by Simon Harrak
It was a relief to be back in Berlin. Ida finished her last spoonful of oats then picked up her phone. She replied: Yes, I’m back. And I’m ok. Can we meet today?
By the time she got dressed Chi had written back.
Of course! I’m working remotely. Come down, wrote Chi, attaching a pinned location on Pannierstrasse just around the corner.
Ida grabbed her handbag and left the apartment. She stepped out into the sun, taking a moment to absorb its uplifting effect before tilting her head and looking around. She had been too exhausted to notice last night, but now in the bright afternoon light it was unmistakable.
The people looked afraid.
Two young men stood at the street corner chatting. They had smiles on their faces, but their eyes were darting around. A family of five walked by, followed closely by two women. The mother of the family stopped suddenly, appearing indecisive about which direction to take next, and the two women nearly bumped into her, flinching and stepping back in the process. They all held out their hands and apologised profusely to each other with intense stares. A man dragged his luggage down the path with his head down and with no regard for those around him. Another man waited at the crossing with his girlfriend, rubbing his neck and looking around nervously. Ida wrinkled her nose and began moving down the walkway with slow steps, cautiously navigating her way through the fear in the air, careful not to disturb the odd, fragile equilibrium in the neighbourhood.
She turned the corner onto Pannierstrasse and approached the cafe where Chi was sitting, finding her outside with a cup of coffee. Chi had her laptop open and was staring earnestly at the screen while rubbing her wrist, totally absorbed in what she was reading.
“Hey,” said Ida after standing by the table for some time.
Chi cowered and gasped at the same time, looking up at Ida with a disturbed expression before growing calm when she realised who it was.
“Hey,” she said, her face blushing. “Sorry, I was just…” She looked carefully at Ida’s face. “What the hell happened to you?” she said, standing up suddenly.
“Oh,” said Ida, rubbing the bandage above her eye. “Don’t worry, I’m fine.”
“Yeah, but what happened?”
Chi reached out but resisted the temptation to touch Ida’s bruised face, biting her bottom lip as she looked over the wounds.
Ida did not want to get into a long-winded explanation. She just wanted a friend, someone whose presence would tell her that everything was going to be ok. Chi locked eyes with her, and Ida began frowning. Her eyes slowly watered up.
“Oh,” said Chi, pouting her lips and reaching over to pull her in. Ida rested her head on Chi and let herself be held. For a moment the street noise faded away, and the pain in her ribs disappeared.
“Sit down,” said Chi. “I’ll get you a drink of water. Do you want a coffee?”
Ida nodded, taking care with her ribs as she eased into the chair. A moment later Chi came back with a glass and sat down beside her.
“I guess I don’t need to ask you how Paris was?” said Chi with a half-smile and look of concern.
“You were right,” said Ida. “I shouldn’t have gone.”
“Oh, shut up,” said Chi, waving her hand dismissively.
“No, I was an idiot,” said Ida. “I need to learn to be more patient.”
“I’m just glad you’re ok. Did you get caught up in those attacks?”
“No,” said Ida, shaking her head. “But I heard them from where I was.”
“Then how did you get… that,” said Chi, signalling at Ida’s wounds.
“It’s a long story,” said Ida.
“Look,” said Chi, pausing while her face turned serious. “You’ve been keeping secrets the whole time I’ve known you. I didn’t say anything before because I didn’t want to be nosey. I figured you had your reasons. But now it’s gone too far. You need to tell me what’s going on with you.”
Ida gazed dumbfounded at Chi.
“To be honest, it’s been getting on my nerves,” continued Chi. “I can’t just play stupid anymore. Not if your life’s at risk.”
Ida exhaled slowly.
“I didn’t want to tell you because it might put you in danger,” she said.
“Me?” said Chi, turning her head. “How?”
Ida shook her head and turned away.
