November 1940
"And the glory of the Fatherland…"
As she sang and played the piano, Alice let her gaze drift around the room. She never obviously moved her eyes, but she'd developed a talent for observing unnoticed while being observed – and every eye in the room was on her.
Alice had never performed in a castle before (unless you counted the bar in Brooklyn called King's Castle). She sat at a grand piano in a grand room. Arching windows overlooked the mountains and hills that lay beneath the looming castle, two chandeliers ablaze with real candles hung from the tall ceiling, and the walls boasted ornate paintings and landscapes. Where once this castle might have hosted German nobles, princes and princesses, nearly everyone in the hall listening to Alice's song wore a uniform. Her eyes skimmed across their grey-green uniforms with the Nazi crosses hanging around their necks like medals. They'd taken off their hats at least, so she didn't have to see the Reichsadler eagle.
They listened to her song with beneficent smiles and for some, with misty eyes.
Alice often had a recurring daydream. In the dream she stopped mid-song, breaking her audience out of their reverie, and then began to scream at them: how can you cry at my song, but not at the things you have done? How can you gather here and drink and enjoy comforts while people suffocate beneath your boots? A siren turned harpy. In the dream her voice shattered the chandeliers which rained razor sharp shards down on the uniformed men, then she picked up her microphone stand and hurled it across the room like a javelin to pierce a distant, smoky Führer in the heart.
Alice's voice crested and she let the dream fade slowly. No one noticed her fingers shaking slightly on the piano keys.
Her uncle was an ever present shadow out of the corner of her eye.
She supposed there hadn't been this many gathered SS generals since their last meeting in Berlin. Alice had figured out what all this celebration was in aid of a few hours after arriving: Herr Johann Schmidt, the leader of the Nazi special weapons division HYDRA, wanted to buy more support and money for his division by impressing his guests with his castle and getting them fat and drunk. There'd been rumors that the Führer might show, though those had so far been unfounded. Still, the room contained many of the top Nazi generals and elites. Alice and the others were just decoration.
Alice had met their host earlier that morning when they arrived. Her uncle had taken her arm the moment she stepped out of their black towncar, and she had barely a chance to gaze up at the stretching spires of the castle before he steered her through the open front doors. The foyer had been bustling with other guests, and at the far end of the room stood Herr Schmidt. He was younger than she'd expected, with a rigid posture and flat dark eyes that suggested a sharp intelligence beneath them. Alice instantly mistrusted him.
An aide had whispered into Herr Schmidt's ear as she and her uncle approached.
He looked up with a tight smile. "Herr Huber, Fräulein Moser. What a privilege to have you here with us." He looked bored.
Her uncle immediately shook Schmidt's hand and started simpering and flattering.
A nearby general looked over at the names, and on seeing Alice his eyes lit up. "Are you to sing for us, Siren?"
Schmidt seemed irritated at the interruption, and for the first time actually looked at Alice. She bowed her head. "If our kind host wishes it, of course."
Since that night on the rooftop, something had died in Alice. The only reason she got out of bed each morning was a vague kind of curiosity about what new horrors the day would bring, and the knowledge that someone would tell her what to do: her uncle giving her performance schedules and party invitations, or Jilí telling her where to go and who to help, with an increasing look of concern and frustration on her face.
The general who'd first spoken clapped Schmidt on the shoulder. "Do ask her to sing, Schmidt, she's divine."
Alice still did not look up, but she saw Schmidt's thin smile.
"Of course, Fräulein, you must give us a song or two this evening."
An order. She lifted her gaze to the man's flat, unimpressed face. "Certainly."
Since then Alice had been doing her best to stay out of everyone's way until it could no longer be avoided. Since she'd met him that morning she'd only caught glimpses of their host – he'd been off on the other side of the castle, which a servant told her housed the science labs. He had a shadow: a short weaselly man with thick round glasses, who stooped and genuflected around Schmidt like he was worshiping a god who terrified him. Schmidt had another shadow, a man with a graying beard and thin wireframe glasses. Alice had only caught a glimpse of this man's face, and saw that he did not worship Schmidt. He just looked afraid.
The castle also thronged with soldiers and guards – the head of the special weapons division seemed to like keeping up an armed presence.
Herr Schmidt was nowhere to be seen as Alice finally reached the end of her song. The music quavered, held… and then faded away. She closed her eyes and curled her fingers away from the piano as the room erupted into applause.
