“Gradually, a new fear replaced my fears from the night before: What if the road and fields were deserted because West Germany was all a myth? What if no one had actually lived there since the war?”
Her lips twitched into a brief smile. “Guys, what I hadn’t put together was that it was Sunday morning. No one was out and about.
“Eventually, a man drove up the road. I managed to sit up and his car slowed down. He leaned out his window and asked if I was okay. I didn’t know what to say. My life was based on not trusting people. But when he asked a second time, I blurted out, ‘Please, sir, am I in West Germany?
“He stared at me, and then a welcome spread across his face. ‘Have you come over the wall?’
“I just nodded yes.
“‘Well, come on. I’ll give you a hand,’ he said.
“He helped me into his car. Then all my alarm bells went off. I thought, Is he taking me back to East Germany and the Stasi? I’ll be jailed or shot!
“But none of my terrible worries came true. He was a local farmer. He took me home to his wife and children, and they fed me hot food and put me to bed. When I finally woke up, I found myself in a pretty room, with sunshine pouring through a big window. I thought, Real people do exist in the West!
“I regained my strength quickly. Even my hands healed after a few days. From there I was introduced to the local police, who, instead of being cruel or scary, actually helped me get through the political-asylum process, which basically meant I was allowed to stay in West Germany and start a new life.
“I was allowed to go anywhere, say anything, and read anything. It was all pretty strange, and pretty wonderful.”
Ingrid was done, but Queenie wasn’t. She asked, “What about your family? Don’t they think you’re in prison or dead?”
“Good question. I left my parents a letter at my uncle’s farm, and I have to assume they received it. Unfortunately, since I had to cut the fence, my escape was certainly detected. I just hope my uncle’s family and my parents were believed that they had no part in my escape.”
Jack and Queenie could tell Lena was glad it was all out in the open. She hailed the waiter to bring them some Black Forest cake, and coffee for Ingrid and herself. The conversation became much more lighthearted. But not for Jack.
Finally, Ingrid noticed this, and studying Jack for a moment, said, “You are very quiet. I think you must have another question, so go on and ask it. After all, it seems that today is the day to get all the questions out of the way.”
“I’m afraid to ask,” Jack said. “But there might not be another time.”
“Go on, Jack,” she said. “Besides I’m pretty sure I know your question: Were my parents Nazis during the war?”
Jack sheepishly mumbled, “Well, were they?”
Finally she said, very matter-of-factly, “Yes, they were. My parents were teachers. You couldn’t even be a plumber, let alone teach school, unless you supported the Nazis. Many Germans will tell you they weren’t Nazis, but the truth is that more Germans were Nazis than will admit it now. I’m not saying they all believed in Adolf Hitler or everything the Nazis stood for. Many didn’t. But if you wanted to survive, to feed your family, to stay out of jail, you couldn’t oppose the Nazi Party.
“Look, kids, for you this will be very hard to understand. It’s hard for you, because you are Americans. For you, freedom is as common as air. You don’t say every minute of every day, ‘There’s plenty of air.’ You just breathe. In the same way, you were raised to believe that people are free to make their own choices. That would mean a German person could simply chose to be a Nazi, or choose to be a Communist, but just as easily could choose not to. This was not how it was for us Germans. My brother Klaus is a Communist. You know I hate the Communists, but I don’t hate Klaus for being one. I know he didn’t become one because he believes in what they say or stand for. He did it because he desperately wants to become a doctor, and only Communists can go to the University of Dresden. He could have said no, but then he would never become a doctor.
“I crawled through that barbed-wire fence so I’d never have to make a choice like that. But the price for my freedom is never seeing my family again. It’s a price I pay every single day.”
“Ingrid,” Queenie whispered, “you’re amazing.”
Jack knew the conversation was over. Ingrid confirmed it when she said with pleading eyes, “Remember, children, we must never speak of these things again.”
Jack and Queenie nodded.
As a way to lighten the mood, Ingrid added, “And remember, I hardly speak any English, so don’t even think about saying anything to me, unless it’s in German. Verstanden?”
“Oh, wir verstanden!” Jack’s head bobbed up and down in his insistence. Then, just to prove his point, he added in his best German, “Lena, wenn das Mittagessen immer so ist, dann sollten wir wieder mit Ihnen gehen.” Roughly translated, that means, “Wow, Lena, we gotta do lunch again. Especially if it’s always like this.”
Jack could see pride in Ingrid’s smile. He sensed she was thinking, Jack, you’re finally getting it.
22
Enemy Empire
In the nights that followed, Jack kept having tortured dreams about the Stasi. Dreams that didn’t make a lot of sense. Sometimes he was spied on. Sometimes the Stasi overheard him telling one of Ingrid’s secrets. He knew better! Why had he talked? Often, he was running and running and running. He would jolt himself awake, his mind as jumbled as his sheets and blanket. He’d have to reassure himself that he hadn’t told Ingrid’s secret.
On Friday, Charlie asked him to sleep over. Jack said no, afraid he would wake up thrashing around and sweating. He spent the night with Charlie anyway—in his dreams.
