Transition Plan Chapter 90: Searching for Jeanne Part 8
Author's Note: I have a commitment starting early this weekend so you all get the benefit of having the next chapter early! Hope you enjoy. Especially Megan Lyle who gets her wish this week for me to publish more often! :)
…Later on 31 May 1915. Southwest of what was Garua…
Karl-Heinz was pretty badly wounded by Armand, but he still managed to carry Jeanne securely over his undamaged shoulder. Jeanne was hysterical to the breaking point when she witnessed the grenade explode next to her father and his men. She shrieked and screamed and cried her eyes out. She was absolutely inconsolable. She struggled harder to get loose as they continued through the bush, sensing Karl-Heinz getting weaker. She prayed desperately her father's men would track her down from all the noise she was making and save her from this horrible man and his sidekick, or that her captor would die quickly and she could escape before Gunter killed her. She knew the awful old man always wanted her dead, and unrestrained, he would do so without blinking an eyelash.
Jeanne beat on Karl-Heinz' shoulder wound, hoping to disable him, force him to let her go, or make him bleed to death faster. Finally he screamed in pain. They both collapsed on the trail, but he purposely fell on her, trapping her underneath him far from the fighting, having completely exhausted their adrenalin from the escape from Garua. Gunter and Margrite were much further behind, and could not see this desperate struggle between captor and little girl.
Jeanne strained with all her might to extricate herself from underneath him, while Karl-Heinz struggled with the pain from the gunshot and his dizziness from lost blood, but he retained his grip on the girl, slapped Jeanne hard, dizzying her again, and demanded, "Stop it! Stop it now!"
"NO! I hate you! Let me go!" she yelled.
She hit him back harder than ever on the wound, and Karl-Heinz groaned. She could not get out of his hard grip on her. She looked vainly for some kind of sharp object to stab him or a branch or rock to use as a club against him.
"I hope you die in agony. My father is dead because of you!" she screamed at her kidnapper.
"I will take you with me. You can join him," he snarled.
In all their struggles, he managed to grab his pistol, cocked his gun and placed it in the middle of her forehead. She froze. She knew he would shoot this time. She'd lost everything, and her father was dead. But she wanted to live for Jack and her mother now.
"Please no. Don't shoot me!"
Margrite had caught up with them, and slapped the gun out of his hand into the brush, "NO! You can't kill her!"
"I can do whatever the hell I want to with her now that 'Daddy' is dead," Karl-Heinz yelled at Margrite and he reached painfully for the gun, "Do you want to go with her too, love?"
With his gun pointed at her also, Margrite cowered and backed off. She was shocked. He'd never threatened her before. Karl-Heinz repositioned himself, groaning as he strained to get a better aim at the frightened girl still in his grasp. His entire left side was covered in blood now and covered Jeanne too. Gunter, huffing and puffing from the exhaustion of running, joined them but just listened and watched. Part of him wanted to be free from Karl-Heinz and the troublesome girl, too, but not before she suffered. He started to make plans.
Jeanne knew she still wanted to live for Jack, despite the certain death of her brave father, and said quickly, "You are going to die. I can tell. I… I can help you get well, Karl-Heinz…"
Karl-Heinz knew she'd seen plenty of death since the attack in Morocco. It tempered his anger.
He cast a very wary eye on her, and jammed the muzzle underneath her jaw, "How?"
"Herbs from the jungle will heal you. I know how to make them," she explained frantically, in complete fear for her life.
"You're just stalling to stay alive, Meriem."
"No I'm not. This will help you," she begged.
"Are you sure you won't just poison me?" he asked.
"I should, but you'll just shoot me first, so I will save you. On one condition."
"You are hardly in a position to bargain for your life with a gun at your head, Meriem."
"My real mom's a nurse. I know enough. If you kill me, you'll bleed out in minutes without my help."
Gunter vowed not to help his friend if she died. Watching Karl-Heinz bleed to death would be very satisfying in payback for all the mistreatment over the years. Margrite was in total panic about losing Karl-Heinz and Jeanne, and it paralyzed her.
"Go on. But hurry," Karl-Heinz noted, becoming woozier, increasingly convinced she was right.
She demanded, "Not until you agree to my demand. My slavery ends when I am 18. I'm an adult woman in France and Germany then and adult in Africa at 16. No matter what I still owe you. Enough of this 14 million Deutschmarks bullshit. You can have plenty of revenge on me and Mama until then, now that Papa is dead."
Despite his desire to see both the girl and Karl-Heinz dead right now, Gunter urged, "Take the offer. You want to go through our entire lives with this little bitch backbiting us every step of the way? And one day pulling the trigger on us?"
Weakened and getting weaker, and barely able to hold the gun, Karl-Heinz said, "OK. OK… I accept that offer. But 18 years, not 16."
"OK. I'll go get the medicine now," she said anxiously, hoping to make an escape.
"Supervise her, don't let her run away," Karl-Heinz ordered Gunter.
Gunter drew his own gun and replied, "OK."
Her escape hopes were dashed again. Gunter fought the urge to kill the girl in the jungle and then watch his partner bleed to death, using the excuse that she tried to escape, but was curious to see this all play out. If the girl couldn't heal Karl-Heinz then he'd watch is partner die anyway and then have some target practice 'fun' with her before finishing her, abandon or kill Margrite if she objected to him torturing and killing the girl, and start over with the boss free of all these burdens. He was exhausted of Karl-Heinz' complicated schemes.
