by Felice Arena
‘For us?’ Peter says.
‘You, me, whoever!’ says Otto. ‘Don’t think for one second this isn’t still a crazy and dangerous idea, but sometimes it’s the crazy and dangerous ideas that give us the most hope, right?’
Peter notices a small duffel bag filled with tools beside Otto.
‘What kind work do you do?’ Peter asks.
‘I’m an apprentice carpenter, but right now I’ve been conscripted to carry and lay bricks. Look, Peter, if this is going to work we have got to get a move on. Time is against us. I’ve heard that the government is planning to put barbed wire on the rooftops. They’re even planning to demolish entire buildings.’
‘How do you know all this?’
‘I heard it on the construction site.’
‘Construction site?’ Peter repeats. ‘What are you building?’
‘What d’ya think?’ says Otto. ‘Die Mauer – the Wall.’
Der Pfeil
THE ARROW
When it’s time to go and wave to his parents, Peter leaves Otto still working. On his way down the stairwell he spots Elke standing at the door of an apartment. He steps back and hides behind a column.
Elke hasn’t seen him. She’s talking to someone in the doorway. She pulls two halves of a broken arrow from inside her shirt.
‘Look, Mama! I broke it. It snapped in two when it hit the target. Must’ve been faulty to begin with. I’ve only got one left,’ she says. ‘I’m getting so much better, though. Papa will be proud of me.’
‘Shhh! Come inside,’ Elke’s mother says, pulling her in and closing the door behind them.
An arrow? Peter wonders as he hurries down the stairwell and steps out on to the street. Who has arrows? Maybe she’s in an archery club. It can’t be an escape plan – what kind of verrückt, crazy, escape would involve an arrow?
On his way to Invalidenstrasse, Peter is almost knocked over by a group of university students charging past him. They’re running in the direction of the nearest border checkpoint.
‘What’s going on?’ Peter calls out after them.
No one answers him, so he takes chase until he catches up with them.
‘What’s going on?’ Peter asks again, running in step with one of the students. ‘Has someone escaped?’
‘No! The opposite!’ pants the student. ‘Someone tried to climb over and was shot. And he’s been left to bleed to death on the barbed wire.’
Peter slows to a stop and watches the students run off into the distance. He wants to know if it’s true, but he doesn’t really want to see it. Knowing for sure that someone has been killed for trying to escape unnerves him. He slowly turns and heads back towards Invalidenstrasse.
When Peter reaches the checkpoint, he sees that the border police have cordoned off a larger zone around the barbed-wire barrier. Peter is now standing farther back from where he stood the last time, but he can still see people over in the West. He scans the crowd and spots his father standing on the base of a lamppost waving frantically.
Peter’s heart races. Good idea! he thinks, taking his father’s lead and climbing onto the base of a nearby lamppost. He waves back.
Then Peter’s father jumps down and his mother appears in his place. Peter catches his breath. He waves to her and she blows kisses back in his direction. They hold up Margrit, who waves and yells something he can’t hear.
‘I’ve got to get over there.’ Peter sighs, feeling more determined than ever.
‘Herunterkommen! Get down from there!’ one of the guards orders, marching up to the lamppost.
Peter does as he’s told.
‘Move on!’ the guard demands.
‘But my parents are over there,’ Peter says. ‘I just want to see them.’
‘I don’t care,’ the guard says coldly. ‘Hau ab! Get moving!’
Peter cranes his neck to catch a glimpse of his parents one last time before he turns away.
Walking home he takes a detour through Elke’s neighbourhood to look out for the pigeons. He spots Elke disappearing through the front archway of an abandoned building.
The city is dotted with buildings like these. Damaged by shooting and bombs during the war and never repaired. Waiting to be demolished, they’re just part of the drab landscape.
What’s she up to now? he thinks. He crosses the street and walks through the archway that leads into the courtyard in the middle of the big square building. There’s rubbish and junk everywhere. Peter tiptoes around the garbage, trying not to make a sound. He freezes when a rat crosses his path.
