Prepper Fiction Collection: Four Books in One

by Susan Gregersen

  The boy slipped one roll into his pocket as he took a bite out of the other and began speaking in a reassuring voice. The man called Friedric joined the conversation and they seemed to be trying to agree on something.

  “Nien! Kurt, Nien!” she said. The boy patted her reassuringly on the arm and returned to stand near Carl and Darlene.

  “I will take you,” he nodded at Carl, “to that address if she,” he waved toward Darlene, “will stay here and help Mama in my place. We will return here with your Mother and Father, if they have not already gone with the Americans. It will be dangerous. Mama has fear for my life.”

  Darlene felt lightheaded and short of breath as Carl slipped out of his daypack and set it on the floor. Her heart was pounding and her mouth was dry. She had a million arguments why he shouldn’t go, but none of them made it to her mouth. She stood helplessly as Carl gave her a quick hug and a kiss.

  “I WILL be back!” he said, then turned and left with the boy and Friedric.

  The woman stood for several moments, staring after them with mumbled words escaping her lips. Darlene thought the woman was praying, and she offered up a prayer of her own for Carl, his parents, and the two men.

  “Komm,” the woman said as she tossed back the hood of her cloak. It was a word that Darlene could understand, since it sounded like it’s English counterpart. She stood and followed the woman, who handed her an apron.

  For the next few hours she kneaded mounds of dough that the woman mixed up. The woman showed her how to form the breads and rolls, then they placed the trays on shelves set back in the stone wall on each side of the huge oven so the dough could rise. As each batch was ready to bake they slid them into the oven. Soon the smell of fresh baked bread permeated every cell of Darlene’s body.

  Finally the woman waved her over to the table for a break. They sat at the table and slathered warm rolls with butter and honey. The woman poured apple cider and they took deep drinks with their rolls. Then they returned to work.

  Suddenly the door slammed open and the three men rushed into the room panting and talking in a rush. Darlene picked Carl’s English out of the clutter of voices.

  “They’re gone. Someone from their building said they left at the first sign of trouble. Knowing Dad they were on the first plane out, or at least Mom was. I hope Dad didn’t stay to look for us. Their building has been burned. I can’t even get in to look for their stuff, not that it matters.” He slumped against the wall next to Darlene.

  Darlene noticed that all three men looked as though they’d been beaten up. The woman retrieved some towels, dampened them, and handed one to each of them. They wiped their faces, then Carl spoke.

  “There is rioting all the way through the city. Mostly people are just pushing, shoving, and hitting anything or anyone that gets in the way. We stayed close together and tried to dodge through openings, but we were punched and shoved and tripped. We didn’t look anyone in the eyes, just kept plowing forward.” He sighed and wiped his hand over his brow.

  “What will you do now?” the boy asked quietly, then repeated it to his Mom and Friedric in German.

  After a moment of silence Darlene asked, “How do you know English so well?”

  “I study at school for 3 years,” he puffed proudly and glanced at his Mama. He said something in German to her, and she gave a slight smile and swatted at him. “I told her you say I speak English well, and she should give me more money for my good study!”

  They all grinned. Kids were kids, anywhere in the world!

  “There are no planes leaving and the military has evacuated everyone except a skeleton crew. They wouldn’t let me in or even listen to me. We must find a way home,” Carl said.

  “Across an ocean???” Darlene demanded in a high-pitched voice. She stared at Carl open-mouthed as panic filled her. “How are we going to do that?”

  “All I can think of is that if we make our way to the coast, maybe we can get on a ship headed that way,” he answered in a quiet voice. He turned to Kurt. “Do you have a map?”

  Kurt left the room and returned with an old map, which he carefully unfolded and spread on the table. “It was my Father’s. He died in a car crash two years ago. Mama and I have been trying to keep the bakery running without him.”

  The woman sensed what Kurt was talking about and put her arm around his shoulders. He gave her a soft, sad smile.

  Carl and Darlene were bent over the map, Friedric looking over their shoulders. Carl drew his finger from Hamburg to the coast, looking closely at towns and other features on the map.

  “Do ships come up this river?” he asked, pointing to the channel of water that cut through the land and stopped just short of Hamburg.

  “The ships come to Finkenwerder,” Kurt replied, pointing to a town southwest of Hamburg. “Very big shipyard. Many ships. They are cargo ships, though. Not passenger liners.”

  “No matter,” Carl brushed off that information. “We’ll go there. We’ll get on a ship if we have to steal one!”

  “You a pirate?” Kurt asked nervously.

  “No, of course not! I used to pilot a ship, a tugboat actually, up the inland passage on America’s west coast, pushing barges from Seattle to Alaska,” Carl said. “It’s probably not quite the same but I could figure it out.”

  “Oh my gosh, you’re serious!” Darlene exclaimed.

