After almost an hour of painfully weaving our way back into the Schöneberg district, we neared our bar. We slowed, slunk into a faceless building. I looked around, studying shadows, odd shapes. There were no vehicles, no soldiers. A trap?
Loremarie wiped her eyes, squeezed my hand, then spoke for the first time since we'd left the apothecary.
“Here, let me go. It doesn't matter if Heinrich catches me.”
With that she was off, a large elegant figure wrapped in a battered fur coat. I watched her traipse along, then slip into the ruins of the Pension above the bar. She didn't come back. Minutes passed. No one. I began to stir. Was Heinrich there, after all? Or had Loremarie simply collapsed in her misery? I started to—
Her head poked out, her face a moon of misery. Cupping a hand, she scooped the air, waved me to come, which I quickly did, rushing down the edge of the street and to the hotel.
Leading the way through the ruins of the original cafe, Loremarie said, “No sign of that bastard… yet. According to Dieter, a couple of people tried to come down for some schnapps, but that's all.”
She pulled open the oak door to the bar and ushered me through. Then the two of us stood on the top stone step, pulled the door tight behind us. I locked the door with the big iron key, then we dropped three boards into place, one at the top, middle, and bottom. Designed to bolster the door against bombs and the hurricane force of firestorms, the security measures would certainly slow Heinrich.
We curled our way down the cool steps and entered the dark bar. Dieter sat at one of the oak tables, a cigarette propped on his lower lip, his crutches leaning on a stool. Just how much, I wondered, did he know about Mother and her relationship with Heinrich? How many, if any, had he informed on?
He asked, “Ist Anton… ist er tot?” Is Anton… is he dead?
My eyes on the dazed Loremarie, I slowly nodded. “Ja, and we're supposed to meet Mama and Joe near the Schulenberg's.”
He shrugged, took a puff of his cigarette. “Of course we can't stay here, but God knows where we'll go. I suppose we can try and make it out of the city tonight. If there's a raid…” He cut himself off. “If? If?” Shook his head. “We might escape in tonight's confusion. Then again, if the Gestapo doesn't get us, the bombs probably will.”
Still we had to try. We couldn't just wander the streets. The only way to escape Heinrich was to escape Berlin itself.
I said, “We need to take some food and money.”
Dieter blew out a cloud of smoke. “I think cigarettes. You can buy almost anything with them now.”
“Mama has some American dollars,” I said, matter-of-factly.
Acknowledging that, Dieter said, “Oh, ja, die Dollar… die bring’ ich.” Oh, yes, the dollars… I'll bring them.
From up above came a harsh crack and a screaming voice. A flash of fear shocked my body. That wasn't someone begging for a beer. No. That was Heinrich and his men. With what sounded like rifle butts, they pounded on the door, stopped, and waited for a response.
Loremarie looked upward, hatred pinching her eyes. “I'll make sure they don't come down.”
Dieter puckered his face in a hopeless grimace, pulled himself up on his crutches, then headed toward the back room. From his mouth flowed endless curses, long German ones with a billion words all strung together, and he ordered me after him. Following him into the back chamber, I passed the cot where Joe had lain when he'd first arrived, saw the tin plate that had held the greasy potatoes. I heard my brother's giggles, and my memory surged and heaved.
Within seconds, Dieter and I had pushed aside the chest and were in the hidden cavern. Hands grabbing, snatching, pushing, we crammed cigarettes and Reichsmarks and American dollars and coffee and silver trinkets into three leather valises. Tinned meat and candles and matches, too. Glancing over, I saw Dieter smash open a small wooden box and grab a handful of watches as if they were slippery herring. He crammed them, a bottle, and candles and matches into a leather rucksack. Then balancing on one leg, he stood, a black pistol in hand. He checked the barrel, loaded it and shoved the remaining bullets into his pocket.
I gasped. Even though I was sure I'd never seen it before, for some reason I recognized the gun. And staring at it, I knew that I must rip it from Dieter's hands, that he must leave it behind. That gun, I was completely certain, would do a lifetime of harm, and I had to—
“No, Willi, you can't change what is about to happen.”
