possession of our powers, we had no chance to escape the dogs. Just a second. Two seconds. One more and they’d be there. The beasts would soon repel themselves from the ground and fly towards me with their mouths wide open. Which of the foremost dogs would be the faster one? The right or the left? In these light conditions I could hardly see any other differences between the two animals, although the left one seemed to be a little bigger and also more massive. My body cramped in anticipation of a collision, I heard Jan screaming, and Silvia had completely disappeared from my field of vision and perception. Then the noise became louder, the light in the sky had come closer and faster. The two big animals were very close now, and a second later - they were past me. Only now did I realize that the animals were not hunting. They were on the run. It lasted another second, then the whole pack had run past us, the noise had become even louder, and the light had come even closer, had increased its speed even more, and now I saw that it had not only come closer, but also deeper down. That goddamn thing’s gonna crash! A helicopter? Too small. A drone! These and other thoughts in a fraction of a second, then Where the hell is that damn thing coming down exactly? Jan? Silvia? Closer and closer, and deeper and deeper, and faster and faster, and louder and louder - I threw myself to the ground and the machete slipped from my grip. Then the drone was above me and in the next split second it was already beyond. A vague impression of wings, and an equally vague impression of false toyiness. Then a bang. No explosion, but still incredibly loud in the silence. A loud, ugly, scratchy and quite long-lasting grinding noise. I got up again and turned around. Jan was still on his feet. His mouth was open and his gaze jumped back and forth between me and the drag mark the crashed drone had left behind in the thawing snow. Where was Silvia? I couldn’t see her, and she wasn’t at the top of my list of priorities considering this surprising event. I set myself in motion, and the motion seemed sluggish to me when I discovered the machete a few meters away and went over to pick it up. I noticed that Jan was staring at me, as if he wanted an explanation from me for what had just happened. I walked to him, and as I approached him, I forced a false grin on my face that was supposed to say: My goodness, what luck we’ve got, haven’t we? That’s all I did. I didn’t know what to say to him. How would I? I didn’t even know what exactly it was that was going on here. It crashed. Of course it did. But why? Where did that thing come from and what caused the crash? It had slipped certainly two hundred meters or more in our march direction over the highway, had left parts of the wings and its innards behind itself, until it finally hit the guardrail and the kinetic energy was used up. Now there were little flames flickering before us. They were also what allowed me to see the approximate location of the drone in the darkness. Jan still looked at me expectantly, and I took the blank pistol out of my pocket and pressed it into his healthy hand so that I could at least give him something, even if it wasn’t what he wanted from me that second. “Take this. I think its better off with you.” Why hadn’t I thought about the gun before? He said nothing, just looked at the metal in his hand. “Come. We’re gonna find that stupid bitch and move on.” Jan nodded hesitantly, and as he did, he looked up into the sky. I understood the need. However, I didn’t think anything like this would happen again in the foreseeable future, and even less did I believe that the drone had anything to do with us, but more importantly, my need to move forward in spite of everything was simply overwhelming, and I was far too tired, and mentally blunt to think about it any further. About three dozen steps along the way we found Silvia next to the bodies of two dogs who must have been caught by the drone. She lay on her back and whimpered. At first I thought the dogs had attacked her after all. I was almost disappointed when I realized they hadn’t. Would have been a fitting end for her, I thought. Dog eat dog. Divine justice. But you have to take what you get, and when I saw that her left lower leg was at a very, very wrong angle from her knee, I was also satisfied with it. The drone, or at least a part of it, must have taken her from her feet and broken her leg. For all the disgust I felt for the woman, I was involuntarily impressed by her self-control. She didn’t scream. Not even when we ripped her to her feet and took her into our midst. We made miserable slow progress. Most of the small flames had already died again, when we stood next to the crashed drone for half a minute and gaped at it silently. Wings and tail had broken away. It stank of charred electronics. Basically, there was only a cigar-shaped cylinder about three meters long. Jan mumbled a few sentences, of which I understood only the word ‘stretcher’. Maybe it would have been better to implement his proposal, but I wanted to leave. Just go. It was quite possible that we had pursuers, and if so, then they might interpret the crash noise as an indication of us. And, of course, Gustav. His clock ticked. It just seemed wrong to waste time building a stretcher for the injured degenerate. So we dragged on and had to pause a lot. More than once I thought we wouldn’t have the fucking cunt burden us if I had strangled her. My mind continued to explore this thought as we crawled ahead, and each suppressed painful sound she made, made me feel a little more conciliatory. The further we went, the more times I had to take a break. Jan seemed to behave differently. Didn’t I half expect a few hours ago that he would just fall over and die? I have no idea whether it was the pills he threw in or whether he really