Jeanne quickly gathered all the elements for a healing poultice that Countess Clayton and Jack showed her how to do, and prepared a rough strand of thread from a particularly stringy vine to seal the wound and staunch the bleeding. She broke off some sharp thorns from a jungle variety of locust tree and some juicy vines so Karl-Heinz could replace his fluids and start to recover.
"Give me your knife," she asked.
He hesitated.
"Trust me pissnelke," she insisted showing no respect for her captor, only carrying out her promise.
Examining all the plants and herbs skeptically, he asked Jeanne, "Will all this kill me?"
She gave him a dim view, and spewed,"No, but that stuff over there will. Shut up and let me do my work or I will jam it down your gullet you arschloch."
He could not tell the difference between any of the plants. He hated being beholden to this girl and to the deal he just made for his life for her freedom. Gunter looked on, guarding the girl against any hostile moves or an attempt to escape. Margrite observed mostly in fear.
Jeanne cleaned the bullet hole and sewed the wound closed. He shouted in pain, while she suppressed great satisfaction at his discomfort.
"Sissy. Real jungle men never scream," she chided her captor, knowing Jack and his father's constant bravery when in pain, and added, "Bite on this, wimp. It'll help the pain."
It was the analgesic bark. She prepared the masticated poultice, strapping it around his shoulder and arm with a leathery vine.
Karl-Heinz felt immediately better sewed up and having the applied poultice to work its healing. The bullet had gone cleanly through his shoulder muscles.
"Ahhh. That feels good," he had to admit, "Where did you learn all that?"
She lied, "By watching the medics repair wounds when we escaped from Morocco on the ship."
"And from my boyfriend and his mother," she thought but would never say.
Margrite truly admired this little girl who acted in many ways like an adult woman already. For the first time she thought, "What is to be gained by ruining her by making her just like us?"
Karl-Heinz was already thinking about how he might break the agreement he made to free her at age 18 or make the most money possible at her expense when that happened.
They all napped. Jeanne was exhausted. She had no idea where they were. She had no desire or energy to run. It was clear her father's men had lost her trail.
Her deceased father…
…
Hours later they all awoke about the same time, and Karl-Heinz announced, "We're going to Douala. We have friends there."
"Well… maybe," Margrite said doubtfully.
"That's where you come in, Margrite."
She gave her boyfriend a sour look, "Don't count on it working this time but I will try. You know I will probably have to spend many nights with him to get us back in his good graces."
Karl-Heinz emphasized, "Do whatever it takes, Margrite. It's the price we have to pay for our safety."
"You mean the price I have to pay for your safety," she remarked scornfully.
She hated the boss' smarminess in his arms, a place she'd been before, and she wasn't really happy how little Karl-Heinz objected to her having sex with another man to pay a debt, even if it was the boss.
Even with a good trail to the coastal city, they forced Jeanne to blaze a new one, so that the French forces and Jacot's surviving squad would not find them. It took weeks of walking, and Jeanne found herself leading the way again. It did feel good to rid of the shabby clothing and be 'one with the jungle' again. Much of the time she could be lost in her own imaginary world pretending she was trailblazing with Jack and that he was admiring her natural prettiness like he had done many times before when he thought she wasn't looking. Not that she hadn't peeked at him intentionally too. It made her smile for a moment. She had the most handsome boyfriend in the world. And he would grow up even more handsome.
… End of July 1915. French Army Base, Dahomey…
The General knocked lightly on the Jacot's apartment at the Visiting Officers' Quarters of the French Army's Dahomey base. He knew their new baby often napped in the afternoon.
"Yes, General?" Josephine opened the door and asked tentatively.
She noted the look on the General's face was not joyful. He'd already visited her on a very serious note right after Armand and his men went AWOL, and informed her of the grim consequences of what happens when a senior officer acts on his own, but had let her know confidentially that he hoped his long time friend would succeed in recovering Jeanne. Josephine was hoping for news of the rescue from the General. She knew that destroying the radio was part of the operation and until they got back to Douala to send a message to headquarters on that town's radio station, there would be total silence.
"May I come in, Madame Jacot? We have to talk," the General said very seriously.
Josephine responded positively at first, but then suddenly remembered what always happened when a senior officer visited the spouse of a soldier on a combat assignment with a somber tone, "Certainly, sir. But… oh no… Mon Dieu!"
She guessed what she thought the General was really going to tell her, and fainted into her husband's commanding officer's arms.
The General knew this was going to be the most difficult discussion he'd ever had with any of his soldiers' wives.
…Still late July 1915. Douala, Kamerun…
Jeanne could smell Douala well before they saw it. Rising above the jungle canopy several miles out they saw a smoky pall from thousands of cooking fires, and the city stank of chemicals and humanity stacked on top of each other.
"OK Meriem, your 'jungle days' of freedom are over. It's time to get dressed. Put this on. Douala is a man's world. Pretty girls and young women get taken in days, especially if you're a naïve 'native' and are naked in public. Starting today you're not a girl anymore."
She was very unhappy with the transformation. Although the pants and shirt outfit Margrite sewed fit loosely, intentionally obscuring any possible feminine features, it was scratchy and immediately hot. Jeanne took the chapeau to cover her head like any boy in the city. She asked, "Margrite, trim my hair shorter. If I have to be a boy, I really have to look like one."
