by Ann Alma
Josie washed her hands and cheek. They drank the cold water before moving on, never talking, only stepping cautiously, furtively, prisoners escaping. When the trees thinned, Father stopped to study the position of the stars.
Suddenly the sound of twigs snapping just ahead broke the silence. Father froze in his tracks. Josie bumped into him. Still no one spoke. Something moved away from them, snapping and trampling branches. It must have been an animal startled by unexpected visitors. For a long minute no one moved. Josie’s heart pounded; her legs shook. Then her father reached back and put an arm around her shoulders. Mother came up along his other side and they stood until their breathing returned to normal.
“We have to go on,” Father said at last.
For a time their journey took them steadily uphill. Josie’s throat felt like sandpaper. Finally they came to a clearing where the land levelled off. Once again they could see the sky. A few stars gleamed brightly against the pitch black, but no moon was visible.
Sitting down, they rested for a few minutes, Josie’s heartbeat the only sound in her ears except for an animal calling from a distant hill. Father pulled an apple from his pocket and passed it around. Chewing it slowly, sucking the sweet moisture from the pulp, Josie leaned back against a rock to look at the stars. Father had always been interested in the night sky—he said that was one of the few good things he remembered from his time in the army when he was younger. Now he studied the far-off constellations. He walked around in the clearing, turned and looked from the sky to a piece of paper.
Are we still in East Germany? Josie wanted to ask, but she dared not break the silence. Are these mountains the Erzgebirge? Will I ever come back here? How far do we have to walk? A rush of thoughts flooded her mind: I wish Oma had come. My feet are sore; I think I have a blister. At least my cheek stopped bleeding. I wish I had a hat.
They continued their trek, this time going downhill, until they came to a narrow path. Although they had to continue walking behind each other in total silence, there were no more branches or roots.
At last the forest opened up to a meadow. First Josie heard the rush of water in a creek, then she saw a stream glistening silver.
Sitting down on the ground, Father motioned for everyone to take their shoes off. Josie wriggled her toes, glad to give her feet a break. They stuck their socks inside the shoes, tied the laces together and rolled up their pant legs. Hanging their shoes around their necks, Father took one of Josie’s hands, while Mother held the other. They stepped into the creek.
Water pushed and stroked their legs, promising a faster, more exciting journey than the one they had just made. Josie liked the feel of it. But she was glad of her parents’ hands, chaining her between them as they moved slowly, step by unsure step, across the slippery rocks. The stream was icy cold. Bits of spray misted her face.
Suddenly, Father teetered, almost losing balance, jerking Josie’s arm. She moaned inwardly as he gripped her hand tighter to steady himself. He regained his footing and they made their way carefully to the bank.
After rubbing their numb legs and feet dry with handfuls of grass, they struggled to put their tired, damp feet back into their socks and shoes. Father cupped his hands around Josie’s ears to block out the noise of the rushing water and said, “Not much farther now.”
Josie sighed with relief. She didn’t think she could walk anymore, but somehow she stumbled on along the bank of the creek as her father led them onto a wider trail.
Just up ahead a dark figure emerged from the bushes. Josie’s heart jumped. She turned, ready to run, but Mother put out an arm to stop her. Father walked up to the stranger. They embraced. Mother took Josie’s hand and pulled her closer. Only then did Josie notice the outline of a small car, parked in a tiny clearing at the edge of the trail. They all piled into it silently. The stranger started the motor and, without turning on the headlights, drove them away. The car swung in and out of ruts on the rough road, bouncing them from side to side.
“Ouch,” Josie mumbled as she hit her head, then her elbow. She clutched the seat in front of her. But soon they left the trail and turned sharply onto a paved country road. Now the driver turned the car’s lights on.
Father turned from the front seat and smiled. “Eva, Josephine, this is my friend Jan. He’ll drive us all the way through Czechoslovakia to the border with Hungary.” Josie noticed that Father put his hand on Jan’s shoulder for a moment.