She stepped away from the piano and into the crowd, feeling congratulations and praise wash over her like oil off water. Numb, she just moved. Anything to get out of their gazes. But then her uncle took her elbow in his bony, always-too-cold hands and she fell still. He murmured in her ear over the noise of the now well-pleased crowd. Saying that she'd done well and made him proud, no doubt. She didn't care to listen but that was usually what he said to her. She stood, her face angled down and her body utterly still as he held her fast and gave her commands. Mingle. Be pleasant. Mention the production company. She didn't notice two pairs of eyes watching her from different positions across the room.
Finally her uncle let her go, and she moved away. A dark-haired maid with a tray of glasses appeared at her elbow. "Would you care for a drink, Fräu Siren?"
Alice only heard the words because the maid's accent was strange to her ears, but then she looked up and shook her head mutely. The maid backed away.
Alice moved to the edge of the room and pressed her back against the ornate wooden wall. The body heat and collective conversation in the room washed over her, somehow overwhelming. She swallowed thickly and forced herself to appear serene, untouched.
She felt the presence beside her before she saw it. "I see you too have someone pulling your strings."
Alice stiffened and glanced sharply at the stranger. Her wariness only increased when she recognized him as Herr Schmidt's reluctant shadow. He wore a dinner coat over what looked like a doctor's white uniform, though none of it fit him very well at all. He was slightly shorter than her. His shoulders were hunched, as if to avert attention, his white-grey hair was receding from his forehead and he had a short beard. He looked from her uncle across the room to her with a knowing look.
Alice had been offended by his words, but then the man shot her a small, sad smile and her shoulders loosened slightly. He had kind eyes. She felt presences close by and looked up to see two SS soldiers standing equidistant from the stranger, not looking at him except out of the corners of their eyes. They held drinks, but didn't even sip from them. They were guards.
Alice averted her eyes from the guards. She looked back to the stranger and said, cautiously: "It's not an enviable task, being a puppet. Who is your puppetmaster?"
The man sipped his drink, looked meaningfully at the guards watching him and then gestured a hand as if to encompass the entire castle. Alice understood now why he had been following Schmidt through the castle corridors with the look of a prisoner on his face. He was a prisoner. But if this dinner party charade was anything to go by, Schmidt wanted to make him seem a guest.
The man leaned against the wall beside Alice. "I am afraid that I cannot speak my master's words as beautifully you do yours." He toasted her with his glass. "You have a gift."
Alice pressed her back harder into the wall. "What use is a gift when you cannot use it for yourself?"
His eyes went sad behind his glasses. "In the service of others, perhaps?" He spoke softly. He had a south German accent.
Alice shook her head, thinking of Jilí and the Hofmanns and the Steiners and all the other people counting on her in Vienna. The people who she couldn't help, not really. Certainly not with her voice. "I've not been able to do that in a long time."
"It is difficult to be kind in a world of big men with cruel hearts."
The hopelessness in his voice sparked something in her and she spoke before really thinking about it: "But not impossible."
She felt a kindling of interest from that forgotten part of herself, the part that brought wordless tunes floating through her mind and sent her scribbling notes on whatever was closest to hand at three in the morning. Her words felt like hope, when she hadn't thought she was capable of that anymore. And she didn't truly know what had changed.
The man perked up with raised eyebrows. "Oh? I see you have an idea, Fraülein."
"Not an idea," she said with a frown. "Not yet. A hope." She had no idea where it had come from. Perhaps just from the comfort of finding someone like her, who stood in this room of uniforms and laughter and felt trapped. She didn't know what he'd done or why he was a prisoner, but she felt as if just maybe, their hearts might be similar.
"Do you mind if I borrow some of your hope?"
Alice turned to eye the man. For the first time, as he sipped his drink, she saw the purpling chafes on his wrists that she knew meant handcuffs. She saw a hopelessness in his eyes that she had seen in some of her friends, sometimes. She'd seen it before in dogs on the street. She'd seen it on the faces of dying men. She'd seen it in the mirror.
Alice reached out impulsively and took the man's hand. He had thin, clever scientist's fingers. "You may take all you need. What's your name?"
He seemed abashed at having her take his hand, and his gaze dropped. "My name is of no consequence anymore."
"It is to me."
