1961, Berlin
This doesn't feel right, Lorenz thought. Did the S-bahn always look this menacing?
Black road behind him, grey buildings before him, somehow divided by an invisible threshold beneath his feet. An engine rumbled; a fully loaded bus beeped its horn once and departed. Crossing over. Never to return.
It must be the rain in the air. Lorenz shook his head clear of foreboding thoughts and looked up at the sky. All white and bleak, expressionless.
Swannhild was fixing his collar. "I think I see another bus coming." She said, looking over his shoulder. "You should try getting on this one. It's nearly empty and not many people are still waiting."
Lorenz stared at her a little too intently. "I don't want to go." He declared like a petulant child.
Swannhild froze for a moment, then sighed, "Don't be stubborn. You need the rest, and you need something good to eat, which you certainly won't get in this half of the city. Besides, you haven't visited your parents and your brother for a long time now."
"And you, Saga?" Not waiting for a response from Lorenz, she bent down and patted her son's small head. "Sure you want to visit Gran's place? Gran will make her famous stew, you know, real bacon bits with giant dollops of sour cream."
The small boy shook his head. " 'M not going."
"But Kanon is going."
"To keep Papa safe, of course. But I have to stay, or Mama you will be lonely."
"Why would I be lonely?" Swannhild teased with a forced smile. "I shall catch a picture show every night."
"Like the red posters on street corners, Mama? You certainly won't be seeing other pictures now." Kanon suddenly said.
Swannhild stared. The ironic gleam in the child's eyes reflected on her face. Everyone was still.
The bus came near and beeped its horn. The spell broke.
"Take good care of Papa, Kanon. Make him rest." Saga said, voice very serious.
"Right."
Doors opened. Doors closed. Exhaust pipe coughed. And the parting was final.
"They are closing the border!"
What? Lorenz opened his eyes. Still dark outside. The bedroom window was half open, bringing in a chill. Sounds, now high, now low, now rising, now falling, flew in.
"Sie schließen den Rand!"
They are closing the border.
Border. Closing.
Swannhild! Saga! My little darling, my son!
He jumped up, pushed open the bedroom door. Outside, his brother held a struggling Kanon.
"Calm down, Lorenz, calm down!"
Lorenz was deaf. He flew by without a sideway glance. Out the door, down the stairs, along the street, into the chaos like a moth to the flame. People everywhere about him, questioning, crying, shouting. The air smelt of salt of tears and cinder of rage. Lorenz heeded nothing; he raced onward with vengeance. Onward, onward, onward.
At the end of the street, the threshold. It was always there, but now it simply was. Tall, interminable, a black mesh of thorny wire ends. Behind the threshold stood gun barrels.
What sight!
Blood rushed to Lorenz's head. Inside him everything pounded against each other. He was suddenly short of breath. The black of the threshold compounded in his view. More, and more, and some more.
"Lorenz! Bruder!"
"PAPA!"
Someone called? A brief flash of something, then all the world is black.
Swannhild stood beside the kitchen counter and pondered over the last egg: use it now to rise that cake properly, or save it for Lorenz when he comes back from West? A sudden rumble interrupted her thought. Coming storm? She wondered. It was dark outside; the street lights were on.
Rumble grew louder. It was soon deafening. Still holding the egg, Swannhild looked outside. Then she saw it: wide, cold, black, mouth of a gun. The smooth gun barrel followed inch by inch. Then the plated black body. A tank rolled pass her window. The egg dropped from her hand. Saga, who just came into the kitchen, caught the egg half way to the ground and replaced it on the table.
A sudden knock at the door; Frau Wolgen from next-door came in without waiting for a response.
"Have you heard, Swann?"
"Heard? Heard what? What is going on?"
"They are closing the border."
Saga jumped, flailing arm swept over the countertop. The egg he just saved splattered onto the floor. Swannhild looked blank.
"They… they what?"
"They are closing the border. Right now. Awful barbed wire fence they are putting up across the divide. And there are so many soldiers marching around. They say they will shoot anyone who tries to cross."
Swannhild's eyes lost focus. "That… I…. Oh Lorenz… Kanon!"
Saga suddenly leaped, darted through the two women and raced out the door.
Outside it was almost light. Beneath the white sky an empty street; only rotting flowers, fading tanks, overwhelming silence. Windows were watchful eyes, framing anxious peering faces. Saga ran as if possessed. He stumbled, a few times, then more. His breath came short; his face was bright red. Then he stumbled again and could not right himself in time. He fell sprawling on the street. His eyes, now turned skyward, saw only white.
"Papa! Kanon!" A sudden, sharp, shrill scream.
