Sequence 77

by Darin Preston

  Indeed, Eldwin was not the only of Alessandra’s children who had been lost to the war.

  Chapter 26

  Fate’s Push

  Ore Mountain Mine, Germany

  Spring 1947

  EARLY AFTERNOON SUN bathed the jagged mountainside in gentle warmth, forcing the melting snow to take shelter in the shadows beneath the branches of ancient evergreens. The repetitive sound of metal striking rock echoing through the trees signified the return of the miners of Annaberg. Dozens of men worked side by side with pickaxes, shovels, and iron hammers to progressively coax precious deposits of tin and silver from the site. Most who returned from the war worked tirelessly to continue the miner’s tradition and to honor all who had been lost. One man, in particular, worked just as hard, but for very different reasons.

  Setting his pickaxe on the ground, Niclas removed his sweat-soaked shirt and laid it on a large, flat boulder to dry. The cool mountain air braced him, its dryness pulling the moisture from his fair skin. His ribs and spine were clearly visible, signs that hard work and lack of proper appetite had already taken a toll on his young frame. A lengthy, unkempt beard and dark circles under his eyes defined his face, making Niclas appear years older than his early twenties.

  Holding his arms over his head to stretch, he felt sinewy muscles of his back and shoulders release their tension for a moment. Taking a deep breath, he brushed a layer of dirt and dust from his palms and reached dutifully for his pickaxe.

  A short, burly man with a thick white beard stopped working and leaned into the handle of his shovel. “Are you taking a break, Kappel?” he asked in a gravelly voice.

  “No sir, Herr Traugott. I’m just drying my shirt while the sun is high,” he replied, quickly picking up his axe and preparing for another swing.

  “Hold on there, Niclas, I was hoping you were actually going to take a break. It won’t hurt you to stop killing yourself now and then, you know,” he quipped with a hearty laugh.

  “Whatever you say, Herr Traugott.” Putting the end of the axe handle into the dirt, he rested his hands atop the pitted metal of the head as if it were an unwieldy cane. Despite Niclas’s willingness to work, his worn body appreciated occasional respite from continuous toil.

  The man raised a bushy gray eyebrow and shook his head, grinning. “I’ve had to teach a lot of men how to work the mines, but you’re the first I’ve ever had to teach to slack off now and again.”

  Realizing that his supervisor was not giving him an option in the matter, Niclas sat down on the ground and leaned against the rock he had placed his shirt on. “How’s this, Herr Traugott? Am I doing it right?” he asked, smiling with lighthearted sarcasm.

  Grunting as he sat down on the grass a few feet away, the stocky man breathed a sigh of relief. “Not bad. What would be even better is if you’d start calling me Lanzo like I’ve asked. We’ve worked the mines together long enough to have that between us,” he said in a growling but warm voice.

  Looking down at his heavily calloused hands, Niclas realized that time had passed quickly since the end of the war. “It’s hard to believe that this is already the second spring that I’ve worked the mines,” he said quietly.

  “That’s for certain. It seems like only yesterday Gudrune was telling me about his youngest son running around catching bugs and bothering his brothers.” Lanzo stroked his graying beard as he looked reminiscently out over the green landscape.

  Taking a deep breath, Niclas turned away from the older man’s gaze. His face cringed involuntarily at the mention of his father and brothers. “I think I had better get back to it, Lanzo.” Aiming to avoid further conversation, he pushed himself up to his feet and grabbed his pickaxe.

  Recognizing that he’s struck a nerve, Lanzo expressed hasty regret. “I worked with your father for years, Niclas. I didn’t mean to…” His words trailed off as he hoped to limit the damage.

  “It’s ok, Lanzo. I’ll want you to tell me all you remember about him someday, but not today.” Niclas heaved the sharp point of his axe into to the rock wall in front of him, sending several splinters of stone to the ground at his feet. Like a well-oiled machine, he brought it back and began the motion again.

  An impossibly familiar voice came from behind a small stand of nearby trees. “Maybe I’d like to hear it, Nicky.”