Tanks were crashing through barbed-wire fences. They were coming to get them. He was searching everywhere for Charlie. Had to find him. Had to!
Jack’s heart was racing when he snapped awake. It was still dark out, but Jack was afraid to go back to sleep.
When the sun came up, Jack quietly got out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt. But he didn’t leave his bedroom. Instead, he sat down at his train board and started working on the old mill with the water wheel, the model he’d wanted to buy the first time he went to the train store. He’d finally bought it when he’d gone to Göppingen with Ingrid and Queenie. He squeezed just the tiniest drop of glue ever so gently out of the tube and onto a tiny piece. He was mastering the art form. It required extreme concentration but, as usual, it freed his mind to think, to figure out what was bothering him.
Normally, he’d be brooding over plans to get Jayla to the mountain. But since Ingrid’s confession, her new intel was all he could think about. As he positioned the piece, it finally came to him. Once he got it, it seemed pretty obvious. He needed to clue his friends in on who the Commies really were—and why their families were really in Germany. His friends needed to understand that the Dark Empire they’d talked about wasn’t the Nazis, but the Communist Empire. But he knew he needed to be careful. He needed to do it in a way that did not reveal any of Ingrid’s secrets. He built for an hour. In that time, he worked it all out.
Jack was at the table eating breakfast with Queenie. His day was improving; there were Frosted Flakes.
“What are you guys up to today?” she asked.
“I think we’re gonna go hang out at the cliff to keep tabs on the activity down on the Flugplatz.”
Queenie’s eyes brightened. “What’s up there?”
“Sam heard that a big Sikorsky chopper is coming in this morning to hoist a giant generator and fly it out for repairs.”
“Okay,” Queenie said. “We’ll see you down there.”
“Wow, you can see everything from up here,” said Sam.
“Yeah,” said Jayla. “No wonder The Watcher used it for his lookout last winter.”
“Who?” said Kevin’s sister, always gathering intel about what happened before they were on base.
Jayla hesitated, “Long story.” She turned to Kevin, “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”
He shrugged. “She won’t let you stop now.”
Jayla turned back to Karen. “Last winter we thought we saw some guy spying on the Flugplatz. Possibly a Nazi spy.”
Jack decided now was the time. “Not a Nazi. The Nazis are ancient history, but he could be a Communist spy.”
While everyone else looked confused; Charlie started chanting, “Commies, Commies, Commies . . .”
Camila talked over him. “What do you mean, Jack?”
Queenie shot Jack a warning look, but he shook his head, saying, “They need to know.”
“Know what?” Camila edged closer.
“Wait one minute, Jack! You and I need to talk. Right now!” Queenie grabbed his shirt and tugged him away from the staring group.
Queenie’s whisper was quiet but explosive. “What exactly do you plan to tell them?”
“It’s not what I tell them. It’s what we tell them.”
It took all Jack’s persuasive skills to win her over, but as the others took turns trying to inch within hearing range, only for Queenie to shoo them away, she and Jack worked it out. They would explain about the Communists, East Germany, Russia, the Stasi, and the Iron Curtain. They would even say the intel came from Ingrid, but they wouldn’t mention a single word about Ingrid’s life, training, or language skills.
Once out of their huddle, Queenie took charge. “Okay, gather ’round. We need to talk.” She sat down in a clearing where they could see anyone approach. The others promptly followed.
Jack knew it was best to let Queenie take the lead, so he made a show of giving her his full attention.
She began, “You cannot tell anyone what Jack and I are about to tell you—do we understand each other?”
Every head nodded.
“We figure your parents don’t want you to know any of this. And we’re pretty sure our parents don’t, either. It’s the usual they’re-kids-and-don’t-need-to-know routine. But Jack and I found out something you do need to know. This is some heavy stuff, and it’s pretty scary, so if you want to leave now, no one will blame you.”
Queenie and Jack looked around the wide-eyed group. Not one kid budged.
“Anyone know what a Commie really is?” Jack asked and then waited for an answer.
When no one spoke up, he asked, “What about why we’re all here in Germany?”
“To contain the Nazis,” said Sam, with certainty.
“No, Sam, that’s old intel,” said Queenie. “The Nazis aren’t the enemy anymore. The Commies are.”
“Commies is a word for Communists,” said Jack.
He and Queenie laid it all out for them. Jack, being Jack, was tempted to finish with the story of Jean-Sébastien, challenging everyone to be on the lookout for intel, but his friends looked too stunned to handle any more that day. Jean-Sébastien would have to wait.
Finally, Kevin spoke up. “You’re telling us that the Communists control half the world? You’re saying that Charlie’s Dark Empire actually exists and they are out to destroy us? You really think our dads and the whole 4th Armored Division are here to stop them from invading West Germany on their way to taking over the rest of the world? Is that your intel?”
“That’s about the size of it,” said Jack very soberly.
“Damn!” was all Kevin said.
“And the East Germans and Russians have three times as many tanks as we have.”
“That’s what we’ve heard,” Queenie said.
“Damn!” said Charlie. Then very quietly, with worry written all over his face, he added, “No wonder our dads need range practice up at Grafenwöhr. They have to be three times better than the Commies or we’ll get overrun.”
