Deadfall in Berlin

by Robert Alexander

  “We're almost there,” he reassured her.

  Through and around, beneath a beam. As if I'd gone over and over this path, I didn't hesitate at all. We skirted a crater, passed a wall with a window, came back around and stood in front of a rusty sheet of metal. I stopped dead. The last time we'd passed through the makeshift door there had been two Gestapo agents waiting for us. Could there be someone smoking and lurking in there again? No, I thought. Those two thugs were killed and Dieter, who'd undoubtedly told of our location, was back there with Loremarie. Still, I was afraid, as if one or more of us would enter this hovel and never emerge again.

  Wait here, I whispered to Joe in the darkness.

  I touched the sheet of metal, found it as cold as a guillotine. Just as quickly as a slicing blade, I pushed it back and dove into a sea of darkness. I didn't flounder, though, using the flashlight to cut a path of sight through the room and to the back wall. I crossed to a column at the back, bent down and found another sheet of metal, this one smaller. I shoved it aside, revealing the rucksack Mother and I had stashed here months ago. Pulling it out, I dug into it, clawed over a blanket and socks and papers and more clothing. Found matches and a candle, a thick one, and lit it. Yes, this was our hideaway, a crude shelter that was supposed to protect us from Gestapo or SS or even Russians. But friends? Mother had never said anything about a war amongst our own.

  “Okay,” I called in English.

  Carrying my mother like a forlorn lover, Joe stepped into the glow of the fat, creamy candle. She had her arms around his neck now, and nuzzled her face beneath his chin, murmured something soft and sweet.

  I dripped some wax on a rock, stuck the candle down, then pulled out the dark green blanket and opened it out over rock and dirt. Joe knelt down, spread my mother over the blanket as lovingly as if on a featherbed. I watched as he brushed her silky hair from her face, and as her hands lingered on his neck in a sleepy, lustful clasp. These two were like magnets, repelling each other one moment, desperately drawing each other together the next. And forever confusing me. What really had happened between them back before the war? A union that had produced me? Was I really all that terrible?

  Her arms tightening, I saw my half-conscious mother now trying to pull Joe down on top of her. She murmured something, and her legs shifted, widened beneath her skirt. Joe glanced at me, embarrassed by the truth so graphically demonstrated. Of course I understood. I was Willi, after all, and I had incestuous insight.

  Joe uncurled her fingers from his neck. “You need to rest, Eva,” he cooed in her ear while at the same time reaching into her coat pocket. “Don't worry, everything's going to be fine.”

  He tugged half the blanket over her, wrapped her in it, then pulled back and stood. I stared up at him. I'd thought this big, broad man was an angel tumbled from the heavens, come to save us. But could he? Could anyone?

  “We'll figure out something,” he said to me. “Can you stay and watch her?”

  I didn't respond because I honestly didn't know whether I would strike my mother or embrace her if she woke.

  He started for the opening, anyway, saying, “Don't worry, she'll be all right. I won't be gone long. Just shout if there're any problems.” He stopped. “If she asks for this, tell her I have it,” said Joe lifting the silver flask he'd taken from her coat.

  His shuffling steps faded into the night, and then I turned back to Mother. Staring down at her long, lush body, I thought how she was like Berlin, broken and ruined, something great gone terribly wrong. As if I were looking at a corpse, it struck me that I couldn't see her future, couldn't picture her tomorrow or the day after. I wasn't able even to imagine her out of this hole in the ground. My God, I sensed my hateful wish was about to come true, and I started trembling, maggots of fear starting to munch through my body and up into my mind. I had to get away from her and all this. I had to run as fast and as far as I could, not stop until I reached a place where I'd never see anything ugly again. I tried to push myself up, but my body gave out. I tried again, but couldn't rise. I had to flee but I had no strength! My arms were useless, my legs, too. I could barely move! Surging with soured emotion, I stared at Mother, knowing I was chained to her, our fates bound by an invisible cord that could never be severed. All I could do was sit there and cry. Oh, Christ, when would I be free? When would I find peace?

  In response I sensed a ghostly presence reach out and take my hand, cradle it in reassurance, and then heard, really heard, a very distant voice say: “Soon.”