Out loud, I said, “But—!”
Dieter turned, looked at me oddly, then shouted out the hole and into the bar. “Loremarie! Loremarie, let's go!”
I heard glass shattering, the dull smashing of wood. Certain that Heinrich had broken through our meager door of defense, I charged out.
“Tante Lore!”
As manic as she had been angry before, Loremarie was hurling chairs and stools up the stairwell. On top of that she was throwing clothing and towels.
“The mattress from the cot—bring it out here!” she snapped like a Wehrmacht colonel.
I dashed into the back, ripped the old cottony thing from its frame, and dragged it and several blankets out. Then together Loremarie and I stuffed them into the stairwell as well. I smelled kerosene, saw the shards of a broken lantern and a stream of liquid slinking down the steps, across the stone flooring, beneath my feet, across the room and…
She turned to me, her face red with glistening sweat. “I will live to kill this man!”
Up above, a machine-gun wave of death riddled the heavy oak door. It would be difficult to blast through, but Heinrich was certain not to give up.
“Tante Lore, come on!”
Lost in black delight, she ran to a side table, grabbed the last spirit lamp and lit it. Almost with a grin on her face, she hurried to the stairs, took aim, and heaved the lamp. The whole thing broke neatly on the wall, and there was a gentle rush of flame, both up and down the stairs and all around the broken chairs and mattress.
She screamed, “Throw those stools up there!”
I did as she commanded, began to take hope in a wall of flame and smoke that might actually be stronger than a door of oak. And as I worked, Loremarie ran into the little kitchen, next emerging with the spirit stove. Racing back, she hurled that into the growing fire, and there was an explosion, a perfumy ball of fire as the container of eau de cologne burst. From up above came a constant chattering of bullets. Unfazed, Loremarie rushed across the bar, took hold of Dieter's accordion, and tossed that into the growing blaze. No, I thought, there was no going back. Ever.
“Tante Lore!” I shouted, waving the smoke from my face.
Once again I grabbed her by the arm, now steering her toward the small back room, to the hole, and into the candlelit cave. Together, Dieter and I then dragged the chest of drawers back over the opening. He shoved one of the valises at me, the other two at Loremarie, and strapped the rucksack to his back. As Dieter grabbed his crutches, I noticed the pistol clutched in his right hand.
“Willi!” he said, motioning toward a flashlight on the cavern floor.
I took the thing, shook it until there was a sleepy beam, then led us through the small tunnel and into the blood-filled sewers of Berlin.
Chapter 23
“Joe?” I called into the crystalline night.
A bright moonlit evening was just beginning, and my eyes searched, begged, for a familiar figure. There were only odd shapes, however. Broken walls. Fractured beams. Ghosts of a civilized world.
“Joe?”
Having tromped through the war filth of the sewers, my feet were still soaked, and with each step they gathered more and more dust and dirt. But that didn't slow me. Dieter's dying flashlight in hand, I was desperate to find Joe and my mother, desperate to learn if they'd really escaped Heinrich. Somehow I was certain they had, yet in the half block since I'd left Loremarie and Dieter—left them huddled in the shadows of the squashed Schulenberg apartment house—there was no one. A deserted neighborhood.
It had take
n nearly thirty minutes to escape the sewers, then we'd been forced to hide for over an hour in some small cellar as Heinrich and his men swooped back and forth. Finally they'd moved elsewhere as the day faded away, and we'd been able to push on. But we were hours late. If Joe and Mother had made it over to this neighborhood, had they since given up, taken shelter somewhere else?
A catlike moan, deep and devilish and horrid in intensity, swept across the rubble, swirled around my ankles. I stood motionless as ripples of chills crawled up my spine, as I tried to tell whether that was human or indeed animal. It came again, at first deep and low, then rising not into a hiss but a plea.
“Oh…”
I spun to the side. “Mama?”
I aimed the light at the remains of a corner building, saw a black hole for a door, two more for windows. At once I was clambering over clods of brick and wood. That had been a person, hadn't it? But was it them or perhaps just some poor buried-alive slob?