regenerated sufficiently in the few hours in the cellar. Anyway, now he needed less rest than I did. Time crawled monotonously, as monotonous as the highway. The only change was the distant dog barking, which was occasionally carried to us by the night air. Jan got nervous every time and raised the blank pistol, but I was too burned out to let it drive me crazy. My feet were lead, my shoulders seemingly inextricably cramped and the muscles of my legs as if made of rubber. Silvia helped as best she could. She just knew what was good for her. Still, she got heavier and heavier. I wondered what went through her head. Did she feel grateful that we didn’t just leave her lying there? Or was she already making plans? I just didn’t understand the woman. What made her get involved with Benito and the other Degs? The brainwashing? The need, or the desire for security? Would she have joined any group as long as they were strong enough to protect her? For a while I thought about it - and then I decided that I didn’t care. We had just begun to drag ourselves forward again, after another one of two dozen breaks, and the darkness of the night had given way to an early and gray dawn, when outlines of people in front of us emerged from nowhere. Jan had seen them first and had stopped immediately. I had my eyes stoically on my feet and now raised my head as I noticed the change in the situation. With a gesture of his free arm, which also held the ridiculous pistol, he drew my attention to them. If my body temperature hadn’t been feverishly hig
h anyway, then I would have broken out in a sweat at that moment at the latest. I closed my eyes so I could see better. Were those rifles they carried? How many were there? Eight? Twelve? More? About half of them were separated from the central guardrail by the originally opposite and now directionless lane. They moved forward in a loose chain, and the fact that they walked so broadly fanned out suggested that they were looking for something or someone, but maybe they just didn’t want to get too close together so they could be harder to hit all at once. Their sight had a semblance of military discipline and drill, but at the same time there was something in it that negated that assumption. One of them, walking in the middle, shouted something. So they had discovered us. Too late to leave the highway, and too late to take cover behind some car wreck. Not that there was any on this section of the route. The movement that went through the group after this call confirmed my thought of guns. They laid on us, weapons that had previously been carried crosswise in front of the stomach or on straps over the backs were readied. Strangely enough, despite the threatening nature of these actions, I was relieved. The people before us weren’t degenerates. We stopped. The call was repeated, and now I understood it. We should put our hands up. Who were we to disobey? We had to let Silvia go. A circumstance that made it even easier. Reflexively she had tried to stand on her broken leg so as not to lose balance when I let her go and took a step to the side. Now she finally screamed when she fell over. I could feel rather than see that Jan gave me a disapproving look. I ignored him and raised my hands up. Jan did it like me. I looked at the unknowns with excitement, and was relieved to see that they were all covered up when, after a few long seconds, they had come closer. The High People. They belonged to the High People. Surely they had come to look for their women and men, or perhaps just to recover the car that Sonja and those who had joined our mad operation had stolen. It didn’t matter. All I needed to know was that we most likely wouldn’t get shot. Silvia now whimpered again, and her satisfying laments bridged the time it took them to reach us. When the person who had called the command had approached me to eight or ten steps distance, he stopped and lowered the weapon. Then he unwound the dirty gray cloth under which he had hidden his face and his shaved skull. I didn’t know his name, but I had seen him when they held their ridiculous trial. He’d been on the roof somewhere further back. Probably he had been promoted after Sonja and the traitor Mr. Paul were no longer there. He got straight to the point. “Where are they? Where are our people? Where’s Sonja?” I didn’t even plan to justify what happened. “Dead. In Viernheim.” “All of them”? “All.” “The child murderers”? “No. Others. Maybe they’re after us. We gotta go.” He just nodded and then said that I would have to answer to him. I said I didn’t care. Idiot. But at least he had realized that we shouldn’t waste time on a first interrogation. He gave Jan and Silvia a quick look. He grasped the situation and gave the appropriate commands. Two others were now allowed to tow each other off with the degenerate, who tried to make sense of all this and had stopped whining. It turned out that we in the darkness had followed the highway too far and were now closer to the Hurters of the polyclinic than to the apartment tower in which the High People had settled. A happy circumstance, both for me, for Gustav, and for the masked, because their leaders, Mr. Simon and Mrs. Mack, were still with Petra and Scarface to negotiate the union of the two groups. I had learned this on the few occasions when the patrol leader had tried to interrogate us while we were walking. Jan was a little more talkative than me, but I didn’t listen to what he said when he walked behind me and I mechanically put one foot in front of the other. When we reached the polyclinic, the day had become quite bright. Another dull day in a dull world. But, I thought, it would soon be less cloudy if I could finally give Gustav the formula for his antidote. It was as good as done, and with a slight astonishment I noticed that a smile lay on my face and a feeling of