A Light in the Darkness (Madam Mim & Sync)

[Sync]

Sunday, January 28, 1940

This will be my first journal entry. I stole this notebook and a pen from a shop – I don’t know the name of the shop, nor who owned it. It doesn’t matter; the shop was deserted anyway, broken, looted already. I’m going to use this journal to try and help myself, I think, as well as record my thoughts and feelings. Someone told me – or did I read it? – that speaking of your nightmares helps you deal with them. I don’t have anyone to talk with, so this journal will have to do. I’ll probably be killed if this journal gets found…but then, if this journal is found I’ll probably be dead anyway. I think death might be preferable to the nightmares.

The worst of the winter is gone, the sky is starting to warm up again. The rains are cold, and snow still falls, but it’s not as much, now. The ground is not as slushy under my boots. For now I hide in the woods to the south of Munich, on the road to Starnberg, but I will have to brave the city soon. Munich may be the center of the Nazi party, but I cannot stay out here much longer. Food is getting harder to come by. They would call me a deserter, and they would be right, but I would rather be killed as a deserter than go back to the army. What the army allows…it is not right. I cannot be a part of that.

Corporal Gunther Haas looked at the page of the notebook for a few moments as he let the ink dry, then he closed the book, snapped a thick elastic band around it to keep it closed, and slipped the book and pen into a pocket inside the thick jacket that he was wearing under his trench coat. He was not an unattractive man: at the young age of 20, he stood at five-feet ten-inches tall and was lean from his time in the army, and was a model Aryan – bright blue eyes, fair complexion, short blonde hair. His face was a little small in his head, but that merely seemed to add to his rugged appearance. Perhaps the strangest thing about him was a slightly-haunted look in his eyes, a look that now never seemed to entirely disappear.

It was a little after sunset. The sky was grey overhead, and a light drizzle fell down from the clouds. The woods he was hiding in were not thick, but they were thick enough for one person to hide in. He’d been here for a couple of weeks since he’d deserted, but he knew he couldn’t expect to be able to remain hidden here. He’d have to move on sooner or later…more likely sooner. A water droplet formed on the tip of his snub nose and he wiped it away with the back of his hand. He was wet and cold – the weather saw to that, and while the trench coat was thick and heavy, it would not keep the weather out indefinitely.

The young man had been conscripted into the army when he was six months past his eighteenth birthday. He hadn’t particularly wanted to join, and had made that known, but he’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and his father’s political position made his situation worse than it might otherwise have been. His recruiters didn’t take “no” for an answer where Gunther was concerned. He’d been hauled up, given basic training, roughed up in the name of Discipline; he was given the usual speeches on the Evil that were the British and the Russians and especially the Jews, how they all wanted to crush the German way of life and the German people…but none of that made a lot of sense to the young Herr Haas. He’d known a few British people, and a good number of Jews, and they seemed pretty nice to him; he didn’t know any Russians, it was true, but the French weren’t so bad. Still, he did – albeit a little reluctantly – what was asked of him. He wasn’t sent out to the Front, though…maybe his superiors knew he wouldn’t be a good front-line soldier. So he stayed in Germany and spent a lot of time working tours as a guard or something similar.

That was before he was stationed at the Dachau camp.

He’d been promoted to Corporal by the time he arrived at Dachau, barely six months before he was to make his first journal entry. He knew of the camp already, most people did – it was a concentration camp, used by the Reich to house its political enemies as well as various prisoners of war. Ostensibly the prisoners were at the camp to help make munitions for the German army, and maybe they did, but there was more to it than that. The workers – prisoners – were run ragged. The death toll was high. Prisoners were often malnourished and frequently mistreated if they were even suspected of doing the wrong thing. There was next to no regard given to the prisoners or their well-being…they were just another resource to be used. Gunther knew he had to get out…he just needed an opportunity.

That opportunity presented itself just after the New Year. Gunther was on perimeter patrol with a young private whose name he didn’t know. It was a rather unpleasant night to be on patrol – gusting winds pushing the snow around them and reducing overall visibility. They were a short distance from the camp’s outer fence, all but invisible to the camp’s watch towers. Without a word, Gunther struck his companion in the back of the head with his rifle butt, hard, several times. He ransacked the private’s pockets for money and ammunition, then fled. He’d be marked down as a deserter as soon as the private was found or reported back, he knew that, but he did it anyway. It would be better than living a lie.

He skirted around the city, moving through the woods as much as he could for cover, keeping hidden and resting by day and moving slowly by night. He used stolen pepper to cover his passage, mask them from the dogs they might use to follow his tracks. He broke into houses where he could to steal small amounts of food and water to keep him going until the next house. He knew his best chance lay in another country: Switzerland would be best, but it was so far from where he was when walking by night was his only means of movement; Austria was closest, but also the first country annexed by Germany; Italy might be helpful to him.

But he’d need to properly rest, first, and clean up. Maybe if he went home…? His family might not be there – he could only hope and pray they hadn’t been taken in response to his desertion – but he could still have a bath and sleep and get fresh clothes before he struck out for a nearby border.

 

[Madam Mim]

"I'm just saying--"

"We know what you're saying, Papa." Esther helped her mother set the table and used it as an opportunity to roll her eyes without her father seeing. Abner Heinz was a respected man in the middle-class Jewish community of Munich, but his children knew more than the general public that he was often given to repeating his convictions ad nauseum.

"I think there are people living on the moon who know you think the radical Zionists are crazy," Miriam, his second-born, chimed in with a smile before turning back to her work, then adding, "but this isn't about Zionism."

"Germany is our home," Abner insisted fiercely. "Munich is our home. I won't be chased out like a coward just because of some goose-stepping facists. And do you really have to bring that shtik drek into my home, Miri?"

"Work is work, Papa," she sighed, sick of the color red as she stitched the swastika armband onto the sleeve of the uniform. "Five more SS officers came in today, apparently, and need an entire wardrobe done by tomorrow. I think they did it to taunt us, really. And besides, even if Frau Pearlman did turn away work I don't think she would be very wise to turn away this work." She exchanged looks briefly with her older sister.

"Which is what we're saying." Esther took up the banner again. "It's unsafe here anymore, Papa. Didn't you hear about the Archenholtzes? They got on a train to Berlin to visit Herr Archenholtz's sister, never arrived." Abner opened his mouth to reply, but the door burst open to admit Eli and Oren, the two youngest at 10 and 13. After the initial shock Esther returned to her crusade. "I hear in Poland they're--"

"That's enough." Shoshona Heinz's voice wasn't raised, but it was firm and authoritative enough that both of her daughters looked cowed. "Supper is almost ready and we've said before not politics at the table."

Miriam wanted to argue that this wasn't politics. She wanted to argue that leaving, and leaving now, was more important than peace at the dinner table. Esther, she knew, had been about to mention that after the invasion of Poland shortly before the new year they had started forcing Jews to identify themselves with blue Stars of David pinned to their sleeves. They had talked about it in the shop this morning, before the officers had come in, and had agreed that it was only a matter of time before the Fuhrer instituted the same thing here. Everybody was on edge and there was an atmosphere in the city of fear and dread, and the feeling of an approaching storm. Herr and Frau Archenholtz hadn't been the first friends or neighbors to go missing, and Miriam had the feeling they wouldn't be the last. There was something primal inside her that awoke whenever she passed an SS on the street that chanted over and over get out get out get out get out run run run run runrunrun! Each day that voice got a little louder and she couldn't ignore it anymore but her father, her stubborn father, refused to believe it would happen.