He looked up with a smile. "Abraham. Doctor Abraham Erskine."
Abraham. Alice wondered if he was Jewish. If that was the source of the sadness behind his eyes. She felt the smooth metal of a wedding ring as she held his hand.
She opened her mouth to reply, but then Erskine's eyes flicked over her shoulder.
"Here comes a puppetmaster," he warned.
Alice dropped his hand and looked over just as her uncle appeared, his brow heavy as he looked between her and the strange prisoner. "Alice, what are you doing over here?" he chided. "Come, I have just made the acquaintance of the Minister for Finance." He pulled her away by the hand and as ever, Alice went. She looked over her shoulder toward Erskine as she was pulled into the crowd.
She made a snip motion with her fingers over her head, and it made him smile.
When she turned around with a serene smile on her face, her heart felt lighter than it had since she entered this castle. Nothing had changed, really, she was still in just a hopeless position as before. But that brief, strange conversation had reminded her that it was not impossible to be kind, even in the midst of the insanity her world had become. It reminded her that it was possible to hope. Possible to fight back, even in the smallest ways. It reminded her, strangely, of Steve.
She didn't notice the maid from before standing in the corner of the room, watching her interact with Erskine with a quirk in her brow.
In the early hours of the morning, Alice and her uncle were hastened out of their beds by a flustered soldier in a dark uniform Alice didn't recognize.
"You must leave," he told them, clutching his weapon too tightly for Alice to be comfortable. "The castle isn't safe."
Her uncle was very unhappy, and made his unhappiness known, but the whole castle was in uproar for some reason and the other guests were being shuffled out to their cars as well. Alice's uncle's complaints were by no means the loudest.
As Alice followed silently, her trunk in hand, she heard a soldier exclaim to his fellow: "- knew they were up to no good in those labs, it was only a matter of time until something went wrong-"
"-looks like a monster-" said the other in a hushed voice.
Alice slowed her steps to listen further, but her uncle planted his hand on her back and propelled her out of the front doors and into the shivery November air.
In the car on the long road back to Vienna, Alice's uncle switched between complaining to no one in particular about their rude ushering away, and reiterating that Herr Schmidt had told him personally that they were very welcome guests. Alice did not listen to him. She twisted in her seat and watched Castle Kauffman fade into the dim dawn light behind them. When she could no longer see it she sat back down and looked down at her entwined hands. She hoped Erskine was alright.
Preliminary mission report by Agent Carter: Operation Marmot (November 15th, 1940)
I am pleased to report complete mission success. The asset was liberated amidst the chaos following the uproar at Castle Kauffman (see report r.e. 'Red Skull), and smuggled through Bavaria and back to the extraction point with minimal opposition (neutralised).
Attached are hand-drawn maps of Castle Kauffman, a report of observed HYDRA activities, an asset report, and a list of personnel and guests observed at the castle (mostly military personnel, but also some socialite figures from Germany and Austria. Recommend compiling intel on all attendees).
Extraction to the States is expected in the coming hours. Asset is willing and eager not only to flee captivity but also to participate in anti-Axis efforts. Mission control query r.e. remaining familial connection has been answered: none survived.
When Alice came back to Vienna and snuck out to Jilí's house, her friend opened the door with a look of deep concern which then transformed into a surprised kind of relief.
"How are you?" she murmured, letting Alice in and shutting the door behind her.
Alice nodded slowly. "I… am awake again. I think."
Jilí reached out to touch Alice's shoulder. Alice leaned into it. "I am glad to hear it."
Weeks later, Alice heard a rumor. She'd been asking about Castle Kauffman and Herr Schmidt, curious about what had prompted their abrupt removal, but had gotten back nothing more concrete than that there had been some kind of accident, that Schmidt was injured, and the Nazi elite were displeased with him.
But then she heard another rumor; not from her higher-up 'friends', but from the streets. A whisper that could have been pure fantasy: A prisoner of a high-up SS general has escaped – has been liberated, by Allied spies. From right under the general's nose.
The moment Alice heard it she thought of Erskine and her heart leaped. She crossed all her fingers and toes and hoped it was him. Hoped he had been whisked out of his chains and out of that looming castle. For him she couldn't do much more than hope, but the hope gave her another surge of strength in her assistance of her friends in Vienna. If Erskine could get out, surely so could they? She organised more escapes in the dead of night, coordinating train tickets and border passes and empty lorries. Jilí helped, offering Alice warm looks and comforting touches in the darkness. Alice could tell she wanted to say thank you, but knew that Alice would never let her say it.