She was nearly totally shaved after the trim. But Jack would have still considered her beautiful.
"You look very convincing, Meriem," noted Margrite.
"You mean Manheim," Jeanne suggested.
Karl-Heinz nodded his approval, "Hmm… Meriem… Manheim… yeah, that works. That's very good. You might understand German culture yet, girl."
Jeanne was happy to have the very rare praise from her captor. It was a play on words, meaning 'servant's home'.
They entered the bustling town and walked the streets. Jeanne was truly frightened, and clutched Margrite. She had never ever seen humanity as decayed as this in France or Morocco or anywhere else. This was truly destitution at its very worst, torn by the conflict here in Kamerun and surrounding countries.
There were many homeless children mixed in with the adults, attempting to put the next meal in their empty stomachs. Jeanne saw them begging, or stealing, or fighting each other over meager scraps of food, or fending off advances or attacks from adults. She shuddered seeing children abducted right in front of her. She was no better off than anyone in these lawless and cruel streets. Many kids were sick, or injured, or maimed. She saw several decomposing bodies of adults and children being devoured by rats and stray dogs.
What was even more disheartening was that there was no one who seemed to care about anyone else and there was no one in any kind of position of authority visible to enforce any kind of law and order. Or if there was, they were intimidated as much as Jeanne was about the horrible squalor of Douala. There were many signs of a brief conflict between German and British forces, with battle-damaged buildings and some ruins. British flags flew everywhere as a symbol of victory, with pieces of burnt or trashed German flags on the ground and rotting in dumpsters. If this was a British victory, what was the reward? What had England won with the 'prize' of festering Douala? And what was the benefit for the people in the streets? They didn't seem to be any freer with the British in charge than under the German rule. She had a first-hand awakening to the impact of war and conflict and greed and consequences on the simple people. Jeanne saw things she was never meant to see, but Karl-Heinz forced her to see it.
And still worse, there were girls just a little older than her through young adult age selling themselves or being forced into all sorts of depravity in public by men who owned them. They had the empty eyes of lost and hopeless souls, and stared at her passing by them with the three adults, longing for what appeared to those street girls as a real family. If they only knew she was only slightly better off than them. Jeanne shivered, and for the only time since being captured, was grateful to look like a boy. Karl-Heinz was right about women and girls suffering the most here.
Douala was as terrible a place as she had imagined Sodom or Gomorrah in the Bible whenever her mother read her verses at bedtime.
She had to laugh to herself or the irony of that reflection. A normal 'bedtime' book reading with her parents in France and Morocco and with Jack, Lily, Lady Jane, and her mother at the treehouse was so foreign to her as to be almost a forgotten memory. She missed sleeping in the same 'kids' room' with Lily and Jack, and when the mothers weren't paying attention late at night, the beautiful times when she sneaked across the room to snuggle together with Jack on his cot a few minutes before going back to sleep in their separate beds. Cute little Lily would often tease them quietly about being 'like married people' when they did that, but it just made them want to cuddle more. And more than once they cuddled too long and accidentally fell asleep in each other's arms overnight. It was against their mothers' rules but they managed to not get caught. She wanted those days back so badly, and knew her empty bed would haunt Jack every night. She knew he was suffering without her just as much as she was without him.
Jeanne shuddered at how much her life had changed in nearly a year. And worried what would yet change.
She projected the thought hard, "I'm here Jack, in Douala. I survived Garua. And I'm going to be OK, in spite of it all."
She actually felt a vague soothing feeling from afar, but nothing more. They were definitely in contact again and it made her feel good. There were no words this time, and no sense of understanding she was in Douala. But she and Jack were again connected. She felt a momentary respite in her fear on the street.
Karl-Heinz smiled seeing his subversive agenda was working, bringing Meriem through the worst part of town first and saw her withdrawing in fear. He wanted to make Jeanne think he might do the same with her or sell her to others who would subject her to more terrible things than he would, thereby assuring her loyalty to his own demands for her.
They continued into town to an imposing ancient structure, a bit dilapidated and need of repair in an isolated quarter of town, hidden in dark corners. It was stifling in the still, acrid air of the streets. The building seemed completely abandoned. Karl-Heinz knocked on the monstrous oaken doors, scarred with recent burn marks and bullet impacts.
Several surly native and German civilian men appeared from the shadows behind and beside them and confronted the foursome.
"Who comes here?" asked one, the biggest and scariest one of them all.
"Someone who wants to see the boss," noted Karl-Heinz calmly but firmly.
The surly man threatened, "The boss don't take strangers unannounced. Ever."
"We're not strangers. Tell him we're Karl-Heinz and Gunter and Margrite. We all work for the boss."
The African woman winced. The only 'work' she'd ever done with the boss was under him. She could feel the boss' creepy fingers on her bare dark skin already.
The guard gave them a vaguely familiar look and derided them, "Oh. You guys. You mean you worked for him. Man… you don't look so good. You guys left when the hard times came and made that stupid deal with the German Army to save your own skins. How'd that work out for you? It's a good thing for you the boss wanted to help the Fatherland and let you go to get to Kamina to get the Kaiser's people off his back here. You're lucky the boss don't have a contract out on you. I'd be real happy to do that one. You want to come crawling back, Karl-Heinz? Come back in a month. He's busy now, with people who stuck with him since before the war. The boss' got his hands full enough with figuring out how to pay off the British before they get snoopy. They're no better than the Germans."