When Peter steps out into the courtyard, he sees Elke. She has her back to him. The ground is completely overgrown with weeds and grass and the high walls of the abandoned building loom on all four sides.
He steps back into the shadows and watches Elke. She’s holding a bow and eyeing a large square plank of wood propped up against the wall on the other side of the courtyard. It’s covered with chalk-drawn circles and a bullseye.
Peter watches as Elke positions her body, her feet shoulder-width apart. She points the bow towards the ground and attaches the back of the arrow to the centre of the bowstring. She holds the arrow on the string with three fingers, raises the bow, pulls back on the string and points the arrow at the plank of wood.
After a second, she releases her grip and in a flash the arrow shoots across the courtyard and hits the target with a loud thump.
Elke has hit a bullseye!
She looks pretty pleased with herself as she punches her fist above her head.
Peter hears some boys outside on the street shouting to each other. Oma and Opa are probably wondering where I am, he thinks. He leaves Elke to her bow and arrow.
Before going home, though, Peter makes one more stop – at Hubert’s place. He’s not sure whether to tell him off for giving Oma the money or thank him.
When the Ackermann’s apartment door swings open, Hubert’s mother is standing there. She looks distressed.
‘Oh, it’s you, Peter.’ Wiping away her tears, Frau Ackermann steps aside and ushers Peter into the hall. ‘I thought it was the police. Hubert!’
Hubert runs from his room and hugs Peter tightly. He’s crying and can hardly speak.
Peter is stunned. He’s never seen his friend crying before. ‘What’s going on?’
‘It’s Ralf,’ Hubert sobs. ‘He’s dead. They shot him trying to escape over the barrier.’
Schmerzen
PAIN
Peter is playing with the food on his plate. He doesn’t feel like eating. No one he knows has died before. Seeing Hubert and his mother in such pain has made him miss his family even more.
‘Hubert’s poor mother,’ says Oma, taking Opa’s plate from the table. ‘I told you they mean business.’
Opa grunts. Peter looks at him. His brow is furrowed. He appears angry and upset.
‘Again …’ he begins to slur. ‘Never learn,’ he manages to say.
‘Oh, Ernst, mein Schatz,’ says Oma, sitting next to him and holding his hand, comforting him. ‘Peter, go get some coal. I’ll heat up some water for Opa’s bath.’
Peter grabs the tin buckets from under the sink. He walks the five floors down to the basement and fills the buckets with coal. His arms strain as he slowly carries them back up the stairs.
They’re lucky. Most homes in his building don’t have a toilet, but at least every floor has a toilet block for the residents. As for their bathtub, well, ‘That’s a luxury!’ Oma always says.
Once back in the apartment Peter shovels coal into the bottom of the stove, and Oma places a large pot of water on one of the hot plates. When the water is heated, Oma and Peter carefully carry the pot and pour it into the bathtub.
‘All right, you help Opa undress,’ Oma instructs. She runs her fingers through the water. ‘That’s warm enough. Slowly now.’
Oma leaves the room, and Peter takes his opa’s left arm, placing it around his neck, and puts his arm around Opa’s waist.
‘That’
s it, Opa,’ Peter says, lifting Opa’s motionless right leg. He lowers it into the tub. Opa sits on the edge of the bath and hoists his left leg in. He slides into the water, exhaling deeply.
‘Schön warm, nicht wahr? Nice and warm, huh?’ says Peter, sponging water onto his opa’s shoulders.
Peter is considering telling Opa about his plan, but he’s distracted by the cross-hatch of deep scars across his grandfather’s back. He has never thought much about them before – they’re just a part of Opa – but now he realises they must have been from his time in the Soviet camp.
‘Opa, what did they do to you?’ Peter asks. He reaches out to touch Opa’s back.
Opa pulls away and frowns.
‘I’m sorry,’ Peter says, quickly dunking the sponge back into the bathwater.
Opa seems upset, as if he had forgotten they were there and Peter has reminded him. But after a few minutes he turns his face to Peter.
