The story is just starting up. I apologize for abandoning it after the second chapter, a lot of things have happened to me since then.
Also i wanna thank Fox for letting me use her surname as "new Erik's surname".
You might think you would have a pleasant awakening but there are few things less pleasant than waking up to cold and hunger. As if that weren't enough, as soon as I opened my eyes, I also wanted to piss. The stove was off, and although my makeshift blanket protected me from the cold, the mist came out of my mouth and nose when I breathed.
I tried to get up to go out to evacuate but my lower extremities were numb and I fell flat on my face immediately, the only luck was that thanks to my new height the stove was a few inches from my head.
Dazed and bleeding I get up off the ground supporting both hands. My legs are still somewhat numb but now they are looser enough for me to move.
With difficulty I leave the room to find the bathroom. After a few minutes in which I thought I would piss on myself, I decide to relieve myself in a corner due to the urgency of the situation. Now that I have evacuated I feel a little more centered and calm to be able to think about what to do next.
The first thing is to eat and hydrate myself, then I have to clean my newly acquired wounds to end up moving north again, hoping to get to the post and at least find some answer.
I take the plate from the campaign kit and fill it with snow outside, then put it on the stove to realize it's off. I have to light the fire again but I think I remember I have no matches left. There must be something in this house that allows me to light a fire.
What can I use to start a fire? I don't think someone has left some matches around and I don't have the time or desire to start looking for it or to rub for god knows how long a stick with a piece of wood.
I open the cauldron in the hope that there is at least some ember that can still stoke.
I peek inside the stove and there is nothing left but ashes. I shine for a moment using the flashlight of my mobile to realize that there is nothing I can save. After some time of thinking while eating cold jerky as a humble breakfast, I decide that I should restart the trip as soon as possible and pray that there is something more usable at the checkpoint than what you see around here.
I gather my things and before leaving I use the snow that I was hoping to melt to wash my face and I grab a little with my bare hands, I immediately dismiss the idea of using the snow to clean my face.
I brush the dried, half-frozen blood off my face in an attempt to cleanse myself without water. Hands are soon dirty too. Great, now I have nothing to clean myself with other than my own drinking water and I don't want to use it on this as I don't know how much longer I'm going to have to walk.
I continue walking down the street that yesterday brought me to my last, impromptu, though only for one night, home. Now that if there is enough light I can see that the street is a little better cared for than the streets of the German town I came from. The only neglected thing that can be seen is that the streets are covered by a blanket of virgin snow and nobody has spent even a few seconds trying to remove it from the road so that vehicles could pass. Not that many vehicles were visible, either, and there was also the fact that the last one probably passed by here a long, long time ago to an unknown destination.
The streets are deserted, not even some kind of animal is seen, the normal thing is that after a time of abandonment the residential areas of the outer ring of a city were taken back by nature, but these streets only seemed abandoned. Either it was not so long since they were left by civilization or they were frequently visited.
From my position, I see that the street leads to a wide road that goes north, it is great for me because that was the direction I needed to follow to get to the control.
I walk a few more minutes, in silence, until I reach the wide road. Something that strikes me is that at a distance of about five or six hundred meters the snow is indeed collected and piled up on both sides of it; as if this road was frequently traveled but not daily.
The freshly fallen snow is still on the road, which means that they have not yet moved to remove it yet, but the piles on the sides do argue that they do so often.
This vision excites me, it is the first time in several days that I see the sign of civilization.
I walk the rest of the road jammed with snow, stiff with emotion, soon I arrive at the area with a thin layer of snow and my pace increases; it is no longer so difficult to move forward. I keep walking down the road until I make out some barriers made of tree trunks and sandbags.
Right in front there is a kind of gate, which is probably the entrance or exit that they use to venture south, just on each side of the gate there is an observation post and a little further to the right of the observation post there is what seems a nest of machine guns I get excited and start to run, I see the dark figure of a person who seemed to be guarding the observation post on the left, he takes a small jump in place and his binoculars fall to the ground then he urges to go somewhere to the left.
For some reason I stop running and I stay in the place hoping what the dark figure will do, it was clearly a person, but I don't know where it was running.
Soon the figure appears again next to a second figure, they both carry boxes in both hands, I panic and run towards something that can offer me some cover.
I find a row of ditches on both sides of the road, the bad thing is that they are built to defend against the south, so the sandbags point in the opposite direction and do not offer me all the cover I could need, I rush him towards the hole now covered in snow; It's cold, but this is better than being met by machine gun fire.
In the most absolute silence I wait for what may happen, I hear metallic clicks and I slip down until my whole body is on its back against the ground and nothing shows even a couple of centimeters.
The metallic clicking stops and I clearly hear the voice of a boy pointing to the place where I have just leaped into hiding.
I was not prepared, but the truth is that nothing prepares you to be shot, the machine gun opens fire and soon the snow, dirt and pieces of rubble begin to pass over my head.
Time goes by, I don't know how much for sure; I'm so nervous that I lost track of time, I'm just lying here under cover praying for it to end.