  Stopping his stroke mid-swing, Niclas spun to look in the direction of the person who had spoken. His body tensed when he saw a tall, blond man in his middle twenties step into the sunlight. The man appeared like a ghost to him, his mind not allowing comprehension of what his eyes beheld. Dropping his pick to the ground with a clank, shock threatened to steal all of his strength. “Can it be?” he asked, his voice weak with astonishment.

  “You’re not insane, Niclas, I see him too!” said Lanzo, rising slowly to his feet as he watched the scene unfold before him.

  Needing no additional verification, Niclas sprinted wildly toward his long-lost brother, nearly falling to the ground before lunging forward into his outstretched arms. “Otto!”

  The two men shared only intense sobs for several moments as they reciprocated a paralyzing embrace. Niclas was reluctant to let go in fear that his brother would escape into the ether and prove to be nothing more than a cruel manifestation of his deepest wants.

  “It’s alright, Nicky, I’m here to stay,” he said softly. Moving his hands to his brother’s shoulders, he began sizing him up. Otto looked at Niclas as if seeing him for the first time. His vision of the carefree little boy he had left so long ago was difficult to reconcile with the man standing before him. It wasn’t lost on him that his younger sibling could now easily have been mistaken as his elder. He hoped that his return would reverse some of the damage hardship had placed upon his beloved brother.

  “I dared not hope that you were alive. Where were you?” asked Niclas as he grasped his brother’s arms tightly, still unconvinced that this was not just a cruel dream.

  Frowning slightly as the sensation of his brother’s bony fingers dug into his arms, Otto could only imagine the volumes of the anguish his family must have endured in his absence. “I was captured in France and held in a prison camp until a few weeks ago,” he said, smiling sympathetically. His brother’s tense grip loosened slightly at the news. “I ended up staying in France to help rebuild for a while following my release. I’m sorry that I didn’t send word sooner. Shaking his head with shame, he apologized. “I was too afraid that there would be no one left to receive it.”

  “How long have you been back? Did you see Mama?” asked Niclas, speaking frantically as if his brother would be running off at any moment.

  “I spent a few days with her before coming up here,” he replied with a broad smile. “Mother said you are often gone for weeks at a stretch. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to wait to see my little brother.”

  Sitting quietly a few yards away, Lanzo interrupted the brothers’ happy reunion. “Well, it looks like you do need a break, after all, Niclas,” he said gruffly.

  “I’m sorry Lanzo, I just need a few—” Niclas replied, but was quickly cut off.

  What you need is to get your skinny ass out of here and back to town. You’re no good to me here, you’ll just get hurt with the distraction. I’ll see you next week,” insisted Lanzo. He turned away, smiled to himself, and began walking back to the vein of ore he had been working to free from the mountainside.

  Calling after him, Niclas shrugged his shoulders in confusion. “But it’s only Monday!”

  “See you in a week! You’ll have to hurry to get back to town before nightfall,” Lanzo yelled back as he waved them away.

  “Thank you, Lanzo,” said Niclas, nodding appreciatively. He picked up his equipment and grinned at Otto. “I know you just got here, but are you up for the walk back home?” asked Niclas, taking a few steps to the east, the direction of Annaberg.

  “I feel like I could fly us both home. Let’s go and see Mother,” Otto laughed as he fell gladly into step beside Niclas.r />
  ***

  The lengthy hike back to Annaberg was often as treacherous as working the mines themselves. The terrain was uneven, the paths narrow and often slicked with mud. Today, however, the journey seemed more like a leisurely stroll past one welcome landmark after another, constantly pointing the way home. The fading sun moved slowly in the opposite direction on the worn trail, serving as the only real sign that time continued to pass for the two brothers who found themselves lost in conversation. Otto told stories of battle and of his capture early in the war. Niclas spoke of his ordeal in Naklo, Dieter, and his decision to stay and help their mother. By the time they reached an open meadow on the outskirts of town, both men were silent as they contemplated the very different and difficult journeys which had ultimately brought them back together.