‘Punish … ment,’ he slurs. ‘For trying … to es-cape.’
Peter feels his stomach tied up in knots.
‘Nicht flüchten! No escaping … Ralf …’ Peter sees tears come to his opa’s eyes. ‘Not you,’ he says. ‘Not you.’
Peter sighs. ‘No, Opa, not me.’
Later that night, Peter lies motionless in his bed staring at the ceiling. He can’t stop thinking of Ralf and wondering what he felt, slumped over the wire and left to die. He had everyone here, but he was still pre-pared to risk his own life for freedom.
I have Opa and Oma. Am I really going to risk my life?
Peter searches for an answer, but his head sinks deeper into his pillow and he dozes off …
Flying.
Birdlike.
Feathered arms.
Flapping.
Overjoyed.
Over buildings.
Over the Wall.
Goodbye, East
Hello, West.
He soars.
He glides.
And below.
Looking up.
His family.
His father.
His sister.
His mother.
‘Peter!’ she calls.
But then …
Guns fire.
Bullets whiz.
They hit.
They sting.
They pierce Peter’s wings.
And he begins to fall.
And fall.
And fall.
‘Peter!’ screams his mother.
‘Peter!’
Peter jolts up out of his sleep. He hears Oma crying out to him. ‘Peter! Peter! Peter!’ And his opa’s slurred attempts to call his name.
He springs out of bed and runs to his grandparents’ bedroom.
Oma is on the floor clasping her back. Opa is moaning, struggling to get out of bed – desperately trying to get to her.
‘It’s my back,’ Oma groans. ‘I was helping your opa to roll over. Bitte, Peter, get me a hot-water bottle. The coals should still be warm enough to boil some water.’
Peter carefully helps Oma up and back into bed. She grimaces in pain. He finds the oval-shaped metal bottle and fills it with hot water. He gently places it against Oma’s lower back.
She sighs with relief.
Peter wonders what they would do without him. Who would be here to help if he’d gone with his parents to the West that day? Who will be here to help, when he escapes?
Die Zeit vergeht
RUNNING OUT OF TIME
Peter leaves early. He writes a note saying he’s going to collect bottles for the recycling centre and puts it on the kitchen table for Oma to find.
As he leaves, he looks out for the two men in a car parked outside his building, the ones that Frau Roeder told Oma about. But they are nowhere to be seen, and the street looks deserted.
Outside Hubert’s building Peter spots a policeman. He’s talking to a mother pushing a pram – and making silly expressions at the baby who’s giggling.
The officer is a tall skinny man with enormous bushy eyebrows, even bushier than Opa’s. They’re so big that Peter finds it difficult to look anywhere else – they look like two dancing hairy caterpillars.
‘What are you staring at?’ the policeman says.
‘Nothing, but you have the perfect face to make babies laugh,’ says Peter. He quickly edges around the officer and the mother and pram.
‘Wise guy, eh? You’re just lucky I’m in a good mood this morning, boy,’ says Officer Eyebrows. ‘Otherwise I’d lock you up for disrespecting an official of the state. Now scram!’
Peter runs off and doesn’t stop until he reaches Elke’s building. On the rooftop he says hello to the pigeons toddling about in the coop. Peter reaches in and gently picks up Felix – his favourite. He cradles him and pats him softly. Felix coos loudly and nudges his small head against Peter’s thumb.
‘They’re happy to see you. Especially Felix.’
Peter jumps in surprise. Otto is standing at the edge of the roof looking out over the Wall.
‘I didn’t see you there! You’re not working today?’ Peter asks, noticing some new materials on the roof. ‘What’s with the two large planks of wood? And the canvas sheet? And the pots of plants?’
‘I’m working later,’ Otto says. ‘If we’re going to build a glider right here in the open, we’ll need a place to hide it. So I’m going to build a garden bed … well, make it look as if I’m building a garden bed. We’ll hide the construction of the glider under the canvas and place the two wooden planks and pot plants on top. People believe everything they read, so we’ll put up a sign saying Garden under Construction or something like that.’