A sudden knock at the door seemed to underscore her point. Everyone froze and stared at the door until a few moments later Abner rose despite the whispered protests of his daughters. His hand went to the weapon in the corner. There had been raids over the years, then two years ago it had been made official that they were prohibited from owning firearms or bladed weapons, and while her father's gun from the War had been seized he had hidden the bayonet beneath a loose board. Recently he had lashed it to a mop handle with a length of rope and kept it in the corner behind the door. With one hand on the handle he unbarred the door and turned the knob, looking through the crack to see who could want something with them at this time of night.

"Officer, I'm afraid you've--" Surprise alighted in his eyes and he opened the door wider, stepping back to let the officer in.

"Gunther!" Miriam was the first to react, jumping to her feet and throwing her arms around him while the others made noises of surprise. After the initial shock the family gathered around to hug him or shake his hand, greeting their old neighbor enthusiastically. Miriam and Gunther had played together as children and had continued their friendship as they'd gotten older. When he had enlisted, however, she had been cold to him until she'd given him the opportunity to explain that he had been forced into it. She had written letters to him under a gentile pseudonym while he was in training then had been sent on to his duty station, but for the past few months no answer had come and she had feared the worst.

"I didn't know you were on leave...What happened?" she asked, taking his coat and ushering him to the seat nearest the fire. "Why haven't you written back?" It was no use asking whether his father knew he was in town; Gunther's parents had seen the writing on the wall and emigrated to Portugal three months ago to wait out the storm. Another point Miriam often brought up.

 

[Sync]

How long had it taken him to brave the trip into the city? Hours? A couple of days? Whatever it was, it felt longer. Each set of lights that came close to him caused him to flinch and hide; each rumble of an engine made him poise to run. It was still evening when he made his final push towards the area he once called home. Fortunately the neighbourhood he was looking for was on the south side of the city, not too far from the city outskirts, but he still travelled carefully. Would it still be home? Would there be anyone at home to greet him? He had no idea. The only news of any kind he’d received from home were the letters from Miri, but they’d stopped when he arrived at Dachau.

It didn’t take him as long as he’d thought it might to make the final journey to his parent’s home – it was dimly lit, streetlamps were all out, there was nobody outside either in vehicle or on foot. The streets weren’t difficult to navigate, even in darkness. Finding his parent’s house was relatively easy…but it was empty. Deserted. Almost boarded-up. There was clearly no-one home, and from the state of the small lawn, the house had been abandoned for a couple of months at least. Father would never let the lawn become that overgrown. Something wasn’t right. The doors were locked, the curtains drawn. He approached one of the front windows, peered inside as best he could through a crack in the curtains…he couldn’t see anything. It was very dark inside, true, but there was nothing to indicate anyone was home. What had happened?

There were lights on next door – good family friends, the Heinz family. Was Miri still there? He didn’t know – he hoped so. He hoped any member of the Heinz family was still there. Gunther knew he had to go somewhere. There streets weren’t an option. He could break into his parent’s home, he supposed, but that just…felt wrong. He had to try next door…and a few moments later he was there, in front of the unlit door. There were voices inside…sounded familiar. He knocked, and the voices stopped. After a few moments, the door cracked open, an eye peered at him, the voice that belonged to that eye called him an officer…? The door was opened wider to let him in, and then…

He could only assume it was Miri that had rushed up to him and hugged him warmly. The brief glance he could remember had looked like her, and it sounded like her. He returned the hug wearily, feeling both hope and despair in equal measure at her friendliness…then she had stepped back, and the rest of the family gathered around him: Abner and Shoshona, Esther and Miriam, Oren and Eli. He knew them all well, and they him. It was all a blur, Miriam was taking his trench coat and pushing him gently towards the fire, indicating he should sit…he did so, slowly and gratefully.

“I…I never received your letters,” he replied slowly, after a few moments of quiet. His voice was subdued, quiet, still a low-tenor in pitch but lacking a little of the brightness the family might have known him to have. “And there was no chance for me to write you.” He was staring into the fire, as if hypnotised by the crackling flames in the hearth. He decided to try and avoid her first query, for as long as he could. The less they knew about him, the better. But he’d always had a hard time refusing Miri…maybe she’d understand and not push him.

“My parent’s place…boarded up. What happened to them? Are they safe?”

 

[Madam Mim]

Gunther was...cold. Not just physically cold, though that was why she had ushered him toward the fire, but distant as though he weren't quite entirely present in the moment. Miri frowned when he informed her that he'd never gotten her letters and asked where his parents were. If he'd never gotten them, did they know...?

"They emigrated," Abner informed him, pulling a dining chair over to sit opposite the young man and watching his face keenly as they spoke. He had known Gunther since birth, had watched him and Miri playing in the street or in the back garden, and had come to think of him in a way as a third son; he liked to think he knew the boy rather well, and something was very wrong with him. "They're in Portugal, of all places, claimed it isn't safe to be here anymore."

"It isn't--"

"Hush Esther!" Shoshona said sharply from the dining room. The door had been propped open for the family to converse between the dining and sitting rooms, and now as she set an extra place and ladled stew into bowls. It was mostly potatoes and lentils since times were lean, but as the neighborhood butcher Abner's family rarely wanted for meat and they had been able to add brisket which had to be sold or eaten soon to the meal. Fresh bread was pulled from the oven and set in the middle of the table and a pitcher was set next to it. "No more talking; supper's ready."

The family all washed their hands at the sink, saying a blessing over it before drying them and sitting at the table. After the Motzi had been said over the bread and Abner had eaten the first piece, he cut it for others and the meal began in earnest. There was very little talking: though the Heinzes were reform Jews they still observed the tradition of a silent dinner table. After the after-meal grace had been said, Abner directed his sons to get ready for bed and clapped Gunther on the shoulder, steering him back to the fireplace in the sitting room while the women cleared the table and washed up. He sat for a long time, looking hard at the lad, before finally speaking.

"You are not on leave, are you Gunther?" he asked finally. He glanced through the dining room door, which afforded a clear view into the kitchen, to ensure the women were busy before turning his attention back to his guest. "I can give you shelter and food for two, maybe three days...but then you will have to move on." He sighed and rubbed his face. "It isn't anything against you, my boy, but times are lean. I have five mouths to feed, and with things the way they are now...this house is watched more than yours might have been. Once they catch up to you--and they will--we will all be in danger." Abner wasn't stupid: he knew why his daughters wanted them to leave the country. But that was nearly impossible now, and he insisted stubbornly that he was born in Munich and he would die in Munich. He would not abandon his city or his country. "But for now we have hot food and a comfortable couch for you. I hope that will be enough."

 

[Sync]

He didn’t get a chance to react to the news that his parents, Ernst and Annora, had managed to escape; hopefully that meant his two younger brothers – Rainer, two years younger than Gunther, and Maximillian, five years younger – were safe as well. That they emigrated, and to Portugal, as Abner had said, gave him hope that his family were out of harm’s way. With any luck they’d escape any kind of hostility. That was all he managed to process before Frau Heinz called them in to dinner – where he discovered that an extra place had been hastily set up for him to sit at.