  Chapter 24

  Like Mother, I fell into some deep state, a trance of sorts. Jarred by her stirring, I woke and found her shaking, the coarse wool blanket tugged up under her chin. With each moment her trembling grew more exaggerated, and yet she said nothing. She just lay there shivering before me, and I thought how it seemed like another night. My anger was gone, having burned off, evaporated into the cool night like unwanted steam. Now studying her in the candlelight, I felt something just as strongly but altogether different: pity.

  I reached out, touched her on the leg. “Are you all right, Mama?”

  She looked as pale as the waxy candle. So helpless. I knew it was up to me, that I had to do something. Make her warm again. I thought of hot coffee and fried potatoes. If only we had what Loremarie had earlier prepared. That's what Mother needed. Sustenance. Something solid and hot.

  Catching me and knocking me down like an unexpected wave, Mother gazed over at me, worry warming her face, and said, “Willichen… I'm so sorry.”

  “Mama, no, I—”

  “I've disappointed you, haven't I?”

  It frightened me that she knew the truth and stated it so boldly, yet nothing could have encouraged my love or soothed every fear more quickly. It was like she was coming back, the mother I cared for, the one I wanted, who could look so pretty and sing away war. Studying her, I caught a glimpse of that parent, the one who could see what I needed and offer it automatically. She just needed a little more rest and something pure and clean to flush away the toxins, and then everything would be the way it should!

  “I'm going to get you some water. And… and then I'll go get Joe.”

  “I'm so cold,” she mumbled, chattering beneath the blanket.

  “I'll be right back,” I said, a bizarre sense of hope rushing my heart.

  Flashlight in hand, I scrambled out, sliding the door of metal back in place, sealing Mother in, just to make sure she was hidden. I'd get her water and bring back Joe, and somehow we'd revive her. We'd get her back on her feet, help her walk. There had to be some food nearby. That would give her strength. Yes, with the cigarettes we could get bread and maybe some Bockwurst. Coffee or tea, too. Better yet, soup.

  I charged through the remains of the Schulenberg building. Bucket. I had to find a bucket. Or cup or bowl or even an old bottle. Quick, Willi, I told myself. Be quick!

  I crossed what remained of the street, found the arched entrance to a Hinterhof and ducked into the long courtyard. I climbed a tremendous pile of rubble from the collapsed buildings. My foot hit something. I pointed the light at a pot and picked it up. Poked two of my fingers through a rusty hole. No good, but that meant there might be a kitchen nearby. Or what was left of one.

  The front of the apartment building gave way to smaller houses packed in the center of the block. Spotting a door in a brick wall, I charged in. A rotting divan and a shattered rocker. I rushed into the next room. There. The rusting hulk of a coal stove. I swerved the beam back and forth, illuminating broken plates, a shoe. A fork. My heart leapt. A bucket! I seized it as if it were gold, checked. No holes!

  Rushing out, I was certain now. We could make it. I had a bucket so there was a chance after all! I even knew where to find water. Emerging on the street, I thought back to that night when Joe and I had been nearly buried alive and this neighborhood nothing but flames. I'd found a rag and soaked it in water. I turned right. The pipe was only meters away, and it was still bubbling and gurgling with life. Just wait, M
other, just wait! Everything's going to be all right!

  Entirely proud of myself, I held the bucket and let the water rush in. There'd be some for Mother to drink, and even enough to let her wash. Perhaps we could even heat some. Build a small fire or something. I had to tell Joe. He needed to know that Mother was awake, that I'd found water, that we could be on our way within minutes. Perhaps it was best if just Joe, Mother and I went. The little happy family. Loremarie was much too mad at Mother and… and so she and Dieter could go off. Do what they wanted. But the three of us, well, under the cover of darkness, we could travel far, make pretty good progress. Perhaps even make it to Potsdam tonight.