They did all their work through personal networks: friends and friends of friends, a game of life and death and trust.
It felt like something was coming. And in the end that was what hope was, wasn't it?
"Steve. Steve, you're drunk."
"M'not drunk, Bucky, listen to me-"
"I am listening, and I know you're worried – I am too – but worrying about this while you're drunk isn't going to help anyone." Bucky set his hand on Steve's thin shoulder, trying to steady his friend.
They sat at a table at the back of a dance hall with dim candlelight illuminating their faces and half-finished drinks at their elbows. Steve's date had ditched him an hour ago (fair enough really, he'd accidentally headbutted her chin after dancing for about ten seconds, and then a handsome fella at the bar had come over and offered to "rescue" her). Bucky could gauge pretty well by now when Steve needed to be alone and when he needed to talk, and knew that tonight was one of the latter times. So he'd apologized to his date and joined his friend at the back of the hall.
Steve ran a hand through his hair. "Buck, her voice has completely changed. Something's wrong-"
"Well she's on the other side of a war, pal. Besides, I thought you said it was getting better? She's written me a couple times and she sounds more or less normal."
Steve sat back. "I think she is getting better, but she still sounds tired." He ran a hand over his face, not noticing that his collar was sticking completely up now. His words tripped from his tongue, fueled by alcohol and months of stress and worry. In a strange way, Bucky sometimes privately reflected, it was as if Alice were the soldier off to war and Steve was the sweetheart left waiting and worrying back home. Bucky kept that thought safe in his own head.
"It's only letters, Steve," Bucky said. He slid Steve's drink out of reach across the table.
"But I can tell," Steve insisted. "I… it's Alice, and I know Alice, and she's… she's hurting, Bucky."
Bucky's brow furrowed and he leaned back in his chair as well. He hadn't seen Alice in four long years, but he hadn't forgotten her. She was still his friend. And he knew that if Steve said she was hurting then she was. Steve had a way of seeing past her tricks and careful words in a way that Bucky had never been able to.
He sighed and ran a hand over his face. "We'll get her back, Steve."
Steve looked up with red-lined eyes. He was drunk.
"Even if we have to go over there and win this war ourselves, we'll get her back home to Brooklyn." Bucky leaned over to grab Steve's shoulder again. "Until then… write to her. Tell her about your day. Tell her about how you blew another date" – Steve's miserable look turned annoyed – "and about how the Dodgers blew another game, and about how handsome and talented I've become since she left." Steve's annoyed look turned into an eye roll. Bucky laughed and reeled Steve into a one-armed hug. "Your girl will be home before you know it." Steve stiffened. "Don't tell her I called her that."
But Bucky had misjudged the reason for Steve's sudden tension. Steve pulled out of Bucky's arm, got to his feet, and shouted "Hey!" across the room.
Bucky looked up to see the handsome fella who'd stolen Steve's date leaned over the date in question, his hand on her arm and his body language domineering. The young woman looked up at him with a plastered-on nervous smile. Her hand wrapped around the man's wrist as if trying to pull him off her.
Steve shot out of his chair and stormed over.
"Oh boy." Bucky grabbed Steve's forgotten drink, finished it, and then rushed to help Steve's date and wrangle his friend.
Excerpt from 'The turn of the war: US involvement in World War II' by Kathy Grant (1992), p. 72
For the first two years of the war, the United States did not get involved. The majority of the population believed that getting involved in the international crisis in World War I had been a mistake and the cause of a colossal loss of life. In 1935 Congress passed a law preventing the shipment of arms to any party in a war, though this was revised in 1939 to allow Congress to send arms to Great Britain and France, much to the displeasure of Adolf Hitler. In the election of 1940, both candidates promised soldiers that they would not become embroiled in the war, but in reality both planned for the eventuality.
As the war in Europe progressed and became ever bloodier, the prospect of becoming involved was a topic of heated debate in the United States, with some convinced that America must step in to help its allies and others arguing that it would only lead to more American young men dying fruitlessly, or worse, defeat to the seemingly unstoppable forces of Germany.
Until the events of Pearl Harbor kicked off an inevitable decision the people of the United States watched from across the ocean as Europe tore itself apart, and waited.