Gunther wasn’t Jewish – he was barely a Christian – but he understood that the Heinz family had their own tradition around mealtimes. He didn’t believe in God as they did, but he respected that they had their way of doing things. He accepted it, and he wasn’t going to ask them to change just for him; that would have been rude at any time, and especially now, in these darkest of times when he’d been invited to dinner without being asked. He bowed his head during the before-meal prayer, ate in silence as they did, bowed his head for the after-meal prayer, and that was that. Soon after the boys were sent to bed, the girls and mother cleaned up…and Abner guided him back to the living room and to the chairs close to the fireplace. Gunther was feeling better after the hot stew, but he’d have been happy enough with a few strips of meat and bread.

Abner, as always, was direct. Gunther could only shake his head when the elder of the house had finished speaking. He was aware that the girls were likely not listening, but he spoke quietly just the same.

“No, sir, I am not on leave,” he admitted, his gaze having drifted back to the flames in the hearth. “If I was found now I expect I’d be shot and killed. But that is better than going back.” He paused, then looked up, meeting Abner’s gaze for the first time that evening. “Your offer of food and shelter is most welcome, sir, but you don’t have to do that. I know I’m risking you and your family just by being here. I’d have been content staying at my parent’s house for a few nights to rest before heading off. But I am grateful for your offer, and I’m sure it will be more than enough, Herr Heinz.”

For a moment the young man fell silent, then he balled his fists up on his knees. His eyes dropped to his fists as he continued speaking, his voice lowering to a near-murmur. “Sir, you must get out of here, out of Germany. If not for yourself, then for your family. Your daughters especially…they will not be safe if they remain here. Please, Herr Heinz…if you’ve never trusted me before, trust me now – no good will come if you stay. If you must remain here, then at least get the rest of your family away from here.”

He flicked his glance up towards the kitchen, thought he saw Miri’s face in the doorway before the face was gone. Had she heard what had been said between him and her father? He hoped not; Miri was strong-willed, like her father, he knew that from their years of playing together when they were growing up…he didn’t want anything bad to befall her, and he didn’t want her doing anything rash.

 

[Madam Mim]

Abner nodded slowly when Gunther admitted that he wasn't on leave. When he met his gaze the boy's eyes were far older than they ought to be, and he recognized the look of a man who had seen too much and far too young. But when he protested that he didn't have to offer their home he shook his head and waved his hand dismissively.

"And leave you to the wolves?" he scoffed. "I've known you all your life, my lad. What sort of a friend and neighbor would I be if I didn't take you in when you had no other family and a tiger on your track, hm? A poor excuse for a man, that's what!" Abner had to lean in when Gunther dropped his voice further, but when he spoke his face darkened.

"Don't tell the girls," he warned, "but I've tried. I'm not stupid, Gunther; I know that it isn't safe and as much as I will stay and die here, I won't suffer my family to do the same if I can help it. I have looked for visas for my wife and children. But the legal channels are all blocked and even the black market is proving to be a dead end. Short of leaving in the middle of the night, the six of us with two young boys and gentile customers who would notice us missing..." He sighed and shook his head. "There is no way we can leave together and stay together, and Shoshona won't go without me."

Miri made enough noise to be noticed as she came through the second time. She set a folded set of linens on a side table and drew the curtains tightly, but not with undue haste. With a glance at Gunther but addressing neither man she set to work making up the couch as a bed, covering the cushions with a flat sheet then spreading out a sheet and blanket and setting a pillow at one end. Pretending not to have been eavesdropping, she perched on the end of the arm of the couch and folded her arms across her chest to join the conversation.

"Is everything put away, Miriam?" Abner prompted, knowing her game.

"Yes, Papa."

"Why don't you fetch us some coffee then, hm?" His look became stern when she sighed and rolled her eyes before flouncing off to start making coffee. It would be weak and not very good--even if they hadn't been Jews and therefore the last for any sort of ration, everyone was suffering from a lack of good coffee--but it was an excuse to get her out of the room so they could finish talking. Once he'd made sure she was gone and the dining room door had swung shut again, Abner turned back to the young man. "So where do you plan on going after this?"

 

[Sync]

There was no point in making any comment about Abner’s decision to give him some food and shelter, Gunther realised. Likewise, there was no point in making comment about the revelation that Abner had been making some effort to get his family out of Germany. That the man had failed was not overly surprising to the young man; Abner’s family was German, but also Jewish – the Jewish factor told Gunther all he needed to know about what would likely end up happening. He hoped beyond hope – he’d even pray, if it would help – that he would be wrong about his fears, but…Gunther was not a man of Faith. All he could do was no his understanding and acknowledgement of what the elder of the house had revealed.

He was also rather aware of Miriam’s proximity as Abner finished speaking; he suspected that the young woman might be trying to listen in on their conversation, but he did not know how successful she might be. When Herr Heinz spoke with his daughter, Gunther felt his eyes drawn to the sudden center of attention. As he watched his friend stand and walk, he found himself reflecting on childhood memories of Mirir – in happier times they had played together, laughed together, gone to school together…he had even once declared that he’d someday marry Miriam, although they’d both laughed it away as a silly joke at the time. Now, though…Miriam was lovely, but there was no chance they’d even be able to be together, not under the current circumstances.

He pulled his attention back to Abner as the door closed.

“I…I’m not sure, Herr Heinz,” he was forced to admit. “Austria is closest, for certain, but that’s no better than here from what little I’ve heard. Italy might be okay. I was also thinking Switzerland, but that would mean making my way to the Schwarzwald first, and the journey would be long and filled with danger all the way. Perhaps my best bet is Italy, hiding in the mountains. I don’t know.”

He sighed softly and stood up, moving to stand in front of but slightly away from the fire, his back to the flames. He kept his voice low as he continued speaking. “I was a guard at the Dachau camp, Herr Heinz. The prisoners there…they are not treated well. They are worked had, for hours and hours a day, given few breaks, given little food and drink…they are barely people. And yet I have heard stories of worse at some other camps. It is…” His voice trailed off to silence. He had nothing more to say, but the single tear that welled in the corner of his left eye told a story itself.

A tear that was quickly wiped away, his expression hardening slightly, as the door opened to reveal Miriam with the requested coffees.

 

[Madam Mim]

"Bah! Italy!" Abner waved his hand again, this time in annoyance, before reaching for his pipe kept above the mantle and packing it with what poor excuse for tobacco he could get anymore. "Fascists, every last one, m'boy. Switzerland is a better option for sure...but whatever route you go it does mean danger. Fortunately for you no one will think twice about questioning a soldier who looks like you." He lit his pipe and tossed the match into the fire, clamping his teeth around the stem thoughtfully and looking at Gunther. He'd noticed the boy noticing Miriam, of course--poor excuse of a watchful father he'd have been if he hadn't--and had noticed his daughter noticing him at varying points over the past few years. With all of this noticing going on he'd been meaning to have a conversation with her about it...but now it seemed a moot point. Poor kids.

Gunther described Dachau and what he'd heard about some of the other camps, and Abner listened with his expression set in a grave scowl. He had heard rumors filtered through someone who knew someone who knew someone, but had never been able to wring a first-hand account from anyone. And no wonder, since no one who went there on a train ever came back and he wasn't exactly friendly with the sorts who would have been chosen for guard duty. For the most part he had treated the horror stories as just that: stories. Not that he made the mistake of thinking that Dachau was the beautiful summer camp the Nazis claimed it to be, but the sorts of terrors that traveled on the wind of rumors had sounded too twisted to be true. It made him a little ill to hear that there might be something to it. The boy--Abner thought of him as a boy, though he knew he was a man now just as he thought of his grown daughters still as girls--allowed himself a tear. Combined with the haunted look in his eyes Herr Heinz knew all he needed to. He needed to find a way to get his family out.