“Mama, where are you?” I whispered, “It's me, Willi.”
Nothing.
“Hallo?”
A chorus of giggles rattled my heart. Of course I knew that voice, even amidst this setting of destruction. I kept the flashlight on the ground, followed the trail of light up and over and around and to the doorway of a groundfloor room that really seemed more like a cave. Rough stone walls. Filth floor. And black. So black. I swept the beam from corner to corner, stirred up dirt in a gray beam.
She lunged out at me, grabbed me by the arms. The flashlight dropped, smacked on the ground, and long waves of hair flowed across my face and little girly laughs pierced my ears.
“Hallo, mein killer diller baby!”
A cloud of booze blew in my face, fumes so strong that they seemed flammable. Just as quickly, Mother began to fall, and I had to grab her, hold her by the waist. She swooped down and planted a big wet kiss on my forehead.
“Want some cognac, Willichen?” she said, waving her silver flask at me. “This is all I got left.”
Anger surged within me. “Nee!”
She smelled both so sweet and so biley, and my stomach flinched with disgust. How could we flee with a drunk like this in tow?
My eyes searched the cavelike chamber. “Mama, where's Joe?”
“Oh, around,” she laughed, flinging an arm outward.
I lowered her to the ground, helped her prop herself up against a wall. I reached for the flashlight, shook it until the beam jittered back to life, then turned it on her. My heart jerked and I nearly jumped back. Red eyes, sagging eyes. All watery. Her face all soft and jowly. Hair that hung limp and ratty. I stared at this disgusting, boozed-up woman who was supposed to be my mother, and I didn't want to have anything to do with her. All at once my darkest desire, the one I'd been trying to run from for months, now rushed forward, catching me as if by the ankle and pulling me down.
“And what is that, Willi?”
I couldn't help but want it, think it: I wished she'd die. I wanted this hideous person to topple right over and never rise!
Footsteps scruffed against rock. I spun, saw a large, dark figure approaching.
“Joe!” I said rushing from my mother and out the opening.
He grabbed me in eager embrace. “Willi, what happened? I've been looking for you.”
I looked back into the hovel. Yes, if Mother were gone I could stay with Joe. If Mother disappeared for good she'd never look at me with those red eyes or breathe that stinky breath on me again!
“Are you all right?”
What could I say? How could I explain? Mein Gott, I hated my mother!
“Willi, what happened?”
Trying to shake the evil thoughts from my head, I said, “We… we went back to the bar. Tante Lore said we had to, and… and…”
In the distance I saw two desperate figures hurrying down the street. It was Loremarie and Dieter—she carrying all three valises, he crutching himself along—charging as if pursued.
In a whisper I called, “Tante Lore!”
Behind them daggers of light started poking into the ruins, and I heard the deep rumble of an engine, too. Heinrich, I thought, tensing with fear. Joe and I rushed down to them, grabbing the valises from Loremarie.
Her panic barely contained, Loremarie said, “There wasn't any place to hide back there!”
Joe asked, “Is it Heinrich?”
“I… I don't know,” replied Dieter.
Hurrying off the street, we charged up and into the room where my mother sat. As we threw the valises behind the wall, Mother pushed herself up, looked brightly at the excitement.
“What's all the commotion? Why—!”
“Shut up!” snapped Loremarie as the lights neared. “There's a Streife!”
“So what?”
In the shadows, I saw Loremarie spin, ready herself to dive on my mother. At that last moment, Joe caught the countess by the arm, shoved her back.
“Get down! I'll take care of Eva!”
Loremarie shouted, “If they don't kill her, I will!”
“Get down!”
The sounds of the truck grumbled nearer, and a searchlight speared the building across the street and probed its innards. Joe hurled himself over my mother, forced her to the ground, and I dropped next to them.
Mother said, “What—?”
Joe clamped his hand over her mouth. “Shut up!”
