by Felice Arena
His mind is on Otto. How could he lie to me like that? he thinks, his shoes pounding hard on the pavement. He stole my idea!
They reach the building, and Peter charges up the stairwell. He bursts through the door onto the rooftop to see Otto standing there underneath a canopy of vibrant yellow, caught in the breeze.
The glider looks magnificent. Its bamboo frame is pointing in the direction of the border building. Otto appears to be using all the strength in his legs to stay in one place and is struggling to hold onto the crossbar below the frame. The strong breeze is making the fabric ripple. Otto’s arms are looped in leather straps and he’s poised as if he’s ready to run and jump.
‘No!’ Peter shouts. ‘Stop! Don’t!’
Otto is startled to see Peter. ‘Leave me alone, Peter,’ he orders.
‘You can’t do this to me,’ Peter cries, rushing over and standing in front of Otto. ‘You lied to me. You used me.’
‘I built it,’ Otto growls. ‘You could never have done this on your own. And you have your grandparents here. I have no one.’
‘But you said it was a stupid idea … that it wouldn’t work. Please don’t do this to me.’
‘It was a stupid idea, Peter. But I made it better. Feel that wind? It’s so strong. It’s the lift I need to make this jump. Now stand back!’
Peter tries to grab at Otto, but he pushes him away. Peter stumbles backwards.
Otto takes a few steps back to take his run-up.
‘Peter! Otto!’ Elke cries, reaching the rooftop. ‘The Stasi! Mama says they’re out on the street. They’re searching the apartments. They’re heading this way.’
Peter is in such a panic, he can hardly think straight.
‘Look after my pigeons, Peter,’ Otto pleads.
Peter glances up to see the pigeons circling above. They appear bewildered and disorientated, as if they can somehow sense the confusion playing out on the rooftop.
‘Please, move out of my way,’ Otto begs.
‘I’m not letting you jump,’ Peter cries, standing firmly in front of Otto and the glider.
‘Let him go. We’ve got to leave,’ Elke pleads. ‘We’ll be safe in my apartment but they’ll lock us all up if they find us here with him.’
‘Peter!’ Otto shouts. ‘It’s my only chance to get to my father.’
Peter sees the despair in Otto’s eyes.
No one understands that feeling better than Peter.
Elke races over to him and tries to drag him away by the arm. ‘Wir müssen weg! We have to get out of here,’ she cries.
Peter lets her pull him away, and together they run to the door and down the stairs. They can hear the police charging up from below. With only seconds to spare, just as the men storm past, Peter and Elke open the door and slip into the apartment.
Elke’s mother hugs her tightly. She looks frightened and puts her finger to her lips to tell Peter to stay quiet. Peter can hear his heart pounding.
After the footsteps have passed. Peter pulls the door ajar, just a crack, and peeks out. He sees the last of the policemen disappear up the stairwell. He hears them shouting, and then … gunshots!
Peter gasps. ‘No! Otto!’
A minute later the police race back down the stairs again. But Otto isn’t with them.
‘They don’t have him,’ Peter whispers to Elke, as her mother pulls him away from the door and locks it. ‘I hope he made it. I really hope it worked.’
It’s at least an hour before Elke’s mother feels it’s safe for Peter to leave. When he steps out onto the street, he sees residents from other buildings clustered in small groups talking excitedly.
‘What’s going on?’ Peter asks a boy about his age standing nearby.
‘Someone escaped!’ the boy says. ‘Carried away by a giant yellow wing – he flew right over the border building and into the West.’
Peter’s entire body jolts. Otto actually made it. We actually did it! he thinks. But just then something else catches his eye that makes him shudder.
‘No!’ he whispers.
Wolfgang and Ludwig are lying motionless on the ground.
Pfeil und Bogen
BOW AND ARROW
Later that night Peter sits at the kitchen table, picking at another slice of cake. He’s in a daze and feels numb all over.
‘Right. Opa is tucked in bed for the night,’ Oma says. ‘Now I think I might have some more of that Kalter Hund.’
Oma grabs a fork, pulls up a chair and digs into Peter’s slice. ‘So, are you going to tell me?’ she says.
