I was in a basement, darkness all around me. The wooden cellar door creaked open, flooding the pit I stood in with the morning sun. A young schoolgirl stuck her arm down, beckoning me to grab it.
“The bombs have stopped, we need to get to school Walther!” She said, cheerfully.
I smiled, grabbing her hand and she pulled me up. It was the last summer day in 1945, but yet her smile was warmer still.
I jolt awake, taken from my sweetest memory in dream form. It was a damn train horn that brought me back to reality. The machine roared, clattering noisily on the rails. The diesel engine shooting out a constant trail of black smoke as it cut through the lightly snowed tracks. I can deal with the predictable loud thunking, but Mein Gott, the lack of a functioning heater in my car? No, I didn’t need more stress. When her last letter came, I knew I had to go over. Her cancer made her unable to travel far.
I am running out of time, she is dying and with the mail they intercepted, they know what I am going to do. I roll my shoulders, sinking deeper into my old greatcoat, the large raised lapels running into my glasses.
I heard a snicker, instinctively I glanced across to the woman who made the noise. She looked no older than 17, pale, a bright yellow scarf wrapped tightly around her neck, covering half her face. She had to be freezing.
“Where are you heading to? I’ve been meaning to ask, but you’ve been asleep for most of the journey.” The girl asked.
“Berlin, I am uh…meeting someone. It’s for something important.” I shouted over the train, and my cold weather clothing that covered most of my mouth and grey beard.
“Really? Important huh? Something to do with your work?” She smiled, as if egging me to talk to her more. She must be bored.
“No no, nothing that important, I teach music at Leipzig University.” I adjusted my seating, as I try to fight off the cold and have a polite conversation with her. I went to check my watch, at the very least it will last no longer than 5 minutes before we arrive in Berlin.
“Liepzig University? You mean Karl Marx University, right?” She arched an eyebrow, frowning slightly.
“Yes..yes, Karl Marx University, they renamed it when the soviets came in, after the war.” I sighed as I dismissively blurted out. Looking back to her, I was caught off guard by her serious expression.
Silence, it was there for maybe 20 seconds but it dragged on and on, then the squeal of the train brakes cut through the tension, we were arriving at the station.
“I see.” She was now strangely focused, sizing her up, I felt a sense of dread building. I may have made a poor decision. I should’ve just stayed quiet.
I stood up hastily, grabbing my suitcase. As I walked into the corridor, I heard the girl yelling from the car “He’s in car number 7! Exiting now!” Before I could even make the connection in my mind, I was greeted by a pair of men dressed in grey uniforms, blocking me at the platform. The older of the two spoke up, in a faux friendly tone.
“Ah Herr Kühn, welcome to Friedrichstraße station. I am Hauptmann Schwartz and my companion is Oberleutnant Heigel. I see you have met our mutual friend, Frau Gentz, on the train. Please let my comrade help you with your bag.” He smiled, but it did little to hide the contempt in his voice.
“Your informants are getting younger and younger each year.” Reluctantly I handed over my suitcase to the other man, who took it with a stern look on his face. Had they girl been following me the whole time? Was she trying to confirm my identity as their target?
“Very good, Herr Kühn. As you have correctly surmised, we are from Stasi. and we would like to have a chat.” The whole preamble rolled off his tongue very smoothly, he must have done this a thousand times by now. “It is regarding some very concerning letters you have been sending to a certain ‘Irma Koch’. If you would follow me to my office sir.” He led the way, the other officer behind me, not letting me out of his sight.
They took my sheet music, no matter, I can still recite the song I wrote for her from memory. She always liked my music and it would cheer her up in her hospital bed. Knowing that calmed me a little. Following the man, I started looking around the busy station and tried to find a gap.
“The old man wants to run.” The man behind me called out.
“I-I’m 55, I can’t run for long.” I stammer.
“56, your birthday passed last week.” The man leading us said, without looking back.
“You know a lot about me, Hauptmann.” I say with what little defiance as I can muster.
“Yes, we would be bad state police if we didn’t, ja? I know you have been talking to your friend in West Berlin, I know you grew up there. But times are different now, better now. And no matter what, you can never go home, not anymore.” Schwartz said casually “Should’ve left in ‘52, traitor.” the man behind me hissed.
I was about to answer and resign myself to a hasty interrogation at their headquarters and be summarily shot. But it was then I noticed we had entered a large crowd of would be travelers. Families and individuals stuck on the eastern side of the city when the walls came up, like me, saying goodbye to their western family members and friends.
I ducked into the large crowd, pushing my way past the small sea of families. I know the station well, I thought. I had studied the floor plans of the ground level platforms well. It cost me 2 months worth of state rationed cigarettes, but it would be worth it now. The men who would’ve been my executioners shouted from behind me, I was losing them.
I used my shoulder to cut through as many people as I could, pushing and shoving desperately, my mind raced, flooded with thoughts. Irma would be waiting for me at the site of the old cellar.
Was it still a cafe? Did it go out of business in the last 3 decades since I last saw Irma’s house, on the day the wall went up, was it in ‘52?
I was panting, my lungs on fire, even as I heaved my chest, taking in large ragged breaths of the bitterly cold winter air. My legs burning, my loafers clacking on the smooth tile of the station as I ran past people. The heavy thud of the Stasi boots followed closely behind. My ears ringing as the blood flooded to my legs. I could hear one of them shouting “Halt!”. No more, I was dead either way. I might as well try to go home, go to see my love, Irma, in her time of need.
It was then I saw it, the place where the building ended, I could see the snow covered ground outside. Was I in West Berlin? I mustered what little strength I could. Was I going to see an American Soldier? Would they defend me? Or was I in the British sector? I felt the cold snow hitting my face, as I looked up, wanting to see the bright lights of the western half.
My gaze was met with a familiar grey, blocks and blocks of state housing, converted buildings; I was still in the east, in my scramble for freedom I didn’t realize I had run the wrong way, I never even passed the passport checkpoints–
A searing pain came from my gut, it was like I had been punched, jerking my torso forward ever so slightly. I looked down, my turtleneck had a growing red spot, blood; I had been shot, I think.
I turned around briefly. I saw the two men from before, their grey uniforms ruffled up from the chase, pistols drawn. It was the other man that had shot me, Heigel I think his name was? I turned around to try to walk away from the men.
Another shot echoed, the screams of the men and women around me dulled as I felt my legs give out. Scheiße. I crashed into the snow beneath me, face first. Where was I shot the second time? Time seemed to slow down as I felt the pain of the weight of the world crashing into me.
Verdammt. I took breaths, I was wheezing, loudly enough for me to notice, It was my lung, left side, I guess. This is how it ends? I didn’t even die on the right side of Berlin. I must be the worst escapee these men have seen.
I try to hum the tune I wrote for Irma. Nothing. I try again. Only blood sputtered from my lips, Scheiße.
Cold, it’s so cold.
Cold.
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