At the end of the year, Alice convinced her uncle to let her drive up to their summer house in the mountains for the five days between Christmas and New Years. He had performances planned for her on either side of that, but he agreed that she had earned a small holiday for herself. Alice did want the time alone, but it was also a test – could her uncle be convinced to let her have a small freedom? And more importantly: would anyone notice if she disappeared for a few days?
She drove through two road blocks on the way. They checked her papers and asked for her autograph, but didn't bother checking her car.
The mountains and their spiky black pines were laden in a fresh dump of snow, making her path up the roads treacherous. Alice drove carefully and steadily until she made it to her uncle's peaked wooden cabin (though it was really too large to be called a cabin). She parked the car and peered through the front window at the quiet house. She let out a breath.
"Are we there yet?" came a small voice from the back seat.
Alice glanced over her shoulder. As soon as her uncle had lent her his Steyr motorcar she'd made some modifications: she'd hollowed out the space under the seats and poked some holes through the back of the interior into the trunk. Nothing she couldn't fix later. Now, four pale faces peered back at her from those hidden spaces.
Alice smiled. "We're here. The ride wasn't too bumpy, was it? I only learned how to drive in Vienna."
The man hiding in her trunk shook his head. "It was fine. Thank you, Alice." He had his arm wrapped around his wife, who despite what he'd said looked a little rattled.
"Don't thank me, I'm only getting you part of the way." She cranked down the handbrake and opened the driver's door, shivering at the snowy chill in the mountain air, then circled to open the back seat door. The two children under the back seat wriggled free and then jumped out into the crunchy snow, shaking out their limbs. Alice walked to the trunk to free their parents, then stepped back with her hands on her hips to survey the family before her.
The Hofmanns hadn't had enough money to move out of Austria before the war. They still didn't have a coin to their name (nor were they allowed to, thanks to the post-Kristallnacht laws), but it had become increasingly obvious that they needed to make some form of escape or be sent to who knew where in the East. For a month or so now they'd been gathering supplies and planning their escape with Alice and Jilí's help. Mr and Mrs Hofmann had spent a lot of sleepless nights on the concrete floor of their cousin's garden shed preparing. Their youngest son Rupert had been ill that year, but Alice was sure he'd be up to the journey now. She smiled thinly as she watched the ten year old boy pack a snowball in his bare hands and toss it at his older sister. The girl, Elizabeth, wrinkled up her pointed nose and went to hide behind her mother.
Alice swallowed dryly. "Do you have everything?" she asked the parents. A mountain wind whistled around them, plucking at loose jackets and hair. "Your food? The maps? Your money?"
Mr Hoffman patted the bag slung over his shoulder, then nodded at the bag his wife carried. They made a strange group in the snow: two adults fussing over their children, dressed in the best clothes they could find for a long hike, laden with enough layers to see them through the Austrian mountains. Alice caught a glint of metal and her eyes zeroed in on Mr Hoffman's neck.
She sighed and met his eyes. "You can't take that with you, Isaac."
He followed her gaze and his jaw tightened. "It's all I have left of my father." His hand closed around the star of David hanging from a chain on his neck.
Mrs Hofmann's eyes softened. "Isaac," she said, half exasperated and half sorrowful.
Alice stepped closer. The children were still mostly oblivious to what was going on: Elizabeth was kicking snow at her brother. "I want you to keep it," Alice told Isaac. "But you four have a long, hard journey east ahead of you. You might be getting out of Austria, but you're going to travel through other occupied countries, and those papers in your bag" – she cast a significant look at the bag his wife carried – "say that you are a poor, Austrian, native German family seeking a better life further away from the war. People will believe your papers. They won't believe them if they see that," she finished, touching Isaac's closed fist. His skin was cold.
For a few more moments Isaac stared her down, his jaw clenched under his beard and his eyes hard and dark. Beside him, his wife set a gentle hand on his arm.
Finally he closed his eyes and pulled the star of David over his head. "Please take care of it, Alice."
Alice accepted the warm metal chain with both hands and looked down at it. The star gleamed in the bright, cold light. She glanced up with a determined look. "I'll keep it here at the cabin," she said. "The fourth step in the staircase is creaky, if you check on the left side there's a way you can pry the board up. You'll find your father's necklace there. When you can come back."
