Chapter Eleven #2
Sam turned his back to her and stared up at the sky. The planes had left an eerie void outside that had yet to be filled.
‘The planes have changed since I was captured,’ he mused. ‘America wasn’t even in the war. All those men up there, risking their lives, and I have done nothing but think about my next meal.’
‘I am glad you spent most of your time in a camp and not fighting. I don’t think I could be with you if I knew you had killed.’
He turned to her, surprised. ‘I have killed, Elsa. And I was glad to do it. It was either them or me.’
‘I don’t believe you were glad to do it.’
He turned away and stared out of the window. ‘You know what I mean.’
She came and stood beside him. ‘Yes, I know what you mean.’
Another ominous hum grew in the sky, but this time the planes remained in the distance, the pilots oblivious to the fact their route was being observed by such an unlikely alliance.
Soon explosions peppered the horizon, lighting up their targets in a frenzy of exploding fire.
Then a slight pause, just long enough to draw breath, before the next light show began.
Chaotic eruptions chased after the planes, lighting the sky, and leaving fires that spread in soft amber and blood-red hues.
‘It’s hard to believe people are dying right in front of us.
I convince myself they are all safe, but I know some are not.
I have seen these raids too many times of late.
I worry sometimes about how little I feel now.
’ Elsa looked at Sam. ‘I am afraid I have become cold-hearted and only worry about my own life. Am I cold-hearted, Sam? Maybe I don’t have a heart at all? ’
‘We have all seen too much.’ Sam took her hand in his. ‘I’m convinced you still have a heart. It might be bruised, it might be battle weary, but who can come out unscathed from war?’
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘Because if you didn’t have a heart, Elsa . . . you wouldn’t feel the need to question your ability to care at all.’
* * *
Elsa woke suddenly to the sound of the main door opening and male voices below them.
She nudged Sam awake. His sleepy smile quickly faded when he heard the voices too.
He signalled for her to wake Klara and by the time the first saw burst into life, Elsa, Klara and Sam were running through the pine forest, hand in hand, leaving their temporary home far behind.
The forest thickened, long, slender, straight trunks stretching skywards.
The canopy of branches was heavy with pine needles and swallowed up any light that attempted to filter through.
The light-starved lower branches stuck out, naked and shrivelled, high above them as they navigated their great trunks below.
The ground was soft but firm, thanks to the continually renewed carpet of dead pine needles, and made a pleasant change as it cushioned each weary footfall and gave a gentle spring to their steps as well as their spirits.
They had walked for almost an hour when Elsa stopped and finally blurted out what she had ignored — or at least had tried to.
‘I have to . . . stop.’
Sam turned to look at her with eyes that were so dark brown that she thought at times they appeared almost black. ‘Why?’
Heat swept over her cheeks as instant as a fireball. Did he really need her to spell it out? ‘I need to . . .’
‘Need to what?’
She gritted her teeth, wondering if he was finding some pleasure in teasing her. ‘Go to the toilet,’ she whispered furiously.
Needing to go to the toilet had never bothered her before, but now she had come to know Sam — like him — she found herself feeling coy about the subject.
‘Oh!’ He flustered endearingly. ‘Do you want me to stand guard?’
And listen? Absolutely not!
‘No.’
‘I’d turn my back,’ he added as an afterthought.
‘No!’ Her voice softened. ‘I don’t think that will be necessary. If you could look after Klara and this.’
He braced his shoulders and took what was offered. The significance was not lost on him. ‘You trust the enemy to look after your food rations. I’m impressed,’ he teased.
‘I’m desperate.’ She looked around for somewhere to hide. ‘I’ll just take a short walk.’ She waved her hand vaguely to her right. ‘Over there somewhere. Not far.’
Sam looked in the opposite direction, but not before she caught a glimpse of his smile. ‘We’ll walk over there and search for berries . . . or something.’
She explained to Klara and the little girl obediently followed him.
‘Thank you,’ she blurted out.
He turned and gallantly tilted his head.
‘I think you are enjoying this.’
‘We’ll meet again in five minutes,’ Sam replied, chuckling.
Elsa sidled away, relieved she had finally broached the subject.