"What are they saying?" Esther took the kettle off and poured the water through the filter. Miri shook her head.

"They were whispering, then stopped talking when I came in," she sighed. "All I heard was Papa offering him a place to stay, some talk about leaving Munich."

"From who?" Esther's eyes went wide with curiosity and hope.

"From none of your business," Shoshona put in curtly, pouring some milk into the little ceramic pitcher then spooning sugar from the bag into a small crock. "You shouldn't be eavesdropping, Miriam, and you shouldn't be encouraging her! You're the eldest, you're supposed to set a good example."

Miri poured coffee into three cups and arranged them on a tray with the milk and sugar. "When has she ever set a good example, Mama?" she asked with a smile, leaving a vexed Shoshona in her wake as she quickly left the conversation and reentered the living room, setting the tray on the coffee table. "It isn't very good coffee," she told him apologetically, "but at least it's hot, and we've got milk and sugar to help it along." She added a little of each to her own cup before taking it and resuming her perch on the arm of the sofa. "How long will you be staying?"

"Just a few nights," Abner answered for him with a glance at Gunther. "Enough to catch his breath."

"Papa!" Miri looked between them, dismayed, then turned back to Gunther. "Where would you go after? Someone would notice you living in your parents' home."

 

[Sync]

Gunther was at least partly relieved by Abner’s admission that he’d tried – and was trying – to get his family out or Munich. The young deserter wasn’t surprised that Shoshana didn’t want to go, though; but there was hope that the children would be safe if Herr Heinz was able to secure passage for them. Similarly, the young man was glad – as much as he could be glad at the moment – with Abner’s comment about Italy. He knew that Italy had long-since joined Germany in the war, which likely meant that country would also hold to Germany’s general policy and attitudes towards Jews and non-Aryans; that might not be entirely correct, but the Pact of Steel meant he wasn’t about to test it. He’d largely decided, in his head, that his best hope lay in Switzerland, even though the journey would be almost two hundred miles; Abner all-but confirmed that for him.

Their conversation was cut off when Miriam – dear, sweet Miriam – returned with their coffee, and an apology of sorts. He shook his head quickly at the apology; he was well aware that the “best” of most things was being redirected towards the army and Third Reich leadership.

“Don’t worry about it, Miri,” he replied warmly, although some of that warmth was, through no fault of anyone present, a little forced. He took his cup and added a teaspoon of sugar and a small splash of milk. “It will taste like coffee, and it’s hot. That’s all I ask.” He nodded, almost reluctantly, at Abner’s comment.

“Yes, just a few nights, enough for me to rest before I move on,” he agreed, his tone becoming a little more quiet. “I can’t remain long, lest I invite suspicion upon this house. As to where I’ll go…? I don’t know. West, I think, to the Schwarzwald initially. It’s a long journey, I know. From there…I think Switzerland would be best. France is already dangerous, as is Italy. I don’t expect it will be an easy journey, but…I can’t stay here, or even in my parent’s home next door.”

He thought Miriam looked disappointed – maybe shocked? – by his admission. He might have been misreading her, as he sipped from his cup and sighing softly as the heat coursed through his frame.

“Tell me…what did you write in those letters, Miri? I never got them, as you know, but now I’m here you can tell me yourself.” He gave her a hopefully-friendly smile from behind his cup as he sipped from it again.

 

[Madam Mim]

Miriam was indeed thoroughly disappointed by Gunther's decision to move on after a few nights. They could hide him here, couldn't they? It wasn't like he had anywhere else to go, and getting to Switzerland on foot would be far more dangerous than hiding in a friend's attic. But that was a conversation for after her parents went to bed. He asked her to recount the letters she had written to him and Miri frowned a little.

"It was mostly bad news," she sighed. "Jews aren't allowed to own businesses anymore, so Papa boarded up the shop. He still runs it though; he lets people in the back and sells what meat he can get."

"Our friends and neighbors are hungry," Abner shrugged. "And I have a family of my own to provide for."

"A few of our friends have disappeared," Miri continued, "and so have Onkel Josef and Tanta Anna, after they seized the mills. But Erik and Zhaklin made it to Paris, then to London. They've claimed to be visiting a family friend, but Erik said they might go on to Canada if things get too bad there, too. Nobody's willing to take refugees, but they've got the money to travel on visitor's visas. But they left months ago; Zhaklin said she saw the same warning signs as from the pogroms and insisted on leaving." Abner's cousin Erik had been more of an avuncular figure to his children, and his wife was a Russian refugee from the Bolshevik revolution whose family had managed to escape the persecution of the pogroms. As such Zhaklin had been very uneasy once Hitler had come to power and convinced her husband to "visit friends abroad" nearly a year ago. His parents had owned a steel corporation which had produced nearly thirty percent of the steel in Germany, but the state had since taken over the business and neither Josef nor Anna had been heard from.

"They've tightened ration restrictions again," Miri continued after some thought, gesturing lamely to the coffee, "and the tailor I work for--the one who gave me a job after Herr Goetz fired me from the firm--was taken over by the state, but we're still allowed to work. I uh...have to sew uniforms for them." The jackets of the Nazi uniforms were still draped over the back of a wooden chair in the corner, one with an armband half-stitched and several other armbands on the seat of the chair. "Oh! But there's good news though!" She perked up visibly and grinned, glancing at the dining room door. "Reinhardt finally proposed! Esther's getting married in May! We've been very busy with preparations, and whenever there's a lull in new work we work on her dress at the shop."

"There's always a little bit of light, even in the darkest of nights," Abner mused with a small smile, puffing on his pipe. "May God bless them in all they undertake together."

 

[Sync]

Listening to Miri speak, with some additional comment from Abner, as he slowly sipped from his cup of passable coffee made Gunther realise that it was not really much better for those outside of Dachau – and other such camps, he presumed. Or maybe it was. At the very least, those still living in society, outside the camps, were living under restrictions, with the spectre of gloom only a step or two behind them. If you were known to be Jewish, you were watched closely, and were likely only one step from being taken away, and it didn’t seem to matter whether you were a German Jew or an immigrant Jew; if you were known to be a Jewish sympathiser, or suspected of being such, you could expect to be closely watched for an excuse to be taken away with those you were friendly towards; and if you were an immigrant, such as Polish or Romanian; you were still regarded as being a potential enemy of the state. Nothing good would come of the path Germany was taking, Gunther knew, yet it was pointless to try and speak of such things with those who had the power to make changes…they firmly believed in the path before them.

He shook – as best he could – the thoughts from his head and took another sip from his cup, managed a smile at the only really bit of good news Miriam had for him. He flicked a quick glance towards the chair, taking in the coats and SS armbands, before returning his gaze to the young woman next to him. It was going to be very difficult to not be constantly reminded of the things he’d seen.

“That is a bit of good news, indeed,” he agreed sincerely. “It’s good to know that some things can still flourish in these times.” He paused to take another small sip from his cup. “I’ll make a point of giving Esther my best wishes before I…before I take my leave.”