triumph rose in me. But something inside me didn’t want me to smile and triumph. So many dead. So many terrible things had happened since I left here. And too few of the dead were on the Deg´s side. And she of all people is still alive, I thought, when my eyes fell on Silvia. As we moved further into the vicinity of the polyclinic, I was equally surprised and pleased to find that they had actually begun to reinforce and secure the large structure. Guards on the roof, but even before I had had the chance to see them, we passed three guard posts lying one behind the other down in front of the building, which consisted of healthier handicapped people and members of the High People. Each of them had at best a number of four men, but they had been cleverly positioned. Someone had understood that they had to stop dreaming and take the initiative. Certainly Gustav had had a considerable share in this new development. It’s a good thing he had a connection with his former fellow student Petra. The guards had recognized us as soon as we had approached, and we were also admitted to the polyclinic without any major procedure. I should have felt relief by now at the latest. By now a great burden should have fallen off me. But it didn’t feel like it. I didn’t understand why, but I accepted the disappointment of my expectations. In fact, I probably would have accepted everything that was going on around and inside me. I was burned out. Exhausted. Completely at the end. The faces of the dead danced before my eyes. They mixed with the new impressions of the past hours. A floating feeling, no balance for a moment. One of the Hurters who hurried up excitedly when we arrived took a quick step and supported me. Behind in the large entrance hall I recognized Petra and her scarred partner as they too hurried towards us. I shook off my helper. The emotional turmoil over our arrival was enormous, I could feel it, even though there were no screams, cries or other outbursts. Everything was almost unreal quiet. Mrs. Mack and Mr. Simon came after Petra and her husband. Quickly the four of them had built themselves up in front of me. Silvia and Jan were led away so that their injuries could be treated. Petra had given these instructions in brief, monosyllabic words, and when she had finished, she turned to me. She opened her mouth to say something, but Mrs. Mack beat her to it. She wanted to know what I had done with her people, where Sonja was and Mr. Paul and the others. I told her, and she turned pale as a sheet. Then she started yelling at me. That it was all my fault, that there would be another trial, that I was not allowed to get away with it, and so on and so forth. I did not listen to her, but directed my gaze to her hand, which was clasped by Mr. Simon, who had stepped beside her. The two of them held together, come what may. Envy. Petra let her go on for a moment, then she interfered again. Said I needed to rest, and that my injuries should be treated. And I should eat and drink. Then one would see further. Mrs. Mack was still beside herself and demanded that I at least be placed under guard. I could see that Petra didn’t like the thought, but she agreed, and I was taken to my old room where I had already recovered from injuries and fever. Food. Drink. A bed. And sleep. Yes, sleep. So seductive. But wasn’t there something else? Of course it was. I opened the door again and the two bald women of the High People, who had taken up positions to the right and left of the corridor, drove around in shock. One even lifted her gun in my direction as I rummaged around in the jacket pockets and finally revealed the copy of the formula I had painted from my arm. I held it in front of the woman’s nose until she finally grabbed it. “Take this to Gustav. Right away. It’s important. His life depends on it.” She looked at me for two seconds, and then she nodded hesitantly. “Sleep now,” she said and pushed me back into the room. I did, and despite the gnawing feeling of defeat in the back of my head, despite all the excitement, and despite all the terrible events of the last forty-eight hours, I was gone as soon as I stretched out on my back and closed my eyes. *** The cafeteria was full and close to bursting. Petra and her Scarred face and Mrs. Mack sat at the raised table. Mr. Simon didn’t seem to want to sit, because although there was still a chair available, he stood behind his partner and had put his hands on her shoulders. I myself was once again in the center of general attention. I had ointment smeared on my hands and bandages applied
. But it wasn’t Gustav who had done it, and even now I couldn’t find him anywhere when I let my eyes wander over all the people. Surely he was busy somewhere in a lab making a supply of his antidote. His absence made me feel positive about this ‘trial’. He’d be here if he thought I was in trouble. And indeed, objectively speaking, I had nothing to blame myself for. Sonja and her people had come voluntarily, and it was either the degenerates or Mr. Paul who was to punish for their deaths. I would tell the story as it had taken place and no one would be able to blame me for what I had done. I just wish that I could adopt this view on an emotional level. But this very problem here had nothing to do with my thoughts. Next to me stood Jan and Silvia sat in a wheelchair on my other side. Her broken leg was straight and splinted again. Her unkempt, worn face looked even more invaded, if that was possible at all. Her lips were cracked and dry and she kept driving her tongue over them. Jan could hold himself up without any problems. He also wore bandages and they had given him fresh clothes. He no longer gave the impression that he could die at any moment. There was still a slight drug glint in his eyes. Again and again he gave me looks and I could see that he had many questions. At