‘Well, you’ve really thought this through.’ Peter grins, once again impressed.
‘We have to be more careful,’ Otto says, taking Felix from Peter and placing him back in the coop with the other pigeons. ‘Did you hear about the student yesterday? Shot dead and left to die on the barbed wire.’
Peter sighs heavily. ‘I know him. I mean, I knew him.’
‘Really? I’m sorry,’ says Otto, turning his back on Peter and looking out over the city again. He doesn’t say anything else and the silence feels awkward.
‘Um, Otto?’ Peter says. ‘You okay?’
Otto spins round. ‘Look, Peter, this might be getting too dangerous. Perhaps we should reconsider,’ he says. ‘I figure we have a couple of days at most before this whole area is totally secured. And to be honest, I don’t know if it will work. We don’t even have the right material to stretch over the glider frame –’
‘No!’ Peter cuts Otto off. ‘No! Don’t say that. It can work. It has to work. You said so yourself. You drew out plans and everything. Plus this garden bed cover-up is just brilliant. And, well, just tell me what sort of material we need and I’ll find it. What about that canvas or a bed sheet?’
‘Cotton’s heavy and rips too easily. Otto Lilienthal did use cotton-linen for his flights. But he had a long launch pad, running down hills for take-off. With only fifteen metres to run before the jump, we need a fabric that’s light but strong enough to capture the airstream underneath it. Maybe silk.’
‘Silk? Where are we going to get silk?’ Peter asks.
Otto sighs again and shrugs.
But Peter is determined not to give up.
Peter’s mind races as he steps out on to the street. As he’s about to set off, a boy on a bike rides past. It’s Max.
Peter looks down and marches along quickly, hoping Max doesn’t spot him.
But he does. At least he appears to be alone this time. He circles back to ride just behind Peter. ‘What are you up to? Who do you know lives in this neighbourhood, rat?’
‘Leave me alone, Max,’ Peter says. ‘We used to be friends, but now you’re treating me as if I’m the enemy.’
Max just sneers. ‘You are the enemy.’
‘Wirklich? Really, Max? We’ve known each other since we were little. This is crazy!’
‘I heard about Hubert’s brother,’ M
ax says. ‘That’s what you deserve when you’re a traitor. I thought Hubert was my friend but his family were always against the government. I’m glad they caught Ralf. All deserters should be shot.’
Peter stops dead in his tracks. Max has to slam on his brakes so that he doesn’t run into him. Peter gives Max the dirtiest of looks and for a moment Max appears petrified. He knows he’s gone too far.
Peter stares at him in disgust. ‘Do you seriously believe that?’ he asks, coldly. ‘Do you really think another human being should die for wanting a better life?’
The question throws Max off. He stutters to find the right comeback.
Peter shakes his head and walks on. ‘You really are a Schwachkopf,’ he says. ‘A total blockhead!’
Max doesn’t follow, but he shouts out after him. ‘I know you’re up to something.’
Peter pretends he hasn’t heard. He won’t give Max the satisfaction of seeing how that has rattled him. With Max snooping around and the Wall getting stronger, Peter knows time really is running out.
Goldene Zwanziger
THE GOLDEN TWENTIES
Peter loiters around the Invalidenstrasse checkpoint hoping to see his family over in the West. But the barbed wire has been replaced with large concrete blocks. It’s now almost impossible to see anyone.
When he turns into the street where he spotted Elke practising her archery skills, he decides to revisit the abandoned building to see if she’s there.
She isn’t. So when Peter steps into the courtyard he makes his way over to the target board.
She’s really good, he thinks, impressed by the dents directly around the bullseye. But why? Who even does this?
Peter takes a closer look at the target. He pulls it towards him and spots something behind it. It’s Elke’s bow and arrow.
She could’ve found a better hiding place, he thinks, picking them up.
Peter walks back across the courtyard.