“I’ll take you home for a rest and something to eat,” Jan said. “I live in Prague. My wife is waiting to greet you there.”
Josie couldn’t see Jan’s face, but his voice sounded kind. And what he said was even better—a bed and food! Unable to keep her eyes open any longer, she sank into a haze of sleep, just as the sun outlined the trees in morning gold.
*
Josie woke in a bed, although she couldn’t remember coming into the house. Her stomach rumbled. Slipping out from under the blanket that covered her, she noticed she was still wearing her summer dress under her pants and sweater.
Voices came from behind the door. Josie quietly turned the handle and peeked into the next room, where she saw Mother, Father, Jan and another woman sitting around the kitchen table.
“Good afternoon, sleepyhead,” Father said.
Mother laughed. “Judging by your hair you had a fight with the pillow. Here.” She took a comb from her pocket and gave it to Josie.
Jan introduced her to his wife, a short, heavy-set woman called Nadia. She pushed bread, butter and sausages across the table, saying, “We’ll have our hot meal quite soon, but here’s something to nibble on until then.”
Nadia had a funny accent, just like Jan, and when they talked to each other Josie couldn’t understand them at all.
Josie reached for a piece of bread. “What time is it?” she asked.
“After two o’clock.”
No wonder she felt rested: she’d slept all day. “Where are we now?”
“In Prague,” Jan said. “I just took your mother sightseeing. You still slept so soundly, we didn’t want to wake you.”
“Is Prague close to the Berlin Wall?”
“No.” Father laughed. “We’re not going that way. We’d get shot for sure at the wall. We’re going through Czechoslovakia and Hungary to Austria. It’s a long way but I think it’s a safer route.”
“Why?”
“It’s easier to cross to the West from Hungary than from East Germany.”
“When will we be in Hungary?”
“Tomorrow morning,” Father said. “If all goes as planned.” Josie thought she heard tension in his voice, but when she glanced up, Father was smiling.
Standing up to take her plate to the sink, Josie winced as she felt the blister on her heel. Jan took the dish from her.
“I’ll get a tub of hot salt water for you,” Nadia said.
While Josie soaked her feet, the adults looked at a map and discussed the upcoming drive and where Jan planned to buy gas from his friends.
“Dry your feet now.” Nadia handed Josie a towel.
“What is happening in East Germany, Karl?”
“Things are coming to a boiling point,” Father said. “I’m afraid of what the East German government will do to the people who dare to speak out for their freedom. So many people are leaving. Of course, it’s easy to go to other Eastern Bloc countries. I’ve heard that trainloads of people go to Hungary. They get travel permits, then they just disappear.”
“They go to the West German embassy,” Jan said. “They crawl over the fence onto the embassy lawn and automatically become West Germans. I read it in a newspaper.”
“Do you want to do that too?” Nadia asked. “It might be less dangerous.”
“No,” Father said. “We’ll stick with our plan. I chose a tougher way to get out, but it’s better for our future. West Germany already has too many refugees. We’ll go to my cousin’s place in Canada.”
Less dangerous? Josie stopped tying her shoe. What were
Father’s plans? “What will happen to us?” she asked, looking from one adult to the next.
“Nothing, liebchen. Of course there is always the unexpected. There are many changes; countries opening borders and others closing them. We can’t be sure where the border patrols are. They seem to be in different places every day. That’s why we have to go at night, quietly.” He patted Josie’s shoulder.
“But Vati, why would it be dangerous?” Josie didn’t feel at all reassured.
“Oh, let’s not worry,” Father said. “We’ll be fine. Help Nadia.”
Josie set the table. The hot meal smelled delicious. Nadia served dumpling soup, roast goose (the country’s specialty) with sauerkraut and potato dumplings. For dessert, Jan ladled out hot custard pudding, but Josie only ate a few spoonfuls: she’d feasted too much on the goose.
After Jan packed some leftover meat and bread slices into a bundle to eat on the road, they went out to the car.