He didn’t particularly want to go; the scant couple of hours that had passed since he’d appeared on Abner’s doorstep had been the best hours he’d really had since he’d joined the army, but he knew he couldn’t remain. But it at least meant he got to spend a few more days with Miriam, even if they might be his last with his good friend and one-time crush.

“I wish I could provide some good news of my own,” he observed thoughtfully as he stared into the fireplace. “Sadly, though, all news I bring is…disheartening. Life in the army was tolerable, while I was stationed around Munich and Stuttgart and Hamburg and Berlin; I will not soil this house with news of what Dachau has become. Dachau was once a peaceful town with a thriving munitions factory; now it is…not.” He shook his head slightly, then drained his cup and cradled it in his hands before looking up to Miriam again, his eyes moving from Miri to Abner and back as he spoke.

“I will say this, though: it is good to see you all again. For a time…I wasn’t sure I would have the chance.” He paused, then looked down – almost helplessly – at the now-empty cup in his hands. “I just wish I could add more to the conversation right now…”

 

[Madam Mim]

Miri frowned as Gunther described what Dachau had become, and shook her head when he expressed the wish to be able to add more to the conversation. "The only news is bad news anymore," she admitted sadly, "and the only conversations are sad ones. I don't blame you."

Abner glanced at the clock and at the dining room door. Esther and Shoshona must have gone up the back stairs. "Well, perhaps things will look better in the light of day, hm?" he suggested, slapping his hands on his thighs and getting to his feet.

"You always say that," Miri complained, knowing that this was her cue but not wanting to go. Her father had, indeed, said that nearly every night since the world had started growing so dark.

"And just think if we wake up and it's true," he suggested with a grim smile. "A miracle of God. But for now? Sleep." It was a gentle assertion, but not a suggestion. With a sigh Miriam stood and bid Gunther goodnight and followed hr father upstairs.

"You should find out all you can from him." Esther slid her nightgown on over her head and braided up her hair in the darkness before sliding into bed.

"I'm not going to pester him about things he doesn't want to talk about," Miri insisted, letting her hair fall from its pinned bun.

"Well then pester him about things that he does want to talk about!" Esther, like her father, had noticed the noticing between the neighbor boy and her little sister as they'd grown up together and had nearly always encouraged it.

"Like what?"

"Go find out!"

~*~

"Couldn't sleep," Miri whispered as she crept back down the stairs where a candle was still lit in the living room, not mentioning that she hadn't made much of an effort of trying. She smiled sheepishly and perched on the edge of her father's chair across from Gunther. She watched his face for a moment and frowned. "Are you alright, Gunn?"

 

[Sync]

Abner’s suggestion about getting sleep was not a bad one. Gunther’s only problem with that, though, was that it had been a long time since he’d actually slept. Being on the run, hiding, meant he often slept lightly, and was nearly always sleeping on the ground or in a tree. Real sleep was something he’d not had in some time, and knowing that one wrong visitor could spell doom for him and this whole family wasn’t going to make sleeping easier. But he nodded his agreement.

“Good night, to both of you,” he offered as they took their leave, getting to his feet when they both did. “And, again…thank you.” He offered his hand to Abner, and was relieved when the elder of the house took it firmly. Then the pair were gone, ascending the stairs to sleep themselves.

He pulled his heavy boots off and left them by the side of the couch, removed his heavy woollen pants and his jacket and his shift – that left him in shorts and a t-shirt to sleep in. At least the couch was reasonably comfortable, and Shoshana had made sure to leave a few thick blankets for him. He arranged them as neatly as he could, grabbed the throw cushions and arranged them into a makeshift pillow, then curled up on the couch and pulled the blankets up over him. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing he’d slept on, but it was far superior to the ground and he would never complain about the generosity being shown him, not now.

Miri was an attractive young woman now, he mused as he settled. He remembered those days long ago, when they were both young and innocent, how they’d played together. Had they been more than friends, once? Maybe. But for now, friendship was the best he could ask for – in a few days he’d be gone, likely to never see this family again; if he made it to Switzerland, he’d probably stay there. And Miri…hopefully Abner would be able to get the family away before the state came for them. In a camp, Gunther knew, Miri’s fate would not be a kind one.

He sighed softly, closed his eyes and relaxed…but his ears were open.

* * * * *

Had he slept at all? Maybe he had – lightly, perhaps, possibly dozing, but…he was sure he hadn’t been aware the entire time. Whatever it had been, the gentle creaking of the stairs had pulled him into wakefulness; if the creaking of the stairs hadn’t done it, the slow and subtle changing of the light would have as the candle and its bearer approached. His eyes were open and watching Miri before she lowered herself into Abner’s chair.

He didn’t really believe she was having trouble sleeping, but it wouldn’t be polite to query her. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, pulled the blankets around him for warmth.

“Am I…? I’m fine,” he lied unconvincingly, keeping his voice low and quiet as she had done. “Just…I haven’t slept well much of late. Running and hiding every day…it takes its toll.” He paused, took a deep breath, let it out slowly. It seemed to help.

“What about you? I…are you and the family doing all right? I know what your father says, but…”

 

[Madam Mim]

"We're getting by," Miriam insisted with a grim smile. She set her candle on a side table and carefully pulled the chair around to face him so that they sat almost knee-to-knee, he in his shorts and t-shirt and she in her nightgown, dark hair looking like spilled ink across bright paper in the dim light as it fell over her shoulders. She looked over her childhood friend for a long few moments, taking all of him in. It almost didn't seem like the same young man who had left six or eight months ago for his compulsory military service. The corners of Miri's lips pressed into a small frown as she reached forward.

"You look different," she said at last, placing a hand gently on his bicep. Certainly he hadn't been scrawny before he'd left, but his arms were larger, more toned than she remembered. "You look like a soldier." Miri wasn't certain whether or not this was a good thing, and she had deliberately avoided telling him that he looked like a Nazi...but that was precisely what he looked like. She sighed and dropped her hand to his wrist, taking one of his hands between both of hers. "Tell me what's wrong, Gunther," she pleaded, "and tell me what I can do to help."

 

[Sync]

For a long moment Gunther was silent as he regarded Miri and mulled over her words. That dark hair looked good on her, spilling over her shoulder as it did; to him, it made her look more womanly, less girly. Yes, she was the same age as him, almost, being younger than him by no more than two months, but she’d always managed to look younger than her age – the long tresses took care of that. It hadn’t been that long, really, since he’d last seen her, but it seemed a lifetime ago to him…and someone else’s life, at that. The life he’d been living since joining the army didn’t feel like his own. All the memories…they felt more like he’d been watching himself do and say those things, instead of him actually doing and saying them. Even being here in the house of his childhood neighbours didn’t feel quite real.

“I am a soldier,” he agreed at last, his voice still pitched low for her ears alone. His gaze flicked to where her hand rested on his arm, the months of army training and duty having toned the muscle – all of his muscles, really – nicely. “Or…I was. I…I’m a deserter, now, Miri. If the army found me, likely I’d be shot on sight. But…I couldn’t stay there. I couldn’t be a part of what they’re doing, of what they’re allowing to be done.”

His raised his eyes to meet hers, and he quickly found that he couldn’t hold her gaze. His eyes soon dropped to the floor, almost guiltily, as he continued speaking.