  Lugging the pail, I looked up. The sky was dark, a deep, rich navy blue. I saw stars, bunches of them spread across the vast sky like handfuls of glittery sand. It was completely clear, not a cloud spotting the sky. And the moon—I craned, couldn't see it. No. Nothing to the right, to the—It hung just between two buildings, big and white and heavy, a huge orb straining to rise over Berlin. The size of it shocked me, the biggest moon I thought I'd ever witnessed. Or perhaps it just looked that way because it was so low, the atmosphere magnifying the distant planet, fishing it out of the heavens and into the next block. At the same time I realized this was indeed the most perfect of bomber moons, offering the ideal night to wipe out the city, to blast its broken carcass into smithereens. Gazing up into the clear, still air, I imagined that a pilot could probably even see me down here, a kid running along with a clanky pail of water and a weak flashlight. We had to be fast.

  As I neared the ruins where Joe and the others were, angry voices rushed to greet and slow my pace. I heard Joe shouting, Loremarie screaming back. Dieter cursing and muttering. Only ten or fifteen meters away, I saw the windowless chamber flicker with candlelight and hatred.

  His voice charged with anger, Dieter said, “What are we supposed to do? Sacrifice our lives for hers?”

  “Of course not,” replied Joe.

  Something terribly cold and sharp hit my chest, pierced my skin and went deep into me. As if I'd been punched in the stomach, I lost my breath, came to an immediate stop. Water sloshed out of the bucket and onto the ground. They were talking about my mother. Of course they were.

  “She's a slut and liar!” shouted Loremarie.

  I stood there, struck, by the disgust boiling in her voice. But… but… Mother was awake now and…

  “Believe me, since you left, Joe, she's slept with every dog that's come along. God forgive me, but she should be shot! And it's not only because of what she did to Anton, but Erich, too!”

  “What do you mean?” asked Dieter.

  “I mean there were bombs falling all around us and she let go of her child's hand!”

  Joe moaned, “Good Lord…”

  “Scheissdreck, the stupid bitch dropped her flask and she let go of him so she could pick it up! I saw it! And after that, Erich was lost!”

  So that's how it had happened. Of course. The countess was right, I knew she was because I'd also witnessed Mother in the smoke, stumbling, lurching, and… and… I felt sick and scared. Mama had let go of my little brother and lost him in the chaos, and he couldn't run for shelter because of his leg.

  “Dear God,” cursed Dieter. “She's gotten to be too much. Just too much.”

  He said something else that I couldn't hear. Without thinking, my hand lowered the bucket of water, placed it on the uneven ground. I was like fog, slithering silently over bricks and toward the room. I had to hear what they were saying, what they were planning. A quick disposal of Mother? Perhaps a bullet in the head? And what about me? Guilty by association?

  I turned off the flashlight and crept up to a hole in the wall. And thought: I have to find out what they're going to do… can't let them hear me. No, mustn't let them know I'm out here because Dieter has a gun.

  Joe said, “I know she's out of control, but… but…”

  “Believe me, this time she's gone too far!” said Dieter. “Next time I'll be the one she betrays.”

  “That's right!” exclaimed Loremarie. “First Anton, then you!”

  Joe pleaded, “But she won't last a week if we leave her!”

  “Good!” replied Loremarie.

  “But what will Heinrich do?” asked Joe. “You know he's not going to stop looking.”

  “Of course he won't,” shouted Dieter. “And when he gets his hands on her, he'll twist her until she tells him every little sordid detail about Loremarie… and me, too! And that's not to mention you, Mister Joe.”

  Loremarie started sobbing. “Oh, if only he'd butchered her instead of Anton. We just have to forget about her and get out of Berlin—the sooner the better!”

  Dieter groaned. “That's right. We have to leave her. She's too dangerous.”

  “But… but what about Willi?” asked Joe.

  Loremarie shouted, “I don't care about anything having to do with that bitch Eva!”

  But… but I wanted to go, too! I had to go! Before the next raid and before the Russians. I couldn't just wait here! I bit my lip. My Joe and my Tante Lore and my Onkel Dieter wouldn't all abandon me, would they? Oh, mein Gott, I thought as the truth slapped me. The only way I could go with them was without Mother. But even though I'd thought it before, I really couldn't leave without her. Or could I? No, I could only leave if she were—

  “Dead,” sighed Loremarie. “Just admit it—we'd all be better off if she were dead, wouldn't we?” The pain caught, ripped like a run in a stocking, and she started crying. “I know I would. Anton loved her so much and… and she betrayed him. Give me your gun, Dieter, and I'll solve our problem right now!”