“With God’s will....” Nadia cried openly when she kissed first Jan, then Mother, Josie and finally Father. “Be careful,” she sobbed, while shutting the door on Father’s side. Josie watched out the back window as Nadia waved and dabbed her eyes with her apron. They turned a corner.
Josie looked at the street. Narrow, closed in and crowded, buildings pushed each other for space.
“I know a park on a hill that is a great lookout,” Jan said. “We’ll just stop there.”
Reaching an area higher up, they got out. Jan pointed.
“That’s New Town, where we walked this afternoon, Eva. And on those hills, look, that’s Prague Castle.”
Josie gazed at the city stretched out like a jigsaw puzzle of roofs, church spires and parks. A river meandered through like a slippery slug’s silvery trail.
“We’d better go,” Father said. “We have a long journey ahead of us.”
“You know, Karl,” Mother took Father’s hand as she leaned towards the sights, “I always wanted to explore this beautiful city. Now I’ll never see more of it.” But she didn’t protest when Father gently led her to the car.
They drove through streets crowded with shops. Everything was bigger, closer, busier than Josie was used to. And, though from the window displays the shops seemed no different than those of Gemeinstadt, the signs above them made no sense to her at all.
Prague was much bigger than any city Josie had ever seen. Snuggling into the corner of her seat more comfortably, she began to feel the excitement of the adventure.
An hour later, as it started to get dark, they reached the countryside. There, zooming along the road, with trees, farms and hills flashing by, they could almost be in East Germany: everything looked so similar.
Josie wondered about her friend. Had Greta missed her? She had probably waited at the corner until she was almost late for school. Surely she’d checked at the apartment by now and found it locked.
“Can I write a letter to Greta?”
“What was that, liebchen?” Mother’s voice sounded sad and tired.
“Can I write Greta?”
“We’ll talk about that later, when we get settled. We’ve only been gone for a day.”
Was that all? One day? It seemed like they’d been traveling for a week. Just this afternoon, a few hours ago, Greta might have heard students whispering about her disappearance, the way they had about Anna’s. Did Greta feel the earth had swallowed Josie up too?
“I’ve gone, but I’m still here with you,” she thought. Then, out loud, she asked, “When will we have a home again Mutti?”
“I don’t know. Soon, I hope.” Why did Mother sound so distant? Why was her voice breaking? Josie glanced over in the dark, but her mother turned to the window.
She had no home, no friends, no family other than Mother and Father, no toys or books, not even her skates. Oma was so far away, Josie could never drop in for cookies and tea again, or help dust the figurines her grandmother had collected over the years. They’d never walk again arm in arm from the pond, laughing and talking about skating.
Resting her head on the window ledge, Josie closed her eyes, although she wasn’t really sleepy. Mother stroked Josie’s hair. Shifting, she put her head on her mother’s lap.
“Mutti, I want to go home.”
“So do I, liebchen, so do I.”
Night fell. The car grumbled on along the bumpy road, now behind a shaft of yellow light that pierced the darkness like cats’ eyes. Except for rattling tools, somewhere under a seat, all was silent inside the vehicle.
THREE
Josie woke with a start. It was pitch black. Something moved beside her. It touched her sleeve. She froze with fear.
“Liebchen.”
Mother’s voice. Of course, they were in Jan’s car.
“Why is it dark? Where are we?”
“Shhh!” Mother whispered. “We’re at the river between Czechoslovakia and Hungary. We don’t want to be seen or heard. Komm.” She pulled Josie’s sleeve.
They got out of the car and stood in a tight group in the darkness. Jan quickly hugged and kissed each of them in turn, then climbed back into the car and drove away, lights out. The three fugitives did not move as the sound of the engine faded away.
Taking Josie’s and her mother’s hand, Father led them away from the road and through undergrowth until they came to the banks of a wide river. Water lapped at their feet.
Father pulled them into a tight huddle. “Now we must swim to the other side,” he whispered.