  “It’s the best plan I can come up with,” Carl said with a shrug. “I’m certainly open to others. Once we’re out of the city things might be better. Less violent anyway. We’ll still be on our own in a place where we don’t speak the language.” He looked intently at the map, as though burning the route into his mind. Then he folded the map and handed it to the boy.

  The woman reached out and put her hand on his, then pushed it back toward him, map still in his hand. The boy looked at her face for a moment, then at Carl.

  “She wants you to take it,” he said. The boy went to the sink and stood with his back to them, washing his face and arms for an excessively long time. Then he came back and stood near his mother.

  Friedric spoke, and even with his hand motions Carl and Darlene didn’t know what he was telling them. The boy translated.

  “He says he will accompany you to the city’s edge.”

  The woman began putting rolls in a small cloth sack. She added a wax paper-wrapped block of butter, a small jar of honey, and a bottle of cider. As an after-thought she opened a door and descended a set of stairs, returning with a chunk of yellow cheese, which she wrapped in wax paper and added to the bag. She tied it shut and handed it to Darlene.

  “Thanks!” Darlene said, then remembered one of the few German words she knew and added “Danke!”

  They rose and the woman led them to the front of the bakery. Kurt opened the door a crack, looking and listening. He opened it wider and leaned out. Two shadowy figures ran by in the middle of the street and didn’t even look their way, but no one else was in sight.

  “It’s as good as it gets,” the boy said carefully in English, then said something in German that probably meant the same. Friedric nudged them forward. Darlene turned to the woman to say thanks. The woman wrapped her arms around her in a brusque hug, then stepped back, wiping her eyes. Carl nodded at her and said thanks to the boy, who grinned and told him he was welcome. Then they swept out into the street.

  The early gray of dawn was showing among the buildings as they hurried along, toward the southwest. Friedric seemed to be keeping them a block or two off of main streets but following them at the same time. Once they came to a dead end and had to back track, and the only way through was the main street, where it crossed a river. They pulled off into the shadows before crossing the bridge, to watch.

  Debris was all over the street, coated with glass from buildings and cars. Several cars and trucks had been burned in the street; and injured and possibly dead people were slumped in random places. People still ran this way and that, but the pace had slowed. There was more “intent” to it’s f
eel and less blind panic.

  Sensing the danger they watched for several moments. A group of young men making gutteral calls pounding each other on the arms and back ran out onto the bridge. They grabbed the first person they came to, who was running the same direction they were, and heaved him over the side of the bridge.

  There was a long wail followed by a splash. Carl and Darlene froze in horror, but were somewhat relieved when a few minutes later there were sputtery yells and curses from below the bridge. The sound of rhythmic splashing made them believe he was swimming toward shore.

  “I don’t want to be thrown in there!” Darlene whispered to Carl. He tightened his grip on her arms and pulled her closer to him, but didn’t speak or look her way. The gang ran on off the other end of the bridge, ignoring the rest of the people as they wove among the ruins and jumped obstacles.

  Suddenly Darlene was shoved forward and they were running, Carl pulling her by the arm and Friedric on their heels. She hadn’t seen the motions the men had been making with their heads and eyes, making a plan and picking the time.

  Without time to think they ran by instinct, stumbling sometimes but pulling each other along. Out of the corner of her eyes Darlene saw the water of the river, dark and cold-looking as it slowly rolled on by. She shuddered and kept her eyes on the end of the bridge.

  The gang appeared from the shadows just as they reached the end of the bridge. The gang started to spread out across the road in front of them when an ear-splitting shriek filled the air. Everyone covered their ears and turned this way and that, trying to find the source. The gang of boys hollered something and ran off. Then the shrieking stopped.

  Waiting for a moment to see if it started again, the three slowly lifted their fingers from their ears and lowered their hands. They heard a sigh nearby and saw a policeman laying against the stone wall of the bridge. He’d been badly beaten and his face was so swollen he could hardly open his eyes.

  They ran to him and fell to their knees around him. There didn’t seem to be much they could do for him. In his hands was a large whistle, which was on a string around his neck. He looked at Darlene and weakly raised the hand with the whistle in it and held it toward her.

  Darlene looked at him, touched the whistle and pointed to herself. He nodded his head slightly. His hand started shaking as Darlene picked up the whistle, gently pulled the string up and over the policeman’s head, and put it around her own neck. The policeman gave a small grunt of satisfaction and closed his eyes. A moment later he opened them and waved his arm to indicate they should go. He settled back against the stone wall and closed his eyes again.

  “Danke” Darlene said, as Carl pulled her to her feet and they took off after Friedric.

  The houses on this side of the river were larger and farther apart. Some had been burned and most had doors and windows smashed to pieces. People were loading belongings into cars and leaving, and groups of people roamed looking for trouble. They were looked at with hostility and anger, and Darlene realized people thought they were a roving gang looking for trouble. She stopped looking at the people and just kept moving forward.