the same time, however, he probably understood that this was not the right time to ask them. Again I looked at the people around me. Many of the Hurters had adopted the ‘fashion’ of the High People and shaved their skulls. Especially those who were still able to make an active contribution and were not tied to wheelchairs, crutches or oxygen bottles. Then it started. Mr. Simon raised his voice and asked for silence, an order that was immediately complied with. He asked me to report. I did. I told them about the search for clues in Dossenheim. About how we searched dialysis in Weinheim. From our arrival in Viernheim and the horrible horrors we had found there. About how Sonja had been hit from nowhere by an arrow. Then of my capture, and of how I had come to the formula and learned of Mr. Paul’s betrayal. Then about his death and the death of the others in our little group. And then all the things that followed. I also didn’t leave out the fact that Tommy had been with the degenerates. I reported on Benito and Silvia and their deeds, and of course I pointed to her so that no one would think that this miserable creature in the wheelchair deserved any kind of mercy. Then doubts befell me, and I began to pad back and stress that she could still have a value as a hostage in the unlikely event that Benito would appear. I didn’t really believe that. Christiano and his people had been far superior to him. When I came to the latest events, yesterday’s crash of the drone on the A5 seemed so unreal to me that I was glad when it was confirmed by the leader of the patrol that had found us. None of the four who presided over this meeting interrupted me to ask interjections. Only after I had finished did they follow up, and I worked my way as best I could through details that had remained unclear. Then they didn’t want to know anything more from me and turned to Jan and Silvia. While the two - Jan open and honest, and Silvia careful, hesitant and intent on her advantage - confirmed my story, if she could, I looked around once more. No Gustav. Still not. How long has this whole thing been going on? Of course, I understood that they wanted to know what had happened. But all this fuss about assembly and everything seemed kind of exaggerated to me. How long has this been going on? Almost an hour, I guess. While I was talking, I hadn’t let the faces of the four out of my sight. I had read sorrow, seen frowning and painstakingly suppressed anger. All this had alternated with disgust and grief and something else. What this other else was, I learned only half an hour later, after the interrogation, again led by Mr. Simon, had been finished and I with the best will in the world couldn’t stand it any longer to take part in this superfluous charade. The crowd of the Hurters and the members of the High People scattered slowly. Silvia was pushed away, and Jan stayed near me, probably because he didn’t know anyone else here. Brother killer, I thought, but that knowledge strangely didn’t make me think worse of him. Even before I could wonder about myself, this thought was repressed again. I quickly bridged the distance that separated me from Petra, Scarface and Mr. Simon and Mrs. Mack. I got their attention right away. Actually, they hadn’t really turned their eyes away from me anyway, not while they were interviewing Jan and not when they were interviewing Silvia. Before I could ask, Petra got up and took a step towards me. Now I saw in her face what that other else was. Sorry. Sorrow and sorrow and compassion. I knew what she was about to say, and when she did, it was as if I was dying - not as if Gustav had died. “He’s dead. Yesterday,” she said. You were too slow, I heard. “He’s dead. Yesterday,” she said. You failed, I heard. “He’s dead. Yesterday,” she said. You let him down, I heard. “He’s dead. Yesterday,” she said. He died alone and in agony, I heard. “He’s dead. Yesterday,” she said. You let our doctor die, I heard. “He’s dead. Yesterday,” she said. He was so much better than you, I heard. “He’s dead. Yesterday,” she said. It was all for nothing, I heard. “He’s dead. Yesterday,” she said. You led them to death in vain, I heard. “He’s dead. Yesterday,” she said. So much unnecessary dying, I heard. She didn’t say all that, and I know she didn’t want to say it. I know that her regret and sadness and also her compassion towards me had been honest. But at that moment, I wasn’t able to grasp that. Suddenly I just couldn’t be near her any more, couldn’t bear the mild, almost motherly look. Suddenly I just couldn’t stand anyone’s nearness anymore. I turned away, turned around and walked away, and with every step I took, I became faster. Then there was only black. The next thing I remember, I was lying on the floor feeling heavy weight on me and fighting against it, wanting to get up and yelling that they should let me go. Then unbearable powerlessness and anger and even more anger, and finally - finally - deep resignation, and with it the accompanying calm. With calm came heralds of a sadness that has never completely left me since. In the Great War, the first family was taken from me. And now, after I, against my better judgment, have again got involved with people, the second one. Wanda and Mariam were gone and Gustav was dead. The best people I’ve met since the world turned into a nightmare of ruins and cruelty. Them and so many others. My resistance slackened and after a while they let me get up. I asked them to show me Gustav’s grave. They nodded, and when I had almost left the room, I turned around again. The window was open and in front of it was a wheelchair that had fallen over. At least that they couldn’t prevent. I went there. I wasn’t looking down. I knew what I’d see there. I looked up. There was something flying at a distance. A drone.
Brenner: The Gospel of Madness (Book 5 of 6) Page 20