"A month?" Karl-Heinz asked. That would be an eternity on these dangerous streets.
"You heard us. Don't make us change our minds about you. Or especially make us mad."
Disappointed, the four walked the streets of Douala, into a 'cleaner' and more prosperous area, although given the post-battle squalor of the small city, 'cleaner and more prosperous' was hardly better than where they had just been.
No one had any room for them, so the first night in Douala they huddled in a putrid back alley together. Gunter and Karl-Heinz took turns sleeping and guarding the women, otherwise they would have been robbed or mugged the instant they were all asleep. Margrite would have been assaulted and Jeanne would have been abducted from them altogether. Boy slaves were almost as lucrative a deal as girls for some human traffickers. Both men brandished their guns noticeably to intimidate any threats. Few people had guns. Every street-dweller sensed these new strangers were 'fresh meat'. The eyes they felt on them from the back shadows of every street were uncomfortably penetrating. Karl Heinz realized much had changed since he left here years ago, and admitted that he had too. The boss' people had barely recognized them. No one else here would either. Now they were prey, not predators.
The next morning the foursome awoke. All were hungry from no dinner and no likely source of breakfast. They took a few scraps of spoiled food from the trash in the alleyway in which they slept. It was awful and nearly rancid, but it was something.
Karl-Heinz vowed, "We are not going back to this again. We're not young anymore - we've done the street people thing decades ago. We're going to find jobs and a place to stay while we wait to get back 'in' with the boss."
"So how are we going to do that?" Jeanne asked innocently.
"Margrite and I are going to find a place to stay, while you and Gunter get food."
"No! Don't leave me alone with Gunter," cringed Jeanne.
"You have no choice Meriem… er… Manheim. And Gunter, don't you dare damage or 'lose' 'the merchandise', understood?" ordered Karl-Heinz. He knew all about the intense animosity between Jeanne and Gunter.
"OK…" the old man said grumpily.
Gunter would much rather make a quick Deutschmark selling Jeanne to a slave merchant and be done with her and be her first 'customer' just for spite. But he knew how angry Karl-Heinz would be if he did that.
"We meet back here at the end of the day."
She challenged what was going to happen, still fearful of what Gunter might do, "Maybe I should stay with you and Margrite. What makes you think I won't just run away from Gunter and turn myself in to the police?"
Karl-Heinz noted, "Did you see one single policeman the entire day on those streets?"
"No."
"Don't expect to. And if you do, stay away from them, even dressed like a boy. Some are more crooked than the men and women you saw."
As Margrite and Karl-Heinz abruptly turned and departed and she was left with Gunter, she sighed. Even in the midst of thousands of people she was still completely lost.
"Come on 'Manheim'. Get to it. I'm hungry," Gunter snapped.
"Halt verdammt noch mal die Schnauze, Gunter!" Jeanne yelled.
Being told to shut his mouth in the most vulgar way possible, the older man resisted the urge to slam her into the nearest brick wall, but held back from doing so only because of his hunger. She couldn't beg with a broken collarbone.
…
Every place that Karl-Heinz and Margrite went to look for apartments, posing as a displaced middle aged married couple, was full of refugees from the fighting. They were just another homeless couple with a family displaced by the war in Kamerun, like everyone else streaming in from the jungle.
It was getting exasperating after a nearly all day search. Until they came to one place. Margrite had a glimmer of recognition, seeing a man cleaning the stoop of a doorway entrance to a small set of apartments.
She said, "Wait. I know this guy. He was a slum lord from when I was as a girl after Momma abandoned me on the streets here. I used to make beds in the rooms and clean up and run errands to earn my keep. It was more like an inn then. I was barely six. But he was nice to me. I was kind of a substitute daughter to him. She died of malaria."
They went up to the man, who was much older and much more grizzled than before, but he recognized her immediately, even if his memory was a bit faded, "Hey! I know you. Ma… Mary?"
Margrite smiled and replied, "Hello, Dieter. It's been a long time… I'm Margrite."
They hugged. He smelled of stale schnapps and bloodwurst. Like he always did.
"Yeah… Margrite. I didn't ever think I'd see you again. Wow, didn't you grow up all pretty? I thought you went back to the country?"
It was the first time anyone had called her pretty in a long time. Karl-Heinz rarely complimented her.
Margrite explained, "I did. There's no work in the country. The war came there. Garua fell. Nothing is left of my home village. The French and British leveled it and the fort. We barely got out."
She played to his emotions. It worked.
Dieter sympathized, "Yeah I heard about that. Sorry Margrite, everyone is having a hard time these days, but not as bad as all those poor bastards in Europe… The Brits and French just about have all of Kamerun now. No telling what that means for us Germans when they take over. So who's this? Your husband?"
"Yes," she gripped Karl-Heinz, but felt him flinch at the term 'husband' as she continued, "Karl-Heinz, sweetheart. Meet Dieter - my benefactor from years ago when I really needed one after Momma left me on the streets."
The men shook hands pleasantly.