‘Huh?’ Peter says.
‘Are you going to tell me why you’re acting so strange? You rush out the door with that lovely Elke as if the building is on fire and when you come back you’re all bedrückt – gloomy and blue. What’s going on? Did she say something to hurt your feelings?’
‘No, no. It’s nothing like that,’ says Peter.
‘Then what?’ Oma presses. She leans forward and brushes Peter’s fringe out of his eyes. ‘What is it, mein Schatz?’
Peter has a strong urge to tell his oma everything, and tell her that he has no other ideas or plans. That he could never repeat what Otto did – Otto’s right that he doesn’t have the skills or the materials to build another glider. And even if he did, he couldn’t, not now that the Stasi are on high alert. He’s even more afraid that he will never see his mother and father and sister again. He can’t stop thinking about Wolfgang and Ludwig’s crumpled little bodies on the pavement and wondering where Felix is. He is desperate to tell Oma all of this, but he can’t. He doesn’t.
‘Are you feeling sad that they’re not here?’ Oma says softly. ‘Is that it?’
Peter eyes begin to sting. He’s fighting to hold back tears. I’m too old to cry, he tells himself. And maybe Max is right. Maybe I was only thinking about myself. We could all have been arrested and I could have been killed. Oma and Opa would have been left alone. I’m not a hero … I’m a rat. Maybe I deserve to feel like this.
‘If I hadn’t been so selfish that day,’ he says to Oma. ‘I’d be over there in the West with them.’
‘Oh my poor boy,’ Oma sighs, pulling Peter towards her. ‘I wish we were all there, safe and together.’
Early the next morning Peter is shocked out of a deep sleep by knocking at the door.
Opa is still asleep and Oma must be down the hall in the bathroom. Peter walks through to the kitchen in his pyjamas, his hair tussled, and opens the door. It’s Elke.
‘What are you doing here?’ he asks.
‘Where is it?’ She looks panicked.
‘Where’s what?’
‘My bow and arrow. It’s gone. You’re the only one who knew about it. So where is it? I need it back.’
‘I don’t have it,’ says Peter.
‘You must have it,’ Elke says, looking desperate. ‘You don’t understand. I need that bow and arrow. My family needs it.’
Something dawns on Peter. ‘Max!’ he says. ‘He went back to the abandoned building after seeing me leave it.’
‘Who?’ Elke says. ‘Who’s Max?’
‘Give me a minute to get changed and we’ll go get your bow and arrow,’ Peter declares. ‘Well, we’ll try to get them anyway.’
Peter and Elke hide behind a large hedge across the street from Max’s apartment building in the same neighbourhood as Elke and Otto’s.
‘Are you certain that this Max friend of yours has my bow and arrow?’ asks Elke.
‘Yes, I’m certain of it,’ says Peter. ‘But he’s no friend of mine anymore. He’d turn us in if he knew our plans, and he’d enjoy it.’
‘Do you know how lucky we are that they didn’t find us on the rooftop?’
Peter sighs heavily. ‘Do you think Otto is with his father now?’
Elke nods and smiles. ‘I hope so.’
‘Yeah, me too. I wonder if he was injured when he landed. But why did they have to shoot the pigeons?’
Elke’s mother had helped them to bu
ry Wolfgang and Ludwig in the courtyard. But there was still no sign of Felix. Peter hopes he is alive, but tries not to think of him flying around, looking for food, confused and alone.
Elke starts to say something, but then Peter points across the road. ‘There’s Max! Get down.’
They watch Max hop on his bike and ride away.
‘Right. Let’s make this quick,’ Peter says. ‘I’ve been there before, so you distract his mother and get her to move away from the door, and I’ll slip past and into Max’s bedroom, find the bow and arrow, and get the heck out of there. Got it?’
Elke nods, and the two of them cross the street.
‘Yes, can I help you?’ Max’s mother asks Elke when she opens the door.
‘Hello, I’m Max’s friend, Elke.’
Max’s mother looks happy that Max has a visitor. ‘Oh, hello, Elke. Max has never mentioned you before. Unfortunately, you’ve just missed him.’