“Ida, have you seen the news?” said Chi. “We’re all in danger. The Chancellor is playing it all cool, telling us not to panic, but people aren’t stupid. Everyone knows something big is brewing, and that it’s probably going to get worse.”
Ida turned back to Chi, whose determination was on full display. It was hard to admire her resolve while it was directed Ida’s way, but she did have a point. The attacks had raised the stakes for the entire globe. The way Frederich had said ‘war’ foreshadowed what was to come. Ida had spent the last day trying to push apocalyptic thoughts out of her mind, but the unease was all around her. It was in the eyes of everyone she saw from Paris to Berlin. There was no sense in keeping Chi in the dark any longer.
“It started with a guy I met when I first came to Berlin,” Ida said. “His name was Elias.”
She only paused her story when the coffee came, and her cup was empty by the time she finished speaking. Chi had been listening intently, wholly immersed by what sounded like an elaborate piece of fiction. When Ida finished, they sat in silence for a long time, the weight of her harrowing tale hanging heavy over the two of them. Finally, Chi snickered and shook her head.
“That’s intense. Really intense,” she said, her eyes opening wide and crossing over each other. “Now I can see why you were so wound up.”
Ida shrugged and smiled bashfully.
“This Vidrik guy sounds like a lunatic,” said Chi.
“He is,” said Ida.
“You go!” blurted Chi. “I’m so proud of you, taking him on like that.”
“Frederich saved me,” said Ida.
“Oh, don’t give me that,” said Chi. “You fought him yourself. And you probably saved that guy’s life, the one from the party.”
“Terence.”
“Right. You could have kept him around to protect you. I know I would have, instead of facing that psycho all by myself.”
Ida stared at the table, only able to think of Vidrik’s first victim sprawled dead on the front steps of her building.
“I knew there was something about that Frederich guy,” said Chi. “He kills people?”
Ida nodded, signalling to Chi to keep her voice down.
“Sorry,” whispered Chi. “Excuse me for being worked up about all this.”
Ida sighed, relieved that her secret was out, while suddenly overwhelmed by the state of society. How did things get so crazy? She thought about women like Olivia, who daily found the strength to face the ugliness of the world. Olivia looked exhausted by the events of the night, but her small, muscular frame remained upright, and she found a way to steel herself before leaving the room to face her next challenge. Ida had been shaken to her core by recent events, but she promised herself she would never let other people’s wickedness get the best of her. The world was in conflict, and she could not control it. But just like Olivia, she would do her best to stay courageous. In Ida’s mind, Frederich and Olivia stood on opposite sides of the spectrum of good and evil, but she remained awestruck by their capacity to persevere regardless of what difficulties they faced. Her own courage was still in its infancy, but she sensed it growing stronger each day, eclipsing that other feeling she was unable to shake. She looked at Chi.
“I’m scared,” she said.
Chi nodded solemnly.
“I’m glad you said that,” she said. “I am too. My first thought when this all happened was to go home, but this thing is global. There’s nowhere we can hide. What are we going to do?”
Ida recalled the resolve in Frederich’s face as he prepared to go after Vidrik, knowing he might be walking toward certain death.
“W
e’re going to be brave,” she said, sitting up in her chair. “We’ve got no other choice.”
22
Frederich’s pulse had slowed to a mild, muffled drum beat. The drug-induced lethargy had sapped him of his vigour, leaving his body limp and impotent. He forced his dense eyelids open and saw her again, standing next to a male doctor while pointing at a clipboard and signalling toward the door. She spoke quickly, her voice only a quiet mumble to Frederich, while the other doctor nodded earnestly before pushing the clipboard under his arm and leaving the room.