"Umm… Good day, Dieter. Pleased to meet you. Thanks for taking care of her when she was little or I'd have never met her," Karl-Heinz mentioned, although he remembered the rest of her story, when this same man threw her out back on the streets later when times were really hard, which was where Karl-Heinz found her and took her heart, and soon after her virginity.
Margrite asked sheepishly, "We… umm… we need a place to stay, Dieter. There aren't any places."
"If it were anyone else I'd say we're 'full up', but I got one flat I always have in reserve, now since… well… Terese died. Margrite, I'd do anything for you, honey. I need to make up for those years after I threw you out to make room for paying tenants. You can have it, but it can't be free. I need the money. I'm sorry."
She continued her fabrication to get her way, "It's OK, Dieter, thank you. We're a family now. We have a son and Karl-Heinz' business partner is with us. We all got displaced."
Dieter observed, "It'll fit everyone as long as someone sleeps on the floor. Not too many bugs, though. I fumigated. Ten Deutschmarks a week, Two weeks in advance. That's half what I charge everyone else."
The 250 or so Deutschmarks left from Kamina and the sometimes pay they earned at Garua would be gone in no time at that rate, even with this deal. They'd have to get decent jobs.
…
On the street elsewhere in town in the commerce district, Jeanne didn't know where to start to do the job she was asked to perform.
"So what am I supposed to do, Gunter?" she complained.
He lectured, "You naïve twit. You beg from people who look like they have money. Look pathetic, forlorn, and hopeless. That should be easy for you."
She gave the man a nasty look.
Gunter added, "No one wants to give an old man anything. I will make sure you don't get into trouble with anyone who wants to steal you."
She examined her loose fitting boy's clothes. Margrite had sewn lots of hidden pockets to put things and not look like her pockets were full. The outfit was still uncomfortable even after a few days of wearing it. The chapeau and her very short hair really did make her look like a boy. For awhile, she watched the boys and girls on the street work over the adults. The boys did seem to have an advantage. She had to give Karl-Heinz credit by making her pose as a boy to give her a fighting chance on the streets.
She steeled herself to start begging, and still lived by the principle that most people are nice and will help the needy. She found out they weren't. Most people walked by completely ignoring her, some hurled insults at her to get a 'real job'. Some shoved her, others tried to hit or slap her or screamed at her, "Get out of my way, boy!"
At least she was convincing as a boy. She watched Gunter in the shadows observing her efforts and confrontations and wondered seriously if he would help her if someone tried to hurt her or abduct her.
At the end of the day, she'd received a few pieces of fruit, some stale baguettes, and a few coins.
Gunter insulted her, "You did a horrible job, even for your first day out. We'll all starve at this rate. Give me the money. I'll buy some food here at the market. Thank goodness for that one generous lout."
They walked into the very crowded market. The stands of food smelled good and she was so hungry from more than a day without eating anything, but resisted the urge to steal. She fought back her tears of both disappointment in not doing well and in shame for having to beg in the first place.
With an armful of some sausage and jerky and other fruits and vegetables, Gunter ordered, "Time to go, Meriem."
"OK Gunter," she answered timidly. She was very tired and hungry.
…
They all rendezvoused at the appointed time and place.
Jeanne said expectantly, "Wanna see what I got us?"
"No, Meriem. Later. Looks like Gunter did better than you," Karl-Heinz complained.
"But that's because..." she tried to say.
Her kidnapper interrupted her tersely, "Not now, Meriem. I'm busy."
The urge to please them was crushed. As usual. Jeanne was running out of self esteem.
They wound their way through the streets to Dieter's slum apartments. They stopped in front of it and looked up to their pad.
Karl-Heinz announced, "This is our new home while we're here."
"This dump?" Jeanne asked. She was more prone to criticize than ever before. It spawned from being incessantly criticized herself.
Gunter chastised her, "You'd rather sleep on the streets?
"No…" she replied.
"Then shut up," he snapped.
Margrite observed that Jeanne and Gunter never got along since the day she met her and over the months their relations were actually getting worse.
They climbed the creaky and broken-down staircase, unlocked and opened the door to the flat. It had two bedrooms, a kitchen and open area with a broken down couch and a couple of chairs. Both beds had horribly dirty and torn mattresses. On the floor were soiled carpets and in one bedroom, there was a tattered rattan mat for sleeping. Jeanne knew where she was sleeping, and hoped Karl-Heinz and Margrite wouldn't keep her awake every night with their incessant lovemaking. Cockroaches scattered back into the cracks in the floors and walls at the sound of the creaking door. There was a barely functional bathroom with a toilet and cast iron tub. They tried the broken faucets and the tap water and it had a bad odor. The bottled water on the table seemed all right though. Getting fresh water from the common city wells would be one of Jeanne's jobs.
They looked in the cupboards and found some somewhat clean dishes. In the bedroom closet were some simple pillows and sheets that were more or less clean.
Karl-Heinz noted, "Well… this will have to do."
Secretly he agreed with Jeanne that it was a dump.
"We'll make this flat our home in no time. All it needs is a woman's touch", Margrite said cheerily, putting her arm around Jeanne fondly, "Won't we Meriem? "
The little girl nodded, and leaned into Margrite's hug, but wondered how this horrible place could ever be considered home. Margrite didn't mention that this was the very place she had lived in as a girl, and that it had been Terese's room before she died. As run down as it was, Dieter didn't want just anyone living in his deceased daughter's room and it was more of a shrine to her.