‘I know,’ Elke says. ‘I just saw him. He borrowed a book of mine and said he left it on the kitchen table.’
‘Let me get it for you.’
‘Danke. I’ll come with you.’ Elke follows Max’s mother inside, but leaves the door ajar behind her.
As Elke and Max’s mother walk to the kitchen, Peter makes his move. He races into the apartment and straight for Max’s bedroom.
Ablenken
DISTRACTING
Peter’s heart races as he rummages around the room. It’s absolutely spotless. The bed looks as if it hasn’t even been slept in. The walls are covered with posters of astronauts and a yellow Free German Youth flag and ten-year-anniversary poster – a teenage boy and girl looking proudly off into the distance with the Soviet and German flags flapping in the wind behind them.
Peter moves to check Max’s wardrobe. When he opens it, a shoebox filled with die-cast toy airplanes topples over and hits the ground with a bang. Peter winces. He hopes Max’s mother hasn’t heard it.
He can hear Elke’s voice, making small talk and doing her best to distract Max’s mother long enough for Peter to search the room.
But the bow and arrow are not there. Peter claws through stacks of folded clothes to check the back of the wardrobe.
‘Let’s just check his bedroom,’ Peter hears Max’s mother say.
‘Oh, no, it’s all right,’ Elke calls. ‘He can keep the book if he wants …’
The doorknob turns and Peter dives for the floor, rolling underneath the bed just as Max’s mother and Elke step in.
‘It could be in here,’ says Max’s mother as she walks over to the bedside table. ‘Such a mess,’ she says, picking up a few of the toy airplanes.
Peter holds his breath as he watches their feet. Then he notices something. Lying there right under his nose is Elke’s bow and arrow. He grins.
‘Well, it doesn’t look like it’s in here,’ Max’s mother says. ‘Are you sure he said he’d leave it for you?’
‘Um, come to think of it, I’m not sure if he said pick it up today or tomorrow,’ Elke says, her voice cracking with nerves. ‘He was on his bike and riding so fast. Maybe I misunderstood him. Anyway, I better get going. I’ll come back when he’s here … if that’s all right?’
‘Of course, my dear. I must say it’s nice to see that my Max is starting to make friends with girls. Before I know it he’ll be a man and starting a family of his own.’
‘Um, all right then,’ Elke says, obviously not sure how to respond to that.
Peter has to stop himself laughing. And I thought Opa was embarrassing! he thinks.
‘Could I possibly have a glass of water before I leave?’ Elke asks.
‘Of course. Come with me.’
As Elke and Max’s mother make their way to the kitchen, Peter grabs the bow and arrow, crawls out from under the bed, sneaks into the hallway and bolts out of the apartment.
He waits for Elke behind the hedge across the road. A few minutes later she crosses the street.
‘Did you find it?’ she asks anxiously, stepping in behind the hedge.
Peter nods and points into the bushy branches of the hedge. ‘And I don’t think anyone saw me hide it there.’
‘Yes!’ Elke cries, hugging him. ‘What a relief!’
Peter smiles and once again feels his face flush bright red. It feels good to be hugged by Elke – but she quickly pulls away.
‘Right,’ she says, already thinking of what has to be done next. ‘We’ll keep the bow and arrow hidden here, and I’ll arrange for my uncle to come pick it up in his car. If I walk back with it I’ll draw too much attention, and I’m sure the police now have my building under surveillance. So … I guess this is where we say goodbye.’
‘Goodbye?’ Peter says. ‘What do you mean?’ Then he realises that she must mean that she’s escaping soon. ‘As in goodbye-forever goodbye?’ he asks.
Elke nods. Peter doesn’t know what to say. All he knows is that he doesn’t want her to leave.
‘I’m guessing that this bow and arrow have something to do with your plan to get to the West, right? But I can’t work out how,’ he says, trying to stall Elke for even a few more minutes. ‘How is an arrow going to help you escape?’
‘Oh, Peter.’ Elke sighs. ‘I can’t tell you that. I’m sorry. But … thank you.’
She leans forward and kisses Peter on the cheek. ‘Auf Wiedersehen,’ she says.