Isaac nodded, his eyes gleaming. Both of them knew that with the way things were going, the chances of the Hofmanns being able to return to Austria were small.
Alice let out a breath and closed her hand around the star. "Are you sure you don't want to come in? Spend the night, and then set off tomorrow?"
Mrs Hofmann shook her head. "No, we don't want to wait another day. Besides, you've done so much for us already-"
"Don't worry about-"
"It's alright, really," Mrs Hofmann said with a small, sad smile. She was a striking woman, with thick dark hair and a nose that reminded Alice of Greek statues. "The sooner we leave, the better."
"I agree with you there," Alice sighed. She hesitated, then darted forward to wrap her arms around the warmly-dressed couple. They were really only about fifteen years older than her, but they reminded her of her mom and Matthias.
After a moment of hesitation, Mr and Mrs Hoffman reached to hold her back.
"Good luck," Alice murmured. Their plan was to walk and hitch rides all the way to neutral Turkey, and then maybe on to Israel. The length of such a journey boggled the mind, but it must be achieved.
"Shalom, Alice," murmured Isaac.
Alice pulled away and turned to the children. "Goodbye, you two troublemakers. How about a farewell hug?"
Elizabeth and Rupert stopped trying to smother each other in the snow and ran to Alice with their arms out. Alice dropped to her knees to hug them, not caring that the snow seeped through her stockings and bit at her knees. "You two listen to your parents, and remember to stay quiet no matter how scared you get. Alright?"
"Alright," they echoed. They'd already had many serious conversations with their parents about their upcoming journey.
Alice kissed the top of Rupert's dark head. She tried very hard not to think about how Tom had turned twelve last month. Only two years older than Rupert, and Rupert seemed so tall. "I'll see you later."
"When?" he asked as they pulled away.
That stumped her for a moment. She'd only really said it to make them feel better. She swallowed and faked a smile. "Once we're all safe and sound."
He thought about it, then: "Okay. Bye, Alice!"
Alice rose to her feet. The Hofmanns checked their children's clothes and boots once more, then hiked their bags over their shoulders and looked up the road, to where a narrow path lead up into the mountains. A narrowing, unmanned path that would eventually bring them to the border to Hungary. Hungary had joined the Axis powers late last month, but the Hofmanns should go unnoticed amongst the other poor and hungry families fleeing from the war.
Alice waved them off, faking a smile for the children, and then stood watching them tramp off into the distance. They crested a hill and looked back.
"Bye," Alice breathed. She waved to them.
The smallest figure raised his hand and shook it back and forth wildly, making her laugh. Then they vanished over the lip of the mountain.
Alice stood out in the road for what could have been hours, until flakes of snow began to drift out of the sky and catch in her hair. Alone, she pulled her bag from where it had been resting on the car's passenger seat and walked inside the cabin.
Five days all to myself.
Five days with nothing but a radio and a pile of old books to entertain herself. It would have sounded quite relaxing actually, if it weren't for the fact that she knew she'd be spending each minute wondering where the Hofmanns were – if they were warm enough, if they had enough to eat. If they'd been caught.
Alice ran a hand over her cold face and then went to the creaky staircase. She pried the fourth board free, eyed the star of David in her hand for a few moments longer than necessary, then slid it into that dark, unseen place. Until we meet again.
Adolf Hitler: "The year 1941 will be, I am convinced, the historical year of a great European New Order."
1941
Alice returned to Vienna on January 1st to hear that there'd been a massive German air raid on London and that the night before, General Charles deGaulle (the exiled leader of the Free French) had called for French citizens to stay indoors on New Years Day from 3 to 4pm as a show of passive resistance. Alice wasn't sure how useful that'd be, but she liked how angry it made her uncle.
He only thought to ask her a single question about her solo trip to the mountains.
"It was a wonderful trip," she replied evenly. "Thank you."
He just took a drag of his cigarette in response.
Alice didn't get to hear if the French were able to carry off their passive resistance, because she had a performance at the Palais Pallavicini that afternoon. The family living there was throwing a luncheon/dinner for the elite who'd stayed in Vienna for the holiday period.
So she found herself in another glittering ballroom under ornate chandeliers, playing the piano and serenading the latest round of favored officials and generals. It was a sedate affair, more out of respect for everyone's hangovers from the night before rather than for the war – everything was going their way, after all, so why not celebrate? Germany had yet to suffer a major defeat.