  Typically, the men working the mines returned en masse and left much the same way. As such, their arrival would be watched for and celebrated by family members and town merchants alike. Unanticipated in the waning light of the day, the approach of these two reunited brothers when completely unnoticed.

  Reaching the end of the wooded trail, they stopped to look over the wide clearing together. Fragrant and colorful wildflowers scattered throughout the grassland were now closed, preparing for an evening of rest. The area had the look of a thick, inviting carpet of varying shades of green and brown, its threads swaying gently in the soft evening breeze. With the edge of town no more than a hundred and fifty meters away and darkness falling rapidly, Niclas felt an urge he had not had for many years. “First to cross the stream wins!” Dropping his pack to the ground, he began running through the bright spring grasses of the field.

  Otto’s pack hit the ground and he began his lighthearted pursuit. “No fair!” he yelled, “I’ve walked twice as far as you today!” He had always been faster than his little brother, but the regular walks to and from the mines and Niclas’s unnaturally slender frame gave him the advantage in this contest.

  As he came over the bank of the small stream, Niclas narrowly avoided collision with a pair of sheep that had lagged behind the main flock to get a drink. He staggered as he reached the smooth rocks of the small channel, but kept his balance as his momentum carried him up to the other bank, where he fell to his back, gasping happily for air. Not far behind, Otto reached the far bank and had

  a similar incident with the straggling livestock, which nearly sent him tumbling into the cold water of the shallow stream. Unable to stay on his feet, he sprang forward, sliding hands-first into the mud of the bank as he came to rest next to his brother.

  “That was graceful,” laughed Niclas as his breathing slowly returned to normal. When they were younger, Niclas would have reveled in the fact that he had finally defeated his older brother in a footrace, but now he was simply filled with joy to have him back in his life.

  “Thanks….I…think…I…hit a sheep,” Otto laughed, smiling and struggling to catch his breath.

  Feeling as though they had somehow returned to a more innocent past, Niclas could almost hear the laughter of his entire family still echoing along the banks of the little stream. Although those days would never return, there was renewed hope where there had been nothing but despair.

  Otto could see the change occur in his brother’s face. Some of the worry and deep-seated burden gave way to a smile and the look of wonderment his younger brother had often displayed as a child. “It feels good to be home, Nicky.” Still kneeling in the mud next to his brother, he looked back at the familiar twists and turns of the curving stream. “There were many days when I thought I’d never see this again.” Smiling, he shook his head in appreciation.

  Drawing a deep breath of early evening air, Niclas exhaled slowly with his eyes closed. “I’ve been back for more than two years, but this is my first time really coming home,” he said, opening his eyes and smiling that his brother was indeed still kneeling next to him.

  Noticing his brother’s gaze drop solemnly to the mud and smooth rocks scattered about the bank of the stream, Otto felt compelled to share more about the journey that brought him home. “I was moved around so often during the war, I rarely knew where I was.” Picking up a smooth rock, he rubbed it in his hand to remove the grit. “About a year ago, I was transferred to a camp in southern France. It’s the country where I was captured, so I thought God was making sure it was where I would die as well.” His upper body twisted as he sent the thin stone skipping along the bank and rippling into the shallow water.

  Looking up at his older brother with misgiving, Niclas’s demeanor changed in an instant. “I can’t fathom how you still believe that God’s interested in you or any of one us.” His eyes narrowed to angry slits. “Especially one that would allow all of this evil to take place.” He picked up a rock and threw it with enough force to completely bury it into the mud of the far bank.

  Understanding the bitterness his brother was feeling, Otto continued his tale. “As a prisoner, I was expected to assist with the reconstruction of the Roussillon region. It was trying labor, but I soon found that contributing to the area’s survival was far more liberating than playing a role in its demise.” He picked up another rock and threw it close to where his brother stone had landed.

  Shaking his head dejectedly, Niclas stared sullenly out over the stream. Acrid, his voice caught in his throat. “Yet you can never fully repair what was lost. What’s done is done, Otto. There’s simply no undoing of it.” Bringing the back of his hand to his forehead, he wiped away beads of perspiration.