She walked further than she said she would, thanks to the fear he would see her hitching up her skirt and crouching like an animal.
It suddenly mattered very much how he viewed her, and being ungainly, ungraceful, unfeminine, was very high up on her list of things that she wanted to avoid.
Several times she turned, and although reassured to see their figures in the distance, she was relieved when they finally disappeared from view.
She selected a suitable tree to hide behind and, for a short while, embraced the solitude she found there.
The stress and strains of the war, particularly during the past year, had taken their toll.
It was reassuring to have Sam with her now, although there was always the fear they would be found out.
What was the punishment for collaborating with the enemy?
Was walking with the enemy collaborating?
She stared at the trunk in front of her and watched an insect ease its way under a piece of bark.
How low she had sunk, forced to barter for or steal food and now she was in a wood squatting like an animal at the base of a tree.
When she had finished, she stood and straightened her clothes with sharp tugs before taking a few precious moments to tidy her appearance before seeing Sam again.
She promised herself she would have a bath in the next river they came across — even if it meant washing in the snow.
She had slept and lived in her clothes for far too long now, and although combing her hair and rubbing her teeth with her fingers would make little difference to her appearance, she still felt compelled to follow the nearby sound of water and wash briskly in a small stream before she went back to him.
She stopped mid-brush. Every one of her senses inexplicably told her that she was no longer alone.
There was no sound, no passing shadow, no change of smell in the air, yet she felt their gaze upon her, like a heavy lead weight, stripping her of any advantage and making her as vulnerable as if she were standing naked on a stage.
She stood up and turned around, ready to fight or run. Seconds, filled with eerie silence, ticked by. Her thumping heart sent panic coursing through her veins. It took all her will to remain still, trying to sense what the threat was, where the threat was. If there was even a threat at all.
More seconds ticked by. Gradually, her anxiety began to fade with no new sound or sight to feed it.
Nothing was different to when she had arrived at the tree, she reassured herself.
The majestic pines that surrounded her still looked the same and despite how she had just felt, in truth there was nothing sinister nearby to harm her.
She was being silly and frightening herself.
She breathed in deeply and allowed her clenched fists to unfurl.
Her trembling fingers felt weak as a kitten.
She had almost let hysteria control her.
This blind panic had overcome her twice now.
If this became a habit she would become a liability.
She smiled to herself and shook her hands to encourage the blood to return.
It was as she took her first step back to Sam and Klara that she was sent sprawling to the ground, her breath snatched away from her.
Dazed, she lifted her head to find herself staring at the carpet of rotting pine needles.
Someone was behind her. Her coat was roughly torn from her body by whoever it was.
She scrambled to her knees and turned around.
One young man was staring at her, the other frantically searching her coat pockets.
His hungry gaze scared her more than what the two men had just done.
The realization that they were willing to do anything brought her to her feet like no theft could.
‘That’s mine. Give it to me!’ She tugged at her coat, but the man guarding her wrenched it out of her grasp and pushed her backwards.
‘It’s ours now.’
Elsa watched in despair. Her survival depended on keeping warm. ‘You can’t have it. That coat is mine!’
They ignored her and began to tear at the lining in search of valuables. She tried to grab it from the taller man but he was able to lift it out of her reach.
‘Go away! Haven’t you got a house to clean?’ A smirk formed on his face as he looked at her clothes. ‘Or some clothes to wash?’
His words wounded her more than she cared to admit. Did Sam see what they saw? Anger came to her rescue and she immediately turned his words back on him.
‘You don’t look any better. You look like you have been sleeping rough yourself.’
Her words slid off them like water.
Elsa frowned. None of this made sense. They wore the uniforms of the Volkssturm militia but did not have the pride that so often went with it.
‘How old are you?’ she asked. ‘Seventeen? Sixteen?’ Her gaze swept over their dirty, crumpled clothes. ‘Why are you here? You are old enough to be fighting.’
‘Shut up!’ snapped the taller of the two.
Elsa had hit a nerve. ‘You have refused to fight! You are hiding here!’
‘We’re losing.’ He threw her coat back at her. ‘Why should I risk my life now?’