  After several blocks they came to a viaduct where several train tracks ran parallel like a belt holding in the city. Across it they could see farm fields. A street crossed over it on an overpass about every 6 blocks. The first one they came to was blocked with cars, and men sitting on top of them with sticks. They ran several blocks to the next one and found the same thing. The third time they approached the overpass hidden by a row of bushes on the edge of a yard. They peered through the leafless branches and saw that this one, too, was blocked by a mean-looking gang of men.

  Friedric made motions to them, but they weren’t quite sure what the plan was. They finally figured out Friedric wanted to make a distraction and let Carl and Darlene climb down the bank, run across the tracks, and up the bank on the other side. They’d have to go over a fence on both sides, but it looked do-able.

  Carl didn’t want Friedric to risk himself for them and at first refused.

  “You… go to home.” Friedric said in broken English. He was searching for words and waved his hand in a circle, encompassing the city. “Mein home. Gott bless.”

  He jumped up without warning, ran back the way they came, circled the house and approached the street away from them so they wouldn’t be detected. Carl helped Darlene over the first fence and they hunkered in the shadows.

  Shouts and taunts came from the street, and the men on the cars jumped to their feet. Raising their sticks they advanced. Carl and Darlene raced down the bank, ran stumbling over three sets of railroad tracks, and up the other bank. Carl grabbed Darlene and practically threw her over the fence. As he was climbing over she looked over to the bridge. One of the men had looked back and saw them, yelling to his friends. They looked back and forth between Friedric and the two climbing the fence. Friedric turned and ran with a litheness they couldn’t believe after the long night. The mob roared and ran back onto the overpass, but their own barrier of cars slowed them down as they scrambled over, and Carl and Darlene were out of earshot before they got to the end of the bridge.

  Listening for the sound of a pursuit that never came, they ran through the field. The grass was wet from the snowfall the day before. It had mostly melted and everything was soaked, including Carl and Darlene by the time they ran out onto a country road. They began briskly walking, and at first they hid in the roadside bushes when anyone passed. Before long they quit doing that and just walked. No one looked at them. All seemed intent on getting where they were going. They passed a small house along the road, and a big bushy man with an angry look glared from the front step. A large dog sat beside him.

  The next two houses they passed had been burned. Carl stopped at the second one and walked toward the smoldering ruins.

  “What are you doing?” Darlene asked in a voice that indicated she thought he was nuts. “It’s burned, there’s not going to be anything we can use. Or eat, for that matter.”

  “I know. But I just feel like there’s something here we can use.” Carl circled the ruins and took a stick and began poking near the back. He turned over a few charred boards, pulling them out of the way. Then he reached down into the twisted mass and pulled out a piece of metal.

  “A-Ha!” He exclaimed victoriously. “It’s a knife! The handle has burned off but the blade part is fine!” He picked up a piece of clothing from a heap of clothes that had been tossed clear of the fire. He tore off a strip and wrapped it around the blade. Then he put it in a pouch on his daypack.

  Darlene shook her head as she followed him back to the road, but she admired his resourcefulness.

  They crossed stream after stream on bridges so close they might have made one bridge and just been done with it. The streams became wider and they realized they were canals. The smell of water was strong in the air, and soon they could hear the screech of seagulls.

  “There it is,” Carl pointed as cranes and stacks of shipping containers appeared in the distance. As they got closer chain link fence lined both sides of the road, and trash and litter had blown against it. A black car followed by a truck appeared suddenly behind them and roared on by, making Carl and Darlene jump to the edge of the road. A minute later they heard a siren and a police car went by.

  The road forked and they followed the right fork, then turned on a narrow street that cut through the stacks of shipping containers. Their eyes flicked toward a flash of movement as someone ahead of them ducked to the side, seemingly right through the fence. They walked slower as they approached the spot, and came to another intersection.

  Standing in the middle of the intersection they looked all directions. There were people everywhere they looked, hurrying toward the river. They chose to keep going straight on the street they were on.

  Footsteps sounded behind them and they turned to see a man and woman jogging toward them. Carl pulled Darlene toward the side of the road and behind him, keeping a few feet away from the fence
.

  “Please, is this the way to the water front?” the man asked as they neared and slowed their pace. They stayed to the far side of the road. The words were spoken clear and choppy but did not have a German accent. In fact, it sounded pretty American.

  “Oh, god! Are you Americans?” Darlene cried.

  ‘Yes! Yes, we are!” both answered. “We’re hoping to find a ship headed to North America so we can get home!”

  “We are too!” Carl said. “I’m Carl, and this is my wife, Darlene!”

  “Dennis, and Katy,” the man said, stepping over and offering his hand. The men shook hands and the women gave each other frightened but reassuring smiles.

  “Come on, let’s go find a ship,” Carl said, feeling braver with more numbers on his side. They headed toward the docks at a fast walk. The breeze picked up and smelled both salty and rank. Soon they could see water between the buildings and shipping containers, and then ships!