Peter walks aimlessly around his neighbourhood. He’s feeling empty inside, as gloomy as the grey buildings that line the street. He tries to think of other ways to escape. But he’s finding it difficult to concentrate – and no ideas come to him. He thinks of his parents and sister and wonders what they’re doing now.
When Peter gets home, Oma is at the stove boiling potatoes. Opa is at the kitchen table reading the newspaper.
‘There you are,’ Oma says. ‘You got up early this morning. Where did you go?’
‘I went to see if I could find a job …’ Peter lies, pulling up a chair and sitting down next to Opa.
Opa looks up at him and winks. He opens his hand to reveal the rubber spider.
Peter sighs. He isn’t in the mood for jokes. He shakes his head.
There’s a knock at the door. ‘Oh, Elke,’ says Oma. ‘Come in!’
‘No, thank you. I can’t stay. I just want to see Peter about something,’ she says.
Peter jumps up.
‘Excuse us, Oma,’ he says, stepping out into the hallway with Elke and closing the door behind him.
‘What are you doing here?’ Peter whispers.
‘Do you still want to get to the West? To be with your family?’ Elke says.
‘Of course I do,’ says Peter.
‘Good, then come to this address tonight at eleven-thirty,’ she says, placing a small, folded piece of paper in Peter’s hand. ‘Don’t be late!’
Elke leaves and Peter can’t believe his luck.
Flüchten
ESCAPING
Peter nervously looks at the cuckoo clock in the hallway. It’s close to 10:30pm.
This is it, he thinks, tiptoeing past his grandparents’ room.
He stops. His chest is tight. And his hands are trembling.
He wants to look in on Opa and Oma. This really might be the last time he’ll see them. But Peter can’t let this gut-wrenching thought delay him, not even for a moment. He can hear them snoring. He wants to go in and hug them and kiss them and say he’s sorry for leaving. Perhaps I could leave a note? he thinks.
But he can’t. It’s too painful. If I do, I won’t leave, he tells himself. So he takes in a deep breath, and sneaks out into the still night.
Peter jogs most of the way to Bouchéstrasse, to the address Elke gave him. And along the way he feels as if he’s in one of those dreams that could easily turn into a nightmare.
He ducks in between parked cars, slinks along walls, avoiding the street lamps, and dashes across the wide boulevards.
After almost an hour, he reaches his destination. The street runs parallel with a
dark, unguarded section of the Wall – it’s just across the street. He double checks the address and walks into the building.
‘Of course it has to be the top floor,’ he mutters as he climbs the stairs.
When Peter reaches the top of the stairwell he gently taps at the apartment door. It opens in a beat. It’s Elke.
‘You made it,’ she whispers. ‘Are you sure no one followed you?’
‘I’m sure,’ Peter says.
‘Quick. Come in.’
Peter follows Elke into the living room and finds Elke’s mother and a man standing there, looking out the open window.
‘This is my Uncle Hans,’ says Elke. ‘This is his place.’
‘I hear we have you to thank,’ Hans says, turning to shake Peter’s hand, ‘for retrieving these.’
Elke’s mother holds up Elke’s bow and arrow. ‘And if we’re ready, it’s almost time,’ she says. ‘I’ll grab the pulley and fishing line.’
‘Pulley and fishing line?’ Peter says.
Elke gestures at the window.
Over the Wall, Peter can see apartment buildings in the West, about forty metres from their building.
‘We’re going to attach a cable and then slide along it, over the wall,’ Elke explains. ‘My father is in that building directly opposite. He’s in the apartment two floors down from us. The angle is perfect. We need to be at a higher point so we can travel downwards.’
Peter looks nervously out the window at the long drop to the street. ‘It sounds dangerous.’
Elke’s mother steps in between them. ‘Probably. But we’re doing it. And we’re hoping not to get shot. Elke, get ready.’
Elke turns to Peter. ‘Have a look in my backpack, over there on the armchair,’ she says.
Peter reaches for Elke’s bag and is surprised when he hears something moving inside.
He reaches in and feels the softness of feathers. He can’t believe it! It’s a pigeon, wrapped in a tea-towel so it can’t fly away.
