A lie told once remains a lie,
But a lie told a thousand times becomes the truth.
- Joseph Goebbels, Reich Minister of Propaganda
Berlin; June 29, 1941
Legend had it that the floors of Tempelhof Airport were waxed until they were slick so that, according to the reasoning of the Führer, foreigners were forced to watch their step lest they fall before the might of the German state.
It gave Doctor Abraham Erskine an excuse to look at his shoes as he ducked under the swooping edifices of the airport's architecture. The great structures of marble and glass, austere and utterly inhuman, swept through the bitter air in sharp angles. The biting cold and the harsh, frigid surfaces seemed to point to the snow that hung heavy in the blackening clouds collecting above Erskine's head. He wondered if the pilots would dare to venture out into the brewing storm.
The very air in the terminal seemed to bleed with the pride of the German Reich – aviation fuel congealing in the air, and the ears of future passengers were pummeled by the crackling speakers and the constant humming of engines. Planes roared like lions as they tore through the sky, fangs bared.
Erskine shuddered, only partly from the cold. Tempelhof had been recently renovated, every tile shined and every lightbulb gleaming. The doctor felt as if he were lying on an operating table, with a thousand sharp devices dangling over his head. How strange it was to be on the other side of the scalpel!
The differences were stark– Erskine believed he did his work for good. These soldiers had evil blooming at their cores like tumors.
The doctor ran a hand over his unshaven cheek, clenching his grip on his briefcase. The journey to the passport desk was only a few feet, but it felt like a marathon as his feet slapped against the waxed marble floors. Every one of his movements seemed to be magnified, like someone was peering at him through a microscope. Security cameras crouched in every corner, starting down at him with sinister expressions. He was going mad from it all.
Sweat pooled on his briefcase handle as he handed his passport to a smiling, blond-haired model of a desk clerk. Her eyes revealed that he had nothing to fear, that this was only an excursion from home. If only those eyes spoke the truth! Beneath the neatly packed clothes and toiletries in his case lay the key to victory, the answer to winning the war. The desk clerk couldn't see that. She could hardly see beyond her well-powdered nose.
The doctor had nothing to fear. His documents were impeccable, his flight was secured. But he couldn't shake the feeling that he had his lies branded to his skin for all to see, his sweaty brow revealing the secret he strove to hide at all costs.
Members of the Zollgrenzshutz, border police, patrolled the terminals like packs of wolves. Massive guns were slung across their backs, the image of German might. The looked down their noses at the soon-to-be passengers, searching for suspicious-looking peoples. Black gazes danced across the room, drifting across Erskine's features before wandering off. He was caught in the crosshairs, trapped in their all-seeing vision.
Straightening his shoulders, Erskine walked past the soldiers and on to his security checkpoint. His passport was scrutinized again, his boarding card verified and his visas rechecked. Everything was in order, which seemed to almost disappoint the security men, if only in the slightest. Surely someone will throw you dogs a bone later, Erskine thought with the ghost of a smirk.
He fell into line behind a gossiping pair of young lovers, hands entwined and whispers held low under the blast of the air conditioning. The woman held a pair of glossy red heels in her hand that matched her bloodred lipstick, obviously anticipating the second security check coming up.
"I heard they're sending them to the east, of course, but what's there besides the Communists?"
"Better there than here, if you're asking me," her partner replied. A husband? Boyfriend? Both obviously Aryan, and well-to-do. Untroubled.
"Anyways, I can hardly wait to see the States. Such glamor, and their movie stars! I cannot wait to see an American movie. And the shops!" she sighed and placed a fluttering hand to her chest, smiling all the while. The man wasn't really listening to her small talk, merely watching her lips, her sparkling eyes. For them, all was well.
Bags rolled forward on a metal conveyor belt which trundled and squeaked beside the passengers. Erskine froze for a moment as he surveyed his next obstacle. He was sure his cargo was protected, but the sight of the X-ray scanner ahead was enough to bring on another wave of fresh terror. If he were caught he would be impounded, tortured in Gestapo chambers. Shipped off to the east like the young lady was saying, never to be seen again. No, it was impossible. He was a doctor, a good servant of the Reich.
Needless to say it was all a facade. But would it hold?
The young woman giggled lightly as the thick fingers of the Zollgrenzshutz soldier ran down the length of her shapely legs, taking extra care to make sure she was carrying no illegal weapons or substances. The man was frisked in a far shorter time, looking at his lover with longing eyes as the baton was waved across his arms and chest. Relinquishing his death grip on the suitcase, Erskine rolled it into the scanner and stepped forward for his own inspection.
The customs man was young, with a swarthy, pockmarked face and a twisted sort of smile. He waved his baton over Erskine's legs and attempted to make friendly small talk. "Where are you headed, Herr...?"
"Erskine," the doctor responded, fighting to keep the tremble from his voice. He offered the young man a paltry smile, running a hand through his thinning brown hair.
"You are going to America, no, Herr Erskine? You are going to see the moving pictures? Listen to American jazz?" The soldier grinned, although it revealed itself with the general impression of a rather large grimace.
"Truthfully, I prefer the music of our German classical artists. American jazz cannot be seen as anything but inferior to our great works." The words of a true German burned like treason on Erskine's tongue. He needed only to imitate the voices that blared through the radio, the screaming headlines of superiority and might. Erskine wondered if he had oversold his act, but his lies had the desired effect on the young soldier. His face grew somber and his eyes widened – he was obviously in the presence of some higher-ranking general, a true Party member to the core! Erskine bit his lip, hoping the man wouldn't take a second look at his passport...
"Ja, ja, indeed. You are all finished here. Heil Hitler!" the soldier threw up a salute, and Erskine mimicked the hated movement. Sweeping his suitcase from the end of the conveyor belt, he brushed past the security men and hurried on to his departure gate.
The evils had passed, his demons lingering behind him. Freedom and elation seized his throat, but he forced himself to keep his head down and his eyes on his worn shoes as he assembled at the terminal for New York City. Enormous windows leaned away towards the many runways of Tempelhof, so clear he felt as if he would fall through them if he leaned forward. Passenger airplanes and small commercial airships taxied towards their destinations, the low grumble of an engine taking off thundering in the distance. The black clouds of the approaching storm swirled slowly above the airport, some divine portal finding its nexus at this place of departure. Freedom and imprisonment stood hand in hand, a paradox that tore Erskine to his core.
But now he was free. He was rid of brown uniforms and red armbands and Party rallies. He was on his way to the golden shores of America, untouched by the war that was pulling his country apart at the seams.
Yet even as Erskine's plane approached the terminal, he couldn't help but feel the lurking darkness creeping at the back of his mind. Germany had struck so many, killed so many more. It had leveled itself at the might of Europe and Europe had fallen.
Would he ever be safe from this lurking menace? Where would it choose to strike next?
Thank you for reading the first chapter of Repulse! Feel free to leave a review with any questions or impressions so far :)
(Updates Friday)