All kinds of voices are heard on the other side of the barrier, it seems that the machine gun fire has awakened the troops that could be deployed there to defend the point.
I also hear the voices of an older person with an authoritarian tone, she asks; no; he demands that the fire cease, he also insults them quite various things and I would even swear that I heard at least one person's helmet hitting.
The authoritative voice asks about what they have seen outside, there is silence, then another hit of the helmet is heard and then a very nervous boy explains in a very hurried way that he seemed to see an enemy on the other side of the control and that by that has decided to open fire. The boy's words are broken, as if he is out of breath, he also speaks so fast that it becomes difficult to understand.
Wait, if they speak in German, why do I understand them as if it were my native language?
-You can go out, whoever you are. We won't shoot you. I promise you. - He announces and perjures the voice.
The truth is that I do not know whether to pay attention or keep me hidden. On the one hand, if I am really using a ruse to expose myself and shoot myself, I should stay here, on the other hand, if I don't go out, I could give the wrong impression of being that "enemy" they are talking about.
What should I do?
In the end I choose to go out, slowly and with my hands up. Someone points a rifle at me and I fall back into the snow, they hear another series of expletives and they ask me to come out again and I let myself be seen.
Again I gather my courage and stand up with my hands up, trying to lower my threat level.
From the front, behind the sandbags and standing I see seven boys who should be around my age along with two adults and a person who is clearly older.
-See, it's just a boy. Were you so afraid of this that you ran to the machine gun? - Explains the older man.
-But sir, from where he was before he looked like an enemy.- One of the boys of the machine gun excuses himself.
-Have you ever seen the enemy run for cover? Or have you seen them come one by one instead of thousands? -
The boy is silent, crestfallen, aware of his own mistake.
-Boy, come to the gate.- The old man instructs me with a wave of his hand.
Fearful of my own life, I slowly approach the gate, there I wait for the doors to open or to shoot me. Finally and after what seems like a strong struggle with the door behind the walls, the gate opens. The two leaves of the gate open outwards revealing the interior of the position. It consisted of a section of road with makeshift sandbag fortifications and some sections of concrete wall.
There are also a couple of caravans or truck trailers with windows, surely it was where the guards of the post slept and lived.
Around the "barracks" there are all kinds of things; a pile of boxes of ammunition, overflowing with some bullets and ammunition ribbons, a couple of fires with pots on them, and even some country-looking wooden chairs around one of the fires.
The older man approaches me to try to instill calm, his expression is kind; like that of all grandparents when they see a grandchild. His hair is not completely white as he still has some light brown hair but it is almost entirely grey.
The gate closes behind me.
-You can lower your hands. No one will shoot you. - The old man snaps at me seeing that he still had his hands up.
I approach him and let him see my face closely, he has a small bag inside which I suppose he will have medical supplies.
The old man sits on one of the chairs and then places the bag on his lap to proceed to open it and extract some gauze from inside.
-Jansen! Bring me the bucket of water, the one inside.- The old man exclaims suddenly.
The aforementioned turns out to be the boy who was handling the machine gun, he runs into one of the barracks and comes out a few seconds later with a bucket on his arms.
The old man takes the bag of medical supplies and offers it to the left of him, extending his arm.
-Come on Jansen, leave the bucket there and take the medical bag, do something useful.-
The old man treats him with too much contempt in my opinion. Not that he excused him for shooting me earlier, but he implies that the boy is useless.
The boy does what the old man says and leaves the bucket next to the chair occupied by the old man, then takes the bag and gives me a look, it is a mixture of fear and shame.
-Come on boy, come closer.- He gestures for me to get closer to him. -The rest, you can also come closer, it would not hurt to observe how some cures are carried out.-
The rest of the boys approach a little while the other adults take some weapons and take positions in the observation posts on both sides of the gate.
The old man dips the gauze in the bucket of water and gently runs it over my face, it doesn't sting but the sudden contact with something cold makes me jump.
-Quiet. I have to clean your wound, if not, it could become infected.- The old man's voice is calm and reassuring.
I stay as still as I can and let the old man remove the dried blood with the gauze pads.
-Wow. It's a good hit. How did you do it?-
-I fell- The old man looks at me incredulously. -I add-.
-Yeah..- He responds with a low level of credulity.- Well, it doesn't matter. I will clean your wound and mend you.- The old man looks up.- If you want to see how it is done, better pay attention.- Says to the youngers.
The old man finishes cleaning the wound, and I feel like something hot begins to descend on my face, I am going to touch it with my hand to see what it is and the old man slaps it away.
-Don't touch yourself, the wound has opened and is bleeding again.-The old man places a gauze on the cut and presses slightly.-Put your hand here and press. Don't stop pressing if you don't want to bleed out-
I know perfectly well that I am not going to bleed to death from a cut like that but I suppose he said it to impress the boys since most of them look with faces of total astonishment and even some with their mouths open.
I take the gauze with my right hand and maintain the pressure as the old man advised me. I'm not going to discuss it. It's not that I'm right, it's only part of it, but right now I don't feel like arguing with anyone. I just want to find a more or less warm place, rest for a while and calm down.