She stood thinking for a moment, draped in her white coat. She was a firm-bodied woman in her late fifties with greying brown hair tied into a bun. The way she stood there with steady conviction gave away her high position in the hospital. The defiant weariness in her face showed that she took her job seriously. Her attention suddenly turned to Frederich. She strode toward him then looked down with narrowed, curious eyes. He tried to speak but struggled to find the willpower. Voices approached from outside, and her head turned quickly toward the doorway. Without hesitating she reached over and promptly picked up a syringe and bottle. She was efficient, seamlessly drawing in the liquid and checking for air pockets as though she had done it a thousand times before. Frederich knew what was about to happen.
“No,” he croaked, not wanting to go under again.
She turned her ear toward the door, her eyes lighting up.
“Please,” he said, managing to find his voice. “Don’t—”
The injection spread through his veins, neutralising any resistance he had been able to conjure. The intensity of the fluorescent light above grew blinding, and the doctor’s face became a blur.
“Close your eyes,” she said, gently placing her hand over his face.
A shadow appeared at the door, and a muffled conversation broke out as Frederich’s eyelids fell shut. The pressure of the bed dissolved from beneath him while he lost all feeling. He entered a trance-like state, barely able to cling to consciousness. Then came the flashbacks from the other night in Bromley. He felt Pistol’s body pressing up against his before it tumbled to the ground. Dikka’s bulging eyes gaped at him, begging him not to attack. Faust’s punches came his way, and his body convulsed trying to dodge them. Vent’s grunting reverberated while he made his final gasp with his throat bloodied. The four men then wheezed collectively, united in death, their voices filling the black space before silence returned. Frederich welcomed it as he sunk deeper into the bed, until he became suspended in emptiness.
The image of the doctor’s earthy, weathered face emerged, with wrinkles running across her forehead and her cheeks sagging at the side. Frederich’s only remaining connection to his body was a dull ache in his chest. He felt drawn to the source of pain coming through the ache. At first the thought of going in there horrified him, until he returned his attention to her face. He knew at that moment that she had seen it all. He had no idea where that knowledge came from. He simply knew it to be true. Ages of suffering were imprinted on her face. Her eyes were steady, full of grief, but also gentle and kind. Her gaze was enough to reassure him to go inside. She smiled and nodded lightly, and he stopped resisting, allowing himself to drift until everything turned black.
Where am I? He floated effortlessly through the dark with nothing upon which to anchor himself. Immersed in the serenity which had flooded his consciousness, he descended a timeless, formless tunnel with a kind of ease he never thought possible. On he drifted, for what could have been hours, or mere seconds. He had no idea. He did not care. The tranquillity was everything, cuddling and nurturing him.
The shift away from the benevolent warmth was gradual — and ominous. A harsh chill began to seep in. No. He scrambled to go back, but had no way to influence the slow, unrelenting current. The emptiness no longer felt welcoming, but had transitioned into a cruel and caustic wilderness. Let me out! A huff of mist shot through the air. A rapidly escalating heartbeat pounded from a distance. Another huff blew by, then another, in time with her rasping breath. Her bulging eyes stared desperately at him as she crawled over the dirt, a stream of blood running down her forehead. He stood helpless in the distance, paralysed, conscious of every detail around him. The contours of the bark over the tree trunks, the icy breeze, the cooing of the birds, the moonlight reflecting off her knotted hair. His fingers trembled mercilessly while he maintained absolute eye contact with her. It was all he had to sustain him. If he looked away, it would be the end of him. The man’s shadow emerged over her — the one who did all of this — and her breathing halted, her eyes swelling like a rising sun, illuminated by terror.
“Run!” she shrieked, her scream sending shockwaves over the landscape.
He ceased to exist. All that remained of him was a ball of fire, blinding in its intensity, horrific in its magnitude. It was unfathomable. Was he in hell? He had to be. When he returned he found himself sprinting through the forest, gasping for air. He halted suddenly, his bare feet kicking up dirt and dead leaves. The bear had come from nowhere, its massive, fearsome body dwarfing him as it rose on its hind legs. He turned to escape, before a hefty weight fell on him, forcing him to the ground while shredding the flesh of his back.