  “Loremarie!” protested Joe.

  “Come on, Dieter, just give it to me. Aren't you sick of having her wipe her feet all over you? Aren't you sick of worrying when she's going to let something slip?”

  “Stop it!” demanded Joe.

  Loremarie's laugh was as big as it was witchlike. “You're still in love with her, aren't you, Joe? Well, she'll never love you, not after what you did to her!”

  “What I did to her?” he replied. “What about what she did to me?”

  Then Dieter started shouting, going on about how he should have stopped it before it began, barking at about how stupid he'd been to let them have that room. They all three started yelling about Joe's long-ago visit to Berlin. But I didn't need to hear anymore. The danger was quite immediate and quite clear, and I turned to get away. If they saw me here, they might shoot me right on the spot. Ask no questions, just pull the trigger. I had to get back to my mother, didn't I? Didn't I have to tell her what they'd said? Warn her? Yes! I was her son and I had to warn, save her from these people who once were her friends and who now wanted to kill her! I had to be quick, so quick! There was no time. I looked up at the moon, so big and white and innocent. Oh, mein Gott, hurry, Willi, hurry!

  I clambered along, right over a pile of rubble. So quick, so quiet, until… until my right foot smacked into a big hard brick. Struck it and sent it tumbling end over noisy end, smacking and finally breaking to pieces. Shattering, it seemed as loud as a bomb. I snatched up the bucket of water, taking it in my hand and bolting as quickly as I could. Behind me, I heard voices, tight and quick. Then steps. I glanced back and saw a huge dark figure emerge from that little chamber and aim a gun in my direction. Was that Loremarie? Joe?

  “Who's there?” demanded a deep voice.

  I couldn't let them catch me! My spine tensed, certain that a bullet would spear me any second, prevent me from warning Mother. But nothing happened, and I darted to the right, around a corner, only then turning the flashlight back on. I had to race back, beat them back to the room where my mother lay, help her up. And then the two of us had to run, hide from Joe, Loremarie, and Dieter as well as Heinrich. We could do it! I'd take care of Mama!

  I looked up, saw that stupid piano up there, sitting on that ledge where no one could reach it. That's when I heard it. My mother's voice. It rose high and loud in the
night like a powerful song. I stopped dead, froze right there atop the ruins of the Schulenberg apartment house. Mama? But that wasn't a song. And if not a melody, what then, a laugh or a cry? There was something shrill and unfamiliar about it. I closed my eyes, tried to catch my breath that wanted to run away from me. I looked behind. There was no Joe or Loremarie or Dieter. So, perhaps—

  Mother's voice rose again, this time higher, longer. I could almost see it rise into the cloudless, moon-filled sky, and at first, for just a second, I was awed by its beauty. The clarity of the tone, its richness. I was momentarily happy. For an instant I was amazed by Mother's ability to create a sound so pure. But what was that? Laugh, cry, plea or what? What had happened?

  The realization hammered me, punched my gut with fear. A scream. Mother was in trouble and she was calling out, pleading for her life! Dear God, someone had her, was hurting her! Maybe Heinrich had found her, perhaps some slob was robbing and beating her! Or…or Loremarie had taken Dieter's gun, come back via another route and now she was going to shoot my mother!

  “Mama!” I cried.

  I darted over the Schulenberg rubble, down toward the room where I'd left her. Water sloshed back and forth, up and out, over my pants and on the ground. Cutting the route short, I climbed through a window with no glass, jumped through to the other side. The bucket caught on a nail, and I let it drop to the ground, where it struck brick, crashed like a cymbal, tipped and clanged its way down the slope.

  “Mama!”

  I shouldn't have left her. I was supposed to be the good son, the little soldier, there to protect. But I'd left and now someone was hurting her. I heard her voice again, a scream? No, weaker, more like a moan. Oh, God, had someone struck her or stabbed her? Was she lying in a pool of blood? Mama!

  The metal door was hurled to the side. I rushed in. Empty. The dark green wool blanket had been thrown back, crumpled to the side. The fat candle burned steady and unblinking. Off to the side a cigarette sat perched on a rock, burning calmly all on its own. A cigarette? Mother didn't have any cigarettes, did she? So whose was that? Who had been here?