Papa…Papa…Papa…
Kanon… Kanon… Kanon…
The echoes whispered back. But a rumble rose and silenced the sweet whispers. Another column of tanks came. Closer, closer still. Saga, lying in the middle of the street, did not move. The first tank stopped a few meters short of Saga. A soldier leaped out of the tank and took Saga in his arms. The child snarled and began to kick. Swannhild came just in time to see Saga struggling in the arms of a tall man. Her heart skipped a beat. A red star gleamed on the man's green cap.
"Nein! Saga! Helfen sie mir, Herr!"
She was before the soldier in two steps, arm outstretched and trembling. "Give him to me… please… my child."
The soldier handed Saga to her silently and went back to his tank. He paused before going into the machine and looked at her. In garbled German he spoke.
"Ich bin traurig."
I am sorry.
Then he was gone. Tanks rolled on. Silence returned. Sky persistently white.
Friedrichstrasse was a bazaar. Cries, screams, shouts, pleas, flying everywhere.
"Please." Swannhild tried again. "My husband is over there. His parents and brother are there; he is with them. My other son is there too. I should be with them."
"Not according to this." The answer came curtly. "You, your husband and children are all registered as East Berlin citizens. I can't let you pass."
Swannhild was near tears. She stood frozen, unwilling to move. Someone pushed from behind. Ripple of impatient murmuring; Threats in quiet anger. Others too, clamored for a chance to plead their case. Swannhild left the checkpoint booth. Saga held her hand in silence. Swannhild turned and looked west. A field of gold there, cut up into tiny stars by the barbed wire fence. So bright, so pretty.
Slowly Swannhild approached the fence. One small step, then another. She touched the fence. Shivering touch turned to choking grip. White fingers knotted against the black. Where the black barbs dug into the white, crimson flowed.
"Mama, Mama!" Saga cried softly. "You are hurting yourself. Mama."
Swannhild remained motionless.
"Swannhild, stop it!" Another voice, now fearful
A violent shiver shot through her. Swannhild snapped her head up and looked. A man so alike to her husband stood on the other side of the fence.
"Linz, mein bruder." She murmured, a smile slowly surfacing, "I… I am happy to see you."
A pause. "Where is Lorenz?" She shivered again. "Why is he not here?"
"He is not well. Old problem with liver and low blood sugar. Doctor said he must stay in bed and not tire himself."
Swannhild nodded without expression. She looked a statue. Then suddenly she said, "Promise something, bruder."
"What, Swann?"
"Don't let Lorenz come back to this side. Keep him. Don't let him come back." Her words raced, faster, faster, out in a tumble, "Tell him that I will come to the west. I will come, no matter what. He will see me again; he will see Saga. Tell him to wait for us." White hands clenched tighter, blood traced red threads on the white.
"Swannhild!" Linz sounded terrified. "Don't do anything rash, Swann!"
"Promise me!" She cried, voice suddenly shrill and fierce.
She released her hold on the fence and left. She tried to hold Saga's hands, but the little boy cradled her bloody hands to his chest instead.
The moon sank low, pale, cold, white. Underneath it, West Berlin dreamed. Swannhild crouched behind a warehouse. One slender hand held Saga, the other clenched a wire cutter in the large overcoat pocket. A stone's throw beyond the warehouse, two parallel fences loomed, black wire, white posts, barbs like flint. Between two fences, a line of cement blocks was already forming. Rolls of barbed wire decorated the ground.
Two soldiers marched. Tak, tak, tak, their shoes clicked against the pavement. Moonlight skidded across their gun barrels and the black metal gleamed. Moon sank lower. The soldier paced before the fence. Swannhild was motionless, only her grip slowly tightened. The sky was growing light, and Swannhild was growing desperate.
The two soldiers turned again and marched. Tak, tak, tak, their shoes clicked. They walked more than fifty feet and did not turn. A hundred, and still onward. Tak, tak, tak, the soldiers marched onward, their silhouettes becoming smaller and smaller. Swannhild's heart pounded. The sound of clicking shoes dimmed, dimmed some more, then disappeared. An empty field of moonlight washed white lay open before the fence.
"Quickly, Saga!" Swannhild whispered fiercely.
They scurried across the empty street, clambered over rolls of wiring and stacked posts, and stopped in front of the wire fence. Tall it stood, black, all black, a web of death. Swannhild took out the wire cutter from her pocket; hands trembling, she pressed the blade to the fence.
Snap! The first line broke in two. Swannhild's ashen face suddenly went bright red. Blue eyes blazed. Wire cutter opened and closed. Steel flashed splashes of moonlight. The wall was coming undone. Moon sank behind buildings. The east was growing red.
The last row of barbed wire broke. Swannhild frantically pushed the broken wire aside and dragged herself and Saga beyond the first fence. The row of cement blocks between the fences did not yet close completely, for which Swannhild was immensely thankful for. Gripping Saga's hand, she raced across to the second fence.
The sky was now white with the dawning day. From beyond the second fence, two American soldiers on morning patrol approached. When they saw the mother and son, they froze, mouths hanging open in silent exclamation. Swannhild shook like a leaf. Wire cutter shivered in her hands.