Karl-Heinz sat at the table, "I'm hungry, Meriem. Now then. What did you bring us?"
She emptied a few of her pockets and laid it on the kitchen table.
"Is this all?
"Well I begged for some money, received twelve Deutschmarks, and Gunter bought some other things with the money."
"You lie, girl. I worked hard to get this money," Gunter fabricated.
Jeanne was adamant, "That's not true Gunter. I begged for that money and a nice man gave it to me. You just stood around and looked nasty. Which is easy for you."
Just once Gunter wished he could cut loose with a haymaker to her face. Some broken teeth and a flattened nose like his would teach her some manners for her elders. Karl-Heinz so restrained what he'd do to her. But if she was damaged, she'd not be good for anything. Her looks were going to be worth real money someday.
"Will they believe my word or your word, slave?" he snarled.
"I believe you Meriem. Stop this stupid arguing, Gunter. Can't you see she's trying?" Margrite smiled supportively at Jeanne and put her arm around the little girl.
Of the threesome of adults, Jeanne had only grown comfortable with Margrite. Jeanne withdrew into the woman's protective embrace. It was only then the woman noticed Jeanne was nervous from her ordeal today, and was increasingly uncomfortable being alone around Gunter. Margrite also had an instant flashback. Meriem learning to live on the streets was so much the same as Margrite's days at that age.
Karl-Heinz ignored the verbal battle between Gunter and Meriem, who were always at each other's throats, "It doesn't matter. Let's eat."
As Jeanne went to the table to enjoy some of the spoils of her labors, she was shoved out of the way.
The adults ate it in front of her. As usual, there was no table grace or prayer of thanks for their new dwelling like her family or Jack's did at every meal. They just dug in.
"I got all this with the money, too," and Gunter spread out the food he bought with Meriem's money begging's, more than tripling what was available to eat.
Jeanne just stood by awkwardly, but knew she had to ask before they gobbled it all down, "How about some for me, please?"
"Are you kidding? This isn't even enough for us," snapped Karl-Heinz, "We worked hard today. You need to work harder too."
Margrite objected, "Karl-Heinz, you have to give her something. She's so thin. She'll never be able to last day after day on the streets if you don't feed her."
"Give her a few of your scraps, then, Margrite, if you're that concerned," Karl-Heinz said dismissively.
Margrite gave Jeanne a whole squash and a half-eaten fruit, she thanked the woman, and she devoured it all in a corner.
Jeanne's stomach still rumbled.
"Now everyone go to bed. We do this over in the morning. Only tomorrow Margrite and I get jobs."
"Does that mean we can stop begging?" asked Jeanne.
"No. Every bit of money we earn pays the rent and we save to pay back what we owe. And you, little girl, have a big debt to pay."
"Oh…" Jeanne was crestfallen. She'd prayed that something had changed.
Something else hadn't changed either. Karl-Heinz got out the chains, and motioned her over to the bedpole in their bedroom to be restrained for the night.
Jeanne whimpered, "Please don't do that. I promise I won't run. I would be snatched up in five minutes out there in the street at night if I escape. Whether I look like a boy or not."
"I don't trust you to stay, Meriem."
She sighed, reclined on the mat, and let him shackle her. She truly knew what animals felt like in French zoos, doomed to spend their whole lives in captivity. Only she was the caged animal now. No wonder all the jungle animals she had befriended were very wary of outlanders.
The night was filled with strange noises from inside and outside the apartments. There were screams, cries, and random gunshots coming up from the streets through the small windows in their flat. A young couple was going at it next door, pounding the wall with their headboard, and the woman shrieked in ecstasy the whole time until it got quiet when her partner was spent, which prompted Karl-Heinz and Margrite to celebrate too. It seemed they made love all the time. Sleep was short and troubled for Jeanne as her stomach still growled and her head throbbed.
"Tomorrow will be different," she thought.
It was.
To survive another day of begging and scavenging, she abandoned her lifetime custom of sharing what she had with everyone else in her family, especially with adult relatives, who were normally due respect. The adults she was saddled with were due no respect at all. A number of the best items Jeanne successfully begged, she consumed out of Gunter's sight before bringing the rest home. She did better that day overall and got better still with each day after that.
But it was never enough for her captors.
Karl-Heinz examined the 'take' of the day, "You have to do better, Meriem. We will all waste away."
The men gave her hardly anything that night as punishment and wouldn't let Margrite give her anything either, despite the woman's protestations. Jeanne was grateful she had skimmed 'the good stuff' off the top before bringing the rest of the food home. The money she received got less this time, and as the days went on, the money nearly stopped altogether. Word was that not only had Garua fallen, there were other major defeats for the Germans at the battles of Mora and of Ngaundere in late June. Kamerun was about to fall totally into British hands as the allied forces headed to the Capital City of Jaunde in the mountainous deep south of Kamerun. Only the unusually heavy rainy season was slowing the British down now. Deutschmarks were getting worthless.
…
Karl-Heinz continued to drive Jeanne hard, "You are going to have to get us more food each day while we work. We are working our asses off all day in hard labor. We burn up everything we eat the night before, and more."
Jeanne was very frustrated, "But how? I am begging as hard as I can. People have less these days. And every day more people come here from the jungle begging like we did. Competition is hard."