“Dachau is a…it’s a place where things are very wrong, Miri. Prisoners are brought in, separated into groups and identified by coloured badges according to their group: Jews, political prisoners, Romani, Poles, dissidents…they’re labelled and put to work. Fourteen, sixteen hours a day they work, fed little more than mouldy bread and a water-like broth, six hours’ sleep a night in cramped and filthy conditions if they’re lucky…and Dachau is a gentle camp. I’ve heard stories of other camps, like Auschwitz and Treblinka in Poland, where prisoners go to be killed. It’s not right, Miri. There’s no way it can be right.”

He paused for a moment and sniffed back a couple of tears – he realised this had been the first time he’d actually spoken to anyone about what he’d seen…and he knew he’d seen very little.

“The best thing you can do, Miri…is not get taken. The women are treated no better than men, but they can sometimes save themselves…at the cost of themselves. I just…I don’t know how you’re going to…” He sighed softly. He knew Abner was right, and that the family was likely trapped here in Munich – and a fate worse than death awaiting them. But what could he do?

 

[Madam Mim]

Gunther insisted that he was a soldier, and she shook her head. "No, you aren't," Miri rebutted gently. "You're not a killer, and you're not a soldier like they want you to be. You're better than that." It went without saying that she had never held a very high opinion of soldiers, though she hadn't mentioned that when Gunther had made the decision to obey his conscription notice. But he didn't have it in him to be a true and proper soldier; his heart was too good for that.

He didn't meet her eyes, couldn't she supposed, as he told her about Dachau. Slowly her eyes widened and she put a hand over her mouth as he described some of the horrors he had seen. She was sure it was even worse to watch than to hear about, and that he was being sparing with detail. She had heard horror stories about the camps, but she hadn't dared to believe that they could be true, that anyone could be so brutal and soulless as to watch while these people were tortured and starved and not do anything about it. What sort of a madman even thought of such things? He bowed his head and sniffled, and Miriam realized that he must have been crying. It had been years since she had seen him cry, and that disturbed her. Moving from the chair, she sat next to him on the couch and put her arms around him, hugging him to her and leaning her head on his and not caring whether it were overly-familiar of her.

At length he lifted his head, advising her to somehow save herself. She didn't know how to do that either, not any more than her father did. Miri sighed and leaned her head against his, fingers idly stroking Gunther's hair as they sat together and mourned and thought. Her father couldn't get legal passports or even forgeries...but Gunther hadn't needed papers to get into the city, had he? Certainly it would be no easy task, sneaking in and out, but it was better than being sitting ducks.

"Take me with you," she suggested at last. She looked at him, a seriousness in her large eyes and determination in the way she set her mouth. "When you leave here, take me with you. We'll find a way together to Switzerland, then we'll come back for them, for my family. I won't just sit here and wait for fate to take me where it wills."

 

[Sync]

Feeling her join him on the couch, sitting next to him, wrapping her arms around him and drawing him to her to embrace him as he relaxed slightly against her…it was very comforting. In another time Gunther might have thought something more romantic of such a gesture, but this was not that time. For now he could think of nothing much more than Miri’s gentle warmth and comfort, of the darkness that had settles on the world around them…and of the things he’d seen that he doubted he could ever bring himself to reveal to Miri.

How long did they sit like this on the couch, her arms around him in that comforting manner she possessed, him wearing nothing more than a t-shirt and shorts, her in her nightgown? He was aware of a silence for a short time, and it was not an awkward one, he felt. Sometimes silence was all that was necessary. Silence was far preferable to the screams of the dying, the moans of the suffering, the sharp cracks of gunshots, the horrid sizzle of flesh being branded…and he knew that some of his former colleagues in the army revelled in it, thought it was all justified and required. He couldn’t understand how. He’d often enjoyed, as morbid as it might have seemed, his duties when they took him to the morgue. The morgue was quiet. The dead no longer suffered.

Then her statement reached his ears, and it took him several seconds to process it properly. She…Miri sounded determined enough, she was certainly headstrong enough to be that way, but did she have any idea what she was asking, what she was suggesting? Was she speaking from the head or the heart? Did she not see how bedraggled and weary he’d been when he’d arrived at her front door only a few hours ago, from only a couple of months of hiding and roaming?

“You…you want to come with me?” he repeated, his voice taking on a slight edge of hardness as he spoke, his pitch somehow remaining quiet. He realised he’d gently pushed free of her embrace so he could look into her eyes as he spoke, so she could see he wasn’t just trying to talk her out of it. “You…that’s crazy, Miri! Do you have any idea how rough it will be out there? Travelling by night and hiding by day just to make sure we don’t get captured. Stealing food and clothing just to survive. Living every day with the knowledge that if we get do caught, fortune will favour us if we’re both simply shot and killed. It would be no life for you, Miri. You deserve better than that. It’s just a shame that these times won’t allow you to have it.”

He sighed softly, looked down so he could make sure he was able to take both of her hands in his…his gaze remained on their hands as he continued, the hardness faded from his voice. “I’m sorry, Miri. I know you mean well…but it’s dangerous. What I plan to do…I don’t know if I’ll survive it. I will probably not make it to Switzerland at all…in which case you’ll die or be captured with me. It’s just too dangerous.”

 

[Madam Mim]

Gunther pulled away from her, a hard edge to his voice as he told her that she was crazy, that it was no life for her, that they would be lucky if they were simply allowed to die. A hardness came to her eyes to match that in his voice, a steely determination as he listed off all of the reasons she shouldn't go. He of all people should know better what awaited her if she stayed here, if she just let them take her away like the others. God knew what had happened to her aunt and uncle, to her neighbors, but she wasn't going to let it happen to her.

"So I ought to sit here and wait to be taken away?" she asked seriously, folding her arms across her chest. "I should wait to be beaten and starved and worked to death, if I don't die in agony anyway? I should wait here, sitting in my home, to be taken away to be raped and tortured?" Her nostrils flared in irritation. "It isn't a life I want, Gunther, but it's a better life than waits for me here. If I go with you, sure we could die. We probably will die. But at least we die trying, we die fighting, instead of huddled here like sheep for the slaughter. You heard Papa: he's tried getting out every other way he can. At least this way I've got a chance of finding a way out for my family. Because what if we don't die?"

Miriam took a deep breath and ran her hands over her scalp. "What if we do survive? What if we can find a safe way to Switzerland? Then we could get my whole family out even if it has to be one at a time, and it's better than sitting here waiting." She hesitated, not wanting to give this ultimatum...but what choice did she have? "Gunther...I go with you, or I go alone. But I think we've both got a better chance of surviving if we've got each other."

 

[Sync]

She was certainly determined, Gunther could see that – her look as well as her voice, as much as her words, told him such. To Gunther, Miri had always been determined and headstrong (or at least she appeared that way to him), and that impression was definitely reinforced now. She wasn’t wrong, he knew that as well: going with him would likely mean death for her, but staying at home could make death preferable. It was an impossible situation that had been made reality.

He sighed softly. He could see, too, that there’d been some hesitation in her, as if she hadn’t wanted to put all of her cards on the table – maybe she’d felt forced into it by his own position? He’d probably never know. All he knew was that she was right and she was wrong…and his decision would determine hers. He didn’t want to bring her with him, for her sake; but if taking her with him meant she’d not go out on her own…although what if she was just saying that to get him to take her with him when he left?

Almost reluctantly, he found himself nodding his head.