“I guess that’s why my mom keeps suitcases packed and ready to go,” said Liz.
“What?” Queenie asked. Now it was her turn to look confused.
“I never put it together till now,” Liz answered. “Mom keeps a suitcase for each of us packed with stuff that we’d need if we left for a few days. I caught her adding sweaters when the weather got cold. When I asked why we didn’t unpack them so we could use the stuff, she just said, ‘This way, we can just get up and go on a quick vacation.’ It was all a lie. Those suitcases are ready in case tanks come rolling through that Iron Curtain and we can’t stop ’em. My mom knows the threat is real, and she’s prepared to evacuate.”
“Holy crap!” Camila said. “I saw suitcases in our back closet, too. I’m opening them up when I get home. This really is scary.”
Jayla said, “So you figure The Watcher is working for them?”
Jack’s face was grim. “I think we detected a Communist spy.”
When they got back to their quarters that evening, Jack and Queenie investigated. Sure enough, they found four fully packed suitcases in the back closet.
Queenie went to her mother. “I like my green skirt. Why is it sitting in a suitcase?”
Mrs. McMasters seemed really annoyed. “Why did you even open that suitcase?”
“It was heavy,” Queenie said innocently.
“I call that snooping. It could have been filled with your birthday presents.”
Queenie waited for more.
“I have suitcases for each of us all packed and ready in case we want to take a quick, little trip. If you want that green skirt, swap it for one you don’t care so much about.”
Later, when they were alone, Queenie rolled her eyes at Jack, saying, “Right! I’ll tell you what she means by a quick, little trip. She means getting out of here in the nick of time, just before the Communist Empire overruns us with its tanks! Why does she always treat us like we’re too young to be told anything?”
“I got an idea,” Jack said.
Queenie raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
Checking that their mom was busy in the kitchen, Jack walked to the back closet. Queenie followed.
“I figure Mom and Dad rarely mess with these suitcases.”
“So?”
“So if they ever do mess with them, it would mean something serious is up.”
“Maybe.”
“More like probably,” said Jack. “Give me a hair.”
“What?”
He yanked his own hair. “Mine is too short to use.”
Queenie quickly plucked out a hair and handed it over.
Jack licked it and placed it next to the right latch of Queenie’s pink suitcase.
“Our early warning system,” he said. “We’ll check it at least once a week.”
Jack had no problem remembering to check. From that day on, it was hard to get the Communist threat out of his mind.
23
Facing the Challenge
Unfortunately, other things didn’t change. Jack was great at reading people, but he couldn’t seem to figure out what would set Kerrigan off. It was as if Kerrigan had a bully’s handbook, and he randomly chose the look, gesture, or comment to threaten or embarrass Jack on any given day. Things came to a head on the playground after lunch one day. Kerrigan and his gang charged right at Jack as he walked onto the playground.
“This time it’s your turn, punk!” Kerrigan shoved Jack in the chest, knocking him to the ground.
A crowd quickly gathered. Jack had learned his lesson about getting kicked if you stay down, so he leapt to his feet before Kerrigan could make another move.
“Not here, Jack!” Sam screamed from yards away.
Jack hated this. He just hated it! Why me?
His brain began wandering into the land of wishful thinking. If I had a magic wand, I could make Kerrigan disappear. . . .
Kerrigan shoved him again, snarling, �
��You hear me, punk? You’re going down!”
Jack almost lost his footing. By zoning out, he was backing down. He nearly took a swing at Kerrigan, but his brain cleared long enough to warn him, Sam’s right—not here.
He couldn’t risk getting thrown out of school again. He needed to control the situation. Mr. Reynolds said to think up a helper. Oh, yeah! Batman!
He imagined Batman standing beside him. Jack straightened his shoulders, looked right at Kerrigan, and did his best to strip all fear from his voice. Half-turning to the crowd, he said, “Okay, Kerrigan, you want a piece of me? You got it. We meet behind the post gym after school, and you get your shot. But you don’t show, and you’re the one who’s a panty waist.”
Kerrigan studied Jack for a minute. Then he chuckled and said so everyone could hear, “Don’t flip your lid, McMasters. Me and my boys will be there. You’re the one who needs to worry, ’cause I’m definitely gonna enjoy taking you down.” With that, he walked off.
Sam came over. “Good job. That was the way to handle it.”
But Jack wasn’t feeling like he’d handled anything. He dragged himself back to class and spent the rest of school with his eyes glued to Mrs. Campbell, pretending to pay attention so she’d leave him alone. He couldn’t nudge his brain onto anything but after school.
Word of a fight spreads fast. By the time he and his crew walked behind the gym, half the school was there. He noticed even Queenie and Rabbit and their friends had shown up. Just one more thing he didn’t need. Kevin was trying to coach him about handling Kerrigan, but not much was getting through.
An electric ripple went through the onlookers. Kerrigan and his boys paraded in, grinning and very pleased with themselves. The crowd quickly spread out, forming a circle. Kerrigan pranced into the center, his fists held high, as if already the champ.
BRAT and the Kids of Warriors Page 29