He scolded her, "You idiot. You have to steal to get the really good stuff. Especially from the people who are still rich here. Be more like that English guy in your storybooks about Robin Hood."
Jack and she read that story often, because so much of it was partly about two young English lovers living in the woods together with family and friends, but she lied to keep their secret that she knew anything about England or her connection to the Count's son lest they extort money from them. She missed reading books together sitting close beside each other, usually holding hands.
She corrected her captor, "I'm French, not English. I don't know anything about Robin Hood. And I would never steal."
Karl-Heinz gave her a very angry and insistent look, "For nearly a year, you've done stuff you swore you'd never do before, Meriem. Yet you have. You are our indentured servant. You have to do what I order you to do. Whether you like it or not. And I say you have to steal."
"Slave…" she corrected with a defiant sneer.
Karl-Heinz threatened, "No matter what you are, you will do what I say, or I will trade you for another child who is more obedient. And I say you will steal food to support us. Understood?"
Jeanne was disgusted and despondent. Stealing. It gave her a foul taste in her mouth. Only thieves and other criminals stole things. It was a detestable word. But she knew she was just that. A thief and criminal. Just like those she was slave to. It shocked her to reflect back on what she'd already been forced to do or had to do to survive. She realized she had already compromised so much. Slaves didn't get any choice. They either did their task, or they were punished or killed. Troublesome slaves were sold to other owners, just like Karl-Heinz had threatened. To worse owners. And it seemed the owners of child slaves in Douala were all worse than these three. What was troubling was that this was the first time he threatened to sell her to another owner. She did not forget Karl-Heinz had threatened to kill her, too.
She remembered from one of her schoolbooks the quote, "Better the devil you know than the devil you don't."
"School…" he scoffed to herself.
That was a place she knew she'd never be allowed to go again. She would become a grown woman with only 3 years formal education. That would really make her appeal to the nobleman Jack when she got free, she scoffed.
But it just so happens the next day was her first day of school in Africa. Thief school.
The market was bustling, and she saw other child thieves working over the people and the market keepers, so she asked, "OK. What do I do first, Gunter? Teach me. You're the expert in robbing here."
The grizzled criminal resisted the urge to slap her for the umpteenth time.
He just sneered, "First day of school, 'Manheim'. I will teach you the team concept."
"What is that?"
He explained, "I distract the victim while you take stuff from their table, cart, or storefront. Don't let them see or hear or feel you if you have to touch them. It's so loud in the market that it's hard to hear, and it's so crowded people jostle each other constantly. You just have to act like you're just another accidental bump."
"And if I do and they come after me?"
"You run like hell to the safe place I showed you where we'll meet, and never let them see your face. Never ever go back to the flat right after a steal. We can't be followed that way."
"OK…"
Their first target was a vegetable stand. While Gunter deliberately got into a big heated argument with the proprietor about the quality of his offerings, she stole a variety of items. Her heart was in her throat the entire 'job', and she feared that the man would turn around while Gunter was arguing. But he didn't.
The argument was intense, and when it finally ended, Meriem was already long gone at their safe rendezvous point, which shifted all the time so no one got a pattern or rhythm to their work.
Before Gunter had caught up with her, she had devoured two items of the 'take', so that no matter what, she had one good meal and a nearly full belly.
"Show me what you have," he demanded.
It was an impressive haul. And it looked like she never had a single thing hidden on her.
"Not too bad, novice," he noted and gave her a satisfied grin.
"Are we done?" she asked timidly.
"Are you kidding? We just got started."
She was very ashamed to admit that the jungle training she got from Jack was how she could move so deftly without being seen by using stuff on the streets rather than rocks or trees to obscure her.
By the end of the day all her hidden pockets were stuffed full.
She had stolen quite a variety of breads, jungle vegetables and fruits, even some jerky and dried fish that completely filled the flat's kitchen table for the first time. She pulled something good out of every secret pocket and pouch.
Karl-Heinz managed a crooked smile at her, "Good job, Meriem."
He ruffled her short hair. It was a strange thing to be proud of, and the first time she didn't recoil to his touch, and she actually smiled at him. But she was proud, especially with Karl-Heinz' first ever real compliment of her work. It's too bad it was a massive theft of property.
Every day after that, their bellies stayed full. She honed her technique. And she started to successfully pickpocket rich-looking strangers which bought a lot more food. They never felt a thing as their money bags and valuables disappeared. Using Jeanne's stolen money and jewelry, Gunter got to be a favorite buyer at the pawn shops. Meals began to get sumptuous and filling, as the ill-gotten funds bought choice meats and other delicacies at butchers and bigger produce markets. They got to dress better, and bought more comfortable things for the flat. And collected a big sum to make a payment to the boss when it was their time to meet with him.
Karl-Heinz and Gunter actually continued to praise Jeanne's work, and she was extremely pleased with herself that she could take anything from anyone at anytime. And she was unfortunately right.
But other eyes watched her work. Young eyes. Jealous eyes. Eyes that were now hungrier because with her success in stealing, taking food and money from their mouths, and from others who were not so successful. Those eyes were hungrier than they wanted to be, as former kings of the street, because of her work.
"Something is not 'right' about the new kid Manheim," the 15 year old youth gang leader said to his group of a dozen pre-teens and teens.