The east was a field of glare. Suddenly, forms emerged.
"Anschlag!" Stop!
Swannhild ignored it. The forms raced near, guns in hand, black metal burning in morning light. Boots knocked against pavement, a torrent of fate's hammer fall. The soldiers stopped. Their guns were on their shoulders. Safety off, aim, pull trigger.
Bang! The first shot ricocheted off the cement blocks. Bang! The second pierced Swannhild's back between shoulder blades. She went down without another sound. Behind her the sun leaped above the horizon in one bloody bound.
"Mama!" Saga screamed.
The East German soldiers moved forward, young faces now troubled and concerned. The American soldiers set their guns on their shoulders, aiming. They seemed wary. The German soldiers froze. Americans stood rooted. Nothing moved.
"Mama! Please wake up, Mama!" Saga shook his mother. He took her arms and tried to pull her up; he could not move her. He arranged her arms around his tiny shoulders and tried to haul her up. He was too small to see any fruit. Desperately he attempted, again, again, again. Swannhild's form remained immobile.
"Mama!" Saga cried again. He turned, first east, then west. "Help! Please, someone help! Please help mama get up!"
Soldiers on both sides stared motionlessly, guns still clutched tightly. Dead silence; nothing moved.
Saga took the wire cutter and hacked away at the fence with a frightening fervor. "Papa! Kanon! Uncle Linz!" He screamed. "Please! Please come and get mama!"
His child's hands could not close the wire cutter with significant force. The fence shook and rattled, but the wire would not break. A few people now gathered on both sides of the fence, watching with astonishment.
Saga threw down the wire cutter and went back to Swannhild's prone form. Desperately he tried to move her. Nothing; another futile attempt. He went back to the fence. "Please help, please!" Then quietly. "Mama is dying."
A young woman who was watching beyond the second fence suddenly covered her face and began sobbing brokenly. Soon there were tears in every pair of eyes. A young American soldier moved, as if trying to run to the fence. On the other side, the guns went back to sit on the German soldiers' shoulders. The young man was pulled back by his companions. Again nothing moved. The deafening silence was only pierced by soundless sobs.
Saga went back to his unmoving mother one last time. When he came back once more to stand before the black fence he looked calm. The hardness in his eyes could freeze an ocean. Was he indeed a four-year old boy? Quietly be wrapped his small hands around the barbed wire and closed his eyes.
A gold fire leapt behind him, glaring like a second sun. The wire trembled, first faintly, then hummed like distressed machine. The wires glowed red. Saga screamed. The gold fire behind him burned blindingly bright. The fence began to shake down its entire length. Yet it stood. With a pained cry, Saga let go and went down on his knees. He stared at the fence blankly. Mist gathered in his eyes.
"Saga! Saga!" A sudden cry from afar.
Saga's head snapped up.
A child as small as Saga raced forward from beyond the second fence. He stumbled every other step, arms flailing, blue hair flying wildly. Around him a gold fire blazed a trail. He stopped before the fence, right in front of the fence.
"I am here, Saga, bruder." He said, wrapping his hands around the fence. "Get up."
Saga climbed up shakily and he too held the fence, his hands right beside his brother's. An mute explosion of gold fire shook the ground. Then the fence began to crumble. Black metal, white wood, grey cement, they turned to dust in the glare. The entire fence shook furiously and began to vanish to nothing piece by piece.
"Anschlag! Anschlag!"
Terrified cries. Then shots fired. Not one or two, but a full round of rapid machine gun fire. The bullets never reached Saga. He saw flowing light like a sheet of crystal, then a shower of stardust. A soft hand seemed to close his eyes. His world faded and he fell back soundlessly.
Fresh boiled bacon. Saga noticed the smell. With ample sour cream and eggs. Apple pie, just out of oven.
Saga could feel himself smiling. Eagerly he opened his eyes. Kanon was right in front of him, bowl of stew in one hand, plateful of pie in another.
"I knew that would wake you up!" Kanon said loudly.
Saga took the bowl without a word and stuffed a spoonful of stew in his mouth. "Where is mama?" He mumbled as he tried to swallow in one gulp.
"Still at the hospital." Kanon said. "She is fine, they saved her. She has to stay a little longer in the hospital. Papa and uncle Linz don't trust that she will stay put and rest at home."
Saga gulped down another mouthful of stew. "How did we get here? What happened? Who saved mama?" He shot out the questions.
"Him! He saved us." Kanon motioned with his head.
From behind the door a man emerged. He was exceedingly tall, slender yet radiating strength. His long green hair was like spring leaves, and his deep eyes were ageless. Saga stared at this godly man, stew forgotten.
"Heil! And well met, little Saga." The man said with a smile. "My name is Shion and I am most honoured to make your acquaintance."