  Rubbing his hands together to remove the drying mud, Otto decided it was time to move on. “True, I’m not able to return life to those who have died, but I am capable of helping to improve the lives of those who remain.” He took a deep, cleansing breath of cool air and pushed himself up. Brushing as much drying mud as he could from his clothing, he realized the mess he had made of himself. “Hopefully mother will be so pleased to see us that she won’t notice how shabby I look,” he laughed and held his arms out to his sides to check for any filth he may have missed.

  As he extended a hand to Niclas, unnatural light shone across the field they had just raced across. The popping sound of loose stones under rubber tires could be easily heard, announcing a vehicle’s approach. Both men instinctively dropped to the ground and lay flat on their stomachs to avoid detection as the conveyance ground to a halt somewhere near their position. They moved quietly to peer over the top of the ridge but were unable to see where it had come to rest. They heard the engine stop, followed closely by the opening and closing of two heavy steel doors.

  With nothing in view, Otto turned to speak but was caught off guard by the palpable fear in his brother’s face. Although his brother had given account of his harrowing experience, it was not until that moment that he grasped how impacted Niclas really was. “Don’t worry Nicky, it’s probably just a delivery truck,” he whispered reassuringly, although his own instincts were screaming for great vigilance.

  “No, deliveries only come on Sundays and certainly not after dark. This is something else,” Niclas replied, shaking his head worriedly as he lay frozen against the river bank.

  Motioning toward the open field they had raced across only minutes ago, Otto preferred a cautious approach. “We should go back to the forest until they leave. We need to retrieve our packs anyway.”

  “No, if they’re watching, we’ll be spotted before we can get to the tree line,” he whispered, his past brushes with danger had taught him well.

  Not wishing to further feed his brother’s anxiety, Otto attempted a calmer approach. Putting one hand on his shoulder, he could immediately detect the terror trembling through him. “The war is over, Nicky. There aren’t any Nazi’s left who’d be searching for you.” Causing no discernable change, it was clear that his words brought little comfort to his uncertain brother.

  “I’m sure you’re right, but let’s mask our approach and see what they are up to, anyway,” he insisted quietly, his eyes never wavering from the di
rection the sounds had come from.

  “Alright, I’ll follow your lead,” said Otto, coming to his knees but carefully staying below the crest of the embankment. “Old habits and all that, right?” he teased under his breath.

  “Not so old as I would like,” Niclas mumbled, forcing a wink at his brother despite his anxiety. Unable to shake the feeling that something was amiss, he took the lead to ensure that Otto’s lack of concern would not betray their entry into town. Despite having come out of hiding shortly after Germany’s surrender, he had not forgotten how to move without making a sound. Each step forward was calculated with each step behind catalogued and stored in his memory in case a retreat was necessary.

  As if sensing his thoughts, Otto followed in the same footfalls as his brother. Having been captured once before, he too knew the importance of stealth.

  It became apparent when they approached the road that the vehicle had indeed brought visitors to their childhood home. The elegant and heavy frame of an opulent Maybach SW was certainly not meant for basic deliveries and was equally unlikely to be used to transport anyone involved in the, now dilapidated, military. These assumptions did little to quell Niclas’s fear while he and his brother continued their stealthy approach to the rear of the house.

  Anything but airtight, the old homestead gave both Niclas and Otto the advantage of knowing just where to stand to hear conversations coming from inside. They had used the same vantage point many times as children when they wanted to hear what was being said by the adults after having been sent out to play. But now the memories of innocent eavesdropping faded quickly; the tones inside had become contentious.

  Holding up a tightly clenched fist, Niclas signaled his brother to remain silent, but Otto was already standing motionless, straining to hear the conversation occurring inside. Small gaps in the walls allowed glimpses of movement to be seen from their position. Two men were in the house, along with their mother. A tall man appeared to be quietly standing guard at the door, while the other sat at the table. Their mother’s voice was hoarse as if attempting to hide extreme panic.