"So let's find out," one of the gang members said, and they bided their time by putting Jeanne under their constant surveillance.
…August 1915…
Jeanne stood alone on top of a rooftop looking at the full moon rise in the east. It was nearly dusk and it was time to come home with another day's successful 'haul'. She had slipped away from Gunter for a few minutes, which was becoming increasingly easier to do, as he often could be seen at a bar imbibing using some of the money she pilfered. Karl-Heinz would have been livid if he ever saw Gunter drink away the day's 'profits' so wastefully. Jeanne didn't need Gunter anymore. She was very confident working the streets in Douala alone, and could evade anyone bent on hurting her or doing her ill will, with or without Gunter's cover.
Many things had changed quickly for Jeanne. The biggest change was the one thing she had wanted so much at the start of this abduction. She had the ability to leave Douala unchallenged any time she wanted to because of Gunter's lack of attention to guarding her. But she didn't because she had become more and more emotionally dependent on her captors, especially for the confidence and boost in self-esteem she got when being praised for her stealing. Eleven months ago she wouldn't have hesitated to flee and risked everything to get back to Nigeria. But she didn't. Watching her father, a highly capable warrior, die in front of her as he was literally on the verge of her rescue, dominated her thoughts and emotions and paralyzed her from actively fleeing.
More disturbing was that her feeling about remaining with her captors. It was so deep-seated that she didn't realize it. Everything was 'all right' for her here in Douala. The squalor didn't really bother her anymore. She was very successful supporting herself and the adults off the people on the streets, and never gave stealing a second thought anymore. She had purpose in her life. She felt a degree of comfort and safety here, and any alternative to take flight back to Nigeria seemed too dangerous. It was the jungle. Having been gone from the jungle for some time, and seeing her father die there, it became a scary place again. It was more dangerous there than staying.
She rationalized that 'there was a war out there' and she'd be hurt or killed like her father or abducted by worse people than Karl-Heinz. Realistically, there was a risk of that only in the city, and all the battles were to the south of Kamerun. Like everyone else in Douala, she'd come to think of the British as the occupiers. The enemy. They were not liberated. They were just under some other European country's rule.
And she also rationalized that would miss Margrite, who had a huge influence on her life as a surrogate mother. Just a few days ago she'd accidentally called her 'Mom', kissed, and hugged her. And not corrected herself. Nor did Margrite, who was reluctant to let go of that life-changing hug.
Jeanne was clearly suffering from Stockholm Syndrome, even though the term was decades from being a common term in the world's languages.
Paradoxically, Jeanne never gave up hope for Jack making his way here to save her, and more importantly, she still loved Jack. She romanticized being rescued by him as the only way to escape, being swept up heroically by him at the last minute from some kind of drastic situation and taken to safety.
She looked at the setting sun with a deep sigh, and thought softly to her boyfriend, "I'm ten today Jack. We're both ten. Please find me. I still want to leave. I can't escape here. It's too dangerous."
Clear as a bell in her head came the truest reassurance instantly, "Happy birthday, cherie. I will find you and take you home."
She looked to the west, the link and his promise was the best birthday present ever. She knew it would take time. Karl-Heinz was very good at remaining hidden.
She was ecstatic, and projected back, "Oh Jack… thank you!"
His thoughts were strong and clear. She felt surrounded by his love for her almost like a real physical hug.
"Happy birthday to you too, cheri," she thought and felt a mental kiss from Jack and rubbed her lips. The miracle had happened again.
She felt the link begin to fade, but not before Jack's thought, "Where are you?"
"Douala. I'm in Douala. On the streets."
The link wasn't there. It faded. She wondered if he heard her.
"Scheisse!" she exclaimed and hoped the link had not broken before he could get the answer.
She turned, climbed effortlessly off the roof, rejoined Gunter in the bar, dragged him out of his seat, paid the bill, and started for home. She had to help the old man stagger home.
She admonished him, "You can't waste our money like this, Gunter. Karl-Heinz will punish both of us."
He slurred, "Shut the hell up, Meriem. What do you know about drinking?"
He was actually drunk again, and she could smell the liquor on his breath. Karl-Heinz would scream at him. She rushed the old man along. She didn't want to be shackled and be starved again for being too late. She had a great haul today. Karl-Heinz would be very happy with that. She even had a huge sausage for them that they could all consume.
…
"Douala," Jack thought, on all fours while he gathered some fruit for dinner, "Well… now I know what we have to do, cherie. Best birthday present ever…"
He romped over on all fours to where his father stood watch over the Mangani and could see the twins playing with other gorilla toddlers, supervised by Lily while her mother and the other gorilla females prepared dinner, plus a hidden surprise for his birthday - his favorite dessert: bee larvae honeycomb, with a ten candles to put on top. The gorillas were mesmerized by the candles and the human tradition of making a wish. But everyone knew what the wish would be.
"Dad, I think I know where Jeanne is!" he exclaimed in Mangani but could not tell Tarzan how he knew. They were miles from the family radiotelegraph.
…
Authors Notes: Yes to your question: Jeanne becoming a 'street rat' in Douala is definitely a nod to Disney's 'Aladdin'. But it's not romanticized here in this story. Douala is a hard, cruel, lurid, and brutal existence on the streets for Jeanne and the others, with no magic lamp and a blue wise-cracking genie to make it all go away for a life in the castle with the love of her life.