“I…very well,” he conceded quietly, still far from convinced that this was a good idea. “When I leave in two days’ time you can travel with me. I’m not sure it’s a smart thing, but if it stops you from going out alone…” He paused, then sighed softly. “I don’t know how you’ll sneak out, though. Your family will probably be expecting you to be there when I leave. I can’t help you plan things, or your father will become suspicious. Maybe I’ll wait for you a couple of miles down the road?”

He really didn’t want her to travel with him, but his reluctance didn’t come from his desire to be alone; he knew he’d appreciate the company she’d provide. It was more that he was worried for her, worried about her, didn’t want her to suffer whatever fate might befall him…although the fate waiting for her in Dachau would be far worse.

 

[Madam Mim]

Miriam watched his face, almost able to see the cogs turning as Gunther weighed his options. She knew he was only concerned for her, that he didn't want her to get hurt or die. But if what he said was true then she would die anyway if she stayed here. She couldn't just sit and do nothing. Surely he understood that? It seemed an eternity before he finally nodded and she let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"It's smarter than staying here," she shrugged when he gave his apprehensions. But then he brought up a good point when he mentioned her family. Miri chewed on the inside of her lip, thinking. Even Esther would think she was crazy and try to stop her if she knew what she was planning. "Leave at night, after supper," she said finally, "then wait for me down the road. I'll sneak out after everybody's gone to bed and take the alleyways and back roads to meet you. There are some clothes at the shop, they um...they got left behind." She fidgeted a little. They'd been left behind when their owners had disappeared, never to be seen again. "A man is less likely to be stopped at night if somebody sees me. Plus it's more practical anyway."

She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair again, thinking over all the things they needed to do to get ready. She could pack away food and extra clothes, though not too much or it would only weigh them down. She didn't have the proper papers to get out of the city, but the way they were going she wouldn't need them. With another sigh Miri blew hair out of her face and nodded as though she had been discussing it out loud.

"I'll pack a few days' food, some clothes tomorrow night. Steal the spares from the shop the day after, then I'll find you. I'll have to steal Oren's slingshot." She frowned. "I don't like it, but it's better than using my handkerchief. I've been practicing with tin cans in the evenings when I can spare some time. Papa's bayonette, too." She nodded to the makeshift weapon in the corner behind the door. "I'll leave that, though, in case he has need of it. Where should we meet?"

 

[Sync]

He still wasn’t convinced it was a good idea, having Miriam by his side as he made the journey to Switzerland, but at least she’d be spared the fate of going to Dachau. It was true that there was no guarantees the Heinz family would receive that fateful visit that would see them rounded up, but being so close to Nazi Headquarters as the family was Gunther just knew, as much as he tried to deny it, it was only a question of when. If anything was to happen to Miriam as they travelled, he’d be there to ensure she wasn’t alone. And, he conceded, she’d be there to ensure he wasn’t alone, either.

“We’ll leave by the way I entered Munich,” he murmured quietly. “Take the road to Starnberg. Stay in the shadows as much as you can, and try not to rush. You’ll attract less attention by moving slowly. If you do happen to see cars on the road, hide to not get caught in their headlights. About two miles down the road is an intersection where the road to Starnberg changes and turns left. The streetlamp is out, there, so you shouldn’t be seen. I’ll wait for you at that intersection.”

He’d need to get some things for himself as well; travelling in a dirty uniform that identified himself as a soldier would not help him at all. He’d have to find a shop that had been closed up and looted, see what was still there for himself to wear. He’d also need some food, and a pack of some sort to carry it all in. A gun was out of the question; most guns have been removed from civilian hands into the sole province of the army…he’d only get hold of a gun when he found a downed soldier somewhere. He sighed softly.

“Try not to carry too much,” he suggested thoughtfully. “The more you carry, the harder it will be to move around. I know it will mean we may have to steal, but I’ll try to limit that.”

 

[Madam Mim]

"Stealing is better than dying," Miri admitted with a shrug. "But it's also good to have provisions just in case we can't find any when we need them. I'll pack a bag tomorrow night and test its weight then go from there. But I'm stronger than I look." She gave him a small smile and squeezed his shoulder. "We're going to get through this, Gunn. All of us. God wouldn't abandon us in a time like this." Still, she sighed and pushed her hair out of her face. God had already abandoned those poor souls at Dachau, hadn't He? She refused to think about it too much, not right now when she needed her faith the most.

"You should get some sleep," she said at last. "We both should. In a few days we've got a long journey ahead of us." With another small sigh she leaned in and kissed his forehead affectionately. "I'll see you in the morning, Gunther."

With the morning came the bustle of the family getting ready for work and school. Eli and Oren were no longer allowed to go to school, but one of the teachers of the Hebrew school before it had closed still held surreptitious classes in the basement of an abandoned factory. Once they were off, hiding their books under their coats, and Abner had gone to open the back door of his boarded-up shop for business, Esther and Miri set off to work at the tailor's, leaving Gunther alone with Shoshona. Frau Heinz put him to work as best she could, keeping him in the kitchen at the back of the house, away from the windows, tidying up and helping her prepare meals. She tried to make polite conversation, but what was there to say? She couldn't ask after his family, as she knew more about their whereabouts than he did. She couldn't ask about work; Abner had filled her in, in the vaguest details possible, on why he had abandoned his post and from his hints it sounded horrifying. Gossip was a devil of small minds. So she chatted amiably about her own family, catching him up on what had happened since he had been gone though most of it wasn't news to him anymore. She had always liked the boy next door, but the state of the world these days had made it impossible not to feel awkward when talking to him. Blessedly, Miri and Esther returned early in the afternoon with their armfuls of work to do. This was the one thing that had worked out: the Reich wanted Jews to be seen as little as possible, and Jews wanted to be noticed as little as possible, so whatever work could be done in the privacy of their own homes was.

Unfortunately, the work they had brought home was sewing more armbands onto more uniforms. More officers were arriving, it seemed, to Briennerstrasse. Miri sat in the sitting room with the curtains drawn, lips pursed as she sewed with small, even stitches. The worst insult to a Nazi would be to make her work better than any gentile's, forcing them to admit that Jewish labor was better than anything else they could find.

"You'll get wrinkles," Esther warned from her seat by the fire, glancing sideways at her sister.

"They'll be wrinkles well-earned," Miri replied stubbornly, not un-pursing her lips or unpuckering her brow as she glared at the armband. "I hate red."

"Well get used to it. They certainly seem to--" Esther broke off and they both looked at the door when there was a firm knock, followed by a man's voice announcing himself as an SS officer. Miri looked to Gunther and gestured wildly for him to hide as her sister made her way to the door.

 

[Sync]

“Good night, Miri,” the young man replied as she stood and headed back upstairs. There wasn’t a lot else he could have said in that moment, anyway – they were both right, he knew that. If she stayed in Munich, hoping for a way out, more-than-likely she’d find herself escorted to Dachau, at least to start with; if she went with him, she might be shot simply for accompanying him. Neither prospect was in any way appealing to Gunther, but he knew that no-other real option existed, and Miri’s chances of survival did increase slightly if she came with him.

The kiss on his forehead lingered, though, and, as he settled himself on the couch once more, he couldn’t work out why; maybe because it was the first time she’d done it? It was slightly disturbing to him that he kept thinking about that kiss, that his skin kept reliving the brief contact…but eventually, as he became more comfortable, he drifted into a sound, solid sleep.