It was enough to force him awake. His torso sprung up from the hospital bed, sending a sharp pain through his wounded leg. He groaned and clutched at his bandage.
The room was dark, with only a tiny bit of light coming through the crack of the curtain. A hand touched his shoulder. He turned suddenly and saw her, the doctor who had put him under.
“Shh,” she said, raising her index finger to her mouth. “Be quiet.”
Frederich tried to fix his gaze on her, drowsy from the morphine, still shook up by his nightmare. He took a deep breath and finally managed to make out the details of her face in the dark. His mouth and lips were parched, his body felt frail.
“Can I—”
“Keep your voice down,” she interjected with a heavy French accent. “They can hear.”
Frederich shook his head and blinked multiple times.
“Can I have water?” he whispered.
“Yes,” she whispered back.
She reached over to the table by the side.
“Lie down,” she whispered. “If the door opens, close your eyes.”
“Why?” he said, lowering his head to the pillow again.
“They want to take you from here. I told them you have an infection which threatens your life, and that I need to stay with you.”
“I don’t understand,” he whispered.
“I believe they want to harm you.”
“Is that why you put me to sleep again?”
“Yes, I’m sorry. They were outside. If they saw you awake, they may have taken you.”
Frederich thought hard. They? If The League had sent them, then she was wasting her time. This woman seemed savvy enough to sense danger, however, and he decided he would trust her. He nodded his acceptance.
She put a plastic cup to his mouth. He reached his hands up and took it, slowly drinking all of the water, then handed the cup back. She turned her ears to the door briefly, then turned back to Frederich, seeming satisfied that there was no immediate danger outside. She gave Frederich a weary smile.
“Thank you,” he said. “For helping me.”
She nodded, looking pale and exhausted. Frederich had important questions for her, but could not ignore the look on her face.
“Are you ok?” he asked.
“Hmm?” she said. “Yes. It’s been a hard day.”
“What happened?”
She pursed her lips and shook her head dismissively. Frederich kept his eyes on her and waited.
“A man came in yesterday with serious head trauma,” she said. “He was severely beaten. We stabilised him. I don’t know what went wrong. He was fine when I left. We lost him some hours ago.”
Frederich silently watched her fighting with her anguish, as she alternated between near tears to stiff resistance. He had no idea
how to respond. A lump emerged in his throat, and his stomach began turning. He thought for a moment. The man was probably one of The League’s targets. If so, then good riddance.
She exhaled loudly.
“There was just too much death,” she said.
Frederich’s stomach continued to turn. He cleared his throat, but it remained lumpy.
“Why are you helping me?” he asked.
She gave him a blank stare, as though not knowing how to answer the question.
“They told you why they arrested me?” he asked.
She nodded.
“You committed murder,” she said.
When the police turned up, Vidrik was already out of sight. All they had was a trail of dead bodies and Frederich sitting metres away in a police car with a gun. He had not killed the people they would be accusing him of. But she was still right. He had committed murder before.
“Why are you helping me?” he said again, growing more uneasy.
“The Paris police are very angry with you. You killed their friends. I don’t know what they would do if I let them take you.”
“If I did kill their friends, why does it matter?”
She tilted her head as though confused by his logic.
“You are speaking of an eye for an eye?”
He nodded.
“You don’t value your life?” she said. “You don’t value the life of others?”
Her question was like a jolt of high-voltage electricity which hit Frederich in the gut. Her grave stare cut through the darkness and penetrated him. He felt his face burn up and he turned away. There were no simple answers. Of course it was her job to blindly save lives. Did she not understand that evil did not negotiate? That it was evil which did not value the lives of others. Idealist. She can’t help it.
“What do they look like?” he asked, turning back with newly-found defiance.
“Who?”
“The policemen who want to take me.”
“They have brown hair. One has a moustache. They take turns guarding the room. Do you want to kill them?”
Frederich bit his lower lip. He shook his head.