“But, Vati...” Josie tried to protest. The river was too wide! The current too swift! Father closed his hand quickly over her mouth.
“Don’t worry, liebchen. Be brave. I know you can do it. The darkness makes it look farther than it is. No matter what happens, keep going. If anyone shouts at us, try to swim under water. At the far side you’ll see shrubs. Crawl into them and hide. Wait there for me.”
Father hugged Josie and Mother again and said, “I’ll go first. Josie, you’re in the middle. Eva, you come last. Try to stay close.” He slid noiselessly into the water.
Her mother, who had taken her glasses off, looked like a stranger in the dark: tight fists clamped over her mouth, eyes magnified in terror. Josie started to say “Mutti,” but was pulled into an airtight clasp, then pushed firmly out to the river.
Shaking uncontrollably, Josie slid forward, her arms spread, tears mingling with the water. The cold took her breath away. Her heart jumped. The weight of her waterlogged clothes pulled her down. She fought with her arms, thrashing the water around her. Fear gripped her, tightening the muscles in her chest so that she could not breathe. In the darkness all she could see was the terror in her mother’s face.
As she struggled to stay afloat, Josie suddenly felt a hand on her stomach. Father was next to her. “Be strong,” he said. “You can do this.”
“Too heavy,” Josie managed to whisper.
Father quickly undid the buttons of her coat and helped her out of it. It floated away into the blackness: her only coat, given to her by Mother’s cousin.
“I love you,” Father mouthed, before pointing to the far side. Taking a deep breath, Josie put her face in the water and swam her first two strokes. Yes, she could move. But her clothes made it difficult to swim smoothly. Her shoes were so heavy. She stopped swimming and looked for Father. Darkness closed off her world. She was alone.
If her coat could be cast off she could get rid of her shoes too. With one foot she pushed the other heel out, then shook it free. She’d hated these shoes from the beginning. The hard, brown leather had squeaked and they hurt, especially now, on her bandaged blister.
With those two anchors removed, it was easier to stay horizontal. Filling her lungs, Josie put her head down and swam as far as she could. When she raised her head for air, she could make out one other body in the water ahead of her. She breathed in again, ducked and swam several strokes. It was almost like skating, stroke, stroke down the ice. Josie pretended that Oma was watching her. She moved on: her head up ab
ove water, then under again.
The opposite shore seemed no closer. Was she actually moving? In that instant a searchlight flashed across the water’s surface. Two shots rang out. Ducking quickly, Josie swallowed dirty water. Her throat burned with the need to cough. Her chest heaved. She tried to hold herself still. With her lungs on fire from the long wait, she came up.
Lights crisscrossed, stabs of light turning the river into a black and white game board. Josie spluttered. She inhaled. She dove down again. Came up for air again. Her wild breathing made her cough. A shot cracked; water splashed nearby. She dove deep.
All thought of the cold, the heavy clothes, the tug of the river disappeared. Now she swam as hard as she could. With every stroke she pulled herself toward her goal. When she came up for air, she glanced at the opposite bank. She dove down again, pulling herself through the water as deep as she dared. Up again and down.
Her outstretched fingertips finally bumped against the shoreline. Pulling herself up out of the water, Josie crawled onto the land. Her teeth chattered; her lower jaw shook. Gasping, she flopped down and lay still.
A beam of light crossed her path. Motionless, not breathing, she waited, her face pushed into the soil. Darkness again. With clothes clinging to her body like wet plaster, she slithered on. Dirt covered her hands and face. A heavy earthen smell filled her nostrils.
She reached the cover of the bushes along the bank. Josie crawled into the shrubs and looked around. There was no sign of life. Was it possible that Mother and Father had landed in a different area; that they didn’t make it; that the shots had hit them; that they would never come for her; that morning would find her cold, lost and completely alone in a strange country.
*
Josie rolled over on the hard ground and looked around. It was dawn. At first she did not know where she was. She was damp and stiff and confused. Only the sound of birds singing reassured her. Then her father’s voice came from a short way off.