I saw her squirm and wiggle beneath him before growing still. Seconds later the large truck lumbered right out front, shooting spotlights everywhere. Above the clanging of gears, the deep churning of the motor, I heard thin voices and laughter, too. Those were boys out there, I realized. Soldiers perhaps, but boys first, who really weren't that much older than me. Perhaps they'd been sent by Heinrich. Perhaps not. Fortunately they weren't that thorough, for their lights flicked only briefly over our hideaway, then prodded on. Within minutes they were gone altogether, the latest of dangers having flown haphazardly by.
I sat up, brushed myself off. Mother, one cheek all dusty, began groping madly about, content only when she found her little flask.
Dieter said, “The sooner we leave town, the better.”
“Leave?” gasped Mother, unscrewing the flask.
“Good God, Eva, stop drinking!”
She took a swig. “We'd never make it, you know. We don't have any papers because… because…” Giggle. “Unser Jude ist weg!” Our Jew is gone!
Loremarie flew through the air and dropped like a lead cloud on top of my mother. She screamed and shouted the coarsest of obscenities as she drove fist after fist into Mother's ribs and face and head. Mother curled up like a fetus and howled helplessly. As quickly as I could, I lunged at Loremarie, grabbed her. She was much stronger than me, though, and hurled me back almost without effort. Then Joe was grabbing her in a desperate attempt to pull her off my wailing mother.
“For Christ's sake, stop it!” shouted Joe.
He peeled Loremarie away, spun her around and shoved her toward Dieter, who caught her and pinned her arms behind her back. As they struggled, I heard a clatter, looked down, saw Dieter's pistol swirling around their feet. Staring at it, I wondered just when it would go off, who it would kill.
“Let me go!” demanded the countess.
“Ah!” moaned my writhing mother.
Joe swooped down and seized Mother, forcing her to her feet. She cried and moaned as he hurled her about, shoving her outside. Of course he had to get her out of there. I glanced back, saw Loremarie now trying to lunge downward for the gun.
“Willi!” shouted Joe.
Caught in a beam of confusion, I stood paralyzed. Oh, my God. I didn't want anything more to do with her or this. Didn't want to go forward into death.
“Willi!”
Flashlight in hand, knowing I had no choice, I stumbled out. The defeated, drunken figure of my mother hung in Joe's two arms, and another wave of both repulsion and fear swept through me. Leave her, get rid of her, drop her in the ruins!
“Willi,” snap
ped Joe, “where's that place—the room with the metal door?”
My eyes were wide and white, trained only on my nearly passed-out mother. I couldn't move, couldn't think.
“Willi!”
I pointed the beam along the front of the building, then started following the faint light. Of course we couldn't just stand out here. Another patrol or Heinrich himself might appear at any moment. And so I slipped along. Lugging my all but unconscious mother, Joe trudged after me, leaving Loremarie's curses and threats and sobs behind us.
I headed toward the Schulenberg's bombed building, turning a corner and climbing over tossed bricks as easily as if 1 were a mountain goat. I glanced about, saw no one. The neighborhood was gone, killed by the bombs, and I thought how I was guiding Mother and Joe right into a similar black abyss. The raid. Picking my way along, I realized that it was brighter out, and I shuddered. Joe's predicted raid could be upon us any second, yet we no longer had our bunker to shelter us.
Leading Joe along, the flashlight struck what seemed a familiar block of stone. It was the beige color, the floral carving. A portal. Certain that I had seen it before, I looked up at the shell of a memory. This had been the building where my mother's grandfather had lived, in an apartment right beneath the Schulenberg's. My breathing came quick and tight. This very building had collapsed around Joe and me only a few days ago. So much had happened since, so many had died. I felt as if I were walking directly into a deadfall, a deathly trap that would collapse on me, pin me in this place and time forever. But still I tromped on, leading Joe and Mother right over the massive collapsed pile of brick and wood, right through a canyon of towering walls. Right over the giant grave of the two Schulenberg boys. Like a clairvoyant, I knew what I would see when I lifted the flashlight upward: an upright piano that sat on a cliff-like ledge some four floors up. I wondered if anyone could climb up there, make music that would rise above this time, this place. No, only my mother could have done that. She was too drunk, too far gone, though, and somehow I knew she would never sing again.
Behind me, the body cradled in Joe's arms moaned, “Oh…”
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