Alice kept her voice low and her songs slow accordingly, which gave her the ability to people-watch. She noted who was new in town, and which Nazi officials were here. The Minister for Finance had finally left, which was probably a good sign for Austria's economy. But one of Goebbel's aides was back, speaking to her uncle and some other suited, cigarette-smoking men at the table nearest Alice.
"… will see the institution of a New Order, and-"
Alice let her voice fade away at the end of the chorus to an old Austrian folk song, and continued playing the melody on the piano so she could eavesdrop better.
"Very exciting," her uncle said. "And if anyone can achieve it, it will be the German race. The strongest one, after all."
"I see you've been paying attention to our Führer," the aide said laughingly. "Yes, our influence already extends across Europe from France to Norway to the Ukraine, with only the British to the west, barely holding their own, and the Russians to the east, who do not belong to us."
"Are they next?" asked someone else at the table.
The aide just took a drink, shaking his head as if to say you know I can't talk about that. Alice peered at him out of the corner of her eye. He had Aryan-blonde hair and blue eyes that right now seemed to glitter. "As I was saying," he said, "Europe has never been so united under a single power, save for maybe the Roman Empire. And we know what a civilizing impact they had. Once we have reordered the ethnographical relations…"
Alice listened to the conversation taking place at the table across from her as her fingers danced numbly on the piano and her ears burned. Her skin crawled at each word. It felt as if the universe were expanding around her and laying flat at her feet.
Here is the future, the aide seemed to promise.
And in Alice's mind, a question emerged: What are you going to do about it?
The door handle of Jilí's front door banged against the wall inside her apartment when Alice burst in.
At the table Jilí leapt to her feet with fear in her eyes, which abruptly turned to irritation when she saw Alice's flushed face. She'd been in the middle of preparing a care package for the Steiners.
"Alice, when my door bursts in I'm expecting to see-"
"We have to do something," Alice cut in. She stopped a few feet away from the table, her chest heaving and her hair falling in her face.
Jilí cocked her head. "What?"
Alice gestured at the cans of food on the table. "We've been hiding people, feeding them, keeping them safe, but what's the point?" Jilí's face darkened. "We've been able to protect, what, thirty people?"
"Alice-"
"No, just let me…" Alice strode across the creaky floorboards, yanked out a seat and sat down. Jilí slowly lowered back into her seat across the table. Alice met her eyes. "This isn't going away." She gestured out the window. "They will continue to spread, and invade, and infect the minds of our friends and neighbors like a tumor. We must try to get more people out of their reach, but what's the point if they just continue to expand? Who will stop them, if not us?"
"The Allies are-"
"They're trying to push back against an insatiable tide. We're in the heart of it, Jilí. We're here. We can do more. I know we can. I've been waiting for something to happen but I just realized that what I've been waiting for is me." She spread her hands. "We can put the word out, quietly, that we'll protect people. At the moment we've just been helping the people you and I know, but those people know more people who need help."
Alice leaned across the table. "There's a network out there, we just have to pull on the threads. I know people at the markets, we can set up a food network. I can cover it. And we can get more people out of the country. I'll take on more performances abroad and get back in contact with the people I know at the border to Switzerland." Her hands were flying now. "And you mentioned those people Gruber knows in France – I told you not to take the risk of contacting them, but if they can help us then let's do it."
She drew in a breath. "We've thought we're alone all this time but we're not, Jilí. We can't be. There are other people out there trying to put a stop to this… this insanity. I can't just stand by and watch it unfurl any longer, but I also can't do anything alone. We need friends. Or if not friends, then… then fellow soldiers."
She finally drew to a halt, breathless. Jilí watched her with a blank face.
After what seemed like an eternity of silence a smile crept across Jilí's face. The first genuine one Alice had seen from her since Franz died.
"There you are," Jilí grinned. "There you are, Alice. Welcome back."
~ Puppet no longer. Grow your wings. ~
Cheers to Britannica Encyclopedia's website for the US involvement in WWII info. Next week's update may be a little late, though I'll try to get it on time.
Reviews:
SagaDuWyrm: I'm very glad to hear that you liked it! I've got to keep you on your toes ;)
Guest: Thanks so much for your review! I'm glad you're enjoying it. As for whether the modern world knows about what Alice was really up to, I'd like to keep that vague for now so I'm afraid I won't answer your question ;)