* * * * *

He probably didn’t sleep for as long as his body might have liked, but that couldn’t be helped – the family still had their daily business to go about, and he was going to get in the way if he stayed on the couch. It was Ester who’d first attempted to rouse him, and he jokingly told her to go away and let him sleep even as he was starting to shift and get ready to rise; by the time Abner had come down the stairs he was up and dressed in his grubby uniform. There was chatter to be had in the house, although it was somewhat muted; he listened, but didn’t take part unless he was asked – it wasn’t his family to get involved in, although he could be (and was) polite. Abner made his way to his business that no longer officially opened, the two older girls went to work at the tailor doing a job that brought in a little money but was doing work for people they generally despised, and the two younger boys went to a school that was largely illegal…leaving himself and Frau Heinz alone in the house. He helped he where he could and as she asked; he recognised polite conversation and joined her in it, knowing that he was not able to contribute in any meaningful way due to recent circumstances. But he was happy to not be alone.

Ester and Miri returned a couple of hours after lunch with armloads of work – sewing Nazi armbands onto officers’ jackets and coats, mostly. Gunther could go the rest of his life without seeing that symbol and be quite happy about it, but work was work, and the family appeared to agree with him – not unreasonably, he knew.

Then the knock at the door, the voice announcing itself to be an officer of the SS…and the family started looking around wildly. Gunther knew why: if they came in, saw him and recognised him…the entire family would be hauled off, and it would be a blessing if they were then taken to Dachau.

The two older girls were closer to the door, so couldn’t start rushing around, Abner and the boys weren’t back…that left Shoshana. Gunther looked at her, wide-eyed, hoping she’d understand his concerns. Had the couch been tidied up from him sleeping in it? He thought it had. His boots were still by the side of the couch, could they be hidden somehow? He had no further time for any other communication as he darted into the cupboard in the small washroom and pulled the door closed as best he could, using fingertips to grasp the latch to hold the door closed.

No sooner had he finished hiding than the door was opened and two Nazi officers made their way into the apartment; the officers knew who lived here and didn’t feel the need for particular niceties or politeness, no more than was absolutely necessary. The first officer was tall, skinny, older, an ugly scar on his right cheek; the other was younger, a junior officer more solid, not quite as tall, and wore glasses.

“Guten abend, Frau Heinz,” Scarface greeted imperiously as Shoshana strode into the living room, his voice tenor-pitched and cold and demanding, the woman deliberately placing herself between the officers and the couch and hoping that would be enough. “We have come to check on the work being done by your two daughters. They have some jackets that need to be completed quicker than others, may we see them to know whether they can be ready tomorrow morning?”

 

[Madam Mim]

"Guten Abend, Obersturmbannfurher Kreutzer," Shoshona returned as she and the girls bobbed shallow, polite curtsies. Kreutzer didn't return the polite gesture, but the younger officer--Hauptsturmfuhrer Ebner, by his insignia and name tag--inclined his head slightly. "They just arrived home maybe fifteen minutes ago, but I assure you they're two of the finest seamstresses in Munich. They'll be done by morning."

"May we see them?" Kreutzer's clipped tone indicated that not only was he not making a request, but also that he would not ask again.

Hurriedly Esther and Miriam stepped forward, Shoshona scooting Gunther's boots beneath the couch as quietly as she could with her foot while they moved around it to the officers. Kreutzer examined a few of the sleeves which had already been done, then picked out five or six others which needed priority over the others. Ebner gave them a small smile from behind his superior, likely one of the poor sods still laboring under the delusion that the Nazis were just making the world a better place, building up a great Germany once more. Kreutzer, however, just sneered in disgust as he shoved the priority jackets back to them.

"Oh, congratulations Frauline Heinz," Ebner offered with a smile, gesturing to her hand.

"Danke, Hauptstu--" Esther cut off when Kreutzer seized her hand.

"Where would a Jewess come across a bauble like this?" he demanded sharply, examining the ring and moving it so the light caught it and made it sparkle.

"My fiance gave it to me." She tried not to sound defensive.

"Name?"

"Esther..."

"His name, stupid girl!"

"Erm, Reinhardt Leibermann."

"Also a Jew?" Esther nodded, though she would have even if he weren't. It was illegal for Jews and non-Jews to marry. "How did he get it?"

"He bought it, I suppose," she replied with a shrug. "Or it might be an heirloom. I don't really know."

"We must confiscate it." Kreutzer pulled the ring off of her finger, and even Ebner looked a little stricken at the gesture. "There have been reports of theft of valuables by non-Jews. If it is not stolen you have nothing to hide."

"It isn't stolen! I swear! Please, don't--!"

"Do I need to arrest you for theft and obstruction of justice, Frauline Heinz?" A muscle worked in Kreutzer's jaw and it looked as though he'd love nothing more than to do just that. Esther shrunk back meekly and shook her head. "Good. We shall return this evening to check on your progress. Good day, Damen." Kreutzer saluted with a "heil Hitler" before turning and leaving, Ebner following and murmuring "I'm sorry" before closing the door behind him.

"Check on our progress indeed!" Miri spat after them. "Guarantee they'll want to stay for dinner or check the house or something! We're lucky they didn't see Papa's bayonet!" With that thought she took the blade tied to the mop handle and slid it underneath the couch before pulling out Gunther's boots. "You can come out," she called. "They're gone."

 

[Sync]

From his hiding place, Gunther could hear the conversation occurring – to his ears, it almost sounded like it as occurring in the laundry right in front of the closet he was hiding in. It wasn’t, of course, but it sure sounded like it – he knew he was imagining it to be that way, but he couldn’t help it; his nervousness made it that way. But the Nazi officers weren’t satisfied with checking on the work the girls were doing; the raised voices told him more, that they were content to exercise their power to do what they liked. Esther has just lost something; exactly what it was, he didn’t know, but Gunther knew the woman wouldn’t get it back. It would go into the Nazi coffers and never be seen again. It might end up in the hands of a Nazi wife or mistress, or it might be sold on the market, or it might be bartered for something…but Ester wouldn’t get it back.

Miri’s voice telling him it was clear was a relief, but not comforting. He’d known that Jewish families were on the rough end of treatment by Germans generally, especially by the Brownshirts and Nazis; now he’d just experienced it (even if he was hiding), and he worried what Ester in particular would think of him, now that she’d been directly targeted by such treatment. He’d done nothing, but he was German, and most German people opposed Jews in some way these days; she might direct her anger at him. He wouldn’t fault her for it if she did, but she’d be wrong.

Almost reluctantly he emerged from the closet, closing it behind him, and he made his way to living room where the girls were. Shoshana looked to be calming from her near-panic; Ester seemed to be in a mixture of sadness and frustrated anger; Miri seemed to be just angry.

“I’m sorry, Ester,” he offered apologetically, his voice quiet and sincere. The older girl threw a sharp look his way but didn’t say anything immediately; it was hard to know whether she blamed him or was holding her tongue to not do just that. He pursed his lips and looked quickly at Miri, then turned his gaze to the matron of the house.

“I’ll stay one more night, as Herr Heinz offered, then I’ll leave the night after,” he declared quietly. “You’re already in danger, it’s true, but me being here puts you in greater danger. I can’t do that to you. Let me rest and recover strength, and I’ll go out after darkness tonight and find some things I’ll need for my journey; tomorrow night I’ll go when the night is darkest. It’s the best thing for all of you.”

Shoshana merely nodded her head in acknowledgement; the Nazi officers in their house just now had been a very close call…for them all.