The old man takes a needle and a thread from the medical bag, it seems that I don't get rid of the stitches.
He threads the thread and pinches a little skin to stick the needle in, repeats this process several times, even moving his hand a little away, squeezing the wound with the gauze until he ends the intervention.
-It is done. You can remove your hand, I'll put another clean gauze to cover the suture. It is not a masterful work but it will have to be worth.
-Thanks- I answer with a thread of voice. That she came out more shy than I really tried.
The old man removes the gauze now soaked in blood and puts another to cover the stitches.
-Can you see? This is what you should do when they get hurt. But that is always convenient to have two canteens and a medical bag.- The old man instructs the youngers gathered around us.
The old man gets up from his chair and puts the excess material in the medical bag, then throws the used gauze on the fire. Nothing better than purifying fire.
-Where are you from? - The old man asks me at the end of collecting and ordering everything again.
What should I answer him now? I have no idea of the geography of Germany beyond Berlin and the two other two or three big cities. And to say any of them would expose me to a possible danger that someone I knew was from there or that the old man knew the area.
So I decide to give it a suspenseful time and look at the ground with a thoughtful face as if trying to remember where I am from.
-Do not know. I do not remember- I answer trying to make a face of alarm.
-Calm down, don't get upset. Nothing happens, there are many like you. They have lived or seen things that have made them forget. Quiet. Tell me at least your name. Yes?-
Say the first name that comes to mind, Pa… No, silly! German name. Come up with a German name, and make it sound convincing.
I think about trying to convince myself to give a plausible answer in these circumstances.
-Erik- (AN: A classic already for us.)
-Erik. What else?-
Shit, it was hard for me to come up with a name that sounded normal and possible to also think of a last name. I pretend it's hard to remember. I have to improvise. Nor is it that it has documentation that can prove it so it is a risky bet and if it works, then don't ask.
-No. I know. It was ... It was ... -
-You don't have to say it now. We will take you to ... -
A transfer? Where? An orphanage? I can't end up in an orphanage in the middle of a war. I know it's better than getting recruited. But wartime orphanages are used for everything.
From forced conscription to human shields to take advantage of humanitarian laws. If there are Russians out there they won't care about orphans. I have to say something, if I have a last name maybe they will leave me alone or they may even let me look for my supposed family.
-It was a… Animal… One that flies… I don't remember… - God help me improvise.
-Eh… What about Huhn? - All the boys look at the speaker, who was none other than Jansen.
-He said a bird that flies, Jansen. How can a chicken fly?- Jansen looks down again, wrapped up in embarrassment.
-Falke? - Suggest another boy
-No, it started with ... A.- I hope there is an animal that flies with a name that begins with A. -Adler? -Yes, it's not a bad name. What does it mean?
-Yes that. Erik Adler. I think I have good parents but I don't know for sure.- I answer by putting a face that can be adjusted to the height of the circumstances.
-I see. To be honest, that it sounds very Germanic.- The old man answers.- Come we will take you to the checkpoint, from there you can try to find your family or someone to take care of you.-
It was quite clear that the old man considered his duties to me finished, now it would be someone else's problem or my own.
A control should ask for documentation, but I suppose they would not want to try to explain to his superior that before they opened fire on a kid on the other side of the barrier and add to that the fact that they were injured. I could perfectly argue that it was they who hurt me.
I understand that they want to get rid of me immediately.
The old man leads me along a path to the part behind the barrier, from there he points me in a direction; which seems to coincide with the west. He explains that a few kilometers off the coast there are makeshift docks with boats that go to all kinds of places and that I should take one of them to some place that I can remember that my family left during the evacuation and pray to the gods where create to find them once there.
What a strange culture, I remember that in Germany they were Christians and that apart from the Jews, who were persecuted, there were no more official or majority religions.
The old man says goodbye to me and makes sure that I am going in the direction he said, watching my progress for a while.
I start walking again, and I get away from the control of the barrier, every so often I turn around to check if the old man is still there. Indeed, the old man is still there, watching over that I don't return and waving at me every time I look in his direction.
He said a few kilometers, but did not say how many really, it could easily be fifty of them.
Wow, they didn't let me restock either, I only have a few jars of food that only God knows they contain, the plastic bottle; filled in the ditch and the canteen at half capacity. What has decreased has a good part; we spend fewer resources to live.
I follow the mounted defense line, passing other defense and guard posts on my way to that dock to embark who knows where.
I follow the line for so long that I get lost in my thoughts.
After an indeterminate time, the terrain changes and this makes me leave my thoughts.
I look up and appreciate a fishing village full of tents of all sizes crowding the streets. I also see all kinds of people between the tents, this is clearly a refugee camp.
Some "locals" cast their gaze on me, others simply take care of their own problems.
I keep walking to the dock, there an endless line of people slowly advance to board. In order not to have unpleasant surprises, I advance until I almost reach the point where people are given way to the dock itself. They are asking people for documentation, documentation that I do not have.
Shit, one more problem. Now I am undocumented. How do I get to the other side?
I have to resort to illegal means of intrusion. But I have no experience with this.